Rain, More Fog, a Flat Tire, and a Good Samaritan

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Our breathtaking boondocking spot at Cape Race turned into a soggy mess! At 10 PM on Friday night just as it was getting dark, the rain started. It rained hard all night. We both were awake for long stretches as we worried about the big, steep hill with the partially washed out road we had to climb to get back to the paved road. It was still raining in the morning, but the radio forecast said it would start to taper off, so we sat until 10 AM, and then the fog rolled in again! We stowed the RV and headed out through the fog. The coastal cliffs and the barrens were shrouded in a heavy fog. The many potholes were full of water, but the rivers were no longer running in the tire ruts.

No rain, 100 feet visibility - Lets go!

We made slow progress and actually passed two cars coming in, so we were fairly confident that the road hadn't washed out further. The RV flushed a few ptarmigan out of the brush, and the barrens were eerily beautiful in the fog. We had to guess when we reached the hill, since the fog was thick. Greg skillfully navigated the road, while I prayed, and we made it out to the road at Portuguese Cove South.

Waterfall near the road

Surf next to the road

One lane, no shoulder

Narrow bridges over many streams

Wildflowers along the road - back on pavement

We had traveled down the east side of the peninsula and now we needed to travel up the west side and then down the east side of the next large peninsula to reach Cape St Mary's Ecological Reserve. On the way we were supposed to see the caribou herd along the road and whales in the deep harbor at St. Vincent's. All we saw was fog! The wind was blowing, so it kept the fog stirring enough to see the road, but nothing on the sides. As we traveled down the east side of the next peninsula, the fog cleared a bit in the higher sections away from the coast. We pulled over to the side of the road to eat lunch. Greg came back inside after his usual check of the RV, and informed me that we had a flat tire.

We could not see the fog-colored caribou

Fog lifted and road deteriorated

We were in a remote area. The tire was holding a little air, and since we have duallies, there are two tires side-by-side on each side of the back axle. The inside tire was holding up the rig. We debated trying to put on the spare, but didn't want to get involved with trying to jack it up. We decided to head north and drive all the way up to the Trans-Canada Highway to try to find someplace to have the tire patched. On the way Greg pulled over to put more air in the non-flat tire, to take some strain off the flat.



A black Ford Ranger pick-up stopped and out strode Tom, with his white hair, blue jeans, flannel lined canvas shirt, Wolverine boots, and a Calgary Stampede hat. He was on his way to go salmon fishing in a nearby river and told Greg he had a plug for the tire. We found out that Newfoundlanders frequently plug their own tires, due to the poor roads and remote areas many live in. He said one of his tires had five plugs! An hour later, we had a plugged tire and a Newfoundland friend. In the meantime several other people stopped and offered their help. He suggested we head back down the highway to the Reserve, and we decided to continue there and check into the nearby campground. If the tire didn't hold air overnight, we could make the drive up the west side of the peninsula to the “larger” town of Placentia and find a garage to patch the tire. We said goodbye and thanked him for all his help.

Tom helping us to plug the flat

The fishing village of Branch

More ATVs than cars

Back on the road again we got into more fog. We reached the Gannet Nest RV Park and restaurant and pulled up next to the other campers in a field. At least we had electric and water after two unexpected nights of boondocking. We had been rationing our water use, and had a bunch of dirty pots and dishes to wash! The campground had a restaurant, or should I say, the restaurant had a campground, as it was sort of an afterthought. Dinner in the restaurant sounded good after a stressful day, so Greg got the usual fish and chips. He thought it was much better than Ches's, from the top ten list. I had moose stew. It was quite good, but tasted just like hunks of beef. We shared a piece of strawberry-rhubarb cake a la mode. That was tasty!

Moose Stew

No Cod au Gratin, OK, Fish & Chips will do

Hard to find the sign when we arrived at the Gannets Nest

Greg checked the tire and it was losing air again. He could hear air coming out, and he thought there might be a second leak. He asked our waitress if she knew anyone that we could get to fix it. The next day was Sunday, so we weren't too optimistic. The two peninsulas we have been on were settled by the Irish, and the fishing villages, or “outports” have been isolated for centuries. We ran into a different “brogue” everywhere we went. Our waitress had one of the thickest ones yet. While we were talking a man walked in and she said that he was just the person we needed to see. She introduced us to Bunny, but it sounded like Bonny, and she said it was his nickname. We still aren't sure which one was his name! He told us he could help us out. “Get some breakfast in the morning and then come by.” We needed to drive the two miles to St. Bride's and look for the Atlantica Restaurant. His house would be the next one on the right. We thanked him and said we'd see him in the morning. We “tanked” the waitress and decided to pass on the “bottle moose” they were selling. Apparently, it is moose meat canned in a Mason jar. We were going to learn a lot more about Newfoundlanders the next day, too!


A joke about fog, from a Canadian radio program- The characters in the story were debating where the foggiest place was in Newfoundland. One said it was Trepassey, (which we rode through just after leaving Cape Race, and it was so foggy we missed the caribou). He said that a boy from there was nine years-old before he ever saw his mother, and he was breast-fed!