Ferry Crossing to Newfoundland

Our visit to Sydney was harried and hectic.  The town had outgrown its roadways, making getting around cumbersome.  We were ever so grateful to finish our errands and head towards the ferry terminal.

The roads were not well marked, so we had a bit of difficulty finding the entrance to the terminal building where we thought we were suppose to get our tickets.  David discovered that we only needed the internet information that we had already printed. 

Because the ferry time had changed from an 11:30 am departure to 7:30, we needed to be at the dock by 5:30 am.  The dispatcher told us that we could boondock in line if we chose to and that we could arrive as early as six that evening, after the 5:30 pm ferry left.

With several hours to kill, we searched and found a barber for David.  He had wanted to get a hair cut prior to our leaving Texas, but time ran out.  Unwilling to wear a ponytail, he determined that now was the time.

We found a great spot along the marina to watch the Friday evening ferry depart.  It was a huge vessel and made the 14-hour crossing to Newfoundland.  Because of Rox, we opted for the 6-hour ferry, which would take us to Port-aux-Basques.  While it would require a bit more driving for us, we felt that a 14-hour wait between potty breaks would be asking too much of Rox. 

Ferry bound for Newfoundland

By seven that evening, we were first in the “camper” line for the ferry.  The gentleman who checked us in was kind enough to tell us about a short boardwalk that would take us into the town of New Sydney.  David, Rox, and I strolled around the downtown area for a while before settling in for the night.

At first I was unwilling to pop the camper top to sleep.  We sat in the truck, watching all the dock activity.  A commercial ferry arrived, and we watched the workers load trailer after trailer full of goods bound for Newfoundland.  By 10:30, they began loading big rigs and a few large campers.  The commercial ferry left at around 11:30 that evening.  As our eyelids became heavier and heavier, I finally agreed to sleeping in the camper.

It was not a restful sleep, however, it was much more comfortable than it would have been sleeping in the truck.  Two lanes over, at least one 18-wheel diesel truck left his engine on all night.  Dozens of other trucks drove in to pick up their trailers, all beeping as they backed up.  Dockworkers continued their noisy jobs, transferring equipment.  By 4:30 am, we had enough and decided to lower the camper and sit in the truck again. 

We were surprised to discover the entire parking area full of vehicles and our ferry in dock.  I took Rox for a stroll while David went for coffee in the terminal building.  Loading began slowly at about 6:30 am.  We finally were given the okay to go aboard at 7:00, just a half hour prior to our departure time.  By then, we knew that we would have a late start.

The ferry had three decks for vehicles and three for passengers.  We were assigned to deck seven.  It was set up very similarly to a large aircraft with reclining seats along the edges and several rows in the middle.  Unlike an airplane, however, the ferry came equipped with a restaurant, bar, gift shop, and media center.

We had Roxanne dressed in her service jacket.  The crew welcomed her on board, and she was the quintessential Golden during the entire trip, resting at my feet.  Tired from our lack of sleep, I was content to read.  David was the quintessential engineer, visiting this area and that to understand its workings.  We all took a stroll on deck several times for a stretch.

We were told that there would be free WiFi available on the ferry.  After many unsuccessful attempts to access the site, David learned that their router could only handle 200 connects.  With probably a thousand folks on board, we found that the connection was impossible to hold.

As we neared the Port-aux-Basques harbor, we began a conversation with a couple from Ottawa.  They were on their third trip to Newfoundland and offered several places for us to visit.  When I asked about photographing animals, they were not optimistic.  They said that they had not seen as much as a “dead squirrel” on their trip over and not to expect much in Newfoundland unless we visited Gros Morne National Park.

Coming into Port-aux-Basques, Newfoundland 

Port-aux-Basques ferry landing

Soon after we docked, we got the okay to return to our vehicles.  We arrived at the truck to find an 18-wheeler parked so close that we could barely open the doors enough for Roxanne to jump in.  A throng of folks was around us.  My claustrophobia set in, and I was ever so grateful to get inside the truck.

It seemed like forever before our line began to disembark.  I admit that my nerves were frazzled.  We stopped by the visitor’s center amidst a stream of vehicles.  We opted to camp at the nearest provincial park so that the others could out run us.  I can’t tell you how calming it was to find a campsite nestled in the trees, next to a cascade.  It allowed me to put distance between the frenetic and concentrate once again on nature.