I grip the handles of my seat as the plane leaves the tarmac of Thunder Bay International Airport. Not that I am afraid of flying; just prefer to remain on the ground. That little niggle at the pit of my stomach is forgotten as soon as the frozen expanse of Lake Superior comes into view. The white is interrupted by the dark blue waters, smooth and serene from up here. Glued to the window, I glimpse the head and chest of Sleeping Giant, just as majestic from the air as he is from the ground. The plane dives into the cloud before I manage to say good-bye.
Lake Superior and Sleeping Giant disappear under the cloud Continue reading
I adjust my camera bag and look up. Gros Morne Mountain looms in front of us, and the only way to the top is via a path strewn with rocks and boulders of various sizes. About a kilometre of a steep climb that will take us an hour to complete. Once we get to Gros Morne park’s highest point, we will trek across the top of the mountain and then come back down via a path clinging to the mountainside. Even before we begin, I know this 16-kilometre hike will not only be the highlight of our Newfoundland trip and the year in general, but also one of our all-time favourites.
Gros Morne Mountain is calling
Fall is definitely upon us. I can feel its cool breath in the morning. I can see its brisk reflection in puddles and pools. It’s busy repainting the world around as if trying to make up for shorter days and gloomier skies.
Here I am again, at the corner of Lawrence and Dufferin, waiting for the light to change. Our three-week trip to Newfoundland seems like a distant memory even though we just came back. It feels as if I’ve never left this intersection. I also feel like I’ve been gone for years. Both. At the same time. Long road trips do that to you. They fly by while also stretching time to infinity.
Watching our last sunset in Newfoundland — seems so long ago
We huff and puff as we make our way down a muddy, rocky path to Mahzenazing Lake at Point Grondine Park. Mosquitoes and all sorts of flies take advantage of our constraints: it’s hard to swat bugs when your arms are full of paddles and dry sacks or if you are carrying a canoe on your back. These feel like the longest 1,200 metres in our lives. The blue of the lake peeking through the trees is the most welcome sight.
But let me backtrack a little.
May long weekend is an important milestone here in Canada. Many consider it the unofficial start of summer and/or the opening of the camping season. It certainly was for us until we started camping year round and May 2-4 lost its special status. So we had to rethink its purpose and for the past two years May long weekend has become the opening of the backcountry season.
It’s hard to believe 2016 is drawing to a close. And it was quite a year when it comes to outdoor adventures, both close and far. With a three-week road trip all the way to Los Angeles, lots of camping with family and friends, my first solo trip and endless microadventures, it is next to impossible to narrow down ten best. But I’ll still try.