Newfoundland is an island… a very big island. At 41,000 square miles, it’s just a little smaller than the state of Tennessee. But where Tennessee is land-locked (with the exception of the Mississippi River), Newfoundland is surrounded by water, is closer to Ireland than to Ontario and is informed by that very same water. OK, that’s enough for today’s geography lesson.
What does that have to do with traveling there? Well, a lot. Since I was going to be traversing the entire province, I needed to get an idea of where I might crash each evening. In David W. McFadden’s book, “An Innocent In Newfoundland”, he writes about driving until dark (remember the moose) with no indication of a place to stay. Resourceful soul that he is, he pulls over to the side of the road and sleeps there. Not bad: cheap, probably no bed bugs, toilet right outside the door, but no running water or a cup of coffee with which to get started. I’ve stayed in worse, but not this go-round.
In the planning stages, I determined that St. Johns, the capitol city, would be my starting and finishing point. From there I would launch out into the unknown. My research had shown a fair amount of hotels and too numerous bed and breakfasts. The B&B’s were more affordable but ran a very wide range.
Who or what to choose was determined by price (of course) and whether or not it was “en suite”. That was a new one to me. Simply put, en suite means you get a bathroom with your room, otherwise, it’s shared. Decisions, decisions. Names in Newfoundland, as I wrote about earlier, tend to the colorful. The B&B’s were no exception. More on this next time.