Newfoundland – Part One – St Johns

In summer 2022, an old dream came true with a trip to Newfoundland. I had first begun to take an interest in the Canadian province when I bought a CD by the Chieftains called “Fire in the Kitchen” and discovered the music of Great Big Sea, a Newfoundland band that did “rock” versions of traditional folk songs. I had then read a little about the colourful capital, St John’s, and the stunning Gros Morne national park. And so, being based in Montreal for the summer of 2022 to spend time with our son Max and to test the digital nomad lifestyle, it was the ideal moment to take three weeks to explore the province.

Fortunately, I had a fair few miles on my Air Canada card which covered the cost of two return flights (Montreal to St John’s is more expensive than Paris to Montreal) and, after finally tracking down a car rental (tricky and costly on an island where demand far exceeds supply), we were ready to fly on August 29th.

However, the airline industry post-pandemic meltdown of the summer of 2022 had other plans for us and, just after checking in online for our flight, I received a message from Air Canada telling us it had been cancelled. We tried calling them, but with an announced waiting time of 90 minutes, we decided to place our faith in their email claim that they would come up with a solution. And, after a few tense hours, they offered us a flight for the 30th via Halifax, Nova Scotia. Our AirBnb host in Montreal was able to let us stay one more night and so we finally set off for the airport at around 5 AM on the 30th – only to discover on arriving that the flight was delayed! This meant an incredibly short connection time in Halifax, but this was made easier by the amazing discipline and politeness of the Canadian passengers. The crew asked those whose journey ended in Halifax to remain seated so those of us with connections could disembark first. And they did. I do not think that would ever have happened in France!

From our arrival at the airport, we instantly felt that we were in a different kind of place. At the taxi rank, an elderly attendant with an incredible accent (a blend of Irish, Scottish, Northern English and Canadian) was taking a list of people’s destinations by hand and dispatching them in the different cabs that arrived. Our driver turned out to be a sailor who worked winters on the oceans on ships transporting chemicals (all he knew of France was the Fos-sur-Mer refinery and chemical plant near Marseille), before spending his summers as a taxi driver during St John’s tourist season. And our B&B in central St John’s was in a heritage house and resembled a museum. Bill, the owner, was a retired furniture restorer who collected old 78s, cylinder records, gramophones, antique soft drink bottles, books and no end of other things. Our beautiful and very comfortable room was furnished with magnificent antique furniture and an extremely comfortable bed. The whole place was spotless, without a speck of dust anywhere and it was like staying in a very homely, well-loved museum. Bill was quite a character, a very refined gentleman from another age, who ran the place with great generosity and warm hospitality.

We began our on-foot exploration of St John’s the afternoon we arrived with a quick walk around the city centre to spot likely places for dinner. Odile was in seventh heaven right away on finding a well-stocked patchwork shop that thoughtfully had a rest area for weary husbands where I was able to have a cup of tea overlooking the harbour while she browsed the fabrics. The city centre was fairly compact with a good range of bars, restaurants, souvenir shops and an excellent outdoor store. We simply explored Duckworth and Water Streets, along with the park in front of the Newfoundland National Memorial, with its larger-than-life statues of Newfoundland and Labrador dogs, of which we saw neither breed during our three-week stay! Then it was back to the B&B for a short rest before heading out to dinner at the poetically named Get Stuffed, which provided us with excellent local fare.

The following morning, we set off for a real hike, the North Head Trail below Signal Hill (where the first radio transmission from Europe to North America was received) and then to the village of Quidi Vidi. A Canadian lady at the B&B had done it the previous day and told us horror stories of cabled sections and having to crawl over parts of the 14-km trail. This surprised us as, even taking in Quidi Vidi (which she hadn’t), our apps indicated a 10-km trail, tops. The lady in question was clearly not an experienced hiker but, all the same, we set off unsure of what to expect. The sky was blue when we left and, after leaving the city streets and heading uphill (with instructions from a friendly local whom we would meet again the next day), we found the trail “next to the house with the red roof”. However, by that point, we were starting to experience a phenomenon that we had witnessed on arriving the day before: the fog. As in San Francisco, banks of fog regularly roll in to St John’s from the open sea and create a terrific atmosphere.

In next to no time, we were walking in thick mist. Fortunately, most of the trail to the top was on boardwalks and stairways, so it remained easy to follow. There were also a few people around, emerging from the fog like ghosts now and then. And the comments of the lady at the B&B turned out to be totally outlandish. There was indeed a cable at one point, for about two metres, but we never found a section that anyone would need to crawl over!

It remained foggy all the way to the top, where we never even caught sight of the signal tower. When the ground levelled off, we passed along what seemed to be a road before starting to head downhill, still in thick fog but on the right trail to Quidi Vidi (thank God for hiking apps). At least the terrain was easy underfoot because, at times, it was tough to see more than a few metres ahead. At one point, we reached a sort of balcony viewpoint from which we could hear the sea churning below, but were unable to see a thing. However, as we descended to Quidi Vidi, visibility improved and, when we reached the village we were actually able to see the other side of the inlet that the pretty harbour is grouped around.

The Quidi Vidi brewery was open and even had a heated outside deck where we stopped for a bite of lunch from the food truck stationed outside and a couple of excellent beers. In fact, Quidi Vidi beers would be our constant companions for the time we spent on the east coast of Newfoundland. The one that they made with water harvested from icebergs proved to be my personal favourite.

Before heading back to town, we did a brief section of the East Coast Trail on the other side of Quidi Vidi harbour to the point where it reached the open sea. By now, the mist had more or less lifted and we were able to see the narrow entrance of the sheltered inlet very clearly.

For the walk back to town, rather than head up Signal Hill, we followed the path along the shores of Quidi Vidi Lake, which provided an easy stroll to the wonderful Battery Café where we had a good espresso before walking back along Duckworth Street to the centre.

After this 14-km hike, we had a well-earned dinner at the Piatto Pizzeria, which proudly displayed a certificate from the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana (VPN), a specialized Italian association, for its dough. And the pizzas were indeed incredible.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny and so, after clearing our room and arranging for Bill to drive us to the airport at 4 PM to pick up our rented car, we went back to hike the same trail as the day before, this time via the Signal Hill semaphore tower.

Today, the weather was entirely different, with clear blue skies and open views all the way along the coast. A truly glorious day, with a few more people about (obviously), but no big crowds. Just as we reached the top of the climb to Signal Hill, we bumped into the guy who had set us on the right track the day before. He was delighted that we had been able to see the trail in both kinds of conditions and told us that he himself hiked it every day, in all weathers, to keep fit.

The visit to the Signal Hill semaphore tower was pretty interesting, with lots of clear explanations about the different kinds of flags used and the messages that they sent concerning the origin of each ship, the supplies it was carrying, a suspicion of disease on board, etc.

From there, we followed the road down, via the visitor centre with its handy toilets, back to the Battery Café for a light lunch before another leisurely stroll through the now sunny streets of St John’s, before returning to the B&B for our transfer to the airport where we would pick up the car for our next few weeks of adventures. To be continued…