By
TA Loeffler of St. John’s, Newfoundland, www.taloeffler.com
and Karen Warren of Pelham, Massachusetts, www.hampshire.edu
Map showing Loeffler and Warren's route (thumbnail - click on image to enlarge)
Introduction
After previous expeditions to Notre Dame Bay and Random Island, we decided to give Placentia Bay a chance to steal our outdoor hearts. We were not disappointed!!! We were interested in exploring the old outports and resettled communities, paddling in winds that came all the way from Brazil, having some hiking time, and discovering the nooks and crannies of the islands and shores of the bay. We saw eagles every day we paddled; found fresh water sources so often that we quit carrying more than a day’s worth; paddled in fog, breaking surf, and glass calm waters; found unexpected delights of history in the outports; and experienced the joy of getting to know the current people of this fine bay.
Our
intended route was to complete a circle starting in Monkstown, paddling down
Paradise Sound, around the point to explore the resettled communities, cross
over to Merasheen and the Ragged Islands for a few days of exploration, and then
cross back over Western Channel to Davis Cove. We would complete the shuttle with an 11km run back to
Monkstown.
June 4
After
the breakfast special at Zachary’s we left a rainy St. John’s for a planned
10-day sea kayak trip through Placentia Bay.
After requisite stops at Whitbourne and Gobbies, and a long drive down
the dirt highway, we arrived at Monkstown.
A small community of just 22 at the head of Paradise Sound, Monkstown
would be the launching pad for our Placentia Bay adventure.
We drove around town looking for a launch spot and met a local woman who
said it was fine to park behind buddy’s boat.
The beach was pitched shallow and allowed for one of the shortest carries
of loaded boat ever. The wind blew lightly up the Sound and we were ready to set
off in no time with 11 days of supplies fitting easily in our two boats. TA
paddled her red Necky Looksha IV named the Lucky Rickshaw and Karen paddled
Antony’s as of yet nameless yellow P&H Capella.
The Sound was a lovely green tunnel hemmed in by brown cliffs rising from
either side. Small pocket beaches
could be found frequently. We
stopped to stretch out legs at a delightful rock island then paddled down to
Channel’s Harbour.
TA
Points the way down Paradise Sound (photo Karen Warren)
As
we paddled into the harbour, we passed by a few cabins. We then dragged the boats through some out-flowing current
into the back bay of the harbour and made camp on a neck that opened back onto
Paradise Sound. It would be easier to access our actual campsite by the flotsam
covered beach on Paradise Sound as the neck between the harbour and the sound is
quite narrow. The black flies performed a welcome ritual that sent us diving for
our head nets. Beach flotsam
provided the makings of a kitchen and we soon dined on Karen’s fine
three-course dinner. A stream
nearby provided fresh water. The
weather for the next day predicted a big southwestern blow so we headed to bed
with the intention of an “alpine” start to beat the storm.
Karen
looks down Paradise Sound (photo TA Loeffler)
An
alpine start is a mountaineering technique for starting up a mountain in the wee
hours of the night to ensure there is enough light to get up and down the
mountain. In our case, our alpine
start started at 5:08 am in a light drizzle.
Dressed in her paddling suit, TA cooked a fine feed of Red River cereal
and we were soon on our way to South East Bight. We portaged our boats and gear over the neck rather than
paddling out through the harbour. It
was typical capelin weather including rain, drizzle and fog. We paddled into the
harbour at South East Bight by 10 am and did our best to have a conversation
with a fisherman who was heading out. Accents
seemed thick on both ends and several sentences had to be repeated before we
understood a storm was headed our way. We’d
already planned to camp so we made our way closer to the wharf to check out the
options. We paddled by the wharf
where a group of women were readying it for the ferry’s arrival.
They took one look at us in our small boats, labeled us “stunned,”
and kept on working. We asked them
about camping in a small meadow at the end of the harbour-they looked at us
kinda funny and said, “sure, no problem.”
They
got brave and asked, “Do you belong to Monkstown?” Karen replied, “No, I belong to the states and TA is from
St. John’s.” They then asked if
we had a bigger boat with us-we shook our heads to indicate that it was just the
two of us and they began to shake their heads incredulously again.
