Our Newfoundland and Labrador Adventures: Part II

The hardest part of writing about a long road trip is distilling several weeks of travels into a post of manageable length. I know I am way past manageable. But once I started the story of our Newfoundland and Labrador adventures, it quickly acquired a life of its own. It became less of a list of best places to visit and things to do, and more of a collage, a collection of tales, a quilt of memories and emotions inspired by the land, the sea and the people who call it home.

Part I ended with our stay in Gros Morne, the last stop on Newfoundland’s west coast. It felt like a good place to pause and leave our more easterly explorations for Part II. So here we are driving to Dildo Run Provincial Park (yes, that’s what it’s called, although I should probably mention that “dildo” refers to an oar peg in a dory). The park is fairly small but we get a cozy campsite near the water, which we mostly use as a base to visit Twillingate and Fogo Island.

Dildo Run Provincial Park comes with an interesting name and beautiful campsites.

Continue reading

Our Newfoundland and Labrador Adventures: Part I

Newfoundland and Labrador is the kind of place that stays with you long after you leave its jagged shores behind. It is a place where the expansive and intimate intertwine, where formidable landscapes are sprinkled with small, colourful communities nestled in coves and tucked away in sheltered harbours. It is a place where wind is made visible and fog is as much part of the landscape as the land and sea. It is a place that braids together stories of the Earth’s billion-year-old history and those of people who have called this part of the world home into a unique and distinct identity.

It is known by different names. Mi’kmaq, who have lived across Atlantic Canada long before Europeans “found” this land, call Newfoundland Ktaqmkuk, which could mean either “the larger shore” or “the other shore.” Newfoundland’s Inuktitut name is Ikkarumikluak (ᐃᒃᑲᕈᒥᒃᓗᐊᒃ), “place of many shoals,” while Labrador is called Nunatsuak (ᓄᓇᑦᓱᐊᒃ), meaning “the big land.” With many of its early settlers coming from Ireland, the island also has an Irish Gaelic name – Talamh an Éisc, “the Fishing Grounds” or “the Land of Fish.” The Norse, the first Europeans to reach the shores of North America, referred to it as Vinland, the name that covered Newfoundland as well as Nova Scotia and coastal New Brunswick, while calling Labrador Markland.

People continue to flock to Newfoundland and Labrador’s shores: some in hopes of making a home here, others, like us, just visiting, at least for now. This was our second trip to Canada’s easternmost province. (Read about our first visit here and here). We returned to some familiar places and visited new spots. Three weeks, six ferry crossings, many vibrant communities, numerous challenging trails, and never-ending breathtaking vistas later, we’ve fallen deeper in love with this incredible place.

Continue reading

Reaching for New Heights: Adventuring in Colourful Colorado

For years we drove through Colorado on our way to visit my brother in California – always mesmerized by its captivating scenery, never failing to remark that one day we will add it to our road trip itinerary. Back in 2018, we made a couple of quick stops at the Great Sand Dunes and Mesa Verde National Parks. And last year, we planned to spend a couple of weeks exploring other parts of the state, but due to a family emergency we had to cut that trip short. So most of Colorado remained untouched by our hiking boots. Until this summer that is. When my brother suggested we meet up in the Black Hills of South Dakota for a family reunion, we decided that since Colorado was only a hop, skip and jump or a seven-hour drive from there, it was finally time we got to know it better. 

view from Mount Blue Sky in Colorado

After spending three weeks in Colorado, we only just scratched its rocky surface. But in those three short weeks we travelled from shortgrass prairie to alpine tundra, from coniferous and aspen forests to arid shrubland, from towering fourteeners to gaping canyons, from ice-cold lakes to hot springs. And with the red rocks of Colorado National Monument and Garden of the Gods, the green slopes and flowering alpine meadows of the Rockies, crystal clear lakes every shade of blue, it truly lived up to its moniker of Colourful Colorado. 

It is hard to squeeze in three weeks of travels into a blog post, and some of the places and trails are definitely calling for more detailed reports. But for now, here are a few highlights from Colorado’s rich palette.  

Continue reading

The Many Ups and Downs of Backpacking La Cloche Silhouette Trail

Eighteen years ago, during our first visit to Killarney, as I was chasing our eighteen-month-old son around the park, I stumbled upon the La Cloche Silhouette Trail sign. Looking at it, I wondered what it would take to walk 100 kilometres. What kind of gear do you need to bring? How much food? What about water? “Maybe one day…” was my last thought before my son pulled me in another direction.

La Cloche Silhouette Trail in Killarney

It took some time but that day finally arrived. Here we were – my husband and I – taking a selfie in front of that same sign a week after we’d taken one in front of an identical one at the other end of the trail. And while the signs looked the same, we certainly did not – a shade darker from all the sun, with an obvious stubble (my husband), greasy hair in a tight ponytail (me), noticeably smelly clothes (both of us). Our backpacks were lighter; our hearts filled to the brim with the incredible memories of the past week that included everything from extreme heat to an epic downpour, challenging climbs and descents, Killarney’s magnificent views, soul-nourishing tranquility of early mornings and seemingly endless evenings spent by the water with loons, sandhill cranes and beavers for company.

Here are some highlights from a backpacking trip that was years in the making.

