We rode out golden with a clear sky as our guide. Our intended route for the day was the Irish Loop, a road that travels around the southeastern Penninsula in the Avalon region - and I felt like we were in the Avalon of ancient myth. As we entered the first leg of the loop into deep forests of spruce, the deliciously pungent smell of these evergreens gave credence to their botanical name- picea pungens. We filled our lungs with their wild aroma and soared into the day.
Passing through villages with names of Bay Bulls and Witless Bay, the road wound us along the distorted coastline, dotted with small houses and fishing boats. Legions of gulls worked the edge of the ocean, fishing to live, just like the human residents.
Gradually forests diminished and a rolling tundra ruled the landscape. As we neared the coast, fog draped the sky in the distance. Then we were immersed in a deep and thick mist as the temperature plummeted 15 degrees. Herds of caribou inhabit this area, but none came out to play today. When we stopped in Trepassy, at the bottom of the loop, for lunch, we whined to our waitress that we hadn't seen any caribou. She said we should be glad because the herds are huge and they often stand in the road and cannot be moved. That would have prolonged our day a bit!
After a lunch with a view, we started on the back of the loop. Jules sniffed out a haunting deserted inlet, bulkheaded and jettied for the few boats docked there. Fogged in and alone, we explored the crumbling docks while listening to the sea pound against the walls. The fog was so clean that we drank it in huge gulps, savoring its purity. Revived, we rumbled up the stony incline to continue our ride.
As we climbed up the edge of yet another inlet, houses perched dangerously close to the bumpy road and the cliffs, just as likely to tumble down the hill as us. Living on angles must be very difficult, but I'm sure the view more than compensates. Cruising back to St.John's, we were joined by the continued warmth of the sun. Newfoundland is having a heat wave, and we are so lucky to be surfing it.
Mother Nature gave us CPR today and renewed our bodies and spirits. The rush from soaring into the perfume of the spruce, mixed with the deep cleansing of a dive down into the fog, detoxed us from any lingering baggage we brought with us onto the island. We have been made whole again by Newfoundland.
The Shores of Avalon
Lonely
Fog waits to pounce
It was closed
Fog on the coast
The haunted bulkhead
Can you see me now?
Bridges of Avalon
Afternoon break
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