As the rain was getting heavier, we paddled off towards our “meadow.”
in the last cove before the head. It
turned out to be someone’s boggy front lawn but they were no longer living
there. With the rain turning to
torrential, we took up residence in the shell of a shack that had a roof and
wall framing. Our open air home out
of the storm seemed like the best of “Better Homes and Gardens” and we
settled in for the rest of the day. A
rocky stream provided water Karen ventured into town and got more information
from a local fisherman. With the
storm coming through, it wouldn’t make sense to move around the point into the
full fetch until midday when the swell would have had time to settle.
Cribbage, rest, and reading were the order of the day.
June 6
TA
roused herself out of bed and went for a run along some of the trails that led
south from the village. The old
road meandered through lovely barrens, over hills and around several ponds. She
saw bear scat on several occasions and hoped she didn’t meet its maker while
out running. A post run breakfast
and nap was truly wonderful as we waited for the seas to subside.
The combination of a falling tide and a south wind creates steep waves at
the mouth of the Sound. Finally at
midday, we pried ourselves away from our luxurious accommodations, packed the
boats, and headed out towards Red Head. It
was easy to see why it had been named that-the rocks were blood red granite. We paddled into Great Paradise for lunch and could easily see
why, in the lee of Marticott Island, it was so named. Post lunch, we passed by the mouth of Little Paradise and
began to cross to Eastern Head via the Gulls Islands.
TA
paddles by a wharf in Great Paradise (photo Karen Warren)
Karen
lands near an abandoned home in Great Paradise (photo TA Loeffler)
From afar, it
looked like one of the small islands was slashed into two.
As we paddled closer, we struggled to make
sense of what we were seeing. Was
it a big patch of snow? A large
discoloration on the rock? A
tunnel? Turns out it was the
later-a tunnel through the whole island and Karen said she was going to “Take
a look,” which turned out to be code for “I’m going to go try to paddle
through it unless it’s really not wise.”
Due to this misunderstanding, TA wasn’t ready for Karen’s
big move and failed to
capture her in full action as she timed her passage through the slit with
perfect precision. There was a
large sunker in the middle of the way through and TA had the same good timing to
sneak through.
The
slash in one of the Gull Islands (photo TA Loeffler)
The
wind continued to build and we had a long slog over to Eastern Head.
Rounding the Eastern Head, we were met with very confused seas and an
even bigger slog up towards Toslow. We
hoped that Butter Cove might provide a respite and opportunity to get off the
water but were disappointed. We
would have to pull off a monumental haul-out to get off and the camping was
marginal at best. So, despite
intense fatigue from battling against the wind and building seas, we chose to
continue on after some rest, a snack and water.
We needed to make 4 more kilometers up the shore to Sand Cove or Toslow. We passed by the White Sail, a beautiful fan of white rock
cliffs that probably could be seen far out in the bay. We found out later from
locals that the Presque shore has a reputation for challenging confused seas and
our experience lived up to that billing. Due to the steep cliffs, landing and
camping places were virtually nonexistent.
Sand
Cove presented the most wonderful beach to land on and shared a neck of land
with Toslow. We pitched the tent up
high where we could look into Toslow and found lots more bear scat.
A celebration of a hard fought 20 kilometers and our arrival in Placentia
Bay ensued with Storm Beer and Ringalos. This
spot held incredible beauty as we could look out through Sand Harbour toward
Merasheen or into the serene harbour of Toslow with its lush green hillsides.
The evening light massaged the surrounding hills with its gentleness and
soon the tent beckoned.
View
from our tent site in Sand Cove (photo TA Loeffler)
June 7
The
next morning we had a slower start and we hoped to be able to paddle to St.
Leonard’s. As if often the case
in sea kayaking, the ocean had a different idea.
A building headwind and resulting confused seas convinced us to pull into
the abandoned community of St. Anne’s to reconsider our options.
A paddle through the Goat Islands at low tide reveled sea stars and
urchins in abundance. We decided to head to St. Kryan’s at the head of the
harbour for our planned layover day. Its
location would be protected from the next predicted storm and would allow us to
hike to St. Leonard’s. We wanted
to fulfill the song…”Off from St. Leonard’s and off from Toslow.” As we paddled northeast around the shore, the immense shell
of the church at St. Kyran’s came into view.
It beckoned us closer and invited us to stay. Presque Harbour, which holds several resettled communities,
is so beautiful. The green hills
surround its mirror blue surface and we longed to stay there for several months.
Walking on the footpaths from community to community filled with our
hearts with curiosity and longing. We
wanted to know more about the people who had lived there.
