Gros Morne National Park Adventure
“It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission – you know that don’t you Michelle?” Jim looked at me and shook his head.
We were walking out of the Gros Morne Parks Canada Visitor’s Centre. We’d just spent a frustrating hour working our way up the ladder of authority. All we wanted to do was camp (backpacking style). You see there are only three – yes three – regular backpacking campgrounds in Gros Morne. Two are by the ocean – but we wanted the one on the mountain. The campground on the mountain only allows for three tents and these spots are permanently reserved for those who do the 5-day compass assisted ‘Long Range Traverse’.
Next morning we were back at the Visitor’s Centre. The Duty Warden’s superior was to relay his decision whether we could go camp.
“He says it is O.K.” The girl at the desk smiled at us when she spoke.
“He did – really?” I was stunned.
“You’ll need a topo map, compass and an emergency locator beacon,” she added. The fee for two nights camping came to $56.
It has been nearly two years since we’ve shouldered our dreaded overnight backpacks. The weather was hot and sunny, and we laboured up the trail. It took us three and a half hours to walk the eight kilometres (535 m vertical) to the campsite. Our clothes were soaked with the effort – but what a spot. The campsite was nestled between two warm lakes in a gully between two mountains.
We set up camp and then went off to hike some more. We wanted to complete the trail we’d been on in the morning by climbing to the top of Mount Gros Morne. This is the highest mountain in the park at 806 meters. We climbed the whole 806 too - the parking lot for the trail is right by the sea.
No, they didn’t name the Park after our last Prime Minister. Gros means big. Morne means rocky and that pretty well sums it up. The summit is a huge undulating rocky plain. Looking out from the top the view was amazing. From here you can get a good idea of the bones of the park. We could see the lowlands and the ocean behind. From the lowlands, ancient fiords cut back in regular succession to pierce into the high plateau of the ‘Long Range Mountains’. The fiords have been cut off from the sea and now make long skinny lakes – or ponds, as they like to call them in Newfoundland.
We studied ‘Ten Mile Pond’ below our feet. The wind ripped long white tails down the surface of the water. Even from our height we could see the whitecaps.
“Doesn’t look like good paddling tonight,” Jim remarked.
Back in the campsite we watched a big bull moose graze in the willows around the lakes. Hikers from the mountain would pass close by and he would barely lift his head to look at them. Perhaps with his 4-foot rack of antlers it was too much effort. People didn’t seem to bother him at all. In the middle of the night he even wandered within a foot of our tent.
We had heard stories about blackflies out west, but have never appreciated the incredible nastiness of these tiny creatures because we’d never really met them before. Now we were introduced.
They loved biting around our heads. With my face covered with welts I looked like I was a teenager again. The bugs crawled into our clothing and up our pant legs. Often an inch-or-so trail of blood would trickle from their bites. We scurried to our tent before 8 pm.
Next morning while I was tidying up the campsite, I tripped over one of the guy ropes of our tent.
“Michelle – do you realize the moose walked right there and he didn’t touch the ropes?” Jim had to point that out to me.
Newfoundland’s centrepiece for tourist promotion is a photo of a hiker at Gros Morne. She is standing overlooking one of the fiords. Parks Canada’s policy allows a maximum of nine people per day to see that view. Jim wanted to take a similar shot himself. Today we had our chance.
To get to the highlands behind the fiords, there is no official trail. We headed up the mountain on the other side of our campsite. It was steep to begin with. It was the kind of hiking where you need your hands. But at the top, it was mainly tundra-like conditions – low plants and lots of rock. The odd place consisted of thick, prickly chest high bushes known here as Tuckamore.
We followed along the cliff edges. Jim wanted a view right down Ten Mile Pond. It was a sunshiny day. The water sparkled in the pond. The breeze blew away the bugs. We were literally suspended thousands of feet over the valley bottom. It was worth all the bureaucratic arguments we got ourselves immersed in.
After spending several hours enjoying the place, we followed the vague path of the ‘Long Range Traverse’ back along the high plateau. The trial passed by the shore of a large granite-lined lake. The rocks disappeared under the clear water. It was too inviting to resist.
We were feeling pretty good back at camp. We had managed to negotiate with Parks Canada something that was out of their normal - to experience something fantastic. We were fresh and clean after our swim. Our bellies were full after a great meal. Then the blackflies came out.
We thought of the herd of Caribou we watched that afternoon. They picked the highest point of land they could find. Standing there exposed, they were hoping the wind would blow these malicious little critters away. Thank goodness for our protective shell of nylon. We retreated to our tent for another early night.
It had been a truly wonderful trip.
posted by Michelle & Jim Wiebe at 12:23 p.m.
