From VA to Labrador in 3 weeks, our 2011 Adventure
- Thread starter CLynn85
- Start date
Day 10: Cape Breton and the Cabot Trail
Today was a bit of an odd day for us. We were trying to make our schedules work out such that we could time the crossing into New Foundland just right and help dodge the hurricane, make a night crossing, and allow our friend, Mike, to catch up since he’s doing a slightly similar trip and was going to be in New Foundland at the same time as us. This meant we had a day to kill in the area near the North Sydney ferry terminal with no real agenda.
We had been wanting to do some paddling up here since we’d gotten to Maine. Although kayaks have been on my to-purchase list for some time, they keep getting pushed aside for other priorities, so we were planning to rent them at some of the numerous port towns. For whatever reason, time, weather, etc, it hadn’t worked out thus far. Since the KOA was on a lake/bay and had a pair of 16’ canoes, we decided to rent one for the morning and get out on the water. After a couple hours we dragged it back on shore, packed up the truck, and set off.
Since we had learned more about the "old road to Baddeck" we set off to explore it some more, and found that, aside from some washed out bits, it's all still there and relatively passable. With some more time or 2-wheeled transportation I'd like to try to make it through the entire distance.
Not wanting to waste the whole day, we found pavement again and followed part of the “Cabot Trail”, which circumnavigates Cape Breton and highlights the Celtic heritage of the area, as well as some of the natural beauty. We stopped at a couple of galleries, and after a picnic, hiked a trail down to some falls on the New River.
By this time Mike had almost caught up to us, and it was getting closer to check-in time for our ferry, so we met up with him in Sydney for dinner and got in line for the ferry. This has been the largest vessel I’ve ever been aboard and for a ferry, I was impressed. We being a bit more budget-minded opted for general seating, which was surprisingly well equipped. I could’ve slept far better in one of the cabins, but once the lights went dim and we pulled away from port, we were both asleep for the trip across the strait.
Today was a bit of an odd day for us. We were trying to make our schedules work out such that we could time the crossing into New Foundland just right and help dodge the hurricane, make a night crossing, and allow our friend, Mike, to catch up since he’s doing a slightly similar trip and was going to be in New Foundland at the same time as us. This meant we had a day to kill in the area near the North Sydney ferry terminal with no real agenda.
We had been wanting to do some paddling up here since we’d gotten to Maine. Although kayaks have been on my to-purchase list for some time, they keep getting pushed aside for other priorities, so we were planning to rent them at some of the numerous port towns. For whatever reason, time, weather, etc, it hadn’t worked out thus far. Since the KOA was on a lake/bay and had a pair of 16’ canoes, we decided to rent one for the morning and get out on the water. After a couple hours we dragged it back on shore, packed up the truck, and set off.
Since we had learned more about the "old road to Baddeck" we set off to explore it some more, and found that, aside from some washed out bits, it's all still there and relatively passable. With some more time or 2-wheeled transportation I'd like to try to make it through the entire distance.
Not wanting to waste the whole day, we found pavement again and followed part of the “Cabot Trail”, which circumnavigates Cape Breton and highlights the Celtic heritage of the area, as well as some of the natural beauty. We stopped at a couple of galleries, and after a picnic, hiked a trail down to some falls on the New River.
By this time Mike had almost caught up to us, and it was getting closer to check-in time for our ferry, so we met up with him in Sydney for dinner and got in line for the ferry. This has been the largest vessel I’ve ever been aboard and for a ferry, I was impressed. We being a bit more budget-minded opted for general seating, which was surprisingly well equipped. I could’ve slept far better in one of the cabins, but once the lights went dim and we pulled away from port, we were both asleep for the trip across the strait.
Day 11: Planet Express
We arrived on the shore of Newfoundland, which is by all intents and purposes a rock off the coast of mainland Canada, at approximately 6:30 am this morning. A little dazed after spending the night on the boat, we stumbled down to the vehicle deck and our unloading went surprising quickly. After hopping off at the first sight of grass to let the dog stretch his legs, we stopped at the visitor center. Much to Lindy’s dismay I emerged with a fresh stack of maps, books, and brochures to clutter up her side of the truck. I had also managed to get a map and list of all the lighthouses on the island from the gal at the desk, something they don’t put on the shelves, we were in business. Just up the road from the info center was Cape Ray, which just happened to have a lighthouse, and what a lighthouse. Finally a real tower, constructed of brick, not these dorky little wooden shacks with a light bulb we’d seen thus far.
