Driving to the Edge of Avalon

Here we are at Tors Cove -- about halfway down the east coast of the Avalon Peninsula from St. John's Newfoundland.  We've never been here before.  This is our chance to see the southeastern coast of Newfoundland.  We decided to take a drive down to the southernmost point, focusing on some lighthouses along the way.

Our first stop was the Visitor Center in Portugal Cove, which it the entry point to the Mistaken Point Ecological Reserve, but also identifies itself as the "Edge of Avalon":

 

 

There is so much to see here, on the southeastern coast of the Avalon Peninsula, that we decided to defer our exploration of Mistaken Point and the Cape Race Lighthouse until another day.  Instead, we drove south to the southernmost tip of the Avalon Peninsula.

Our first stop was St. Shott's and the St. Shott's Lightstation, Cape Freels, the southernmost point of the Avalon Peninsula, is also the southernmost point in Newfoundland. During the summer of 1882, three large vessels ran aground near Cape Freels. Though no lives were lost in these three shipwrecks, the incidents highlighted the need for a fog alarm along that coast. As a result, a fog alarm was constructed on Cape Freels, which stands to this day at the end of a long gravel road out of St. Shott's, a small, remote village at the tip of the Avalon Peninsula.

As we drove through St. Shott's toward the lightstation, we passed some typically Newfie architecture -- old and painted with bright colors:

 

 

The lightstation itself was not too impressive, because it only consisted of a small foghorn and an outbuilding.  The most remarkable structure on the head was this rainbow-colored bench, where we ate our lunch:

 

 

The rocks jutting out from the point were impressive, however:

 

 

Back in the village of St. Shott's, we stopped to hunt for sea glass along a gravelly beach, where some exposed basalt had been worn smooth by the incessant action of incoming waves:

 

 

Leaving St. Shott's, we drove out to Cape Pine, along a relatively well-maintained gravel road, crossing an empty plateau of grass, with very little spruce or other trees:

 

 

The Cape Pine Lighthouse was an ample reward, with its classic lighthouse visage.  We felt sad, however, that it does not seem to have been adopted and maintained:

 

 

Cape Pine, a barren point just east of the southernmost point in Newfoundland, appeared on early Portuguese charts as “C de pena,” which translates to “cape of punishment or sorrow.” This name proved prophetic, as numerous shipwrecks occurred in the vicinity through the centuries.  Painted in broad red and white horizontal bands, Cape Pine Lighthouse was initially equipped with a revolving lighting apparatus fitted with sixteen lamps and reflectors. While the tower measured seventeen meters tall, its light, a white flash every twenty seconds, had a focal plane of ninety-two meters thanks to the high headland on which it was erected. The completed lighthouse was turned over to Newfoundland’s Commissioners of Lighthouses in November 1850.

 

Standing by the light, we looked out to the point and saw a lonely stage sitting over the water:

 

 

A rustic fence leads down toward the stage and the water from the lighthouse:

 

 

Satisfied with our visit to that classic lighthouse, we headed back toward Trepassey, where we encountered this cute little harbor light --

 

 

-- on the road out to the Powles Head Lighthouse:

 

 

Powles Head is the southern end of a peninsula that forms the southern shore of Trepassey Harbour and is connected to the mainland by a narrow causeway:

In 1925, a lighthouse in a wooden light tower was replaced by a round iron tower, painted white. By 1960, this iron tower was thoroughly rusted, and it was replaced that year by the current combination light and fog alarm building, which has a square tower rising from one of its corners. In 1961, two keeper’s dwellings were built near the new lighthouse, but the assistant keeper’s dwelling was subsequently removed from the site. The station is no longer staffed. When we drove up, a fellow had just arrived to check on the lighthouse in advance of an impending storm, and he had brought a frisky 2-year-old rescue puppy that had been trapped with a group of wild dogs in Labrador.  The puppy was mellow and friendly.  We petted her and chatted with the lighthouse attendant before heading back on the road to our campground.

All in all, it was a full day -- seven hours of driving and walking and investigating!  The next two days are forecast to be rainy due to the advance of Hurricane Franklin up the Atlantic coast of North America.  As a result, we may not have another adventure to report to you for a few days.