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.

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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.  

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The Poetry and Prose of Backpacking the Coastal Hiking Trail in Pukaskwa

“This trail has been described as challenging,” says the park ranger flipping through her orientation binder. We stifle a nervous laugh, still trying to embrace the enormity of what we are about to undertake – backpacking the entire 60-kilometre Coastal Hiking Trail in Pukaskwa National Park on the north shore of Lake Superior. There and back, plus a detour to Picture Rock Harbour – totalling 130 kilometres over nine days. A significant distance even on the flattest of terrains, let alone what has been rated as one of the most challenging trails in Canada.

Map of Pukaskwa National Park and Garmin InReach
The Coastal Hiking Trail in Pukakswa National Park is no walk in the park.
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Celebrating my birthday in Killarney: a 45-year-long journey to Silver Peak

At 543 metres, Silver Peak isn’t the highest of mountains. Even the word “mountain” sounds like a bit of stretch. But it is the highest point in Killarney Provincial Park and offers breathtaking panoramic views of the La Cloche range, the closest we get to mountains here in Ontario.

Silver Peak is the highest point in Killarney and offers breathtaking views of La Cloche Mountains in Killarney.
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A look back: 2020 in pictures and words

Early morning is my favourite time of the day. As I lie in bed, eyes still closed, I savour the silence, interrupted only by deep breathing and an occasional snore from my husband and kids. I finally open my eyes and look through the window – craggy silhouettes of Green Mountains slowly come into focus. It takes me a few minutes to remember it’s January 1st. Which means 2021 is here. And even though in this tiny cabin in southern Quebec, in the presence of eons-old peaks, time units like years seem ridiculously arbitrary and inconsequential, even though I am fully aware that pandemics and other global crises don’t follow a calendar, I still can’t help that growing sense of relief. 2020 is finally over.    

view of Green Mountains at AU Diable Vert in Quebec in the winter
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Backpacking in Pukaskwa: Superior Adventure or Why Leave the Comforts of Indoors

“Humans have spent centuries perfecting the indoors,” notes my older son as he moves closer to the campfire. “Only for you to drag us all the way here to battle the elements.”

I know he’s only half-joking. This is the first night of our backpacking trip at Pukaskwa. We’ve just spent half a day hiking in the pouring rain, at times through ankle deep water and a good portion of the trail over slippery rocks. So I can see why our kids are not particularly excited about the whole endeavour. And while our younger son simmers quietly by the fire waiting for food, the older one launches into one of his philosophical arguments.

Once we get some chili into them and dry clothes on them, the mood improves considerably. But I can still feel spoken and unspoken doubts floating around under our green tarp, getting trapped in the criss-cross of clothing lines that spot everything from t-shirts to socks to underwear, wrapped in a dense coat of smoke courtesy of wet firewood. Eventually, we pack our edible stuff into the food locker and retreat into our tents. Maybe not the type of indoors our older son had in mind, but the best shelter for this particular moment. As I fall asleep to the fading beat of raindrops against the nylon, I start wondering what we are searching for on the wildest of Lake Superior’s shores.

sunrise on Lake Superior in Pukaskwa National Park
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The power of Gi chi Gamiing – Lake Superior in every way

We drive around another bend on Highway 17 and my heart cracks open: framed by the green hills, a canvas of the brightest blue stretches all the way to the horizon until it merges with the sky. This is not our first trip to Lake Superior, yet every time we come here, its power strikes me in new, unexpected ways. Every time I feel my brain, my eyes, my heart are too ill-equipped to embrace the immense beauty of Gi chi Gamiing. Everything is exaggerated here: dramatic views, overwhelming rage, fiery sunsets, deep calm painted in cotton candy colours, sudden mood swings. More than anything, Lake Superior is a study in extremes.

dramatic sunset on Agawa Bay on stormy Lake Superior

Lake Superior is a study in extremes: the rage, the calm, the immense beauty – everything is exaggerated here. Continue reading