Heading out of town, Lindy glanced at the map and noted a thinner, red line, that seemed to parallel the highway but follow the coast. After a few dead ends we found it, a gravel 2-track leading towards the shore, perfect. After bouncing down the track, it became apparent that ATV’s are the preferred mode of off-highway transport on the island, as all the paths leading off the road were significantly narrower than our truck. Finally, we came to a bridge, and to our disappointment, a sign that cars/trucks were prohibited and two perfectly spaced boulders to drive the point home. We turned around and headed back, found a shortcut through a creek, and hit the tarmac again.
As we crested the hill on the highway though, it became apparent that this was unlike any place we’d been before. Not only was the highway void of signage holding tourists hands to guide them to the sights, but the terrain looked like something that was out of this world. That wasn’t a ferry we were on, it was a spaceship. We were now on another planet.
To be continued......
We arrived on the shore of Newfoundland, which is by all intents and purposes a rock off the coast of mainland Canada, at approximately 6:30 am this morning. A little dazed after spending the night on the boat, we stumbled down to the vehicle deck and our unloading went surprising quickly. After hopping off at the first sight of grass to let the dog stretch his legs, we stopped at the visitor center. Much to Lindy’s dismay I emerged with a fresh stack of maps, books, and brochures to clutter up her side of the truck. I had also managed to get a map and list of all the lighthouses on the island from the gal at the desk, something they don’t put on the shelves, we were in business. Just up the road from the info center was Cape Ray, which just happened to have a lighthouse, and what a lighthouse. Finally a real tower, constructed of brick, not these dorky little wooden shacks with a light bulb we’d seen thus far.
Heading out of town, Lindy glanced at the map and noted a thinner, red line, that seemed to parallel the highway but follow the coast. After a few dead ends we found it, a gravel 2-track leading towards the shore, perfect. After bouncing down the track, it became apparent that ATV’s are the preferred mode of off-highway transport on the island, as all the paths leading off the road were significantly narrower than our truck. Finally, we came to a bridge, and to our disappointment, a sign that cars/trucks were prohibited and two perfectly spaced boulders to drive the point home. We turned around and headed back, found a shortcut through a creek, and hit the tarmac again.
As we crested the hill on the highway though, it became apparent that this was unlike any place we’d been before. Not only was the highway void of signage holding tourists hands to guide them to the sights, but the terrain looked like something that was out of this world. That wasn’t a ferry we were on, it was a spaceship. We were now on another planet.
To be continued......
Day 11: Part II
We had decided to split up from Mike at the light house and meet up again further up the coast at St. George, the next semi-bold town on the map up the highway. Again and again we saw gravel roads leading straight off from the highway, and we kept ducking off to follow bits of the thin red line on the map. More and more I became suspicious that this wasn’t a former road, but actually a railroad grade. It was far too flat with smooth corners to have been a road of such a narrow width. Eventually, at a particularly interesting intersection of gravel roads in every direction, I dug up a chunk of steel that was protruding from the earth. What it is, I have no idea, any ideas railroad afficianados?
The trails seemed to go off in all directions.
After another detour, we found ourselves in a culvert pipe under the highway, and after turning around, spotted a marker denoting this as part of the International Appalachian Trail. About that time Lindy also found a key on the map noting it as part of a “Provencial T’Railway”, mystery solved.
We had decided to split up from Mike at the light house and meet up again further up the coast at St. George, the next semi-bold town on the map up the highway. Again and again we saw gravel roads leading straight off from the highway, and we kept ducking off to follow bits of the thin red line on the map. More and more I became suspicious that this wasn’t a former road, but actually a railroad grade. It was far too flat with smooth corners to have been a road of such a narrow width. Eventually, at a particularly interesting intersection of gravel roads in every direction, I dug up a chunk of steel that was protruding from the earth. What it is, I have no idea, any ideas railroad afficianados?
The trails seemed to go off in all directions.
After another detour, we found ourselves in a culvert pipe under the highway, and after turning around, spotted a marker denoting this as part of the International Appalachian Trail. About that time Lindy also found a key on the map noting it as part of a “Provencial T’Railway”, mystery solved.
