Long Range Traverse

This is an entry in Dave Chenault's trip report contest.

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               Trout River, Newfoundland

For several years now, Newfoundland has remained the only Canadian province I hadn’t visited.  The ‘Long Range Traverse’ has held a kind of mystical spot in my consciousness; an outdoor challenge unlike anything else in this beautiful country, somehow just daunting enough and far enough from home to seem unlikely to be tackled.  That was until about six weeks ago when my sister-in-law sent me an unexpected text message.  She was preparing to move from Canmore Alberta to Stirling in Scotland for graduate school and was planning on knocking off a bucket-list adventure while in the eastern part of Canada; in this case the Long Range Traverse.  She had gone as far as to obtain a tentative reservation with Gros Morne National Park and was looking for hiking buddies.  Naturally I said yes.

In the weeks that followed I spent virtually all my free time reading trip reports and pondering what gear to take.  Tales of horizontal rainfall, pea-soup fog, and ravenous blackflies kept me preoccupied with what sorts of compromises I’d have to make to my UL ethos in order to remain safe and comfortable.  The Long Range Mountains are atop a high plateau on Newfoundland’s west coast.  This region is sparsely populated, and relatively mundane emergencies such as a flat tire on the main highway become serious situations as there is almost no cellular service in the region.  The backcountry of Gros Morne National Park is accessible only by a 16km tour boat from which backcountry hikers disembark and are left to their own devices to navigate safely to Gros Morne Mountain, some 4-5 days’ of trail-less travel for most.  In the end I did make some compromises: a free-standing tent to contend with the high winds of the plateau; my new Exped Downmat 7 DLX, chosen due to ongoing back issues which all other camping mats have been unable to address; and a pair of waterproof light hiking boots, chosen to deal with the constant saturation of hiking through sub-arctic muskeg and the rugged terrain.  The rest of my kit remained truly minimalist and multi-purpose.  The only items not used on this trip were a set of 100-weight liner gloves.

Prior to receiving a backcountry permit, Long Range Traverse hikers must complete a mandatory skills assessment conducted by Parks Canada staff at the Gros Morne Visitor Centre near Rocky Harbour, NL.  This essentially confirms basic map and compass skills, and provides an opportunity to receive specific route-finding advice and mark important waypoints on your map.  A set of GPS coordinates for the five backcountry campsites, and several critical landmarks were provided for us to punch into our GPS receiver.  We were also able to mark the few locations, usually on high hilltops, where spotty cellular service had been reported by previous hikers just in case of emergency.  The Park’s staffer who helped us pointed out several critical locations, such as narrow crossings between lakes or tricky gulch descents, where we would need to follow the ‘preferred route’.  The rest would remain up to us to interpret from the topo map.

               Checking our skills: route-finding and texting 

Our skills assessment was passed without blemish, so we received our permit and a tiny low frequency transmitter to carry with us to aid in the case of search and rescue being needed.  From here we had only to finalize our tour boat reservation to get us to the trailhead, and our taxi from the terminal trailhead where we would leave our vehicle to the tour boat location at Western Brook Pond.  Pricing for the tour boat was $56 per person, and the taxi was $36 for up to three people and backpacks.  After finalizing these arrangements we were left to pack our gear, enjoy some local seafood, and try to get a good night’s sleep.

Day 1:

We awoke to overcast skies and a forecast of rain for the day, sunny skies the next, and rain again for the remainder of our expected hiking time.  Following a too heavy breakfast in Rocky Harbour we drove to the terminal trailhead to meet our taxi.  This might sound a bit misleading, as the Long Range Traverse actually ends in the backcountry where it meets the day-hike trail that descends from Gros Morne Mountain.  Our taxi arrived 5 minutes early at 7:55am.  Our driver, and the taxi company proprietor, Ivan Pittman was a classic Newfie character; incredibly polite, friendly, and with a sharp sense of humour.  He told us all about the local towns, his long career in operating the regional ambulance service, and about his ‘retirement’ projects in small business.  After helping us unload our packs, he took a group photo at the trailhead as we began the 3 km walk to the tour boat.

