Newfoundland by sea a story to remember
MS Ocean Endeavour explores culture of province, not just its hidden coastal gems
AROUND NEWFOUNDLAND— All over the North Atlantic, the wind will blow. Storms, gales, hurricanes, all driven by powerful forces in the air. And this morning, having steamed all the way down from the Strait of Belle Isle, around the horn at Port-aux-Basques and across the rugged southern shores of the Rock, the wind is whistling.
As we make our approach to Francois, tucked away behind the massive shoulders of a long fiord, the captain steers us skilfully, angling the ship toward a relatively tiny opening — and all of us, braced on the top decks, hold a collective breath. Then, just like that, we make it, the open vistas of the sea replaced by tall walls of glacier-shaped stone, and just a few minutes of sailing brings us to the village, a compact scattering of snug little buildings, dwarfed by their environment and completely cut off from the outside world.
I’m on board the MS Ocean Endeavour, cruising around the coasts of Newfoundland. A bona fide expedition with Toronto-based Adventure Canada, this is a cultural voyage as well, a time to enjoy and celebrate the sounds and stories of this unique island. Accessing areas well off the beaten track, the ship takes us to hidden parts of this province, approaching it from the water — as generations of sailors, fishermen and explorers have before.
And we learn, right from the start, that things won’t be going as planned. Gathered for a prevoyage briefing, expedition leader Matthew James (MJ) Swan tells us that, contrary to expectations, we will not be circumnavigating the island. Monitoring the situation right up to that moment, he explains that the season’s record-setting pack ice will prevent our passage through the Strait of Belle Isle, a pinch-point at the top of the island’s Great Northern Peninsula that separates the Gulf of St. Lawrence from the Atlantic.
Every expedition is an exercise in adaptation and, when I catch up with him on board, Swan observes that changes in plans due to wind, weather and ice aren’t necessarily a bad thing.
“It means that your voyage’s itinerary will never be duplicated,” he says, noting that flexibility is the name of the game. The Endeavour’s small size — with a capacity of less than 200 — means it can navigate tiny and shallow waterways and, with “wet landings” on zodiacs being the norm, many wild and distant parts of Newfoundland become potential places for us to visit.
Most importantly, Swan adds that this voyage is the real deal. They aim to bring the island’s culture on board, giving a true sense of place for the entire voyage, and passionate narratives are key.
“There’s no scripted spiel — every story is a real one,” says Swan, who also serves as the company’s chief operations officer. “That’s what really brings it home.”
We hear a number of fascinating stories as we roll around the Avalon Peninsula, south from St. John’s, down through the Gulf of St. Lawrence, right up to that formidable band of pack ice at the northern tip of the Great Northern Peninsula — and then, back again.
Tales of the arrival, and mysterious departure, of the Norse at L’Anse aux Meadows National Historic Site. The history of the Mi’kmaq people at Miawpukek Mi’kamawey Mawi’omi, told through traditional song and dance performed by their nation’s young people. And a story that becomes more familiar the farther we sail are the often woeful chapters of resettlement, a historic event that in many ways shaped modern Newfoundland.
A province built on fishing, historically people moved by boat and settled along the sea, but from the 1950s to the middle of the 1970s, the government actively centralized the population, abandoning some 300 communities in the process.
One of those villages was Brake’s Cove on Newfoundland’s west coast, which we visit one sunny morning. Landing on its calm beach deep inside the Bay of Islands, we find a happy collection of small homes set directly on the sand. Then — as now — unconnected by road to the outside world, we learn that these houses are now used as summer cottages and fishing cabins.
But Joan Park-Oxford remembers a time when they were more than that. Growing up here, she and her family were resettled, with the rest of the community, when she was 8 years old.
While they didn’t go far, the move obliterated the close sense of belonging she had enjoyed. “It was a very emotional time. Sure, I understand the reason — they had good intentions. But you can’t help how it shakes you.” Later in the day, when we heard her perform her song, “Resettled Body, Unsettled Mind” in front of a few hundred people, you could hear a pin drop.
In the afternoon, we move to Cox’s Cove, right next door, which received most of the resettled families.
Rising to the challenge with typical Newfoundland warmth and grace, the Cove wasn’t a planned stop on our voyage but, with the last-minute change in plans, they pulled together a community gathering, complete with moose meat and fish cakes and song and dance.
After walking the town’s main drag, I was invited, with a few fellow travellers, to visit a waterfall and we summarily piled into the back of a big pickup truck. Later, riding with another resident, I spot a baby moose, running awkwardly across the road.
Back at the community hall, local musicians combine forces with the army of creative types who double as lecturers on board the ship, from the Once, a mega-popular Newfoundland band that toured the world with bestselling British artist Passenger, to tin-whistlers and mandolin-players and guitarists.
And finally, toward the end of our voyage, we visit Francois, making that difficult turn into the fiord. Pronounced “France-Way,” this tiny outport is home to fewer than 100 residents, a place that’s impossible to reach by road. Back in 2013, they voted on resettlement, but the vote fell short of the now-mandated 90 per cent majority required to move with government assistance.
With no cars, I walk the village’s footpaths, chatting briefly with a local man in his 60s named George Durnford, who says he was “born in that green house, over there” and fished for 37 years. Now, he adds, Francois is visited by as few as two ships per year.
I leave him to rise above town on a wooden boardwalk, huffing and puffing to the lookout at the top of Charlie’s Head, which gives me a 360degree view, the village and deep, dramatic fiord at my feet.
I’m confronted with the unsettling sight of the Endeavour steaming back out to sea — later, I learn that conditions weren’t good for anchoring, so the captain opted to return later, for our pickup. But I’m fine with it — happy to stand right here, under the sun, up high in a place very few have visited, briefly considering a resettlement of my own to this farflung corner of Canada. Tim Johnson was a guest of Adventure Canada and Newfoundland and Labrador Tourism, which didn’t review or approve this story.