That night we made camp on the edge of a gravel beach and watched the
evening light dance along the confines of the harbour.
The
Church in St. Kyrans (photo TA Loeffler)
June 8
Sun
and wind greeted us on this day, a lovely day to spend exploring and walking and
napping and reading. TA walked over
to the far reaches of St. Kyran’s and explored an old fishing stage.
Time and the mice were slowly dismantling it but she wondered how many
men had spent time within its walls. Karen
picked rhubarb from the patches in St. Leonard’s when she walked over there
and made an amazing cobbler. She
also watched several beavers swimming back and forth over one of the ponds,
visited the old stone church and graveyard, and added a bird to her life
list—a black backed three-toed woodpecker.
We had a small fire on the beach and remarked that Presque Harbour would
be world-class property if it wasn’t so remote.
We were quite happy for that remoteness!
Then we toasted the Peeps Karen had saved since Easter for such an
occasion.
June 9
Another
alpine start awaited us because we hoped to make great progress along our route
today. A brisk tailwind pushed us
back to St. Anne’s and then we had to push against it as we paddled north
again towards Isle Valen. We made a
few valiant pee stops along the way on rockweed-smothered ledges and pulled out
on the southeast corner of Isle Valen for lunch.
This grassy neck with a graveyard and views of Merasheen would have made
an excellent campsite, but we had other ideas
Graveyard near our lunch spot on Isle Valen (photo TA Loeffler)
The
weather seemed to be inviting us to cross so we decided to go for it and began
to paddle up to our crossing point. We
took a bearing and began to cross towards the Green Islands.
We looked both ways before crossing the straight and made good progress
across the Western Channel of Placentia Bay. The main harbour on the west side
of Jean De Gaunt Island did not yield any appealing camping spots so we
continued north along the shore of the island.
After 33 kilometers of paddling, we made camp on Jean De Gaunt amid
lobster traps and spongy bog. Another
celebration was in order with an English chocolate brown stout and Pringles
followed by TA’s famous Mexican casserole.
We watched otters play in the cove but after a big paddle bed called
early that night.
June 10
Another
easygoing start led to a sea cave on Jean De Gaunt and a lovely passage through
the Ragged Islands. As Merasheen
Island had been somewhat of a holy grail for us as we paddled the western shore
of the bay, we opted for lunch on a small beach near Mary’s Harbour.
TA
emerges from the sea cave on Jean de Gaunt (photo Karen Warren)
If we had known what awaited us, we might not have had lunch. We paddled into Best’s Harbour and were greeted by Viola and Ern Penney. Only in Newfoundland can you come in for tea and stay for three days. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because this land and its people never cease to amaze me. There we were, two salt encrusted souls, paddling into Best’s Harbour on King’s Island in the middle of Placentia Bay when Viola Penney spotted us and came running with her camera. Having had no one to speak to but each other for the past seven days, Karen Warren and I gladly paddled over to pose.
After chatting to Viola for a few moments, Ern, her husband, came over and asked, “Are you coming ashore?” Given we paddled 33 kilometers the previous day, we needed no further invitation, and hopped out of our cramped kayaks. After more conversation, Ern offered another invitation, “Are you coming in for tea?” Just what were these two kind folks thinking when they invited two smelly dripping sea woman to their table?
Tea turned into a feed of bottle moose, a warm bath led to Jiggs dinner, a gentle insistence to stay the night began an evening of live music, and dancing around the kitchen transformed into a lesson in cribbage humility around Vi’s table. It was hard to wipe the grin of “incredible good fortune” off of my face. The sky opened that night and poured rain against the cabin roof like the Sou’west wind pounds the Presque shore. Snuggled into a warm comfy bed rather than a sopping tent, the grin took up permanent residence especially as the Penney’s threw down the welcome mat and invited us to stay for as long as we wished.
When planning our route for the trip, we hoped the weather would allow us to cross over to Merasheen and the Ragged Islands. I had heard from my co-worker, Vera Mitchell (nee Brown), who grew up in Tack’s Beach about the great beauty that awaited us there but she didn’t prepare me for the warmth of the people who would welcome us as if we were family.
Our
wonderful hosts (photo TA Loeffler)
June 11
Ern
and Viola headed back to town leaving us the keys to their cabin and the
invitation to stay as long as we wished. Wow.