               At the trailhead

This walk was a nature hike, and used mostly by sedentary folks en route to the tour boat which takes sightseers the entire length of the Western Brook Pond, for views of the deep gorge it's situated in.  In this case the term gorge is a misnomer, as it is in fact a sort of landlocked fjord.  The entire region is deeply cut with freshwater fjords leading to high plateau.  As we approached the boat tour terminal, my sister-in-law Aden noticed that Mike’s boots were trailing little pieces of foam from the midsoles.  Closer inspection revealed that his Police-issue all leather, Gore-Tex lined hikers, issued circa 1988, had dried out from lack of use and the midsoles had completely disintegrated during the 3km hike.  There was simply no way to fix these boots.  They were finished.  A duct tape repair job would not hold up to the rocky climb up the end of the gorge that day, or the following three days of sodden peat and sphagnum bogs.  Fortunately we were able to change our reservation to the next boat at 1pm, and to get Ivan to come back to shuttle us to and from the rental car so Mike could retrieve his Salomon XA Pro’s.  We all had our doubts about these shoes, as low-cut footwear were specifically not recommended due to the rugged and wet terrain on the plateau.  However there was no option as the nearest decent outdoor store was on the opposite side of the province in St. John’s.  At this point I want to especially commend Ivan, who saw our situation and offered to charge us for only a one-way taxi ride.  Given our predicament, he could have just as easily charged us the extra $36 and doubled his profit, and we would have had no option.  Kudos to him.

Finally, with footwear sorted out, 9km of easy hiking and 3 hours later, we were on the sightseeing boat on Western Brook Pond.  The weather had closed in during the morning, and heavy rain and strong winds had set in.  The boat ride itself was quite rough and very wet.  Spray from the bow of the boat was coming through the cracks around the doors to the partially enclosed passenger deck, and there was nowhere to stay dry.  Aden, who suffers from nausea in cars, simply passed out during the ride.  When we were deposited one hour later at the eastern end of the lake, we were already quite wet.  

              'The Clearing', and the end of marked trail

The initial portion of the route was easy to follow, well-marked, and relatively flat.  After the first kilometer, we arrived at a large clearing at the far end of which we found the well-worn path near the north-west corner.  There are a few signs through the section of trail, but you should not count on them as years of re-routes around blow-downs and rock slides have left lengthy sections unmarked.  This begins the guess work of the Long Range Traverse.  You can never be quite sure if the path you’re following is where you’re meant to go or if it’s someone else’s dead end, visited over and over again by countless hikers.  However, I can tell you that general eastward travel close to the mostly dry creek bed will get you an awful long way without issue.  It’s as you approach the waterfall that things become a challenge. 

               The waterfall

All the reports I had read, and the express advice of the Park’s staff, instructed us to keep to the right of the waterfall.  This is very accurate, and it’s important to keep to its right, but to stay as close to it as possible.  This section of the route is near-vertical scrambling over roots and rocks, and requires near-constant use of all your limbs.  Eventually this tough stretch emerges onto a large open slab of rock, still to the right of the waterfall.

               Welcome to the high country

               Worth the effort

We paused here, looking for a great view back down the fjord, as we had seen in so many trip reports.  However the weather was closing in, and we saw little.  After a confusing period where we could not find the route, and crossed the river twice in order to maintain forward and upward progress we found ourselves shrouded in fog, with no landmarks to work with.  This is when the GPS earned its keep.  For the first time of many, we were able to determine our location, and make a judgement call on whether we could trust the boot ahead of us, or if we should look for a better route.  In this case we chose to follow the tracks, and were soon rewarded with sufficient visibility to navigate via a series of small lakes.  Within 30 minutes we had found our campsite, the fog had lifted somewhat, and the rain had let up.  A couple from the UK were occupying one platform, leaving us two more to choose from.  Having started our walk at 2pm, and arriving at 7:30pm, we were only 1 hour behind our original itinerary.  Feeling pleased with our effort and route-finding success, but wary of nightfall, we set up camp quickly and enjoyed a hastily made dinner.

