At the risk of sounding ignorant, I’ll confess that I first knew Newfoundland & Labrador as dogs rather than a Canadian province. And even when I brushed up on my geography, it was never on my radar much until my Canadian friend floated the idea a few years ago when we first started planning a roadtrip in her homeland. Once I googled it, I knew I had to visit. So when Amber asked: east or west coast? I immediately chose whatever would be nearer Newfoundland and that’s how the idea for the east coast road trip came to life. Nothing is really close to anything in Canada, but at least we would be on the right side of the country.
Covid postponed our trip by three years so when we eventually got on the nine-hour ferry in North Sydney in Nova Scotia in September, it felt a little surreal. We chose an overnight journey and, after being waitlisted, even got a cabin which initially I considered a lovely but perhaps not entirely necessary luxury (the lounge armchairs looked pretty comfortable); that’s until we weren’t so lucky on the way back and I bent my spine in all sorts of shapes trying to sleep in a chair. Once you’ve hit 30, always choose the cabin.
With limited time available for the trip and distances being a whole different game, even on Newfoundland we had to choose just one sliver to explore. Add to that the fact that while getting across to the island we lost half an hour of life – turns out Newfoundland has its own timezone, half an hour ahead of the rest – we were pretty pressed for time. With the East part of the island requiring much more ferrying and driving, the choice fell on the Gros Morne national park, on the west coast. I knew it’d be beautiful – I did a little research after all. But what awaited us when we docked in Channel-Port aux Basques was more than that. It was enchanting.
I said it and I meant it.
And it was the kind of raw beauty that felt very familiar. Almost as if I’ve seen it before… I realised all those mountains, lakes and barrens reminded me of Ireland and Scotland. It wasn’t until a little later that I learnt Newfoundland, Ireland and Scotland used to be all connected in a landmass, some millions years ago. And there’s a lot of historical links between them too, something I actually experienced a little more in Nova Scotia where I found myself in an tiny school watching a Ceilidh performance. Another interesting layer of European connection was added when we started spotting Viking trail signs along the road.
So, history and geography aside, it wasn’t difficult to fall in love with Newfoundland. My friend found us a great little cabin by Bonne Bay in Lomond, with the most perfect view of the (perfectly named) Killdevil Mountain. It made for a stunning starting point for our hikes and an idyllic thing to see first thing in the morning or when cooking on the bbq outside the cabin.
Gros Morne Mountain
We tried a few hikes around the park and everywhere we turned was gorgeous. But the highlight had to be the second highest peak on the island – Gros Morne Mountain. Its 17 km trek took us through woods, rocks, rivers and even tundra. Constantly something new to see. The trail is fantastic and mostly easy to follow, but it does throw in a surprise or two – like the part where you scramble up through a boulder gully. It’s very fun and beautiful, even if some sweat was broken. At the top, the mountain is a flat arctic-alpine plateau with rather limited wildlife, and we missed any sight of the Arctic hare or caribou… But damn, the views are special. Truly, truly special. It’s an extremely rewarding hike.
Western Brook Pond
I’m always a little hesitant when people insist ‘you can’t leave X without seeing Y’. I’m totally happy to skip the Eiffel Tower to walk around Sentier, thanks. But the recommendation to hop on a boat on the locked fjord of Western Brook Pond was solid. It was a beautiful trip across glacier-carved fjords, with stunning rock walls and waterfalls. So beautiful, in fact, it felt a little unreal. Usually, to see something this special you need to claw your way up a mountain or go really, really out of your way, but this was just a simple drive plus about half an hour of a (very pretty) walk to the boat. We were in awe the entire time.
Gros Morne is one of those rare, untouched and raw gems with a shockingly light touch in terms of being affected by humans – and yet it’s easily accessible and completely comfortable to visit (if you can live without wifi for a bit and limit driving at night to avoid encountering a moose). It’s wonderful that we still have places like that.
monika morgan 