Moose in a bottle and other adventures

I took a huge ferry to get Newfoundland.


I've been on lots of boats but never one with a helicopter pad.


We arrived in Port aux Basques in a heavy fog.


Parking the ferry was amazing. The engines pushed the ship sideways up to the dock! I've never seen anything like it.


It's official! I'm in Newfoundland.


I camped in a lovely campground near this beach.


I was invited to dinner by my neighbors and was introduced to some traditional foods including salt meat and bakeapples (more on that later). As I had been warned, Newfoundlanders have a strange accent so I had a tough time understanding my hosts. They were offering me all sorts of goodies but it took a few tries for me to understand the offer of 'moose in a bottle' since she pronounced 'bottle' as 'baa-a'. It was a rather large bottle so I politely declined being uncertain as what to do with it.

I really lucked out because the wind shifted to the southwest giving me a nice push past the windiest spot on the island, Wreckhouse.


When big storms come in, the wind is strong enough to tip over big semis and even the train that used to run up the island.

This museum display is all that's left of the train line on Newfoundland. Instead of a smooth rails to trails like in PEI, the old line is pretty torn up by ATVs.


On the top of a hill in Corner Brook is a marker describing Captain Cook's exploration of Newfoundland. He did a great job mapping the coastline.



I camped near Corner Brook. I have no idea what serviced laundry and unserviced showers mean.


I was in a bit of a grouchy mood. Navigating around Corner Brook had been annoying, the girl at the information center said the Captain Cook memorial was a must see so I crawled up the ridiculously steep hill for what was a rather disappointing spot, and I was just tired. So, at the campground I asked for a nice quiet site. They said they had a good one for me so off I went to set up camp.


Well, one neighbor had a huge snarling, barking pitbull from hell. He then started blasting obscenity laced rap. Then the neighbor on the other side came back and turned on country western really loud. So, my quiet campsite went something like this (extreme liberties taken with lyrics): mf ho, ya mf mf.... Bark, bark, snarl, bark.... My girlfriend just left me, woe is me... Snarl, bark... My dog died, life is so sad... Snarl, snarl... Waaaaaaaa (a kid on a bike screaming because the dog scared him).

Ahh, camping can be so restful!

-- Post From My iPhone

Location:Newfoundland