Day 2:

               A beautiful dawn

A shockingly clear and bright morning greeted us.  The scenery which we hadn’t been able to see clearly in the evening dusk was beautiful.  Atop the plateau, the terrain is that of an ancient mountain range, a northern extension of the Appalachians.  But because of the higher latitude, and the elevation, the vegetation is more consistent with arctic tundra.  The few trees were almost exclusively Black Spruce, with occasional Alder bushes and several types of shrubs normally found only in the arctic.  Despite the expansive green meadows in all directions, there wasn’t anywhere you could take a step without a squelching sound greeting your footsteps.  The ground was composed of peat and sphagnum, and was utterly saturated, even at the crests of the largest hills. We soon became very accustomed to the footing, and lost any illusions of having dry feet during our trek.

               Airing out and packing up

We aired a few sodden items on tree branches while breaking camp and enjoying breakfast.  I’ll tell you now, there is no better way to kick start an already beautiful hiking day than with a double shot Starbuck’s Via.  Sure, it’s a bit thick, but it’ll get you going!  We left camp well before the British couple on the neighbouring platform.  They appeared to be taking whatever time necessary to completely dry their kit.

Our morning hike was beautiful, and seemingly straightforward.  The weather remained perfect, and we were constantly cresting hills to be greeted by new and spectacular vistas of the rolling hills and small lakes of the plateau.  We stopped frequently to replenish water bottles and to snack.  Sometime late in the morning, we realized we were terribly off-course.  How had this happened?  Well, the area is literally criss-crossed with game trails.  We had been following one in particular, which had initially had many many boot prints in it, as it paralleled a beautiful river system.  Most of these trails fade in and out, and we had been unconcerned about the gradual fading of our chosen path.  By the time we realized we weren’t on course, and determined our actual location, we were more than a kilometre off-course, and the effort to get us back on track cost us at least 1 hour.

               Saturated high ground

After a very challenging section involving bushwhacking some significant tuckamore (the name given to the local dwarf spruce trees), we emerged behind the Park’s cabin on Harding Pond.  From there it was a short walk to Campsite 3 on the far corner of the lake.  Here we took another lengthy break to refill our water bottles and eat some more gorp.  We also took the time to determine our next course of action.  We had covered the intended distance for the day, and it was only 2pm.  We had to decide whether to make it a very long hiking day and get to the next campsite, or set up camp and have two lengthy hiking days to follow.  Given the perfect weather we were enjoying, and that the last forecast we’d heard had predicted rain for the final two days of our trek, we opted to push on to the next campsite.  We did have to factor in that the distance was over 5 km, and that we’d made significant navigational errors in the morning.  Further more, pushing on was an all-or-nothing commitment.  Setting up camp wherever we ended up at dusk was not an option, there was no dry ground anywhere on which to set up camp and we were really needing the platforms in order to be comfortable.

               Harding Pond, cabin center-right

Almost immediately after leaving Harding Pond we had difficulties keeping our route close to the recommended one.  Once again, a well worn path led on a tangent well to the left of where we needed to go.  In addition, where we were supposed to follow a certain watercourse uphill to a saddle and then a plateau, there was absolutely no evidence of anyone having followed that route before.  We briefly examined where the heavily used trail led before correcting our course to intersect the preferred route.  This still required a steeper than necessary ascent in order to avoid backtracking.

