Two Moose in Hare Bay
It is called a Bay but it is actually a fjord and quite a spectacular one at that. A six mile long narrow slit cut through steep, granite cliffs and daubed with pristine forest. It leads from the open sea up to our anchorage in North West Arm tucked in behind the bar at Sandy Point. A beautiful, remote spot to drop the anchor and relax on a warm summer’s day.
The Bar at Sandy point is soft sand I can now confirm having ploughed a keel shaped furrow through it on our arrival. I should have known better as there are clear warnings in the guide book. DO NOT CUT THE CORNER TOO CLOSELY. Our friends, Doug and Dale Bruce even write the guide! Nevertheless the depth gauge came rushing up and then a gentle tug as the keel battered it’s way through.
The anchor went down first time and soon the only noise on board was the gushing waterfalls and the trembling rigging in the soft breeze. We quickly had the dinghy in the water and set to work with the hand held depth sounder to find if there was a way out for us as we had hit the bar at high tide.
We soon concluded that there was plenty of water if the guide book instructions were obeyed. Secure in the knowledge that escape was possible we headed up to the head of the fjord to climb the hill.
Perhaps I have been a little too disparaging about Newfoundland Boardwalks because, today, virgin Newfoundland bush had it’s revenge!
At first there was a semblance of a path where the moose had grazed but soon we were bashing our way through bushes and splashing through the bogs. Insectivorous plants were everywhere and so too were their prey! After a while we came to an open boggy area and above that, on the hillside, a moose stood staring at us. As we approached it trotted off making light work of the terrain. Soon another moose spotted us and sauntered off.
We followed making very heavy work of the terrain! The ground was steepening and the shrubs were getting taller. The flies had now scented our sweat in enormous numbers. Soon we were pulling ourselves up on branches and stumbling along over a vegetated boulder field entangled with bushes and bogs. Panting hard I filled a lung full of flies and stopped to choke whist little wings buzzed in my ears, nose and eyes.
It must have been tough trekking in virgin moose territory because, long before we attained the ridge, Sally sounded the retreat!
It must be a hard life being a moose being constantly assailed by wind, damp, cold, mosquitoes and black fly. We were very glad to gun the outboard to shake off most of the bugs and to scurry back to our warm, dry and fly-free home at sea.
