Digging deep is worth the view
I’m in Labrador hopefully catching big salmon. This is late for our group to be fishing the Big Land. We like the later portion of June, when the bigger salmon are first entering the river. The large lunkers are drawn to their natal rivers first, early in summer, or later spring, when the waters are still running high from snowmelt. I love hunting big early run fish, and so do my like-minded buddies. The smaller salmon, known as grilse, fish under 63-cm, enter the river later. These are the ones we are permitted to tag and retain to eat. The big fellas we release according to the law, but I would free them of my own accord.
I’m obviously not writing and e-mailing my Telegram editor from a tent in Labrador. Maybe I could, but I’m not. This is my holiday from everything but fishing and flowing water. Right now I could be casting bombers on a slow moving dark pool, or blackening salmon in our tent. Anyway, I wrote this before I left on July 7. There was plenty of stuff happening to write about. The moose licences just came out. The cod fishery opened. But I figured I’d write about just soaking in nature for a few hours, and digging deep. I’ll get to the other stuff later. Goldie and I reserved an evening to hike our way to the Brigus lighthouse.
If I were writing a piece for an international magazine or the Globe and Mail, I’d take a few paragraphs to tell my readers all about Brigus. But you all know about Brigus, a lovely historic town tucked away in Conception Bay. The place is living history; a tribute to folks who have preserved rock walls and lovely traditionally built wooden buildings. They even build new houses in a traditional manner, with modern tools I assume. Not many folks use handsaws and wooden jackplanes these days.
But anyway, the town is lovely, like journeying back in time.
Brigus Harbour opens eastward to Conception Bay, and on the northern headland there’s a lovely automated lighthouse. There’s a six-kilometre hiking trail that starts around the wharf area on the north side of town and meanders over hill, meadow and turf to the modern navigation aid. I imagine it was traditionally manned previously, given the grassy lush area around the structure. It looks to me like someone lived there, rocks moved about and cleared areas. I didn’t find any information by a quick search. I will look deeper later, but if anyone knows the history, please e-mail me. I like to know these things.
Goldie and I parked the car at the trailhead around 4:30 p.m., a little late for a hike designated as three hours, but I like the evening light for photos. And I was at the cabin sawing and stowing wood earlier in the day. That had to be done before Labrador, so we’d have dry wood for moose hunting. And besides six kilometres isn’t that far, no sweat, or so I thought.
The hike to the Brigus lighthouse is absolutely spectacular. There’s the unique-from- the-cliffs view of Brigus itself, but more so I loved the wild rocky typical Avalon coastline terrain. Blue white-capped water, grey rock, and green windswept trees. There is beauty in harshness, if you embrace it deep in your soul. I will be doing the hike again, with more time for photography, but I’m not sure if Goldie is tagging along. She found the hike a little bit taxing.
The Brigus Lighthouse walk might only entail a round trip of six kilometres, but it is extremely hilly. This is not so bad if you are a practiced hill walker, but for flatlanders it can be very challenging. Goldie walks plenty, but for the most part avoids steep inclines. She loves walking the Goose Pond Trail in Shearstown, elevation change no more than 25 or 30-ft. On the Lighthouse trail it’s around 430 feet, and that’s a huge difference. Not only that, but it goes up and down through a series of valleys, and unlike a mountain summit, the destination is near sea level, so it’s a yo-yo repeat on the way home.
With the lighthouse looking deceivingly close, Goldie and I sat on a big flat stone with a magnificent panoramic Conception Bay view, to refuel and hydrate. It was a quite humid, although windy day. A sailboat leaned over steeply on a tack against the breeze, bound for Brigus. There were whales frolicking about, their soundings audible over the gusty wind.
We sized up the deep valley ahead, and what appeared to be the steepest most rugged portions of the trail. Goldie proclaimed she was turning around, done, live to fight another day. We munched away in silence. The ambiance, scent of flora and salt, feel of flowing air on sweaty skin, and the breathtaking vista must have stirred something deep in her soul. She ate the last of her sandwich and proclaimed she was moving on, down in the valley and on to the destination.
I witnessed the evidence firsthand of how folks die on big mountains, not going up but coming down from the summit. On a far lesser scale of course, but Goldie could see the end, the reward for her efforts, and be damned having to walk back, she was going to the lighthouse. This kind of thinking can get you in deep trouble, especially if you are alone, but I was with her, we had plenty of daylight left, so on we went. It’s not like we could run out of bottled oxygen on the way home.
Goldie dug deep and we made it to the lighthouse. We took pictures and soaked up the moments. A very funny thing, aside from a few sessions of recovery breathing at hillcrests, she seemed much more energetic on the return trek. I suppose she was pleased with herself and in super high spirits. Or maybe she just wanted to get back to Bay Roberts before a certain food establishment closed. Either way, she did well, and I was proud of her resilience.
The Brigus Lighthouse hike is fantastic, so if you are in the area, give it a go. But if you aren’t a seasoned hill walker, allow plenty of time.