                Scouting our route

We lucked out and soon found where we needed to be.  The path then led over some very high hills, and skirted a series of small alpine ponds and lakes before making a long steep descent into a narrow valley where it was essential we cross a narrow piece of land between two lakes.  All other directions would have taken a lot of extra time and unnecessary meandering.  We nailed the location of our descent, crossed between the lakes, and began a steep ascent.  While climbing we started noticing the amount of time we were spending in the shade, and gradually became aware that the day was getting on.  After a tough climb, we arrived upon another high plateau.  This time in the distance we caught our first glimpse of Gros Morne Mountain itself.  Knowing that just off the route was a spectacular view of Ten Mile Gulch, which is another freshwater fjord, and that most visitors miss the view, we navigated a few hundred metres to the west to a high spot with an excellent view down the length of the gulch and a glimpse of the distant ocean.  This was well worth the detour, and we took our time with packs off to snap many photos, climb some boulders, and enjoy the fruit of a hard day’s travel.

                Enjoying the view: Gros Morne Mountain and the ocean beyond

Upon trying to rejoin the route, we overshot the faint path quite badly and ended up well off course again.  Being late in the day, fatigue made finding a simple solution challenging but we did get back to where we needed to be.  Ahead lay a couple kilometres of significantly undulating terrain with technical footing, all under failing light.  The final descent into the river valley where Campsite 4 was located was far more difficult than indicated in our orientation.  In fact this should be noted by anyone planning on doing the Long Range Traverse: the approach to Camp 4 ‘Green Island Campsite’ is a very steep descent which is heavily eroded, and often wet and slippery.  I was able to make out the campsite while on the descent and seeing it fully occupied I pushed on quickly to try and secure some platform space for our two tents.  I was conversing loudly back uphill with Aden and Mike who were having a tougher time on the descent than I had, but even so when I arrived at the campsite, no one noticed my approach until I was just a few metres from the occupants.  I found 5 people huddled under a tarp cooking their meals.  The closest guy to me looked up as I approached and exclaimed ‘oh holy shit! where’d you come from?!’  I replied ‘Camp 1’, and explained our day.  

Our new campmates immediately offered to vacate the platform so that we could get set up before complete darkness set in, and graciously offered some of their huge pot full of spaghetti.  We got ourselves situated quickly and worked to get tents up, mats inflated and sleeping bags fluffed up.  We chatted briefly with some of our new neighbours, three middle-aged American guys, two from Philly and one residing in Toronto.  All of them very impressed with our mileage for the day.  One of them even shared a splash of bourbon with us.  Soon after they retired to their tents, Aden and I discovered that Mike was not operating at 100%, likely due to electrolyte loss during our long day in the sun.  He had consumed a lot of water, as we all had, but I couldn’t recall seeing him snacking much.  He was acting confused and complaining of feeling cold.  Aden helped to get him layered up in all his clothing, including his raingear, a toque and gloves, while I worked to get a hot dinner prepared.  Mike was unable to eat much, and went to bed immediately.  I stayed up a bit later, long enough to enjoy an amazing view of the Milky Way overhead.  Barring being out on the ocean, I don’t think one could easily find a location with so little light or air pollution to interfere with stargazing.  It was simply dazzling in a way I hadn’t seen in many years.

Day 3:

               Camp 4

The following morning dawned overcast with low cloud threatening to fog us in.  We were the first ones fully ‘up’ in camp, but took our time making breakfast and packing up.  Given our habit of adding unnecessary mileage to our travels, we did not want to be the trailbreakers for everyone heading out from Camp 4.  Our neighbours all departed in a group at around 9am.  We puttered around camp, double-checking possible alternate ‘trails’ out of camp, taking photos, and drinking double-shots of Starbucks’ Via.  We watched our neighbours make a meal of the river crossing and the climb of the far bank.  Finally, with 30 minutes between us and those ahead of us, we began our day’s trek.  The river crossing was easy and involved a series of stepping stones and a few large boulders in the deepest and fastest portion of the stream.  The far bank of the river offered a steep but brief ascent, and we emerged into open upland again.  We navigated around many small lakes, and up and down the rugged hillsides running along the ‘back’ of the ridge at the southern edge of Ten Mile Gulch.  In retrospect, the topography was almost like a lateral moraine, but composed of mostly of bedrock.  

