Monday, May 3rd
Changing Plans
What is this life that pulls me far away
What is that home where we cannot reside
What is that quest that pulls me onward— Loreena McKennit, Caravanserai
It is finally time to get going. After breakfast, again at the hotel, I take a cab back to the airport to get my car. Some confusion about the reservation (apparently, it has been made with the wrong office) later, I hold the keys for the aptly named Ford Escape in my hands.
I decide to make this first day a driving day and go as far west as I can. Tuesday and half of Wednesday shall then be used to go back by the scenic route. The idea to go all the way up and see the Viking settlement at L’Anse aux Meadows needs to be scrapped. Newfoundland is just too damn big. So I aim for Corner Brook instead.
I take off on route 1, doubling as Trans-Canada Highway or T.C.H. While we (me and the Escape, of course) are leaving most signs of civilization behind quickly, it takes thirty kilometers to reach the city limits of St. John’s. The landscape is quite alpine, conifers, brown soil and occasionally exposed rock. A few kilometers on, an exit leads to the Avalon Nordic Ski Club, presumably dealing in cross-country skiing, for there are no mountains of note.
The landscape changes and is now a bit more of a moonscape, although birches bravely cling on. But soon it returns to the coniferous variety. At the exit for Whitbourne, about ninety kilometers into the trip, the motorway turns into a normal highway; a certain sign that we have left the populous parts around St. John’s for good.
The road goes on and on. It has little by way of distraction. Lots of ponds, the occasional exit, a refinery at Arnold’s Cove. At Clarenville, about 200 km in, I turn off the highway to do some shopping. Water, some groceries and a pack of baby carrots. The latter serves as lunch.
The next stop is Gander or, more precisely, Gander International Airport. The airport, if you excuse a bit of aviation geekery, had a very important role during the earlier days of transatlantic flying, when it was used commonly as refueling stop. It has played its last grand role on September 11, 2001, when it received 39 diverted wide-body jets. Needless to say, the airport nowadays is not much different from other regional airports, save for an exhibition in the departure hall showing its history.
After Gander I get a little road weary. Corner Brook is still four hours away. Since there also is no alternative route for the return journey west of Grand Falls-Windsor, I scrap the plan. At Bishop’s Falls I turn off the T.C.H. and onto route 350 north towards the fjordish landscape of Notre Dame Bay. Up to Botwood the road is rather busy but quietens down thereafter.
The town of Northern Arm is collecting for a new fire truck. It also has The King’s Pub which has a Graceland Party coming up. Yes, that king. There even is a picture for the less subtly inclined.
At Point Leamington I am reminded that the labeling of places in my map is rather too pompous. From the big fat label, you would expect a large city, not a lovely, slightly sleeping town surrounding the southern end of an inlet. The road continues further along inlets and ponds, through forests mostly of birches. It winds around big boulders which have been decorated with love messages. Some fresh, some faded away over time, some removed, probably with the same passion as they were put up with in the first place.
All of a sudden, the weather, having been so-so during the day, turns nice. And so we arrive in sunshine at Leading Tickles, population 513, Tidy Town provincial winner, and, as far as names are concerned, the unrivaled high-point of the journey so far. Although, actually, not only in the naming department. The town and its road curl around a bay, occasionally pushed away by stubborn hills. The whole setting is immensely idyllic, even lovely. A shop is named ‘Welm’s shop and stop’, but should probably be called Overwhelm’s.
I follow the road all the way to its end at the head of the Oceanside Nature Trail. Taking an unimportant side road until it ends is a bit of a hobby of mine and has been rather rewarding so far. Probably shouldn’t try that in Columbia, though.
I turn around again, and leave town by way of the primary school in a large-ish green building and the rather smaller but spotlessly white St Nicholas Anglican church. Back to the T.C.H. and on the last twenty kilometers to Grand Falls-Windsor. As I unload the car in the lot of a hotel right by the highway (too lazy to search for more far off accommodation) I am slightly shocked by how warm it is. Given that the forecast was for rain and six degrees, sixteen isn’t bad at all. But the clouds are already coming in from the west.
Beer of the day: Guinness (yes, indeed. And they had an Abba DVD running in the bar, too.)