Day 11: Part 3
When we hit St. George, there wasn’t much to see, so we shot Mike a text and headed further out towards the cape. We stopped at our first real roadside attraction of the trip, an Alpaca farm on the cliffs, right on the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Lindy found a hat, or toque, as the local girl at the desk promplty corrected her, and we proceeded on towards the Cape. At some point we decided that the peninsula that was north of the cape, complete with ~15km of unpaved road, would certainly be more interesting. What we found there was awesome, at least in our minds.
Dropping down the hill we saw a fishing town, but unlike all the ones we’d been through the days before, it was completely empty. There were relatively modern vessels, and some recent signage, but everything else could have been out of the earlier part of the century. There were empty shacks all up and down the “road” that went towards the point, and gorgeous views of the sea and the mainland. Since it was close to lunchtime we had ourselves a picnic and walked the area before taking some photos and heading back out.
We set our target for the night at Blow Me Down Provencial Park. Make all the cracks you want about the name, but it was a nice campground set near the coast after a beautiful drive along the bay. Eventually, Mike finally joined us and we fixed our dinner on the campfire.We had pizza pockets Lindy fixed in the pie iron and Mike grilled steak over the grate on the fire pit. We hunkered down for the impending passing of tropical storm Irene and dozed off. This is the first time I've been so far east that I've missed a hurricane passing to the west.
When we hit St. George, there wasn’t much to see, so we shot Mike a text and headed further out towards the cape. We stopped at our first real roadside attraction of the trip, an Alpaca farm on the cliffs, right on the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Lindy found a hat, or toque, as the local girl at the desk promplty corrected her, and we proceeded on towards the Cape. At some point we decided that the peninsula that was north of the cape, complete with ~15km of unpaved road, would certainly be more interesting. What we found there was awesome, at least in our minds.
Dropping down the hill we saw a fishing town, but unlike all the ones we’d been through the days before, it was completely empty. There were relatively modern vessels, and some recent signage, but everything else could have been out of the earlier part of the century. There were empty shacks all up and down the “road” that went towards the point, and gorgeous views of the sea and the mainland. Since it was close to lunchtime we had ourselves a picnic and walked the area before taking some photos and heading back out.
We set our target for the night at Blow Me Down Provencial Park. Make all the cracks you want about the name, but it was a nice campground set near the coast after a beautiful drive along the bay. Eventually, Mike finally joined us and we fixed our dinner on the campfire.We had pizza pockets Lindy fixed in the pie iron and Mike grilled steak over the grate on the fire pit. We hunkered down for the impending passing of tropical storm Irene and dozed off. This is the first time I've been so far east that I've missed a hurricane passing to the west.
Day 12: Can we just stay here?
Things got a bit breezy overnight to say the least with Irene passing by, but all in all it wasn't too bad. We took advantage of some of the park's trails the following morning and hit the road.
Back on the road we headed for Gros Morne National Park. A local back in St. Georges, NB had recommended the drive out to Trout River. He had described it as looking like you were “driving on the moon.” The experience was other-worldly; the area, known as the tablelands, was formed by the mantle being pushed up to the surface, looking to one side of the road there was lush green and the other the rich red dirt of the earth’s mantle. Crazy, I couldn't even get a good picture of it.
Traveling in and out of the park while driving up highway 430, we found the location of the shipwrecked S.S. Ethie. This boat crashed on the rocky shore in 1919. All passengers survived and the wreckage itself has remained to this day. Climbing down to the beach, we expected to see a few iron pieces here or there. We were shocked to see how much of the vessel is still strewn about the beach.
We had been trying to make good time through this area to get up to the Labrador ferry the next day, thinking that we had missed the brunt of the storm. Turns out we were pretty wrong and we should have just stopped in Gros Morne. The further up the coast we got the sketchier the skies were and the stronger the winds got. We were in for a pretty good beating that night in a town with nothing to do and no one around.
Things got a bit breezy overnight to say the least with Irene passing by, but all in all it wasn't too bad. We took advantage of some of the park's trails the following morning and hit the road.
Back on the road we headed for Gros Morne National Park. A local back in St. Georges, NB had recommended the drive out to Trout River. He had described it as looking like you were “driving on the moon.” The experience was other-worldly; the area, known as the tablelands, was formed by the mantle being pushed up to the surface, looking to one side of the road there was lush green and the other the rich red dirt of the earth’s mantle. Crazy, I couldn't even get a good picture of it.
