Chasing moose, finding Newfoundland

On our first night in St. John’s, Newfoundland, someone gave us the best driving advice we’d get all trip: watch for moose, especially at dusk and dawn. And if an oncoming driver flashes their headlights, it’s probably not to warn you about a police cruiser.

Newfoundland takes its moose seriously. Yellow warning signs line the highways, some keeping a running tally of collisions. For the next two weeks, my husband Rob and I found ourselves scanning the tree lines whenever we were on the road. We were driving from St. John’s to Gros Morne and back in a Mitsubishi Eclipse Cross NOIR S-AWC in Red Diamond. With its black wheels and trim, the NOIR edition has a sporty look, and we were curious to see how its Super All-Wheel Control (S-AWC) system would handle the province’s mix of winding highways, potholes, wet roads and gravel detours.

We also had a long list of places we wanted to see. What we didn’t expect was how often we’d find ourselves stopping for something that wasn’t on that list.

Heart’s Desire was quieter still. In fog and drizzle, we found a single dock and one fishing boat. The road was slick, so we switched the Eclipse Cross to Snow mode. It felt sure-footed on the wet pavement as fog settled over the cliffs. We continued to Heart’s Delight, where a sign beside a beach led us down to a small wharf and a red rock in the cove flying a Newfoundland flag.

Then there was Dildo, made famous when Jimmy Kimmel became its honourary mayor in 2019. At the wharf, a local stopped to chat and told us about the jellyfish in the harbour and a whale he’d once watched chasing a school of fish into the cove. We had lunch at Dildo Brewing Co., where the menu included salt fish chummies and cod tacos. In Newfoundland, cod isn't just a staple, locals even eat the tongues.

We also discovered that some of Newfoundland's best experiences begin at a trailhead. Hikes are everywhere, from winding coastal paths beside colourful fishing villages to rugged routes through remote landscapes, and they offered some of our favourite views of the trip.

In Trinity, our room looked out over the Fort Point Lighthouse and Trinity Harbour. The next morning, we set out on the Skerwink Trail, a 5.3-kilometre hike with enough climbs and uneven terrain to justify its moderate-to-difficult rating.

At the top of one cliff, other hikers told us they’d just seen a whale. We pulled out the binoculars and watched the water, hoping for a glimpse. No luck. Near the end of the trail, we came to a rocky beach and stopped to put our feet in the chilly water before heading back.

In Elliston, known as the root cellar capital of the world, we watched puffins nesting on the rocks, flying out over the water and returning with fish. At the Home From the Ice Floes Craft Shop down the road, owner Wilbur Hobbs showed us the world’s biggest puffin chairs he carved and thanked us for supporting a local business.

The drive west was a long stretch of the Trans-Canada Highway through trees and rolling hills, with long patches of road where we had no cell service. Download your maps, and your music, before setting out. You’ll be glad you did.

We eventually reached Route 430 and Middle Brook Cottages in Glenburnie, located on the south arm of Bonne Bay inside Gros Morne National Park. We’d booked two nights. We stayed five.

The views were part of the reason, but so was the pace. We didn’t feel the need to fill every hour, and there was plenty to see in the surrounding area.

Western Brook Pond was the experience I’d most wanted from the trip. We woke to rain and low cloud on the morning of our boat tour. As we headed out on the water, the fjords began to emerge from the fog. They appeared and disappeared as the mist shifted, revealing enormous walls of rock without the harsh shadows of a sunny day.

The guides moved easily between humour, information and stretches of silence that let us take it all in. The weather wasn’t what we’d hoped for when we set out, but it made the experience feel all the more memorable. I’d go back for it.

We also visited the Tablelands, where a hike takes you across reddish-orange exposed rock from the Earth’s inner mantle. On one side of the road was a lush green hillside. Beside it rose a rusty, Martian-like landscape where plant life struggles to survive. The two landscapes sat side by side but looked as if they belonged on different planets. When the rain started in earnest, we cut our hike short and headed to the visitor centre to learn how that strange landscape came to be. We returned on a clearer day to complete the full hike to Winter House Brook Canyon.

One of our best meals was at Buoy & Arrow in Rocky Harbour, an Indigenous-owned restaurant with moose and black bear on the menu. We admired the options but ordered neither.

Somewhere along a quiet, tree-lined stretch of the Trans-Canada Highway, we finally saw what we’d been looking for. Two moose stood side by side in the ditch, grazing as if the highway wasn’t there. We were past them before we’d fully taken in what we were seeing. We talked about turning around, but the road wasn’t a safe place to stop, so we kept going.

It was a brief encounter, but it stayed with us. We’d spent almost two weeks watching the tree lines and checking the ditches, and then the moose appeared when we weren’t expecting them.

Back in St. John’s, we ate at Rabble, one of the best meals of the trip, and spent our last day walking along Water Street, through the harbour and around the closed streets and stairways of downtown. Lunch at One Eared Goat, a small-plates Spanish restaurant, was another highlight. We finished on George Street, watching the crowds and taking in a city we’d come to know a little better.