A Love Letter to a Labrador Beach

In Red Bay, Labrador, I found a small beach that made a big impact.

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Frolicking on the beach, as captured by my friend Yashy Selvadurai Murphy of https://www.parentingtogo.ca

​I can’t tell you when Labrador first hit my travel radar. 

This rugged, remote Canadian region, a part of the province of Newfoundland and Labrador but physically connected to north-east Quebec, is not a spot for a wimpy traveller like me. Distances are far, amenities can be sparse, and the mosquitoes will strip you bare in seconds. Yet the place they call The Big Land has been calling for me for years. Labrador has topped my travel wish list since the beginning of the pandemic. When I had the opportunity to visit as part of the annual Travel Media Association of Canada conference, I knew I had to go.

I dearly wanted to make Labrador’s acquaintance, but it’s doubtful that the region wanted the likes of me. I have no good reason to be enamoured with small Labrador fishing communities like Red Bay and Battle Harbour. My aversion to boats is both legendary and well-founded. Similarly, I can’t tell you why stories from events such as Cain’s Quest, Labrador’s legendary annual 3,100-kilometre snowmobile endurance race capture my heart. I dislike cold weather, sporty things, and noisy fanfare. Frankly, even the process of getting to Labrador is determinedly very non-Vanessa-ish. I like cold foam on coffee, not ferry decks, thank you very much. So, sure, the villages are cute, and the events are spirited, but this is clearly the kind of place I should appreciate through a documentary and not my own Gravol-addled brain. 

Thankfully, my heart is immune to common sense.

​I love cozy travel, and Labrador is one of the coziest places on earth. Forget icebergs and mosquitos. Can we talk about the tiny wildflowers, vast rolling hills, and sunsets that rival anything I’ve seen in Hawaii? The air is bracingly fresh, the platters of hot turkey sandwiches are heaping, and the warm hospitality that drives big-scale events like Cain’s Quest is very much in evidence on an individual level.

Oh, and there are sea hedgehogs. SEA. HEDGEHOGS.

Sea hedgehogs are a charming nickname for sea urchins. This nickname isn’t unique to Labrador. In fact, I hadn’t heard of it before doing some research after my visit. Of course, sea urchins are found all over the world. I’m sure nobody but me associates Labrador, famous for its gigantic moose and whales, with these tiny, prickly creatures. But show me a remote land that few people ever visit and then tell me it is home to a creature with the bonafides to be nicknamed a “sea hedgehog” and you can be sure I’ll never think of anything else.

Sea urchins/ sea hedgehogs are one of thousands of marine animals that thrive off Labrador’s coast. For centuries, whales were so abundant here that Basque convoys made the annual pilgrimage to Red Bay to harvest valuable whale oil (a polite way of saying they slaughtered whales and converted their solid blubber into liquid gold for European elites) and the now-endangered animals still call the area home. Fishing is a significant economic force, and cod still reigns supreme despite the decades-old restrictions on harvesting. More recently, delicacies like mussels and lobsters are gaining more attention on local menus. Suppose anyone was brave enough to scuba dive in these frigid, headstrong waves. They’d discover an underwater world resplendent with shipwrecks, whalebones the size of tree trunks, fossils, red Basque roofing tiles, and plenty of delicate marine animals like the urchin. ​

I, of course, was NOT brave enough to scuba dive off the coast of Labrador. I was not even brave enough to get into a fishing boat for a genteel sightseeing cruise around Red Bay, a UNESCO and Parks Canada site. But when I had the opportunity to sink my toes in the sand and let the crisp water lap around my legs when I chanced upon an unexpected beach, I jumped at the opportunity. (Actually, I did not jump. I don’t jump, leap, or vault. Let’s say that I walked towards it at a sprightly pace. I am nothing if not sprightly).

My little Red Bay beach was nothing like the gorgeous expanses of white sand I saw stretching along the region’s southern coast. As far as I can tell, it wasn’t even an official beach. Instead of setting off on the correct path that leads to the Tracy Hill and Boney Shore Walking Trail, I headed down an overgrown road that hugged the shore. My friends and I came to a rather abrupt stop when we realized that we were actually on a lane to someone’s home and not the official trail, but I wasn’t bothered enough to make an about-turn and head up to the proper path. The word “up” alone was enough discouragement for me. When I learned that a strip of accessible shoreline lay just beyond a fishing boat moored in a grassy field, I knew that coming to Labrador was undoubtedly one of the best things I’ve ever done. The spectacular coastline, imposing iceberg, and jovial boat tours were fantastic for the rest of the world, but this was the spot for me.

Photo courtesy Yashy Selvadurai Murphy of https://www.parentingtogo.ca

The shore was clustered with inky-blue mussel shells, smooth pebbles, sticky clumps of matted seaweed, and SEA HEDGEHOG SHELLS. I’ve been shore combing and sea glass collecting my entire life, and I had never before seen any sea urchin exoskeletons, and here they were in abundance, both bleached clean and smooth and still relatively fresh with spines still attached and threads of kelp clinging to the surface. I sacrificed my scarf to make a nest to collect some choice pieces and kept returning, again and again, to stand in the bracing waves and let Labrador wash over me in more ways than one.

I’m not a beach bum. Antiseptic, postcard-worthy shores don’t hold my interest, but I’m in magpie-like heaven when I find a proper wild beach filled with interesting things to collect. I may not have the stomach for the ferry and the fishing boats. I definitely don’t have the fortitude for an epic adventure. However, show me an overlooked beach with a few interesting rocks and a seashell with a charming name, and I’ll be sustained for days. And that, at its essence, is what Labrador is. The Big Land isn’t about how much you see but rather how much you feel. ​It’s a place that fills you. 

After my tiny little adventure frolicking and collecting shells on the beach, knowing that I survived the ferry ride, the mosquitoes, and the weather, might a return trip be in order? Perhaps a winter trek to see the epic Cain’s Quest take place in Labrador’s hinterlands, or maybe an autumn date with migrating birds or a springtime dance with the icebergs. Ha! Fat chance! But I did hear rumours that a little tea room is on Red Bay Interpretive Centre’s wish list, so I might just return to get my fancy coffee after all…

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