The iceberg appeared in the harbor at Twillingate without announcement. One morning it was not there; by afternoon, it dominated the horizon, a white mountain rising from water that was itself the color of slate. It was June, and the icebergs were migrating south from Greenland, carried by the Labrador Current along Newfoundland's northern coast. I had come to see them, but I stayed for the people. Newfoundlanders speak with an accent that sounds Irish, play fiddles in kitchens rather than concert halls, and will invite a stranger into their home for a cup of tea before they have learned your name.
The Iceberg Alley
Newfoundland's northern coast, known as Iceberg Alley, is one of the best places in the world to see icebergs from land. The season runs from May to July, with peak viewing in June. The icebergs are chunks of glaciers that have calved off Greenland and drifted south over two to three years. By the time they reach Newfoundland, they have lost most of their mass, but what remains is still enormous. The one in Twillingate harbor was estimated at two hundred thousand tons. I took a boat tour with a company called Iceberg Quest and got close enough to hear the ice cracking as it melted. The guide, a former fisherman named Barry, explained that the blue stripes in the ice were compressed snow from centuries ago, before the air bubbles had been squeezed out.
The Irish Connection
Newfoundland is the most Irish place outside Ireland. Half the population claims Irish ancestry, and the accents, music, and storytelling traditions reflect that heritage. In the village of Dildo, I attended a kitchen party, a traditional gathering where musicians play fiddles, accordions, and bodhrans in someone's home. There were twenty people in a kitchen built for ten, drinking beer and singing songs about fishing and emigration. A woman named Mary, who was seventy-three, sang a ballad about her grandfather leaving Cork in 1845. She did not perform it. She sang it, looking at the floor, as if she were alone. When she finished, no one spoke for a long moment. Then someone poured another round.
Gros Morne National Park
On the west coast, Gros Morne National Park contains some of the oldest rocks on earth. The Tablelands are a mass of mantle rock, forced up from below the earth's crust half a billion years ago, that looks like a desert on Mars. The rock is toxic to most plants, and the landscape is orange, barren, and alien. I hiked the Tablelands Trail with a park geologist who explained that this was one of the few places on earth where you could walk on the earth's mantle without digging. The trail is eight kilometers and takes three hours. It felt like walking on another planet. In contrast, the nearby Western Brook Pond is a fjord surrounded by two-thousand-meter cliffs, accessible only by boat. I took the tour on a foggy morning and saw waterfalls falling from clouds.
Logistics and Costs
Newfoundland is accessible by ferry from Nova Scotia, a seven-hour crossing, or by flights into St. John's from Toronto, Montreal, and Halifax. I flew from Toronto for three hundred sixty Canadian dollars round trip. A rental car is essential. I paid seventy dollars per day for a compact car. Accommodation ranges from eighty dollars for bed and breakfasts to one hundred fifty dollars for hotels in St. John's. Food is hearty and seafood-heavy. I ate cod tongues, a local delicacy, and fish and chips made with cod caught that morning. The total cost for ten days was two thousand one hundred Canadian dollars.