We thanked our lucky stars. We
paddled out along the Long Reach, a beautiful zigzag channel, and then over to
Broad Cove to collect mussels. We
played more cribbage-TA had to avenge the previous night’s three losses and we
watched Hockeyville 2006 on the TV-never in our wildest dreams did we ever think
we would watch hockey in the middle of Placentia Bay.
Picture of Tack's Beach from 1965
June 12
This
was a day of exploring Tack’s Beach and Best’s Harbour by foot instead of
boat. As one of the locals said,
“It’s important to get the sea out from under ya once in awhile.” We
looked for caribou in the hills over the harbour and explored the well-kept
trails running between communities Karen walked over to Baker’s cove and
checked out the cabins Tom Bailey rents out there (see previous trip reports). More cribbage, naps, and a fine feed of lobster bought
from a local fisherman awaited. We
cheered on the Oilers that night.
TA
holding dinner (photo Karen Warren)
June 13
We
awoke early hoping to beat the winds and paddle to our takeout at Davis Cove.
Once again, Placentia Bay reminded us we were on her schedule.
The winds were already brisk so we decided for the predicted late
afternoon drop in the wind. It’s
always hard to wait when you want to get somewhere but since we faced a 13
kilometer crossing-we had to sit and hope and wait.
About 3:00 pm, we carried the boats over the neck from Best’s Harbour
to Tack’s Beach, loaded them under the watchful eye of local lobsterman,
Freeman and thought the wind was dropping.
We decided to launch as the drop in wind had always previously signaled a
wind shift and calmer seas.
We
took a bearing for Greens Island and set off.
The wind shifted rapidly to the southwest and the seas began to build.
Whitecaps built quickly and we faced the reality of needing to get off
the water-we were halfway across to Greens Island on a good heading to paddle
into the wind so we elected to keep paddling rather than turn back.
Once we reached the safety of the lee of Greens Island, we breathed
easier and looked for a place to land. We
thought we’d have supper and see if the wind was going to continue to build or
drop. We were rapidly losing the
daylight.
Soon
it became clear that we weren’t going anywhere for the rest of the day and so
set up camp. For an emergency
pullout, we felt like we lucked out quite well.
We found freshwater in small pockets, a reasonably level tent site and an
amazing view of the bay. TA called
Viola on the cell phone so no one in Arnold’s Cove or Tack’s Beach would
worry about us. The clouds began to
drop and a gentle rain lulled us to sleep.
Our
take-out spot on Greens Island (photo TA Loeffler)
June 14
The
alarm awoke us at 4:00am. Surrounded
in a thick fog, the sea had laid down and we would be able to cross.
We entered the bearing to Davis Cove on our compasses and the GPS and
paddled off into the blank slate of Placentia Bay.
Paddling in such a thick fog is challenging because of the visual
dislocation-it’s hard to use your senses to tell if you are paddling in a
straight line-you must trust your compass even though your mind is telling you
not to…the morning was so still, broken only by our paddle blades.
At one point we heard a big whoosh and a Minke whale surfaced nearby. We paddled along with it for a while until it dove to go
feed. We also paddled
up beside a startled and perhaps lost puffin…A few hours later we paddled
right up into Davis Cove-our bearing had worked perfectly and the end of the
trip was near. We hauled out near
the wharf and TA exchanged paddle for running shoes in order to run back to
Monkstown to fetch the Omamobile. Karen
readied the boats for the trip home while TA tried to remember how to move by
leg power instead of arm power. We
loaded up the boats, stopped in Gobbies for treats, Arnold’s Cove to return
the cabin keys, Whitbourne for gas, and made it to town in time to get lots of
errands done before dinner.
Karen
paddles into Davis Cove (photo TA Loeffler)
Day
1 Monkstown to Channel's Harbour, 11km, 3 hours
Day 2 Channel's Harbour to SE Bight, 11 km, 2.5 hours
Day 3 SE Bight to Sand Cove, 20 km, 5.5 hours
Day 4 Sand Cove to St. Kyran's, 9 km, 2.5 hours
Day 5 Layover
Day 6 St. Kyran's to Jean de Gaunt, 33 km, 6.5 hours
Day 7 Jean de Gaunt to Best's Harbour, 7 km, 2 hours
Day 8 & 9 Layover-Day paddles
Day 10 Tack's Beach to Greens
Island, 5 km, 1.5 hours
Day 11 Greens Island to Davis Cove, 7 km, 2 hours