The following excerpt is from an article in The Telegram by Charlotte O’Dea about the East Coast Trail. I have selected the portion that applies to Renews:
"As we drove into the small village of Renews, we caught sight of a sign for the East Coast Trail and decided to hike the portion of the trail that leads towards nearby Fermeuse. A lovely century-old green-and-yellow house, called Emerald Cottage, stands before the entrance to this section of the East Coast Trail. The trail begins very humbly in a small hollow surrounded by grassy knolls. As we followed its gradual climb between a few rocky outcrops, nothing in its modest appearance prepared us for the superb view it was about to provide.
When it came, it took our breath away. We were suddenly perched on the edge of the continent, between the earth and the sky and the stunning blue of the Atlantic Ocean.
As our eyes tried to take it all in, we could feel the sea pulling us toward its wide horizon of endless possibilities. In that instant, it was easy to understand the powerful attraction these waters must have exerted on the hearts and minds of our seafaring ancestors.
An interesting interpretive site informed us that we were standing on a historic site called The Mount. Several cannons still stand on guard, enduring reminders of Newfoundland's often embattled past. These guns were sent to Renews in 1778 to defend its harbour against attacks by American privateers who seized and burned local fishing boats and took their crews prisoner.
Not wanting to let a good story go unembellished, local lore has it that during these skirmishes, the people from the south side of Renews stole the gunpowder used for the cannons in the hope the American raiders would capture them and take them back to the States. Is this true? Maybe not, but as Mark Twain said, never let the truth get in the way of a good story.
From The Mount, the East Coast Trail heads out of the harbour, sheds its modest beginnings and becomes a drama queen.
Over and over again, we found ourselves on the edge of high cliffs while, below us, jagged Cambrian rocks jutted out into the rolling sea like steadfast guardians of the island. Looking down at this treacherous rocky coastline, it was easy to see why Newfoundland is often called "the Rock." The meadows, the small spruce trees leaning away from the ocean winds, the berry bushes that cling to the thin soil - these are all camouflage to lull us into forgetting that we are in fact standing alone in the middle of the Atlantic on a big piece of sedimentary rock sheared from the continent billions of years ago.
For the next few hours, we followed this spectacular coastline, rising high above cliffs that plunge dramatically into the sea, then dipping gently into small coves with names such as Boat Bottom Cove, Sculpin Bay, Capelin Cove. The soothing sound of water rolling over the smooth pebbles and the bright sunlight shimmering off the water were irresistible enticements to sit awhile, which we did, like two lazy seals warming our backsides on the sun-baked rocks.
For a few glorious hours we had stood on the edge of our continent, on the same high cliffs that welcomed ancient explorers to the new world."
"As we drove into the small village of Renews, we caught sight of a sign for the East Coast Trail and decided to hike the portion of the trail that leads towards nearby Fermeuse. A lovely century-old green-and-yellow house, called Emerald Cottage, stands before the entrance to this section of the East Coast Trail. The trail begins very humbly in a small hollow surrounded by grassy knolls. As we followed its gradual climb between a few rocky outcrops, nothing in its modest appearance prepared us for the superb view it was about to provide.
When it came, it took our breath away. We were suddenly perched on the edge of the continent, between the earth and the sky and the stunning blue of the Atlantic Ocean.
As our eyes tried to take it all in, we could feel the sea pulling us toward its wide horizon of endless possibilities. In that instant, it was easy to understand the powerful attraction these waters must have exerted on the hearts and minds of our seafaring ancestors.
An interesting interpretive site informed us that we were standing on a historic site called The Mount. Several cannons still stand on guard, enduring reminders of Newfoundland's often embattled past. These guns were sent to Renews in 1778 to defend its harbour against attacks by American privateers who seized and burned local fishing boats and took their crews prisoner.
Not wanting to let a good story go unembellished, local lore has it that during these skirmishes, the people from the south side of Renews stole the gunpowder used for the cannons in the hope the American raiders would capture them and take them back to the States. Is this true? Maybe not, but as Mark Twain said, never let the truth get in the way of a good story.
From The Mount, the East Coast Trail heads out of the harbour, sheds its modest beginnings and becomes a drama queen.
Over and over again, we found ourselves on the edge of high cliffs while, below us, jagged Cambrian rocks jutted out into the rolling sea like steadfast guardians of the island. Looking down at this treacherous rocky coastline, it was easy to see why Newfoundland is often called "the Rock." The meadows, the small spruce trees leaning away from the ocean winds, the berry bushes that cling to the thin soil - these are all camouflage to lull us into forgetting that we are in fact standing alone in the middle of the Atlantic on a big piece of sedimentary rock sheared from the continent billions of years ago.
For the next few hours, we followed this spectacular coastline, rising high above cliffs that plunge dramatically into the sea, then dipping gently into small coves with names such as Boat Bottom Cove, Sculpin Bay, Capelin Cove. The soothing sound of water rolling over the smooth pebbles and the bright sunlight shimmering off the water were irresistible enticements to sit awhile, which we did, like two lazy seals warming our backsides on the sun-baked rocks.
For a few glorious hours we had stood on the edge of our continent, on the same high cliffs that welcomed ancient explorers to the new world."