Traveling in and out of the park while driving up highway 430, we found the location of the shipwrecked S.S. Ethie. This boat crashed on the rocky shore in 1919. All passengers survived and the wreckage itself has remained to this day. Climbing down to the beach, we expected to see a few iron pieces here or there. We were shocked to see how much of the vessel is still strewn about the beach.
We had been trying to make good time through this area to get up to the Labrador ferry the next day, thinking that we had missed the brunt of the storm. Turns out we were pretty wrong and we should have just stopped in Gros Morne. The further up the coast we got the sketchier the skies were and the stronger the winds got. We were in for a pretty good beating that night in a town with nothing to do and no one around.
Day 13: Icebergs, Vikings, and Peggy?
It was our goal to make the 1 p.m. or 6 p.m. ferry out of Newfoundland and over to Labrador. With what was left of Irene churning away from the shore, the leftover winds were making travel arrangement next to impossible. After breaking camp, we made our way directly to the Labrador Marine office to try and see if the ships would even sail with the surf and gusts in their current state.
Upon arriving at the ferry terminal, we realized why our few phone calls with the office had been so um... abrupt and strange. If you have ever seen the Discover Card "Peggy" commercials, that was basically what we were working with, except it was three women in the office, when they felt like it. If you have not encountered "Peggy" here's a clip:
Having the option of sitting in a terminal all day or finding some ancient viking dwellings, we hit the road. Along the way we passed, you guessed it, another lighthouse, can also see the choppy seas that were making our crossing somewhat of a nightmare, and this was in a cove!
Very happy buses in Newfoundland
L'anse aux Meadows is a National Historic Site of Canada which contains the located foundations of a viking village and a reconstructed village with re-enactors. At first, this sounded like it could be lame, but we were amazed at how interesting and well done it turned out to be. Best part of all, JD was allowed in the park with us. The site was once used by roughly 90 vikings, lead by Leif Eiriksson, who used the site as a base while exploring the Bay of St. Lawrence. The ruins were discovered in the 1960's by a historian working off of a few hunches and the directions of locals.
Our other stops for the day included a visit to the "Deep Tickle Experience".... Yeah, sounds pretty sketchy eh? It's actually a jam company that specialized in berry preserves made from fruit found only this far north, so souvenirs were in order! We also managed to stumble across some icebergs! I, having never been this far north, was ecstatic over them! Hey, if Gore's right, we may never get to see any ever again!
Leaving St. Anthony's a bit earlier than we wished, we blew back down the road to the ferry. The office by this point had stopped answering the phone, guess Peggy took the phone off the hook. By the time we arrived we noticed that there were far fewer cars in the parking lot, which was either a good or bad sign. Basically, at 4pm they had taken anyone who was standing around and were "waiting to see how this one goes" before selling tickets for the next one.
We had dinner in the hotel restaurant, located adjacent to the ferry terminal. At one point I popped back in to inquire about an update to find the ladies turning out all the lights. Their answer was, "we don't know anything, and won't until we get back from dinner..."
To make a long story short, we had a standby ticket for boarding the ferry. We got in line, chatted with some locals, and waited to find out our fate. Finally, the official looking man told us to "get in dat line and go up der," which we took to mean "get on the boat." By this point it was close to 10:30 at night, just when I want to be crossing a choppy North Atlantic straight...with icebergs all around.... :Wow1:
It was our goal to make the 1 p.m. or 6 p.m. ferry out of Newfoundland and over to Labrador. With what was left of Irene churning away from the shore, the leftover winds were making travel arrangement next to impossible. After breaking camp, we made our way directly to the Labrador Marine office to try and see if the ships would even sail with the surf and gusts in their current state.
Upon arriving at the ferry terminal, we realized why our few phone calls with the office had been so um... abrupt and strange. If you have ever seen the Discover Card "Peggy" commercials, that was basically what we were working with, except it was three women in the office, when they felt like it. If you have not encountered "Peggy" here's a clip:
Having the option of sitting in a terminal all day or finding some ancient viking dwellings, we hit the road. Along the way we passed, you guessed it, another lighthouse, can also see the choppy seas that were making our crossing somewhat of a nightmare, and this was in a cove!
