On the wrong side of the road

When I moved to Newfoundland, I had no great hopes of people coming to visit me. It costs a lot of money to get over here and there are far more exotic/sunny places for people to spend their hard earned money on. Imagine my excitement when my best friend told me she wanted to come over.

One of the prerequisites of visiting Newfoundland was a willingness to rent a car and to drive. On the other side of the road. A side effect of me not being able to drive on any side of the road, and the lack of public transport to get you anywhere other than St John's. Man, I miss trains.

I had ordered the weather especially for Emily's arrival, primarily to ensure that she was able to land, but also for aesthetic reasons. Anywhere looks better when the sun is shining. As she emerged from the airport to blue skies we made quick plans with our helpful Latvian chaffeur to go down to Cape Spear to see the arched iceberg that I had heard a lot of hype about. We arrived to a stream of cars parked on either side of the Cape Spear road and an impressive chunk of ice.

A huge iceberg with an ever growing arch. Tour boat for scale.

Partners in crime.

Sunshine, icebergs and fog. Newfoundland in one shot.

A little revision/learning of the road signs of Newfoundland the night before prepared both myself and Emily for our road trip. First stop Bonavista, where I had seen icebergs a few weeks previously. The weather wasn't great (I could only reserve the good weather for a couple of non-consecutive days) but it was dry, which is the most you can ask for. When the icebergs are around, the weather stays grey and cold unfortunately. The 300km drive ended with some awesome icebergs, bracing winds, and a suprisingly precisely timed appearance from a gathering of puffins.

The Dungeon. Small English girl for scale.

An array of different shaped icebergs,
one curiously resembling either a Muppet or a dog.

The wonders of puffins attempting to fly.

The following day after a typically Canadian breakfast of pancakes, maple syrup and bacon for Emily, and a tasting of some of the 42 homemade jams on offer at White's B&B we headed back towards the Avalon with a couple pitstops along Bay de Verde.

The Spirit of Harbour Grace, commemorating Emelia Earheart's maiden
female solo flight across the Atlantic, setting off from Harbour Grace itself.

Day 3 was dedicated to the Irish Loop. I've (been) driven down the eastern coast about as far as Renews, but I've always wanted to explore the southern Avalon. Unfortunately Mistaken Point was a no go. The tours aren't running at the moment and the roads are in really bad condition. I will get there before I leave though! Most of the way down the loop is typical Newfoundland landscape of trees and rocks, but you pass a point down past Cappahayden when the trees disappear and you are in the barrens. Civilisation seems a distant memory. After popping into the Mistaken Point interpretation centre at Portugal Cove South we drive on past Trepassey and stopped for lunch near the St Shott's Rd. The silence was deafening. It was fabulous. We were expectantly hoping to see caribou but the lack of wildlife made the experience all the more great. It wasn't completely devoid of life however. As I was filming a panorama an unidentified bird got spooked, made a funny noise and flew away. No idea what it was.

Nothingness.

Always wanted to take one of these.

Never devoid of human activity.

We also stopped at Cape Spear again to check on the arched iceberg from above.
These were the remains.

Day 4 saw our shortest trip, exploring the northern Avalon as well as popping into The Geocentre (Emily is a geologist at heart). The sun decided to pop out in the afternoon so we got a great view from Signal Hill to finish the day. Overall driving total was ~1100 km. Great job Em, and thanks for doing it again!!

Naturally a Screech In was in order for the Friday night. Bologna was eaten, cod were kissed and rum was drank. Another Newfoundlander was inducted. A night of spending all my Loonies on the jukebox ensued and involved a trip to the poutinerie. Walking home as the sun started to make an appearance ended a typical Newfoundland night out. Definitely wasn't an early one.

The last thing on the list of things to do was the Signal Hill hike, and Sunday was a perfect day for it. Around The Battery, up to Cabot Tower and then over to see the growing eagles, before dropping down into Quidi Vidi village, an impromptu lunch at Mallard Cottage, washed down with a brewery tour, rounded things off nicely, and ensured that Emily hadn't brought her hiking boots out with her for nothing.

Stunning day.

Difficult to understand the scale of these two things floating in the ocean.

Eagles are growing with every visit.

Love these stilted houses in The Gut.

Great beers from this place.

Things we learnt on this trip. Puffins can only fly anti-clockwise. There is no such thing as too much jam. Beach sediments are exciting to both geographers and geologists alike. You can play Ed Sheeran's "Sing" too much. Ivica Olić isn't a scary Croatian to everybody. How to say condominiums. Poutine is only good when there is still cheese. English pubs should always have hunting wallpaper. Iceberg beer tastes of nothing. I love my friends (well I didn't learn this, but the trip did reinforce it). Thanks so much for coming Emily.