After my Earhart detour, I drove to Trinity East along quiet highways where traffic was at a minimum. It was the six-kilometre Sherwink Trail I was headed to where I hiked through forest, past cliffs, and up, down, and around to a beach. Stacks stood offshore. At one point, a sign explained how capelin came to spawn on the beach below where the females layed up to 5 000 eggs. Fog rolled in and the sound of a warning horn reverberated through the grey mist. During the entire hike, I never saw another person as if the trail was mine.
In Bonavista, a cute seaside town with a duck pond trail to skirt and a friendly restaurant, I learned how islanders knew how to tell who was from Newfoundland and who was a tourist. We tourists locked our cars, islanders never bothered.
Bonavista was full of traditional Newfoundland houses—the saltbox house. I walked through the town deciding to treat myself to a lobster. While overfishing had ruined the cod industry on the Grand Banks, lobsters were still prolific. The lobster tasted like it was right off the boat. In fact, I’m sure it must have been a bonanza year, because even MacDonalds sold lobster in Newfoundland—the Mac lobster. I won’t admit how many times I ate this cheap treat that cost $10 along with fries.
Just beyond the town was Cape Bonavista where there was a lighthouse to explore and a view of the Atlantic Ocean with fresh air gushing in off the blue waters. A busload of tourists braced themselves against the wind before they scurried into one of the buildings on the point.
On the drive back, I took a short hike to the Dungeon, a natural arch formation—my last Bonavista stop off. I enjoyed Bonavista, but my reason for visiting this outpost, was still twenty kilometres away—I wanted to see puffins up close.