Very happy buses in Newfoundland
L'anse aux Meadows is a National Historic Site of Canada which contains the located foundations of a viking village and a reconstructed village with re-enactors. At first, this sounded like it could be lame, but we were amazed at how interesting and well done it turned out to be. Best part of all, JD was allowed in the park with us. The site was once used by roughly 90 vikings, lead by Leif Eiriksson, who used the site as a base while exploring the Bay of St. Lawrence. The ruins were discovered in the 1960's by a historian working off of a few hunches and the directions of locals.
Our other stops for the day included a visit to the "Deep Tickle Experience".... Yeah, sounds pretty sketchy eh? It's actually a jam company that specialized in berry preserves made from fruit found only this far north, so souvenirs were in order! We also managed to stumble across some icebergs! I, having never been this far north, was ecstatic over them! Hey, if Gore's right, we may never get to see any ever again!
Leaving St. Anthony's a bit earlier than we wished, we blew back down the road to the ferry. The office by this point had stopped answering the phone, guess Peggy took the phone off the hook. By the time we arrived we noticed that there were far fewer cars in the parking lot, which was either a good or bad sign. Basically, at 4pm they had taken anyone who was standing around and were "waiting to see how this one goes" before selling tickets for the next one.
We had dinner in the hotel restaurant, located adjacent to the ferry terminal. At one point I popped back in to inquire about an update to find the ladies turning out all the lights. Their answer was, "we don't know anything, and won't until we get back from dinner..."
To make a long story short, we had a standby ticket for boarding the ferry. We got in line, chatted with some locals, and waited to find out our fate. Finally, the official looking man told us to "get in dat line and go up der," which we took to mean "get on the boat." By this point it was close to 10:30 at night, just when I want to be crossing a choppy North Atlantic straight...with icebergs all around.... :Wow1:
Day 14: Red bay and the Trans-Labrador Hwy
When we hit the ferry landing, it was pitch black, late, and had no idea where we really were. There was a pub open, but that was about it, so we decided to press on up the road a bit before stopping. We apparently missed the only camping in town, and didn't feel like seeking at a spot on the cliffs not having any real knowledge of where we were and the environment we were in. We finally arrived in Red Bay, which is the end of the paved road. We parked in the lot for the visitor center for a National Historic site, popped the camper, and didn't hear or see anyone until dawn the next morning when the restaurant nearby opened. When the sun peeked over the hills we were delighted to find a really nice little fishing village (not that we hadn't seen any of them thus far). We had been directed the night before on the ferry by an enthusiastic local to go to yet another Canada National Historic Site, which just happened to be where we were parked. This one, though, was generally for the Basque fishing heritage in the bay, but specifically for the discovery of a Spanish galleon from the 16th century, the only one known like it in the world.
It seems there was a lot of discovering going on in this part of the world in the 60's and 70's, as some documents uncovered at a Spanish university led researchers to believe there was a significant shipwreck in the bay. Since a recent wreck had happened in the vicinity under similar conditions (which is still there, by the way), they were able to approximate the location of the Spanish wreck. Sure enough, under roughly 10m of water, lies an almost perfectly preserved Spanish galleon in pieces, to this date. This led researchers to discover an entire settlement, and smaller wrecks as well. One of which, a smaller whaling vessel, has been recovered and preserved and is open to the public. We geeked out appropriately, and enjoyed the morning soaking up this piece of history, in a very nice museum setting.
Did I mention this was the END of the paved road? That meant we were about to get on, dun duh dun, the Trans Labrador Highway!
We hit some of the smaller towns along the road, Mary's Harbour, St. Lewis, and Port Hope Simpson, none of which really offered a lot in the means of tourism, save a boat tour at Mary's Harbour to another island. When we pulled into Port Hope Simpson we had a bit of quandry: continue for a while or stop for the night. After fueling up we decided to check out the local "accommodations". There's a hotel that looks closed, a B&B that looked OK, and supposedly an RV park. It's such a stretch to call this an RV park that we completely missed it on our fist pass, and had to get directions back to it. When we pulled up we found a few sites in an over-grown lot, and what looked like a temporary office trailer. Not certain that they even had a bath house, we checked in the office, which was also the local hardware store, where we met the most useless and unfriendly person to date on this trip. After an awkward hello, the conversation spiraled down hill to the point that I wasn't even sure she wanted to rent us a site for the night, and I was determined not to pay this lady to stay at her crappy campground. So we pressed on...unsure of where we were actually heading for the night.
