East Coast Trail: Spout Trail to the Bulls Bay Lighthouse

The East Coast Trail, or ECT, is a long-distance coastal footpath located along the east coast of Newfoundland on the Atlantic Ocean.  At over 209 miles long, its creation started in 1994. It is made up of 25 linked wilderness paths and passes through more than 30 communities. It was named one of the best adventure destinations by National Geographic in 2012.

The 25 paths of the East Coast Trail are broken down into three main sections: North of St. John's; St. John's south to La Manche, and the southern end from La Manche to Cappahayden. 

When we visited Newfoundland in 2018, we hiked two or three short sections of the East Coast Trail north of St. John's when we were staying in St. John's, but we didn't have a chance to hike any sections south of St. John's.  We plan to hike a number of the southern trails, but, for now, since we are staying in St. John's again, we wanted to focus on some trails close by St. John's to the south. As it has turned out, all our time in St. John's was taken up with the Newfoundland and Labrador Folk Festival, some logistics, and a cod-fishing trip.  

This left us just one day to set boots on a section of the East Coast Trail. We decided that Spout Path was the most interesting, because we could set the Bulls Bay Lighthouse as our destination and turnaround point, giving us a lighthouse reward as well as spectacular scenery.

Spout Path marks the halfway point of the East Coast Trail. It is a 10.1 mile long and hilly path that is difficult to strenuous. Some have said that it is, to a certain extent, the East Coast Trail’s flagship hike. It features the Spout, an enormous, wave-powered fountain on the cliffs next to a waterfall of Spout River. It is unique, even as blowholes go, because it is located high above the sea and is said to be at least partly powered by the freshwater falls.

Unfortunately, The Spout was too far from the trailhead for us to reach it in a day hike, so we settled for a hike to the Bulls Bay Lighthouse.

Here we are at the trailhead:

 

 

The entire trail threads its way in and out of tuckamore along the cliffs high above Bulls Bay.  Soon after we set out, we were treated to this view back across the bay toward Bay Bulls, the port town:

 

 

Bay Bulls is a fishing community and was established because it is close to the rich fishing grounds on the Grand Banks. Due to its proximity to St. John's, the town is becoming more of a bedroom community for people employed there. Bay Bulls has been at the forefront of many strategies such as fish farming and lately servicing the Oil and Gas industry. The Penney Group of Companies has built a repair facility that services the many oil rigs that drill for oil on the Grand Banks. Tourism has become an important part of the community as well. Four whale and bird watching establishments, as well as several bed-and-breakfast places, attract visitors from all over the world. 

 

For us, however, the natural scenery was all that we wanted:

 

 

The trail is strenuous, with many steep ups and downs.  In a few places, wooden steps had to be bolted to rock faces to permit climbing or descending:

 

 

One downside to our hikes in Newfoundland is that the province is not overly rich in wildlife on the land (the water, of course, is an entirely different matter).   Moose and caribou are extant, but only infrequently spotted. Various types of marmots, fox, mink and such can be found, but they are so shy that all we have seen is their sign along the trail.  Aside from numerous birds and only a handful of squirrels, we have had to content ourselves with the more minor and obscure animal sightings, such as this cute little snail that Kathy spotted on the trail after David had stepped by without seeing:

 

 

Geology is an entirely different matter.  Newfoundland is all about the geology, sitting as it does along the ancient Appalachian Mountain chain, and also having been at the center of numerous continental plates and collisions of continents both ancient and not-so-ancient.  The result is a landscape that is always surprising and awesome:

 

 

Canadians, unlike people from the States, are relatively uninterested in blazing their hiking trails.  In some cases, this can present a challenge to a hiker who is unfamiliar with the path. The more popular trails, of course, are so well worn that it would be impossible to lose one's way; however, less well-traveled trails can be challenging, and often amount to little more than a route rather than a well-defined path. In this case, the Spout Trail is well-worn and easy to follow. In addition, a number of trail signs reassure the hiker that the trail has not been lost -- although it seemed to us that many of these signs stated the obvious:

 

 

We've observed that the Newfies love their stairs.  A trail is not a trail here unless it has wooden stairs.  This seems like a nice accommodation; however, in reality, it is not necessarily better, because what would be a ramp-like climb up a hillside becomes a knee-stressing marathon up endless flights of stairs.  Luckily, the Spout Trail only presents stairs where they appear necessary.  In most cases, the stairs are simple 4x4 ties bolted with rebar into the ground, rather than grand wooden staircases with handrails:

 

 

It is early summer here in Newfoundland, and all the blossoms are rampant.  Here, it seems, the evergreens sprout cones of all colors and sizes -- much more varied than in the 48 states:

 

 

After we had reached the halfway-point to the lighthouse and had passed great swaths of upheaved, flat granite slab rock, we began to enjoy the spectacle of columns of volcanic rock rising straight out of the water, creating some impressive formations:

 

 

The cliffside sections were interspersed with meadow walks, many of which required crossing watery fields on boardwalks:

 

 

The jagged rock outcroppings and coves were too numerous to described individually --

 

 

-- but this one was apparently so impressive to locals that it was named, "The Pulpit," and a sign along the trail testified to that:

 

 

We had reached the point of land, sometimes called Northern Head, where the lighthouse was supposed to stand, and yet, within less than a quarter mile of our calculated destination, we still hadn't seen the lighthouse.  We started to wonder if perhaps it had been torn down or destroyed when, glancing at the ridge ahead of us, we saw a ghostly apparition of the top of a lighthouse peer back at us:

 

 

We have never, ever, hiked to a lighthouse and approached it FROM ABOVE.  But that is exactly what we did here, because, when we climbed the last ridge before reaching the lighthouse, we had to climb down to reach it.  While the poor thing has been desecrated and neglected, yet it still greeted us cheerfully, seeming to appreciate that we cared enough to stop by for a visit:

 

 

But, of course, what does one do after making a new friend?  Why, of course, snap a selfy with that new friend before bidding goodbye!

And off we went, returning to the trailhead -- a hard, rooty, rocky, slippery 4.5 miles in total when we had finished.  Having worked up such a hunger and thirst, we repaired to a local restaurant, the Captain's Table in nearby Witless Bay, for a lunch of cod tongues, fish & chips, and seafood chowder.

Cheers!