              There's a deep fjord behind that second pond

After about 1 hour of travel we caught up with our camp mates, and stopped for a chat and to guzzle some water.  We pushed on before they were ready to get back going again.  We soon caught up with the young couple from St. John’s who were just a few metres ahead of the three American guys.  The young woman was struggling with the steep ascents, and we moved past them quickly.  We climbed higher and higher over undulating but steep terrain, and were greeted with spectacular views of the high plateau to the south and east.  We also caught sight of a large bull moose on a nearby hillside.  He climbed the steep, rocky, and tuckamore covered hillside like it was a walk in the park.  After snapping a few photos we carried on.

                Looking back over the plateau

                Beautiful bull moose

The route was clear at this point as the ‘handrail’ of the high hills along the edge of the gulch was impossible to miss in clear weather.  By this time we were approaching mid-day, and stopped for a longer snack break atop a particularly high hill.  The weather had improved steadily all morning, and the day had turned to a comfortable mix of sun and cloud with a steady breeze.  The wind was especially welcome in keeping the blackflies away.  Our route carried on, up and down along the ridge, finding key land bridges between ponds, and skirting thick patches of tuckamore.  I began to notice that my skin was definitely burning in the sun, so we called a brief halt to apply sunscreen. 

             Ten Mile Pond and Gulch, ocean beyond

Soon thereafter we found ourselves looking for the very steep descent to Camp 5 in Ferry Gulch.  Gros Morne Mountain was prominent right in the middle of the fjord to our right; dividing it into Ten Mile Gulch to its north, and Ferry Gulch between us and it.  The final descent is hidden amongst a dense section of tuckamore right at the edge of the gulch.  The mountain itself was so close that the popular day-hike trail was easily visible on its rocky slopes.  After a bit of meandering through dense tuckamore the trail entered a gully and followed it straight downhill over the edge of the gulch.

                Looks flat, but it's 1000 feet almost straight down

The descent was not the steepest bit of trail I’ve seen, and there’s certainly plenty of equally steep trail in Vermont and New Hampshire, but it was lengthy.  Fortunately for us the hillside was forested just enough to keep us from feeling exposed.  We never saw just how far we would fall if we were to slip.  After perhaps 20 minutes we emerged at the bottom of Ferry Gulch, just across a small pond from Camp 5 and the trail up Gros Morne Mountain.

                Pretty little pond in Ferry Gulch

Following the shoreline to the northeast edge of the pond, we met the day-use trail where it comes down the back of the mountain and ended our navigational odyssey of the Long Range Traverse.  Following the trail to camp, we arrived to find the now-familiar tent platforms and a real treat; picnic tables!

We quickly got our gear set up and hung things out to dry in the sun and wind.  Next we sat down for lunch, and watched our Camp 4 neighbours work their way down the tricky descent.  They finally emerged on level ground on the far side of the lake as we began our ‘summit bid’ around 4pm.  We already knew they were intending to hike the additional 6.5km to the trailhead and catch various flights home the following day.  We waved goodbye and wished them safe travels.

                The view into Ten Mile Gulch

               Aden, heading for the summit

The climb up Gros Morne was not difficult.  The trail was well-worn and well maintained.  There were several sections of long staircases, presumably to reduce impact on delicate arctic-alpine flora.  The climb was gradual, as it was normally used for descending from the peak.  Eventually we reached the official summit, which was marked with a large Parks Canada sign.  However, several hundred meters to the north, there was a portion of the open and flat mountain-top that was visibly higher than the official summit.  As the entire area was a talus field, we did not attempt to navigate to the higher ground.

             At the summit

              Ten Mile Gulch

              Rocky Harbour, Norris Point, Woody Point, and the Tablelands beyond

We sat for nearly 30 minutes enjoying views of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, the towns of Rocky Harbour, Woody Point, and Norris (pronounced ‘Nar-iss’) Point, as well as the Tablelands further to the south.  Realizing it would take us over an hour to descend to camp we had to leave in order to avoid losing daylight. Again the descent was not difficult, and very gradual.  On the way back down, we encountered a pair of female moose grazing in a high meadow just off the trail.  Shortly after noticing them, a large bull moose emerged from the tuckamore at the far side of the meadow.  One of the cows stopped grazing and remained fixated on the bull for the entire time we had them in sight.  We cautiously continued on our way, but kept an eye on the three moose, especially as the bull seemed intent on our presence.