Port Hope Simpson also has the distinction of being the last place to get gas before Happy Valley - Goose Bay, another 415km away. About 100km in we found the turnoff for Cartwright, which is a ferry stop 100km off the highway on a bay. Since it was getting late we opted to head north to Cartwright, which is also the farthest north we can drive on the east coast, and find a spot for the night.
The Skamper, on the other hand, wasn't sold on the idea, and voiced its opinion by jettisoning the propane door out into the highway. Luckily I heard it breaking free, saw it out of the corner of the mirror and was able to get back to it before another vehicle (not that there was a lot of traffic) could smash it into an unrecognizable shape. A little worse for wear, I made a hasty duct tape repair and we were back underway. Unfortunately, this would not be our last incident on the highway....
The landscape here is completely unbelievable and indescribable. We have never seen such blues and greens in our lives. It is amazing to think that this land was relatively inaccessible prior to the TLH, and is virtually untouched as a result.
Inukshuk and....um...dog?
When we hit the ferry landing, it was pitch black, late, and had no idea where we really were. There was a pub open, but that was about it, so we decided to press on up the road a bit before stopping. We apparently missed the only camping in town, and didn't feel like seeking at a spot on the cliffs not having any real knowledge of where we were and the environment we were in. We finally arrived in Red Bay, which is the end of the paved road. We parked in the lot for the visitor center for a National Historic site, popped the camper, and didn't hear or see anyone until dawn the next morning when the restaurant nearby opened. When the sun peeked over the hills we were delighted to find a really nice little fishing village (not that we hadn't seen any of them thus far). We had been directed the night before on the ferry by an enthusiastic local to go to yet another Canada National Historic Site, which just happened to be where we were parked. This one, though, was generally for the Basque fishing heritage in the bay, but specifically for the discovery of a Spanish galleon from the 16th century, the only one known like it in the world.
It seems there was a lot of discovering going on in this part of the world in the 60's and 70's, as some documents uncovered at a Spanish university led researchers to believe there was a significant shipwreck in the bay. Since a recent wreck had happened in the vicinity under similar conditions (which is still there, by the way), they were able to approximate the location of the Spanish wreck. Sure enough, under roughly 10m of water, lies an almost perfectly preserved Spanish galleon in pieces, to this date. This led researchers to discover an entire settlement, and smaller wrecks as well. One of which, a smaller whaling vessel, has been recovered and preserved and is open to the public. We geeked out appropriately, and enjoyed the morning soaking up this piece of history, in a very nice museum setting.
Did I mention this was the END of the paved road? That meant we were about to get on, dun duh dun, the Trans Labrador Highway!
We hit some of the smaller towns along the road, Mary's Harbour, St. Lewis, and Port Hope Simpson, none of which really offered a lot in the means of tourism, save a boat tour at Mary's Harbour to another island. When we pulled into Port Hope Simpson we had a bit of quandry: continue for a while or stop for the night. After fueling up we decided to check out the local "accommodations". There's a hotel that looks closed, a B&B that looked OK, and supposedly an RV park. It's such a stretch to call this an RV park that we completely missed it on our fist pass, and had to get directions back to it. When we pulled up we found a few sites in an over-grown lot, and what looked like a temporary office trailer. Not certain that they even had a bath house, we checked in the office, which was also the local hardware store, where we met the most useless and unfriendly person to date on this trip. After an awkward hello, the conversation spiraled down hill to the point that I wasn't even sure she wanted to rent us a site for the night, and I was determined not to pay this lady to stay at her crappy campground. So we pressed on...unsure of where we were actually heading for the night.
Port Hope Simpson also has the distinction of being the last place to get gas before Happy Valley - Goose Bay, another 415km away. About 100km in we found the turnoff for Cartwright, which is a ferry stop 100km off the highway on a bay. Since it was getting late we opted to head north to Cartwright, which is also the farthest north we can drive on the east coast, and find a spot for the night.
The Skamper, on the other hand, wasn't sold on the idea, and voiced its opinion by jettisoning the propane door out into the highway. Luckily I heard it breaking free, saw it out of the corner of the mirror and was able to get back to it before another vehicle (not that there was a lot of traffic) could smash it into an unrecognizable shape. A little worse for wear, I made a hasty duct tape repair and we were back underway. Unfortunately, this would not be our last incident on the highway....
