Following is a recent article written by Loren Johnston that appeared in the OUTDOOR SECTION of the Maine Sunday Telegram detailing some of the trail building work that is presently being accomplished on the Newfoundland section of the IAT/SIA. The members of the Maine Chapter Board got to spend some time at Paul Wylezol's B&B while we were at the International Meeting in Cow Head. It is a really wonderful place on the edge of a spectacular sand beach and dune system. Caspian Terns were feeding in the surf. To learn more, and see pictures visitwww.ententecordiale.com
The sun bleached bones were scattered about, stark white against the moist, deep green ground
cover. It was evident that a Caribou had met its end here. A closer inspection revealed that it
was well advanced in years, it’s teeth ground down to the pulp. We had stumbled across this and
the remains of another Caribou and a young Moose on the third day of a spectacular wilderness
backpacking trip on what recently became part of the International Appalachian Trail. The Indian
Lookout Trail will join with over 1000 kilometers of trail following the Long Range Mountains on
the western coast of Newfoundland. An island Province of Canada the size of New England,
Newfoundland is the northern terminus of the Appalachian Mountains, an ancient range born over 250
million years ago, that stretch south to Alabama.
The IAT is the vision of Dick Anderson, a fisheries biologist and former commissioner of
Maine's Department of Conservation. Dick dreamed of “a trail that would connect two countries and
cultures, link a state and two provinces and traverse two major watersheds--the Gulf of Maine and
the Gulf of St. Lawrence." The idea was first proposed publicly on Earth Day, 1994, by Maine
gubernatorial candidate Joe Brennan. As a result of their efforts, the Sentier International des
Appalaches / International Appalachian Trail (SIA/IAT) was formed. The goal of the Newfoundland and
Labrador Chapter of the SIA/IAT, formed on July 4, 2003, is to extend the SIA/IAT an additional
1,079 km along the Long Range Mountains from Port aux Basques, at Newfoundland's southwestern
corner, to Belle Isle, off the tip of the Northern Peninsula.
We had been dropped off after a 10 mile boat ride across a lake frequented by the early super
stars of fly-fishing, Lee and Joan Wullf. The fishing, although very good, is not what brings me
to this place. I had been corresponding with Paul Wylezol for over a year, hoping to hike this
section of the trail prior to its official opening. Paul, the head of the committee responsible
for developing the trail in this area, is a powerhouse of energy working full time, building and
operating a B and B, guiding hikes and overseeing the development of this section of the trail, the
first funded by the federal government. Ron, his hiking client from Ontario on his first
backpacking experience, and I follow behind him most of the time as, with a GPS hung around his
neck, he plots the trail that will be cut by his four man trail crew. They have become local
celebrities as the news of their accomplishments spread through the local communities, they revel
in the attention and the sense of historical importance that their work entails.
Although rough at this time, Paul wants the trail to be accessible to a wide variety of
hikers, not just those looking for a primitive backcounty expedition. He envisions a hut system,
similar to that in the White Mountains, that would allow for a gentler experience and provide an
element of safety as low clouds rolling off the ocean, that is only a few miles away, can sometimes
make even well marked trails difficult to follow.
After being dropped off, we had followed the recently cut trail from the waters edge up to the
table lands rising over 2000 feet above the coastal plain. For the next three days we struggle
through dense undergrowth, called tuckamore, that tears at our packs and traps our boots as we
follow the rough cut trail, at times finding our own routes to link up with what had already been
cut. Late summer had been very wet, unusual weather for that time of year, delaying the cutting of
the trail and providing ideal conditions for the biting flies that swarm us whenever the breezes
subside. The rain had also fueled the numerous unnamed waterfalls that cascade a thousand feet or
more down the cliffs into the fjord like lakes that we pass by every day of the hike.
Leaving the Caribou remains behind us, we continue on the barren but impressive sub-artic
plain. The clouds move in and out, often shrouding us in a wall of gray, then opening up to give
us glimpses of vast panoramas. Over a ridge a large male Caribou appears out of the clouds. He
spots us and stops, his eyes fixed on us, but he is upwind and cannot pick up our scent. As he
continues towards us, he pauses often, throwing his head back. Passing to our left, he turns
towards us, his nose in the air, and at that moment our scent reaches him. He leaps in the air,
twists 180 degrees as graceful as a ballet dancer and runs to the nearby ridge line, turns to give
us one more look, then disappears back into the clouds. We had seen over 20 caribou that day, 6
black bears, including 3 cubs, a cow moose with a calf and a variety of birds.
As we begin our descent to the coast, the sunlight dancing on the ocean in the distance, Paul
calls ahead to the Etente Cordiale, the B and B that he and his family operate along the proposed
trail in the community of Portland Creek, to arrange a dinner for us. After a welcome hot shower,
we meet in the comfortable dining room to sit down to a meal of fresh cod, scallops, shrimp and a
bottle of chilled Chardonay as the sun sets into the ocean. Perfect.
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