St. Barbe, Newfoundland via ferry to Blanc Sablon, Quebec, then via road to Red Bay, Labrador
We saw 3 icebergs today, one up close and personal.
Today was a lovely day for this time of year in Labrador, sunny and mild, warm in the afternoon. Although we did see some snow on the side of the road up by Red Bay.
This morning we took our time getting ready for departure from our salt warehouse "campsite". The ferry office didn't open until 11:00 A.M. for the 1:00 P.M. ferry. I did an obedience session with Bo before getting ready to pull out of our overnight boondock site. Around 11:00 A.M. we drove over to the ferry terminal, paid our ferry fees, then drove down onto the ferry dock. While waiting for the ferry, we chatted with our new friends from Winnipeg / St. Boniface / Norwood, Lyle and Jeannette. After driving onto the ferry, we had the picnic lunch Joanne had prepared for us, then went out onto the ferry outside deck to watch for whales, enjoy the view and weather, and chat with Lyle and Jeannette some more. We didn't see any whales.
The ferry arrived at Blanc Sablon at 2:30. Blanc Sablon is in the northeast corner of Quebec. We drove off the ferry, and turned north onto Hwy. 510, the only road. A few miles north, and we were in Labrador. The scenery and topography in Labrador was a little different than in Newfoundland. Tundra, scruffy grasses, some small trees, hilly, lots of rocks.
We drove around a hill leading into the town of Forteau and ... OH ! ! ! An iceberg was floating right there in the small bay. I turned off the main road and drove towards the water down a dirt side road. At the end of the road, I parked, we got out, looked at the iceberg with binoculars, and took photos. I drove back to the main road, and followed it around the bay, looking at the iceberg as we drove around the bay.
On the opposite side of the bay was the village of English Point, and the iceberg looked even closer on the English Point side of the bay than it had on the Forteau side. I turned off the highway, and drove down a narrow dirt road through the village which looked like it was leading to the water. As we drove through the tiny village, people smiled and waved at us. As we were getting near the water, there was a small industrial building, and the road curved around it. I expected it was going to a wharf. I drove around the corner of the building, and ... YIKES ... the road ended. There seemed to be no way to back out, and there seemed to be no way to turn around. Joanne got out with the walkie-talkie, and began to try to guide me through the near impossible task of getting turned around. Within minutes, all the old men in the little village were trotting down the road towards us. By the time I managed to zig and zag, and wiggle and waggle, and finally get turned around, Joanne had an audience of toothless old men, with such thick Newfie accents they were incomprehensible. Once I got turned around, I got out of the truck, to go down to the water's edge to take more photos of the iceberg. Joanne was surrounded by old men, and I figured ... hey, you're on your own. I got pictures to take.
I took more photos of the iceberg. It was "calving". There were chunks of it broken off, and floating nearby in the bay. What an amazing spectacle ! ! ! The highlight of our trip to "The Rock". I walked back to where Joanne was trying to have a conversation with the incomprehensible old men. She smiled at me, and walked away with her binoculars, leaving me to the old men. We chatted. They were pretty difficult to understand. They didn't quite seem to comprehend the concept of living in an RV and travelling full time. I walked them over to the map on the side of the trailer, and used it to point out to them some of the places we've been to in the last couple of years. They couldn't seem to read the place names on the map decals. I guess they weren't able to read. They didn't much comprehend a world beyond the shores of Nova Scotia, which seemed very far away to them.
When Joanne finally finished viewing the iceberg and returned, we bade farewell to the friendly old men, and left. They'll be talking about "dem folks from 'away' in da big trailer wit’ da furnace what comes down to see da berg" for a long time, I suspect.
We continued northward, slowly exploring all the way to Red Bay, Labrador, where the pavement ends. The road continues beyond Red Bay, but it's 410 km. of gravel to Cartwright.
I bought a souvenir t-shirt at Red Bay before we turned around for the 88 km. / 55 mi. return trip to the ferry. Lanoire's computer said the "distance to empty" was just over 100 km.. The price of diesel in Red Bay was $1.289 a litre. For my American friends, that's $4.96 a gallon. I decided I had enough fuel to make it back to the ferry terminal, and I knew that diesel was only $1.209 as soon as you get off the ferry on the Newfoundland side, in St. Barbe. Another big mistake !
As we drove back south, the computer calculation of "distance to empty" reduced quicker than I was actually racking up the miles, because of steep hills. Uh-oh ! When I was still about 25 km. from the ferry, and the "distance to empty" read 10 km. / 6 miles, I stopped and poured in my 2 gallons of emergency fuel. We passed the turnoff to the village of L'Anse Amour, and Point Amour lighthouse. Joanne wanted to go Point Amour to look for whales. I said no because of the critical fuel situation. Just as we got back to the town of Forteau, where the iceberg was, I found an open service station. Still $1.289 a litre, though. Oh, well ! I bought $20 worth of diesel, and we headed back to L'Anse Amour and Point Amour.
To get there we had to drive down a single lane gravel road for 3 km.. When we got to the end of the road, at the lighthouse at Point Amour, lo and behold, there was the fifth wheel rig of our new friends, Lyle and Jeanette. We walked around the lighthouse grounds, and looked out over the ocean for whales. No whales < sigh >. Lyle and Jeannette returned from hiking along the beach. I chatted with them while Joanne prepared supper. After supper, we said goodbye ... again ... to our new friends, then drove to the ferry terminal at Blanc Sablon where we boondocked overnight.
DSK
