December 9, 2007
Bet you didn't know there was powder Down East
Amy Rosen, Weekend Post
"What can we do today?" is a favourite saying among those who live on the treed and undulating western side of Newfoundland. The answer? Plenty.
In fact, I took part in more exhilarating winter activities during a four-day trip to the area encompassing Deer Lake, Gros Morne and Corner Brook than I have in the past 30 winters combined. Here are my top picks for what to do and see when the snow starts falling and you're ready for some big-time adventure, Eastern Canadian-style:
Cat-skiing is basically heli-skiing without the helicopter. A Snowcat, a trail-grooming vehicle that looks a bit like a bulldozer with a little bus on top, takes you up the Blow-Me-Down Mountains and you ski down. For the X-treme skier, it's all about waist-deep powder (the region gets almost five metres of snow a year), no tracks and lots of big rocks and trees to veer away from at the last minute. Well-heeled Montrealers routinely fly in for the weekend just to ski here. In fact, it's a lot like back-country skiing in B.C., without the smug vibe. The day starts at Benoit's Cove, about 30 minutes from Marble Mountain, Atlantic Canada's top ski and snowboard resort, with a swish new chalet, a couple of fistfuls of runs and, amazingly, no lineups. Blomidon Cat Skiing's heated 10-person Bombardier BR400 Snowcat transports you to well above the tree line (elevation: 2,500 feet), at which point you proceed to bomb down the mountain. You do five runs in the morning, with a break for snacks and a snowy picnic lunch, then five runs in the afternoon, for a total of 12,000 to 14,000 vertical feet, making for sore knees but big smiles.
Every place has its secret finds that only locals know about. The Corner Brook Caves are the find here, and Ed English is the local. Not only is Ed a great guide and ambassador for Newfoundland, he's got stories from here to next Tuesday. (Hint: Ask him about his autistic dog and deaf cat.) Ed leads us into the woods, where we strap on homemade snowshoes (more on those later) and set out on a trek along the Corner Brook Trails. We cross a wooden pipeline that feeds water to the pulp-and-paper mill; modern-day Corner Brook, a city of 22,000 souls nestled on the Bay of Islands, was built on the mill in the 1920s, though people have lived here for thousands of years. A short while later we arrive at the mouth of the Corner Brook Caves. A twisting network of limestone chutes and caverns, the caves were carved over millennia by the Corner Brook Stream. Ed hands out orange overalls, hard hats and LED headlamps, which we gamely put on before disappearing into the darkness. Every twist and turn in the caves has a name appropriate to its particular peril, such as Dolomite Dam, Dinosaur Teeth and Rat's Crawl, and each one yields a white-knuckle surprise. We start down the Chute and shimmy along the edge of the Whale's Back, which makes for some tricky manoeuvring, because if you slide off you get wet. Or worse. The caves go on for a couple of kilometres, and if you don't stick with Ed, you'll be lost forever. The place is all icicles, frozen walls and jagged rock faces that would rip your clothes up if you weren't wearing overalls. No ropes, no life jackets, just slippery rocks. It's dark as death down here, and really quite dangerous. In other words: big-time fun.
Now, a quick word about Carey's Beavertail Snowshoes. Jack Carey started out making them as a hobby, about 100 pairs a year, until he was laid off by the railway when he was 45, "and then what do you do?" The CBC caught wind of his amazing shoes, did a documentary and business took off. "When my ship came in, I was too old to get on board," he jokes. At one point he was up to 2,000 pairs a year, all handmade. Now, owing to health problems, he's tapered off some, but the shoes -- fashioned from wire, inner tubing and deep-sea dragging-net twine ("used exclusively worldwide by all the great fishing nations") --are as good as ever.
It's Saturday, touton day at the gazebo in Corner Brook, where people are lining up for the island delicacy of bread dough fried in bacon fat and topped with molasses. At Blow Me Down Trails, we're kitted up with cross-country skis and gear. Corner Brook has 40 km of groomed trails, but we're going to make our own tracks and head deep into Gros Morne National Park. Our destination is the Tablelands, the flat-topped hills that rise above the clouds drifting over the Long Range Mountains. These mountains, an outlying range of the Appalachians, are made up mostly of peridotite, and contain lots of iron. In summer they shine bright red in the sun, taking on a Mars-like appearance.
We glide across fresh powder and take in the stunning views: Snowy mountains tumble into the icy river and Bay of Islands. This is avalanche country, and we come across the remnants of a few recent spills. The skiing is great, hilly and challenging, but when the wind picks up we decide to pack up and go for a drive through the park.
We stop at Trout River, a fishing village inside Gros Morne, where the main catch is crab, lobster, herring and mackerel. We could be looking at a postcard snapshot of a Newfoundland fishing village; it's as picturesque in winter as it is in summer, perhaps more so. At the Gros Morne Discovery Centre we meet Anne Marceau of Parks Canada, an interpretation specialist for Gros Morne. She tells us about the Gros Morne Institute for Sustainable Tourism, which offers a three-day "Edge of the Wedge" course designed to help tour operators showcase local culture while minimizing the impact on the environment. Launched in 2004, the program has turned out 300 operators so far. They are encouraged to take traditions that might seem commonplace to locals and highlight them for visitors from away. "It's very empowering," Marceau says. "It reaffirms what people love about their communities so they can go out and teach the world. Caribou stew made lovingly by a bunch of senior citizens is the essence of community."
Snowmobiling is another great way to see the countryside. Really, it's a way of life here, with trails crisscrossing the province. At Humber Valley Resort, a 700-acre paradise along the shores of Deer Lake, we head out on a staff-led expedition. Our guides, Rodney and Andrew, familiarize us with our machines and we begin our ride through wide-open fields before tucking into tracks that zigzag between trees, their boughs heavy with snow. We cross over rivers and motor by rock faces. It's fast, exhilarating and on the edge of danger, a great outing for the adrenalin junkie. Plus you get to see beautiful backcountry that otherwise would be inaccessible.
Back at the resort, we decide to head out again, but this time our transport has four legs. We're going dogsledding, courtesy of a friendly Quebec outfitter called Les Skis Doux. As we approach the compound, a deafening blast of barks and squeals lets loose, which is a little alarming at first, but we soon learn the dogs are harmless and love to be petted. Our lead dog is Bijou. "She's like a mannequin," owner Richard tells me. "She doesn't like the other female dogs. She's crunchy." Richard spells out the rules and I take the reigns. On signal, the dogs shoot out over the powdery plain. By the time we round the first bend, they're silent, relaxing into a speedy rhythm, taking quick pee and sniff breaks and reacting to my commands. (Whoa! Go! Good doggies!) After a while we cross paths with a group of snowmobilers; they stop to take pictures of us, and we of them. The 17th century meets the 21st century, and back again.
With such a busy round of activities, I came to appreciate my deluxe digs at Humber Valley Resort all the more. There are 162 vacation homes here (owned mostly by Brits), with plans for 1,000 more, yet the place never seems crowded. (Moose spotting is another favourite pastime here.) An 18-hole championship golf course (with another one on the way) cuts a swath through the trees, and there's a clubhouse, restaurants, a spa called Found, a town centre, health centre and an equestrian centre in the works. In essence, it's a lovely little community of private manses for owning or renting.
And the best part? All the properties have deck-side hot tubs -- and believe me, I needed it.
Actually, no: The best part is they're in Newfoundland.
View The Untracked Guide To Backcountry Skiing & Snowboarding for Free