Fjordie Fjordie We're Goin' To Floridie

Not really, but we sometimes do dream of some of our more tropical vacations and wonder why we can't wish ourselves there every now and then.

So here we are, still at Gros Morne.  We've had quite an eventful couple of days.  We've taken in some breathtaking scenery and suffered through some brutally cold nights.  It has been chilly during the day but, as I sit here and write this in the sunshine at 9:33am, it is already well into the 50s, which may seem cold to you guys but it feels down right balmy.  It is supposed to get to 60 today.  We might die of heatstroke.

So after my last entry we got cleaned up and hit the road.  Oh, I should first mention the size of this park.  It is huge, like seriously huge.  It can take a couple of hours to drive from one end to the other, and all the human activity is from north to south, along the coast.  The part itself extends way inland but exists there as a preserve.  

Anyway, the weather on Tuesday got quite cloudy so we made our way to the Discovery Centre, which is way down near the Tablelands.  We spent some time there, talking with the staff and checking out the exhibits.  Some of you know that I am the type that has to read every interpretive panel I come across, so sometimes it can take a while.  And, since it was cold, it was a good idea anyway.  

From there, we went and hiked the Tablelands.  This place is impressive, to say the very least.  Just these massive plateaus that look like nothing I have ever seen.  As I mentioned before, these tables were once part of the floor of an ancient ocean, Iapedus.  As the then-continents collided to form Newfoundland, some of this sea floor, which was meant to slide under the continents, instead got pushed up, and then pulled apart.  A most pristine example of plate tectonics and the result is extraordinary.  Unfortunately it was very cloudy when we did the trail but hopefully the photos can capture at least a little bit of the splendor.

Two tables and a bit of snow.

Table for three.

Hans loves the Tablelands.

From there we stopped in the fishing village of Trout River and walked around for a bit.  Since we are so far ahead of the curve as far as tourist season is concerned, I think we confuse a lot of people in these small villages.  Everyone just kinda looks at us weird, none more so than this one woman we passed in Trout River who totally gave us the evil eye.  We've constantly been hearing about how warm and friendly the people are here but we haven't quite experienced a whole lot of that yet.  In time, I hope.  Still, Trout River, as tiny as it is, is a cute little place and totally indicative of a typical coastal fishing village in Newfoundland.

These little colorful fishing huts dot the coast everywhere.  These seem to be in far better condition than many that we've seen.  A lot of them seem to be held together by splinters.

The boardwalk and beach of Trout River.

From there we intended to go back to town and get a bite to eat but then we found this amazing rocky beach, just by chance, and wound up spending a hour down there.  Pretty much every rock type and size could be found down there.  Like most of Gros Morne, this beach was a geology nerd's dream come true.  So many different types of rocks had made their way to that shore over millions of years and every one of them had a story.  It was utterly fascinating.  I could spend my whole week down there just looking at all the different metamorphic rocks that are found there.  

This beach does not seem to have an official name but it is one of the coolest places we've been to on this leg of the trip.

Hans, on the rocks.

Boulders, cobbles, pebbles, grains, this place has it all.  

We found proto-PacMan, fossilized on the shores of Gros Morne.

The Gulls pose for their album cover shot.

From there we went into Rocky Harbour and had dinner.  I got my first of many helpings of fish & chips made with real Newfoundland cod.  Oh my, the difference.  Makes you never want herring again.  They serve moose at this restaurant, and we totally intended to try it, but I was sucked in by the fish and Krissy went to town on some mussels.  We might go back and try a moose burger before we leave or surely we will come across many other places long the way.

Yesterday we got up and made our way to Western Brook Pond, where we had scheduled a boat tour.  Now, we all know that everything is bigger in Canada, but to call this place a pond?  It makes most lakes seem puny.  It took an hour to get from one side to the other and the scenery, oh my words, was to die for.  I know I've used the word "majestic" quite many times so far in this blog but that is really the only word that can properly describe this place.  Makes you realize what a wonderful world this really is.  Krissy took about 200 photos from this boat.  Trying to whittle it to a handful will be tough. 