Continue reading

Hiking the Grand Canyon: Journey to the Bottom and Back in Time

The Grand Canyon is the kind of place that cracks your heart open and stays with you long after you leave its craggy outlines behind. I remember the first time I saw it from the Bright Angel Point Lookout on the North Rim. It was right after the sunrise. We arrived the night before, set up our tent in the dark just as it was starting to rain so there was nothing to do but go to sleep after finishing our dinner in the car. Now that the dark and rain cleared up, I was in a hurry to see this famed natural wonder. After an uncomfortable shuffle along a 800-metre long trail, long enough to make me regret my choice of footwear – flip flops were considerably slowing down my progress, I finally got to the lookout and couldn’t help but inhale at the sight. A chasm gaped in front of me – the Earth cracked open, its innermost essence exposed.

My first ever view of the Grand Canyon from the Bright Angel Point Lookout on the North Rim back in 2016

Continue reading

Road Trip 2023: Goblins, Canyons and Sands of Time

Between visiting my brother in California, exploring new parks in Utah, trekking down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and hiking in Colorado – our 2023 road trip promised to be epic. Unfortunately, we had to cut it short so the mountains of Colorado remain untouched by our hiking boots. And even though my mountain soul was really looking forward to that part of our trip, the Rockies have been around for almost 80 million years so I figured they will still be there in a year or two when we make our way back to Colorado. Plus, our truncated trip already featured quite a few beautiful places and exciting adventures. We returned with thousands of pictures, even more great memories and loads of sand in different colours – from the red sands of Utah to the yellow ones of California – tucked away in our camping equipment and clothing. So here are a few highlights.

Continue reading

A Look Back at 2022: Searching for Light and Hope amidst Darkness and Grief

Warning: This post talks about war, which may be triggering for some people. I acknowledge that this may not be the type of content you would expect from a blog dedicated to camping. However, the war in Ukraine has had a profound impact on a lot of the people I know and love, on millions in my home country who live under constant threats of attacks and those who’ve fled in search of safety. And while my experience of it on the other side of the ocean is in no way comparable to that of people in Ukraine, the war has redefined every aspect of my life and its echo has been heard in every outdoor pursuit, every nature walk, and every camping trip. As I look back at the year filled with sadness and grief, this post is also about searching for light in nature, books, support offered by my friends, and bravery of people in my home country. It is about travelling back to Ukraine, rediscovering the land of my childhood and youth, and learning yet again that hope equals action. If you are looking for ways to help Ukraine and those displaced by the war, links to organizations you can support are provided at the end.   

Back in my hometown Chernivtsi

Continue reading

Walking in the winter wonderland: Yurt camping at Bruce Peninsula National Park

Winter often gets a bad rap and I can see why: cold, wind chill, snow storms, extra challenges of getting outside that come with slippery roads or impassable snow banks, short days and all-consuming darkness. We often talk about winter as something to get through, huddled at home waiting for the arrival of better days. What we fail to see as we binge through yet another Netflix show is winter’s magic at work: crisp, sparkling air that fills our bodies with vigour and joy, softness of a snowfall that erases the edges and transforms familiar scenes, a promise of newness that comes with a fresh snow cover, mesmerizing creations chiselled out of ice. This past weekend we headed in search of this magic to Bruce Peninsula, a place where Niagara Escarpment’s rugged limestone cliffs and turquoise waters of Georgian Bay work together to create a masterpiece of a landscape. With an extra touch of winter’s artistic genius, the scenes were truly spellbinding.

Bruce Peninsula National Park in the winter
Continue reading

Starting 2022 on a cliffhanger: Celebrating New Year’s arrival at Les Refuges Perchés

January 1st started with grey skies and a drizzle. As I drank my first coffee of the year on the balcony of our cabin perched on top of a cliff, I watched the opposite shore of Lac du Cordon drift in and out of sight. There was a certain, almost soothing rhythm to this game of hide-and-seek as the fog moved in repainting the hills across the white expanse of the lake grey to match the sky, then slowly dissipated only to roll back in again. It wasn’t the most promising start of the year as if nature mirrored the uncertainty and sadness of our pandemic reality. But then a flock of white-winged crossbills swooped in, pops of red and yellow against the greyness of the morning, and provided a much-needed reminder that beauty and joy can be found in the gloomiest of times.

Continue reading

Permanence of Change: Hiking at Boyne Valley

Today I realized it’s been almost two months since I posted anything on the blog. And sure, I could blame it on colder weather and fewer camping trips. But that, of course, is not the main reason. Connecting with nature, after all, doesn’t require days of paddling or backpacking. Nature can be experienced anywhere: during our weekly microadventures, a brief walk around the neighbourhood or even on my balcony in the middle of Toronto. This dry spell is not so much due to a lack of new locations but rather scarcity of new ideas. So here I am sitting in my bedroom, bathed in November’s late afternoon light, listening to a boisterous bickering of sparrows on my balcony, and attempting to tackle this writer’s block the way I would normally tackle a trail – by putting one foot in front of the other or, in this case, one word after another.

Today’s post is going to be about one my favourite microadventure destination – Boyne Valley Provincial Park. Our microadventure tradition started years ago, born out of recognition that we were more familiar with far away parks than places close to home. Since then, almost every Saturday, unless we were camping, we would pack snacks and drinks and head for a hike somewhere within an hour drive from Toronto. One by one, those stories made it onto these virtual pages, some places more than once. All but Boyne Valley.

Continue reading