Blown away. The absolute beauty of Colliers; a the tiny outport at the head of Conception bay . The type of place where wind rolling off a seagulls wing is loud.
I came to do a bit of a back track to Bacon Cove; checking off another length of shoreline on my quest to paddle every inch of the Avalon. I wasn't picturing such beautiful cliffs and uninhabited shores; and I struggled with the idea to explore or not the opposite side of the harbour and skip my trip back into Bacon cove. I had time to decide as I paddled along.
Gliding into James cove was absolutely inspiring. A time capsule of rural Newfoundland. A small tidy cabin with no road aside from a old cart track leading to it. The white stone on the hill commanded my attention as I walked the beach of the past. The oldest headstone in the community sits alone on the hill depicting the passing of James Cole Collier's in 1855. Leaving his surname upon this beautiful little town, and given name upon the cove.
A young bull moo'ed as I passed by the grave. Cattle is not something you see around rural Newfoundland much anymore; and there was something welcoming and reassuring about it.
The iconic Newfoundland pony grazed on the meadow where boats were hauled in for the season.
Watching his ears and approaching cautiously; I could see he was receptive to a bit of a pet. I still remember ponies from my childhood; they still hold a special place in my heart.
After consuming a drab of coffee I continued down the eastern side of the harbour; rolling on occasion to bring some relief to the heat. Not a bad complaint for May here in the North Atlantic.
Once reaching the eastern headland I took advantage of the beautiful day. Landing in a small wave pounded coast that would be near impossible to explore during any swell at all. Stripping off the drysuit I too my time climbing over the cliffs to get an amazing view of the bay. The ground atop the knolls was thick with crow-berry bushes; soft as a mattress. I couldn't help imagine sitting inside my tent here. Listening to the breeze flap the tarp, bushes scratching on the tent floor as I moved around. I NEED to get camping soon.