The landscape here is completely unbelievable and indescribable. We have never seen such blues and greens in our lives. It is amazing to think that this land was relatively inaccessible prior to the TLH, and is virtually untouched as a result.
Inukshuk and....um...dog?
Trail Monkey
Adventurer, Overland Certified OC0014
enjoying this. please keep it coming.. I'm really looking forward to the translab this summer..
Day 15: Cartwright to Goose Bay on the Trans Labrador
As usual, our arrival into Cartwright wasn't very well timed and as a result we picked an "ok" spot to camp, but I probably would look around more next time. Regardless, we did wake up to:
We had to wait an hour or so for the only gas station in town to open up, and then I paid the most for fuel that I think I paid the entire time we were on the road, due to its remote location. From here to goose bay was several hundred kilometers, and I had calculated that we would *just* make it on fuel. I also had picked up a little 2.5 gallon container somewhere in New Brunswick, so we filled that up and stuffed it up beside the camper as a reserve.
One thing about this road, in most places there is no shortage of beautiful scenery. Lindy even commented once “It’s too easy”, while she was trying to take photos of the landscape.
Out on the road we made good time on our trek to Goose Bay/Happy Valley. The roads were smooth and we were able to carry a lot of speed. At one point about 100km from Goose Bay we came across a minivan at one of the pull-offs. It was a couple of, for lack of a better term, hippies, from Montreal we’d seen on the ferry heading to Labrador two days before. They had a poorly-repaired flat and needed an air compressor, we were glad to be of service and enjoyed chatting for a while about our travels thus far.
A few miles down the road we came across a reminder of why you must not let your guard down out here, a Chevy Blazer on it’s side, roof crushed in but no one should have been hurt if they had their belts on.
To Be Continued...
As usual, our arrival into Cartwright wasn't very well timed and as a result we picked an "ok" spot to camp, but I probably would look around more next time. Regardless, we did wake up to:
We had to wait an hour or so for the only gas station in town to open up, and then I paid the most for fuel that I think I paid the entire time we were on the road, due to its remote location. From here to goose bay was several hundred kilometers, and I had calculated that we would *just* make it on fuel. I also had picked up a little 2.5 gallon container somewhere in New Brunswick, so we filled that up and stuffed it up beside the camper as a reserve.
One thing about this road, in most places there is no shortage of beautiful scenery. Lindy even commented once “It’s too easy”, while she was trying to take photos of the landscape.
Out on the road we made good time on our trek to Goose Bay/Happy Valley. The roads were smooth and we were able to carry a lot of speed. At one point about 100km from Goose Bay we came across a minivan at one of the pull-offs. It was a couple of, for lack of a better term, hippies, from Montreal we’d seen on the ferry heading to Labrador two days before. They had a poorly-repaired flat and needed an air compressor, we were glad to be of service and enjoyed chatting for a while about our travels thus far.
A few miles down the road we came across a reminder of why you must not let your guard down out here, a Chevy Blazer on it’s side, roof crushed in but no one should have been hurt if they had their belts on.
To Be Continued...
Day 15 part 2: "What the F@#$ was that?!?!?!?!??!?!?"
As we neared Goose Bay the tank got close to E, then the low fuel light came on, then the needle went past E. I knew from previous days we’d be close on mileage, and had a spare 2.5 gallon can with us, so I wasn’t worried. A few kilometers later, we came up on a road grader. We’d past several over the last 2 days so this was nothing new. The way these guys seem to operate is to put signage out for a ~5-10 mile stretch of road, run down one side grading towards the middle, come back down the other side and grade towards the middle, and then run down the middle to disburse the large furrow from the first two passes. Usually we could run down along side of the pile of debris, but as the road would narrow over creeks and such you'd have to plow through and straddle it for a bit. This time after we moved to the middle, we heard a loud thud immediately followed by a jolt that rocked the truck. Everything in the center console had found new homes. The change was in the floor, cups and bottles knocked out of the cupholders, and the gearshift knocked into neutral. I quickly looked out of the mirror and saw a giant @$$ rock bounce off the side of the road. “What the !@#$^????” I stopped and stuck my head under the truck a quick inspection, saw no fluids leaking, put the truck in gear and eased forward and heard no strange noises, so we eased down the road a little further before finding a good pulloff for an inspection.