                Moose on top of a mountain

              Can you spot our camp?

As we approached camp we could hear voices from the ‘descent’ from the Traverse.  Could it still be the young couple from St. John’s?  We soon caught a glimpse of the hikers, and realized it was the British couple we’d camped with at Camp 1.  They had put in a big day to cover the distance from Camp 3 at Harding’s Pond to Camp 5.  They came by our campsite while seeking out an available tent platform, and we had a pleasant chat about our experiences along the route.  After this we went up to the pond for a quick sponge bath.  This was utterly refreshing, especially when using Dr. Bronner’s!  After our quick ‘bath’, we put away all our air-dried clothing and gear and went about making dinner.  Dinner consisted of pasta and dehydrated veggies, all in an organic powdered alfredo sauce.  It was the best dinner of the trip, both as a meal and as a celebration of our accomplishment.  We finished our meal as dusk set in.  After a quick clean up, and after putting the food in the bear box, it was time to crash.  Just before heading in for the night, I noticed the view down the gulch.  From just the right angle, we could make out the shimmering lights of Woody Point across the water far below.  As we finished tidying camp, light rain began to fall and expedited our decision to go to bed.  

                Running out of light

Sometime around midnight, the rain let up but was replaced with the strongest ongoing wind gusts I’ve ever experienced.  I’ve encountered some high sustained winds, and some violent thunderstorms on canoe trips in northern Ontario before, but nothing quite like this.  I kept expecting the wind to let up after each gust; this is what I’m accustomed to with normal ‘continental’ weather patterns that generate summer storms.  However, it turned out to be the ‘back’ of Hurricane Irene, and the winds continued all night.  Occasionally there would be rain, and it would blow right under the tent fly and into the tent.  I was already awake and periodically supporting my tent which threatened to fail under the strongest gusts.  I also had to repeatedly climb halfway out of the tent to try and secure the tie-out for the vestibule.  It simply would not hold.  I had pegged it down originally, in very firm ground, but the peg had been thrown somewhere in a particularly strong gust.  I found a rock to take its place, but it required ‘maintenance’ as gusts would hit the tent like a sail and cause the rock to come loose.  Finally, sometime around 6am, I heard Mike and Aden getting up.  They yelled over the wind to let me know we were going to pack up quickly and get down from the high elevations.  What ensued was a quick and wind-harried tear-down and departure from camp.  

                        After a sleepless night on the mountain

About 2 hours later we emerged at the trailhead, loaded up the rental car, and returned to civilization.  Our first stop was the Parks office to return our permit and transmitter, and to quickly clean up in their restroom.  Our next stop was Fisherman’s Landing in Rocky Harbour for a well-deserved greasy breakfast.  I’m fairly certain that despite our best efforts to clean up we did manage to disrupt the dining experiences of a few people around us.  Strange how that was a little bit satisfying.

In retrospect the trip was a huge success.  We were confident and comfortable in our route-finding abilities; a feeling reinforced by the quick adjustments we made when off course.  Furthermore, the sense of completing a route with zero 'bail out' options was a real confidence booster.  Granted we had mostly favourable conditions, but the fact remains that we had no real safety net available to us between being dropped off by the boat and reaching Gros Morne Mountain.  Having great tripping partners makes a real difference in being able to tackle this type of trip.  It's definitely a little more serious than the typical hiking trails in the eastern part of North America.

I'm now eager for the next adventure, either beyond my usual comfort zone for distance from 'safety', or in trail-less backcountry.  Perhaps the Sierra High Route won't be too far in the future.

Here's a link to the entire photo album for the trip.