Paddling Gander Lake

Gander Lake is the third largest lake in Newoundland, at 35 miles long and ranging from 1 to 3 miles wide.  It is deep -- at 945 feet in the deepest part.  On Friday, August 5, 2023, we had good weather pending and decided it would be fun to get back out on the kayaks.  We would have liked to paddle a smaller lake (due to wind and waves and, generally, less shoreline variety in our paddling range on bigger lakes).  However, no obvious smaller lake candidates were available nearby.  While lakes cover nearly 8% of the surface of Newfoundland (and comprise 3.5% of all freshwater in Canada), the vast majority of lakes are inaccessible due to lack of roads (itself caused by the small population concentrated on the seacoasts and focused historically on fishing).  This large number of lakes is caused by the glacially-scrubbed bedrock being so close to the surface, with shallow soil on top.  This has created numerous pockets for glacial tarns, or for the many rivers to gather into wider lake sections.

So, briefly, Gander Lake it was.

The day was glorious as we started.  The lake was as still as a large lake could be, and billowy white clouds floated above us to the south, reminding David of passages from Wallace Stevens' poem, "Sea Surface Full of Clouds":

We were excited that the water was so calm, and we set out eagerly to explore what the lake had to offer:

Because Newfoundland is an island, it has been isolated from the mainland of North America for millions of years; as a result, the number of species of animals on the island is small.  For example, Newfoundland has no snakes.  The poor soil has resulted in vegetation of limited diversity, which has limited the number of species of animals that can thrive in the woodlands.  Where, on any given wild lake in North America, we could expect to see wildlife, here in Newfoundland that would be the exception.  While eagles and other raptors do exist here, we have yet to see them when out paddling.

While the forests are plentiful -- in this case, large stands of birch and spruce, with sprinklings of other types of trees -- the vegetation (other than wildflowers) is hardly a matter for intense curiosity.  So, as we quickly (re)discovered, the chief attractor for us (other than fishing, when we want to do that) turned out to be the geology of the area exposed on the lakeshore:

The shoreline of Gander Lake offers a wide variety of geologic features, and a calm, bucolic green beauty to go with it:

The first rocky curiosity we spotted was this lumpy boulder sticking out of the lake near the shore.  Because the lake was formed by damming an old river in a glacial valley the rocky features can all be explained by the actions of the glaciers (and tectonic and volcanic activity before that).  Just below the surface of the lake, all along the shoreline, were many more huge boulders just like this one -- some near enough the surface to keep us alert to bottoming out when we paddled over them:

Even those big boulders harbor life, however.  That lumpy boulder, when examined closely, has white lichen all over it that, over centuries, has eroded parts.  Ice and rain have created many crevices where moss, grasses and wildflowers have taken root, including these surprising purple irises, so bold against the duller colors of the rock:

The bedrock is exposed all around the lake but, due to tectonics and glaciation, it has been folded and raised into many eruptions:

To our untrained eyes, this rocky outcrop looked like ancient schist -- one of nature's harder rocks.  Yet this piece of rock, too, has given way to life:

Marvelling at the variety of rocks along the shoreline, we paddled on, reaching an area that appeared to be dominated by granite:

This unidentified ancient rock, so uniform in its composition, has somehow been smoothed at its base, nearly to a polished surface.  Kathy guessed that perhaps the weather has blown at the rock from this direction for eons, blasting it with water and fine grains of rocky sand:

Lunchtime was approaching, and the clouds were starting to take over the sky, making us wonder if our quiet paddle would be a little more windy and wavy and exciting:

We passed this unusual, stocky pine tree.  It appeared to be very old.  Someone had lodged a small, orange boat bumper on the lake side of its trunk -- perhaps as a marker to locate them when fishing or boating.  We thought it might be a geocache, but it was not.

It reached lunchtime, and we hunted out a suitable, relatively flat beach to put the kayaks in and get out to stretch our legs and eat.  This spot was picturesque:

We spotted a campfire ring, showing that others had enjoyed this spot as well.  Perhaps the most unusual thing we have found in our paddling -- or even in our beachcombing, was this waterlogged clock radio.  We wondered whether someone brought it camping (unlikely), or whether it was tossed aside off a boat (also unlikely), or had somehow washed up on the shore (also unlikely due to its heaviness).  We were left with a mystery why it would appear here, with no access roads for car campers and no electricity nearby:

As it happened, our beach had some new geologic puzzles for us.  The large rocks at one end of the beach, apparently uplifted, were crisscrossed with narrow, very geometric cracks now filled with quartz and other white mineral.  We understood how the mineral could be deposited in the cracks over the millennia, but we were lost as to how the cracks were made so symmetrically:

And even this cracking and mineralization occurred in a variety of designs.  Occasionally, huge lumps of quartz look like they had filled large hollows in old bedrock.  Again, beyond our ken:

And again, that hard, ancient rock still could not resist the force of life, which always seems to find a place and a way:

It seemed that someone threw a switch and lunchtime.  Just as we set back out on the water to return to where we started, the winds picked up (no threat of rain), and the lake threw up sizeable waves to challenge our paddling home.  It always seems that, no matter how we anticipate the direction of the winds in the afternoon, they pick up from unpredictable directions and blow in our face (and the waves at the prows of our kayaks), no matter which way we plan our paddle.   We think it's the result of some unwritten rule that's a corollary to the rule that hiking is always uphill both ways.

Below, Kathy plies the water as the waves start picking up:

With a little extra effort, and some canny navigation to take advantage of the shelter of coves and promontories, we got back to our place of beginning, with only a little extra exercise resulting from the adventure.  We would have liked to stay out longer, but we had to get home and shower before heading out to see a very special performance of the musical, "Come From Away," which is being offered in Gander, where the events of that 9/11 story actually took place.

We realized that we were experiencing the welcome slogan at Gander airport, memorialized in the performance:

Yes we are --

 

-- and we're enjoying every minute on The Rock.