You may not hear a peep at Third Vault Falls
Published Monday May 11th, 2009
Spring is encroaching nicely now and that means it is time for a visit to Fundy Park to check out the volume of water cascading over Third Vault Falls.
The return hike to the falls is only about eight kilometres or five miles, so we will also have time on our way home to check out how the winter tides and ice have affected the Rocks and shoreline at Hopewell Cape.
There is a smattering of rain on our drive down the scenic Route 114, but it stops completely as we pull into Fundy Park headquarters, which we use as our secondary meeting place when we hike in the park.
On this day we collect a few more people and 11 of us set off up the hill to the Laverty Road, where we disembark and walk the road for about 10 minutes to arrive at the trailhead to Third Vault Falls.
The rooty and rocky trail down to the falls is a little wet, but the sun is now appearing intermittently, so our spirits soar.
Despite the trail chatter and the rhythmic tone of our walking sticks click-clacking against the rocky terrain, we hear other notes getting louder as we approach a small swampy pond.
The sound is part peeping, but mostly croaking.
The pond is like a cauldron of water on the throes of boiling; tiny bubbles are everywhere on the surface.
I guess most of the peepers have matured, as the predominant note is definitely croaking and you can see the heads of small frogs or toads stretching the bounds of the water's surface tension.
As everyone catches up and our small crowd gathers around the pond, the peeping and croaking greatly diminish, as if their cacophonous concert was not meant for human ears.
We continue down the trail to where the path descends sharply down to a stream running through a ravine.
When we arrive at the stream the water is quite high and really moving fast, making it difficult and dangerous to cross, so we do not attempt it.
Instead we follow along the bank through some pockets of surprisingly deep snow (clearly it is not summer yet!) until such time as we are forced to either cross or go up the bank in order to see the falls.
No one crosses the stream, but most go up the steep bank to a small plateau where Third Vault Falls came into view.
I have been there many times but never have the falls gushed with water as they do this day.
It is the highest waterfall in the park and the water is pinched in by the rock formation -- which makes it explode out of the rock face -- before it spreads out and crashes into the pool below.
I and Gilles Lacoste (on his first outing with us with his wife Hope) manage to get down to pool level where we feel the fine mist rejuvenating our skin. (I now look 10 years younger. Really, I swear).
If one is going to dally anywhere, this is the place, so we prop ourselves against whatever tree, rock or cliff side we can find, unpack our foodstuffs and begin to inhale our lunch.
The hike back to our cars is largely uneventful as I go quickly ahead of everyone to get some cardio in, but also to see if our froggy friends will clam up again if only one person sneaks up to listen.
Sure enough, although the peeping and croaking do not stop entirely, there is a definite difference in the decibel level as I arrive at the edge of the pond . . . curious.
We move on to the wondrous and educational hiking to be had at the Hopewell Rocks Tidal Exploration Site. The name itself just makes you want to go there doesn't it?
The name Hopewell comes from German settlers who arrived from Hopewell, Pennsylvania in the 1700s.
The fabulously formed Rocks should be self evident and Tidal Exploration implies ocean water coming and going, and all brought together at a site or a place where we all can roam, observe and learn.
Now greatly exaggerate the magnitude of all the facets mentioned and you will have the reality of what the Hopewell Rocks is.
Remember when you go to the Rocks you should check the tide times, as you can only do a complete exploration of the beach 2.5 hours on either side of low tide. Better to come when the tide is receding.
Now purely as a hiking experience we begin at the upper site entrance and go into the intelligently laid out interpretive centre to see what this place is all about.
It is a good idea to visit there first to get an idea of what to look for, before we begin our trek around the site.
We then go out on the landscaped trail and follow it around to four viewing decks, to gain a perspective of the park from on high (there are four more at lower levels of the park). The vista from the Daniel's Flats lookout is my favourite, but all are spectacular.
When we arrive at the main viewing deck with the 99 steps down to the beach, we continue on past it to step on the beach at the northern boundary of the park.
We then head toward the 'flower pots' (the term coined by Robert Ripley of Ripley's Believe It or Not fame).
We take a look to our right and see the remnants of an 18th century Acadian aboiteau or dyke.
The first rock formation of note is one visitors and staff over the years have dubbed 'Mother in Law' rock because of its pouty lip and craggy nose, combined with a head of white hair.
Not a handsome woman, I am sure it must have been a man who loved his dear sweet sainted mother-in-law (not) who came up with this one.
As we continue around the corner we run into a formation that is the very picture of E.T. then another that looks like the head of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Coming into the cove at the foot of the main stairs we see Lover's Arch, then Bear Rock, then another formation that I cannot describe in a daily newspaper column. Suffice to say it causes endless tittering among hikers of the female persuasion.
I do not want to go on and on about the many other formations, but I must include Elephant Rock, which adorns our Medicare card and the majestic sea cave into which you can climb. It illustrates the incredible heights to which the water rises.
After observing a pair of peregrine falcons soaring and shrieking overhead we arrive at an escape tower built on an uplift of limestone.
The tower is there in case you become stranded by the high tide. You would climb up to a platform, which on a day with a really high tide, would just barely keep you dry. You will be trapped there until the water recedes, at least three and a half or four hours.
Hey! it is better than drowning.
Zipping right along, we clamber over the boulders that comprise two well-defined tectonic uplifts to arrive on Demoiselles Beach.
It is said that French sailors (having obviously been at sea too long) thought the rock formations looked like fine French ladies with hats on.
Moving on across the beach we go up a well-landscaped trail back to the interpretive centre, where we also find a full-service restaurant and well-stocked gift shop.
Done right, it should take at least an hour and a half, or perhaps a lot longer depending on your wish to ask questions, shop, eat, or linger.
I covered only a fraction of the information to be obtained by a curious individual. We have interpretive staff available all over the site who are ready, willing and able to answer all your questions about tide, flora, fauna, natural history, geology or local history.
They can even advise you where to get some good seafood or accommodation, or tell you about the many other things to do in the area.
By the way, this past winter was relatively kind to the Hopewell Rocks as there was not much damage from erosion.
The 'encroachment' of spring mentioned at the beginning of this column has lost any sinister connotation it may have had, as we conclude another day of hiking in paradise.
* Paul Gaudet is the manager of interpretive services at the Hopewell Rocks Tidal Exploration Site at Hopewell Cape. He can be reached at pgaudet_abc@hotmail.com. His column appears every second week.
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