There’s an Amazing Old-Growth Forest in Newfoundland—That’s Only a Few Inches High
If someone said that you would be hiking through a pristine, old-growth forest, you’d likely expect to see some pretty spectacular trees towering above you, with thick foliage obscuring your view. But at Newfoundland’s Gros Morne National Park, you’d be in for a surprise—a very short surprise.
On my most recent visit to Gros Morne, Parks Canada heritage presenter Valerie Martin led the way on a guided hike of the Tableland Trail. I assumed we’d be talking about rocks. After all, the 90-minute, staff-led guided walk is dubbed “Walk Upon the Earth’s Mantle” and Gros Morne is famous in scientific circles for how the geology of the park illustrates the concept of plate tectonics. As we stood around in our jackets and stocking hats on a blustery spring afternoon, Martin joked, “We are about to officially walk onto the Earth’s mantle, so come on up, be careful; it’s very hot!”
As it turns out, the fascinating rocks are just a part of this trail’s wonders.
Thanks to Martin, I soon noticed that the rusty, barren landscape I’d considered a geological wonderland but nothing more was also filled with plants—tiny, delicate wisps that defied all the gardening rules I’d ever learned. Grey wool moss, Labrador sea thrift, Maritime sea thrift (compact, evergreen perennials with white, pink or purple pom-pom shaped blowers), shrubby cinquefoil and pitcher plants were actually everywhere once I took a moment to look for them. Though I’d been oblivious in my quest to find the coolest rocks, I soon noticed these tiny plants curled up underneath rocks and tucked into crevices.
“It’s not true that nothing grows on the Tableland,” said Martin, “It’s just that most plants that grow here are very adapted to this ecosystem; so very poor soils, very harsh weather conditions, just like in the Arctic.” She pointed out that most plants chose to team up with a large rock, using its bulk as a kind of rudimentary shelter, protecting them from the wind. Still, I assumed I was hearing more of Martin’s cheeky humour when she said: “We’ll stop to look at a few trees, because we have a forest here in case you didn’t notice. Did you see the old growth forest?”
A forest? Here? I looked around for typical trees: evergreen needles or deciduous leaves. There was nothing obvious on this bare and foreboding rockscape that I would call a forest.
However, the Tableland Trail does indeed contain an old-growth forest—one that’s only a few inches high.
With all due respect to these determined little trees, they’re not exactly magnificent to behold. “Scruffy” might be the best description of the shrub-like masses in the form of Newfoundland dwarf birch, creeping Juniper and Labrador tea (the latter of which is, technically, a shrub, I’ll admit). Their indolent growth is a result of the harsh climate and unprotected location on the side of a mountain, but still, they tiptoe upwards.
But while they look like tiny shrubs, they are mostly technically trees—Martin pointed out Juniper and Arctic birch—and an essential part of the biodiversity of this site. It turns out the joke was on me. There’s much more here than meets the eyes.
Gros Morne is renowned for its incredible vistas and ancient geology, but after hiking along one of the world’s shortest forests, I now think of it in terms of clichés. This park really proves that small is mighty, that you need to stop and smell the roses (and the sea thrift!) and that a hike really is about the journey, not the destination.
