Wednesday, July 30th 2003

Clear skies, light winds, light swells from the Southwest. New moon.

As we are talking with the park warden about sea kayaking, he mentions the name of Derek Mercer, a local guide and park interpreter whose name appears in a book* and some Internet sites. As luck would have it, we meet Derek as he leads a group of visitors through the park. After completing his tour, he gives us precious advice on what to expect along the coast and describes some of the few accessible landing points between here and François.
*Sea kayaking in Newfoundland

First order of the day is to sort through gear and clothing left in disarray after a week of "car camping". The park warden graciously offers the use of a wheelbarrow to transport all this over the 200 m separating the car from the beach. Six dry bags, 3 food containers, 2 wetsuit bags, kayak paddles and accessories, 2 4-litre containers of water and 4 Nalgene bottles, plus about a dozen other items that we load in leftover spaces : pots and pans, stove, beer cans, shoes, shit kit, salad bowl... And two 17-foot kayaks. I check my watch. It's 1:30 pm by the time we're ready to push out from the beach.  

The tide is high and small rollers curl over the soft sand. Our timing is good and we paddle out between wave sets. The kayaks are heavy and it takes us a few minutes to adapt to a slightly lower primary stability. In the shelter of Burgeo Islands, the swell turns into a shorter chop.

For the first half hour, some attention is needed to find the right channel between the islands that make up Burgeo. Fishing boats, smaller boats and the two coastal ferries keep us busy as we cross the harbour area. 

The gentle swell turns into innocuous looking small rollers.
But they're enough to roll over the careless kayaker.
East Beach, Sandbanks Provincial Park, Burgeo

Very soon, the seascape opens up and we start feeling the gentle swell that had been growling over the rocks. Ramea Islands fill up the Southern horizon and will be with us for two days.

Today's route is short : Red Island is only 11 km away. We find it shortly beyond the light at Bay de Loup Point. Not satisfied with our first landing spot on the site of the old settlement on the Northern tip of the island, we spend an hour exploring a few other possibilities before settling on a camp for the night. There might have been more choices had we circled the island clockwise rather than going directly to the more exposed East side.

The site of the old settlement is marked by two crumbling cabins but does not allow for an easy landing. We choose a narrow East-facing stoney beach with a relatively flat upper section, at the back of a small cove.

With the new moon and calm seas, tides are small on this coast. Our tent will be safe.

Very soon, the sun disappears behind the rocky rise over the beach. Our dining room is a flat grassy spot overlooking the tent. Black flies and mosquitoes soon appear as the air cools and becomes damp.

A short walk inland explains where they come from. Laid between stands of gnarly spruce holding tight to the granite hills, spongy peat bogs are saturated with reddish water.

A last minute question sneaks into my mind : what should we do with our two chock-full food bags. What sneaky critter lurks in the brush? The kayaks are not a good solution as an eager rodent could easily pierce the hull. Putting them in the tent is also out of the question. Without tall trees and judging that the biggest threat are small rodents rather than bears, I raise two long pieces of driftwood using big beach stones and hang the bags with a metal pot as an alarm bell. A moonless sky sparkles with a million stars as we fall asleep to the rythm of the waves and the clicking of rolling pebbles, close to the tent.