Gros Morne National Park

After my Fleur des Lys detour, I drove to Corner Brook on the western side of Newfoundland and arrived late in the afternoon. This was close to Newfoundland’s largest, most well-known national park. Gros Morne had been established as a reserve back in 1973, then a UNESCO heritage site in 1987, and finally a national park in 2005. This was not only due to its diverse landscape, but its clear evidence of continental drift exposing plate tectonics. 

Carmanville Wetlands

Musgrave Harbour turned out to be a nice surprise despite its early name—Muddy Hole. Not only did I stay in a cute two-bedroom cabin where I had a washing machine, but there was a great beach with lots to explore and a good restaurant right against the sea. My eye was on Carmanville Wetlands however, almost thirty kilometres ahead.

Deadman’s Bay Provincial Park

This straight stretch of coastland against the Atlantic Ocean with fine grained white sand was known as Straight Shore. I drove through Lumsden that in the 18^th century had been visited by French fishers, then known as Cat Harbour.

Tera Nova National Park

Many of the places I stayed were B & Bs, mostly run by women, like my Bonavista stay. They usually had one or the other reaction when I rolled in and they discovered I was travelling alone. I’d see a far away look in their eyes as if they wished they could do the same and never would, or there’d be that question, “Aren’t you afraid to travel around alone?” I almost burst out laughing the first time I heard this. In Newfoundland? Where you don’t even lock a car door? Must be the safest place on earth.

Trinity East to Bonavista

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.

Right across Canada

After nearly seven hours in the air, I was still in Canada. I had gone from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic and wanted to make the most of my first day in Newfoundland and Labrador’s capital, St John’s, in Canada’s most eastern province.

Cavendish, Prince Edward Island National Park

Cavendish’s National Park ran along the northern side of Prince Edward Island facing the Gulf of St Lawrence. It was a small national park. Its longest trail ran from Cavendish Beach to North Rustico, a little over twelve kilometres one way. What made this site busier than any I had visited on the island was the sandy beach that faded into the distance, especially on the misty morning I visited.

PEI’s Confederation Trail

When railways were abandoned on Prince Edward Island in 1989, Islanders gravitated to the idea of using the routes for hiking and cycling. The main route extended from Elmira in the east to Tignish in the west—a distance of nearly three hundred kilometres. As well, branch trails extended out to other areas such as Charlottetown, Souris, and Montague adding over a hundred kilometres to the trail.

Prince Edward Island National Park

This national park on the northern side of the island was established in 1937 to protect the beaches and sand dunes as well as the region’s wetlands and marshes. The twenty-seven square kilometre park faced the Gulf of St Lawrence and consisted of mostly access to its many sandy beaches. But there were some trails away from the dunes.

Peggys Cove

Only forty-four kilometres from Halifax was a tiny fishing village famous for its rugged coastline and lighthouse. It was one of the most photographed sites in Canada. Although it was home to only forty permanent residents, some seven hundred thousand visitors came to Peggy’s Cove annually.