Oh, a few points about this pond:  While it takes on most of the characteristics of a fjord, and is enough of a fjord for me to consider it to be one, it technically is not a fjord.  It was a fjord about two million years ago, when this was all created, but about 10,000 years ago a massive bog came into being that cut the fjord off from the sea.  See, apparently in order to be a proper fjord it has to be filled with salt water.  Over the last 10,000 years, all the salt has gone from this pond and it is now fresh water, and some of the purest fresh water to be found in the entire world.  In fact, this water is so pure it lacks the necessary minerals in order to conduct electricity.  So, basically, if you drop your toaster in this pond the only thing you'll be left with is a wet toaster.  

But I will call it a fjord anyway.

The fjord, from across Western Brook Pond.  These mountains are the Long Range Mountains, which is the northeasterly end of the Appalachian Mountains.  What is left of these mountains are merely stumps.  Millions of years ago these mountains, as the ones at home, were larger them the Himalayas.  But time has its way with everything.  Even badass mountains.

Entering the fjord.  These are bold things.

This is one of many, many waterfalls we saw while on this boat tour but the only one that so flagrantly poured itself off the top as seen here.  This waterfall is called Pissing Mare Falls.

This is called a "hanging valley".  This is when the glacier works and works at carving out a valley and then just bails on down to the bigger valley, leaving its work suspended in air.

Now this is some boggy business.

There should be a moose in this pic, munching away at some of this delicious bog grass, but there is not.

Our next stop was a beautiful beach at Shallow Bay (i think).  The sun was shining and it was brisk.  I spent most of my time relaxing while Krissy walked the beach and snapped photos of the Terns that are local to that beach.

And the formation is complete.

To everything, tern tern tern.

Just another example of the awesomeness of Gros Morne.

From there we went through the town of Cow Head and took a nice hike to a lighthouse there.  It is not a working lighthouse, though once upon a time it was.  It was recently restored and is just part of their town heritage.  It was a very nice hike and, at a certain point, you can climb up on these large rocks and the entire coastline of the park is visible.  We tried to get a panoramic shot but it's still too long to fit in the frame.

The lighthouse trail was a very pleasant shady hike.

The view from the rocks at the top of the hill, on the way to the lighthouse.

Hans as lighthouse keeper.

Krissy as lighthouse keeper.

What an adorable little lighthouse.

From there we stopped at Broom Point and did a little trail called Steve's Trail, which leads you to the edge of some impressive dunes, at the mouth of Western Brook.  The trail itself was narrow, wooded, and kinda spooky.  We saw evidence of some rather large wildlife in the area but saw none of it.  The end point of the hike was a beautiful place to sit and reflect.  One nice touch the park tends to do is, at overlooks that are particularly scenic and soothing, they have these Adirondack chairs.  They are perfect for relaxed reflection.

Steve's Trail - spooky but quite pleasant.

Hans is happy before the frost.

Only in Gros Morne can you get the sea and such totally rad dunes with the mountains right there.  Variety is king.

An old fishing hut at the end of Broom Point.  Apparently they give tours there but we were too late.

From there we went back to camp and made dinner and I got a roaring fire going.  The temperature was dropping rapidly and, but by the time we were heading to bed, it was 33 degrees both inside and out.  We have a heater and we tried to use it but it was acting funny so, in the interest in not dying, we turned it off.  We made it through the night but Krissy, who was sleeping under about ten layers of everything, had a hell of a time with it.  Even I, who am Mr. Tough when it comes to the cold, was a wee bit miserable.  And for good reason.  When I got up to pee at 5am, there was frost over everything, including the tent.  In fact, when I unzipped the flap, some of the frost flaked off and it looked like snow.  It easily could have.  Now I know why so many parks and campgrounds and other services don't open until June.  The good thing is that last night should be the worst of it.  Tonight will be slightly warmer, though only by a few degrees, and tomorrow night will be about ten degrees warmer at night.  Still not perfect but balmy compared to last night.  Then, from there, we are in beds for a few nights, as we shoot off into Labrador for a bit.  We'll see what it's like when we get back this way next week.  There may be more impromptu bookings and B&Bs and such but we'll see.  Summer is coming, slowly but surely.

"Hey cow head, chewin' over there....yeah, your cud....quit chewin' on my blog!"