Even though I just got back from that big trip to the Burin - and I was about to leave for another sizable trip over on the mainland - it was still that time of the year where the night time lows get lower and everyone starts talking about the arrival of fall. The annual fire is then lit under my backside, to go out and squeeze in some last adventures to have satisfactorily utilized the gift of summer.

Still though, I only had one weekend to work with here and it was a weekend where I was responsible for Kingsley into Saturday afternoon. It wasn't the time to drive 11 hours up to Cartwright in order to see the village of Black Tickle.

Instead it was time to drive only 90 minutes north, through Gros Morne National Park and over to Trout River, then onto a woods road that continues past the Trout River Campground. Up here lies the quad path to the resettled community of Chimney Cove, which I've visited twice before, but it's also somewhere I've always wanted to camp.

Watching Kingsley until 2:30, plus faffing about a bit before leaving the house, it was now into the evening as I parked and threw a sleeping bag and tent into my bike panniers in order to set out for Chimney Cove.

Pushing my bike uphill from the car until I was sweaty and gasping, I then enjoyed about 5 minutes of cycling flat lands along a hilltop, before jamming the brakes down the backside of a steep hill with football-sized rocks.

At the bottom of the hill lay the Gregory River and down here in the surrounding valley, the coming night was even more apparent. I needed to keep moving.

As the Gregory River originates at some of the highest land on the island, the waters here have been cold enough to make me wish I brought sandals every time I've waded across.

This evening was no different. Painful stinging pulsated through my feet with every step forward in these frigid waters.

If you go directly west from Chimney Cove, you won't hit land again until you run into Quebec's Anticosti Island. This means the sun was setting directly into the ocean and I managed to eek out enough time to set up my tent by the day's fading light.

Following that, I took advantage of Chimney Cove's remarkable amount of driftwood. I thought this might attract some company, but it seemed like maybe I had Chimney Cove to myself, save for some distant cabins up on the hillside.

You may remember a few updates back, a caribou passing ten feet from my tent in St. Kyran's, leading me to jump out shirtless and hurriedly move my whole tent out to a cold coastal point. If you do remember that, you may wonder why I chose an adventure involving camping at a place that also serves as an open pasture.

Well the truth is that I didn't make that realization until 4:30 in the morning. It's then that I heard a cow or horse rustling about near my tent and that nervous energy was instantly rekindled.

I calmed down by telling myself that these farm animals wouldn't attack me or my tent, but after that caribou made me so uncomfortable, what was I thinking? I needed to ease back into camping near wild animals...and I would do that by coming to camp in a place where I've seen people open their tent flies just to have a cow staring back at them?

I really can be a dope sometimes.

In the seven years since I'd last been to Chimney Cove, there now seemed to be an abandoned cabin amongst the 15-20 well-maintained cabins here.

It was time to do that thing where you imagine the life lived in an abandoned building.

Here it had to involve consuming many Bud Lites while rocking out to Avenged Sevenfold (��).

I was up somewhat early this morning because in addition to finally camping at Chimney Cove, I was also excited to hike south along the beach into some obscure country on this headland absent of roads or communities¹.

1 - the quad path you see in the satellite imagery was only a work in progress when I was here in 2021.

In no time at all, I came to a little collection of houses and sheds, but it was so close to Chimney Cove that I think most people would still count it as part of that community?

Regardless, I was ecstatic that the walk south along the beach was already paying dividends.

I made it 3.5km (2.1mi) before I was turned around by the need to get home and the beach rocks that had changed into ankle testers. The view was really starting to get good though, with the iconic Lark Harbour area of Guernsey (Weeball) Island, South Head and the Blow-Me-Down Mountains all visible. All three are so prominent on any drive down the bay from Corner Brook, so it was fun to see this aspect that was totally different.

I wished I had more time and/or supplies to simply keep going and check it out even further. One day I hope to be back.

Turning around, I excitedly popped inland to check out whichever waterfall this was, that was the furthest from Chimney Cove I could manage.

One of the highest peaks on the island - Mount St. Gregory - was just east and a bunch of small and unnamed creeks emptied out here in small falls along the coast.

I sometimes ponder getting really into waterfalls because of how it would keep me busy for a couple months since there's so many around Western Newfoundland.

The problem is that I don't really care about the nearby waterfalls unless they're on obscure and remote creeks like this, haha.

Returning to Chimney Cove, I had one last bit of business. Last time I was here, I laughed so hard at one of the cabin names that had a clever sexual innuendo name, but I could never remember the name exactly and I didn't take a picture.

So I spent some time riding around and checking out all of the Chimney Cove cabin names. At one, I loved the lack of inventiveness in simply calling one's cabin the Lambs Rum Inn.

Now that I think about it though, I would probably name my cabin the Steel Reserve 211 Inn.

None of the cabin names fit the bill for what I remembered.

At least I had a laugh at the Weed & Trix Cabin and the idea of playing dumb, acting like it was where sex workers turned tricks instead of where Cribbage was played.

"B'ys! This isn't the pegging I expected!"

With the rain picking up, it was time to push my bike back up the steep gravel hill out of Chimney Cove.

There's this cabin I park at whenever I go to Chimney Cove. It marks where I'm comfortable driving my Intrepid/Patriot/Escape before the "road" turns into more of an ATV trail.

Noticing that the cabin was now for sale, I checked out the adjacent trashed conversion van just because it's been a landmark during my time in Newfoundland.

This wasn't my old van, but it gave off some of the same energy and that made me happy.

Anyway, I'd say this trip was worth it even if it was only 26ish hours. I hold tight the memory of walking the beach south of Chimney Cove as that's how much I enjoy being off the beaten path.