Discovering Woody Point




We drive the mountains in the pouring rain today, frightening but worth it to see The Tablelands and the incredible town of Woody Point. Across Bonne Bay from Norris Point, it is a community that was, until a devastating fire destroyed most iof it in the 1920s, the commercial hub of the region. Now the commercial hub is Corner Brook. We’re going there tomorrow but, for today, it’s Woody Point.

Now a hub only for vacationers, its waterfront boasts restaurants and craft shops. Oddly, though the town is tucked away nearly 40 kilometers from Highway 430, on a tortuous road curvy and steep, it’s the only place where every restaurant and coffee shop had wireless internet available and where I could get a real latte made with real espresso.

In fact, in case we get “homesick” for Woody Point, we can always check it out on the live Web cam.

Lunch at the Lighthouse Restaurant, another fabulous seafood meal in friendly, homey surroundings.  Phil allows as he has finally had his fill of scallops.  (It later turns out he’s wrong — he has scallops almost every day for the rest of the trip.)  We are offered Partridge Berry Pudding with Rum Sauce for dessert but can’t fit it on top of the halibut, cod and scallops so we take a portion home to the cottage for dinner.

Food is often such an issue for us in Toronto, it’s been a happy discovery to find that eating here is easier, and better than the big smoke. Because every restaurant we’ve tried makes fresh homemade food from scratch, it’s no problem to say “no salt” or to find gluten-free choices for Phil.

It’s also a remarkably accessible place — every facility, every restaurant, every shop has a ramp for access and bathrooms on the main floor.

In spite of the challenges of driving these grades and curves, it’s easier to get around here than it is Toronto and it’s easier to get served food you can eat. In Toronto, if you ask for no salt, you simply get “sorry it’s already prepared”, code for “it arrived on the truck from Sysco already cooked and frozen — we just thaw.”

At the Woody Point Discovery Centre, we watch a film about Gros Morne and look at displays that explain the geology, flora and fauna.

We drive home to the cottage in another downpour. It rains harder here than anywhere we’ve experienced before. The rain falls so violently that it feels like it’s denting the car.   I don’t mind the 40 K off 430 into Woody Point.  It’s very steep, very curvy and like the rest of the roads we’ve seen, almost totally without guard rails but it’s also nearly empty of traffic.  Once we hit 430, there’s always the spectre of the big big trucks barrelling up the highway.   They spray so much water, we’re completely blinded.   Hope we don’t meet an unexpected curve or a moose!  The moose thing, of course, isn’t funny.  Two persons have died in separate collisions with a moose during the few days we’ve been here.


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