Goose Cove Boondocking
Last night we boondocked in a beautiful spot near the town of Goose Cove. Our view stretched over an irregular coastline of rocks speckled with alpine foliage, then over water, with a slowly sinking sun.
Like many small towns in Newfoundland, Goose Bay is split around the opposite sides of a cove. Our boondocking spot (which Doug found in iOverlander) is along a now-unused road that leads to the smaller of the two communities. We walked down the road and discovered a well-kept cemetery, three small houses which looked vacant, and some garden plots.
A bit of history as we understand it. In 1947 the province joined Canada. In 1967 the Commonwealth established roads to connect the island (which was previously connected by boat). The government also established incentives for people in small towns to move to more populous areas. Sometime later they discontinued maintenance on secondary roads like this one.
While Doug cooked supper, I spent an hour picking up three bags-full of beer cans from the bushes. The most interesting thing I uncovered was the scattered skeleton of a large animal, most likely a caribou.
A Conversation
The dawn was almost impossibly warm — 58 degrees with a blue sky. We took our time over breakfast, enjoying the beautiful view and the day.
As we were packing up, a pick up truck rattled up. I walked up to the driver and exchanged pleasantries. The fella told me he has a garden plot down the road and was getting ready to “set it.” I asked him what he planned to plant. He looked into the distance and said “In that one? Onions, turnips and beets. I’ve got another one up the road here.”
I asked, “For potatoes?”
And he smiled, “Yes."
Big Blue slowly jostled its way back up the gravel road, bumping and swaying.
I said to Doug, “Can you imagine taking a hearse up this road?”
He replied, “I’ve been thinking about that. I bet they use a boat.”
I share this in case you’ve ever wondered what former pastors talk about with their spouses.
Goose Cove Trail
Before heading back toward St. Anthony, we figured we’d explore the town of Goose Cove. We drove to where the road ends — fittingly enough at a cemetery.
A trail beyond the cemetery led up a bluff, so we took it. At the top we could look out over the strait, all the way to Labrador. In the far distance were four or five large icebergs.
We were above treeline; the ground was a red and green and gold carpet of tundra foliage, our favorite.
Chat with a Retiree
A man who was hiking solo stopped to chat. He lives in St. Anthony, having moved there from Ontario in retirement four years ago. I asked him what it was like to relocate to Newfoundland. He said “It’s not for everybody.” He gestured at the scene before us. “If you don’t like this, there’s no reason to be here. This is what there is.”
As we talked a bit more, it emerged that when his marriage ended he couldn’t afford to live in the Toronto area. He didn’t want to move far north, which was all he could’ve afforded, so he came to the “east coast” as he called it.
Of course I asked about the winter. He said it wasn’t as bad as you think. The past winter they had only two or three heavy snows, and just a few days of negative 15 degrees. “The old timers talk about how it used to be, but it’s not like that anymore.”
St. Anthony
We drove to St. Anthony through a lot of road construction. Then we spent an hour at the local library, which boasts an enormous polar bear just inside the door, along with a postcard explaining how this animal met its demise — it came in on an ice flow and was chased up and down the roads of this town, only to keel over of a heart attack.
Libraries are the internet lifeline of smaller communities. I used the Wifi to post on our blog. Doug bought a bunch of used books and chatted up the librarian.
Then we drove to the lighthouse, where we walked the short but beautiful trails around the point. Then we enjoyed a meal at the Lightkeepers Cafe.
Grenfell Heritage Hotel Stay
We checked in to the Grenfell Heritage Hotel and Suites for two nights, a delightful reprieve. We had two whole rooms, plus a kitchenette and bathroom. So much space! We could be more than six feet apart.
The weather turned foggy and cold and rainy, which was well-timed. We could hole up and stretch out, and not feel like we were missing anything.
On Friday evening we went to the Canadian Royal Legion for a meal and live music. I had pan fried cod, which wasn’t all that good, and Doug had a turkey sandwich, served with mashed potatoes and gravy. (If you’ve ever lived in a dorm, you know the kind.)
The music was two guys, guitar and accordion. People were pleasant to us, but no one approached us for conversation. It was exactly like a church supper.
(Cue joke from former parishioner: Why don’t people go to church socials? Because they’ve been to church socials.)
On Saturday Doug did the camper chores in the rain — managed the tanks, bought propane, and dropped off those three bags of beer cans at the “Green Depot.”
Then I went with him to buy groceries at Foodland where the mood was bleak. We stopped in to the attached liquor store to see if there were any American-made bottles on the shelves. No bourbon. No Makers Make. Not even any California wine. So the reports appear to be correct, Canada has pulled the plug on American booze. Good for them.
Tomorrow we will go to the literal end of the road — and take the ferry to Labrador! (Stay tuned as to whether we are assigned an appropriate pup upon arrival.)