This is roughly equivalent to what we hit at 60mph, but it was well hidden in a dense pile of loose dirt:
And this is what it did:
Initial damage assessment showed denting and tearing in the front skid plates, a gouge and dent in the driveshaft, and some marks on the rear axle. We were only about 20miles from Goose Bay so we pressed on. When we got to town and found a lot to pull off in I crawled under and pulled the skid plate off. There was a hole torn through and an impact crater in the front diff, but no apparent damage aside from superficial. It nearly flattened part of the exhaust and nailed the cross member under the trans, but both look like they’ll be serviceable for the return trip home. All in all lucky I guess, but still pretty pissed that we hit it in the first place. My guess is the front diff hit it and unearthed it, sending it tumbling, it hit the trans x-member HARD, which is what we felt the most of, possibly it even wedged itself between the truck and the ground at that point, before careening the rest of the way back, hitting ever major component on the underside of my truck on the way.
Since we actually managed to make it into the town fairly early for once, we enjoyed lunch at a local eatery and explored around Happy Valley/Goose Bay, which have kind of grown into one town now. We set up for the night at a family owned campground which had almost a desert feel to it, very sandy with sparse vegetation. If I had just woken up there with no knowledge of arriving, I would've thought I was in Arizona or New Mexico again. We also got to learn a bit from the caretaker about the local history, and could also pick up bits of the resentment for preferential treatment the local native Americans had received in recent years.
As we neared Goose Bay the tank got close to E, then the low fuel light came on, then the needle went past E. I knew from previous days we’d be close on mileage, and had a spare 2.5 gallon can with us, so I wasn’t worried. A few kilometers later, we came up on a road grader. We’d past several over the last 2 days so this was nothing new. The way these guys seem to operate is to put signage out for a ~5-10 mile stretch of road, run down one side grading towards the middle, come back down the other side and grade towards the middle, and then run down the middle to disburse the large furrow from the first two passes. Usually we could run down along side of the pile of debris, but as the road would narrow over creeks and such you'd have to plow through and straddle it for a bit. This time after we moved to the middle, we heard a loud thud immediately followed by a jolt that rocked the truck. Everything in the center console had found new homes. The change was in the floor, cups and bottles knocked out of the cupholders, and the gearshift knocked into neutral. I quickly looked out of the mirror and saw a giant @$$ rock bounce off the side of the road. “What the !@#$^????” I stopped and stuck my head under the truck a quick inspection, saw no fluids leaking, put the truck in gear and eased forward and heard no strange noises, so we eased down the road a little further before finding a good pulloff for an inspection.
This is roughly equivalent to what we hit at 60mph, but it was well hidden in a dense pile of loose dirt:
And this is what it did:
Initial damage assessment showed denting and tearing in the front skid plates, a gouge and dent in the driveshaft, and some marks on the rear axle. We were only about 20miles from Goose Bay so we pressed on. When we got to town and found a lot to pull off in I crawled under and pulled the skid plate off. There was a hole torn through and an impact crater in the front diff, but no apparent damage aside from superficial. It nearly flattened part of the exhaust and nailed the cross member under the trans, but both look like they’ll be serviceable for the return trip home. All in all lucky I guess, but still pretty pissed that we hit it in the first place. My guess is the front diff hit it and unearthed it, sending it tumbling, it hit the trans x-member HARD, which is what we felt the most of, possibly it even wedged itself between the truck and the ground at that point, before careening the rest of the way back, hitting ever major component on the underside of my truck on the way.
Since we actually managed to make it into the town fairly early for once, we enjoyed lunch at a local eatery and explored around Happy Valley/Goose Bay, which have kind of grown into one town now. We set up for the night at a family owned campground which had almost a desert feel to it, very sandy with sparse vegetation. If I had just woken up there with no knowledge of arriving, I would've thought I was in Arizona or New Mexico again. We also got to learn a bit from the caretaker about the local history, and could also pick up bits of the resentment for preferential treatment the local native Americans had received in recent years.
jim65wagon
Well-known member
I dig this trip, it has everything you could possibly want, camping, food, humour, lighthouses and dirt roads, even including a little excitement! It's more fun as a slide show/live report over pizza and wine, but this shows everyone what ya'll get up to!
