After our trip to Alberta and British Columbia last year, I mentioned in a WhatsApp group that I wanted to do a roadtrip in the Atlantic Provinces. DWM's Canadian husband, CWD, first let me know that there were no such things as the Atlantic Provinces, so we could not roadtrip there, but Canada did have lovely Maritime Provinces, and we could roadtrip there. In June, and only June. When we realised that World Pride was in June in New York to mark the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, our next Brexscape holiday was born, and in June Rachel Klem, DWM, CWD, Sushil and I convened in Halifax to kick off our adventure through Nova Scotia and Newfoundland & Labrador.
Halifax is the official capital of Nova Scotia, and the unofficial capital of the Maritimes. It is a medium-sized city, but by some measure the largest in the region. It's well-formed and compact, snug on a peninsula nestled in a working harbour (whose claim to fame is the deadliest manmade explosion until Hiroshima). The city is small enough to be eminently manageable, but big enough to have all the trappings of modern urbanity: a growing flat-white economy, sufficient immigration for a full range of quality foodie destinations, plenty of exposed-brick redevelopment, gay bars and, of course, independent coffee shops. The city has a very midcentury feel to it, and while it is thriving, it's enough out-of-the-way that it seems at little risk of being gentrified or overtouristed out of recognition. I liked it immensely.
We arrived on a gorgeous, cool misty evening to a tree-lined street, which very much had the feeling of being up in the mountains. The city West of downtown is block after walkable block of well-maintained (and well-priced, per London) Victorian-Americana (continental use of the word) houses bookended by the type of commercial strips that have been Walmarted South of the border. You can tell there was some suburban-flight decay here as well, but the neighbourhood bones are still there and the Millennial return to urban living is bringing new life and variety to the streets.
The North End is Halifax's hipster haven and served as the centre of gravity for our stay. Like seemingly everywhere else, it was a short walk from our gorgeous house, and is just the sort of neighbourhood that is catnip to the urban set, with a bit of grit still sprouting up through the organic eateries, wine winebars and galleries showcasing local artists.
Not to be outdone, across the harbour is Dartmouth, Halifax's answer to Brooklyn. Reached by ferry, Dartmouth was once its own city, but is now a part of greater Halifax (aka the "Halifax Regional Municipality"), which was formed New York boroughs-style by the amalgamation of Halifax, Dartmouth, Bedford, and Halifax County. Downtown has a small, but dense, collection of bars, breweries and restaurants.
On our penultimate day in Halifax, we got out of town and drove South for lunch in Lunenburg, a too-cute-for-words old fishing town that is now an old artists' haven that is now more of a tourist destination. The town is snug and colourful, and the downtown is a rotation of cafe, restaurant, gallery, repeat, but it's the kind of place where we quickened our pace to get a table at our chosen waterside restaurant before the tour bus could park and unload its swarm. We drove up the coast, which was dotted with small villages of varying levels of tourist draw and authenticity, to Peggy's Cove, home of the most famous lighthouse in the Maritimes.
After Halifax, we drove along the coast of Nova Scotia, through Cape Breton, and onto a ferry for our overnight ride to Newfoundland, the island half of the province of Newfoundland & Labrador. We learned that rural Newfoundland is a terrible place for coffee, but an amazing one for scenic drives. In the middle of our long day's journey was Gros Morne, a rather exceptional bit of a rather stunning landscape. What took me back the most was the lack of people throughout. This is one of Canada's biggest and most well-known national parks, and were it anywhere else, it would be swarming with tourists like Banff. Such is the remoteness of Newfoundland that only a small trickle of other pleased-looking visitors shared the roads and trails with us.
Our next stop in Newfoundland was Twillingate, a small fishing village on an island off (the island) of Newfoundland, where we hoped to see whales and icebergs. Like in much of the world, the fishing industry has long been mostly absent from town, replaced by tourism - done well, from what we saw. Though there were plenty of options for paid diversions, the town didn't feel overrun or much outwardly changed. It felt a bit like an Alaskan village, with unkempt roads and utilitarian (but brightly-coloured) houses, and we did not have to elbow for space amongst the masses. We managed to see a couple of minkes and one humpback whale on our boat tour.
Sushil out back of our totally adorable house.
Twillingate has a cafe that must have one of the most stunning views of any cafe in the world. And - though you can't see it in the pic - just on the horizon we saw an iceberg.
En route to St. John's, is the famous(ly-named) town of Dildo (thought to possibly be the anglicisation of d'île d'eau). If you go all the way from London to Newfoundland, you have to go the extra 15km to get the money shot.
A couple of hours past Dildo, after some standard North American suburban sprawl, we rounded a corner on the highway and saw unfold in front of us the most perfect little city on the tiniest of bays, with ships in the dock, hills of ticky-tacky jellybean houses ringing the few towers of downtown, and fog starting to roll in at the mouth of the harbour. It was totally unexpected, and totally charming; I was instantly smitten.
My warmth towards St. John's, capital of Newfoundland and Labrador, only improved walking its streets. The city is impossibly cute, but not inauthentically. Which could be surprising, as the town only started painting its jellybeans, as the brightly-hued buildings are known, in the 1970s as a way to bring life into the dying central city. Again, I think NL's remoteness is its saviour from the overtouristing hordes as we seemed to be largely sharing the city only with its residents. Though I'd have to be there on a cruise-ship day to really get a fair measure, and I expect George Street would be a bit of a horror on a peak weekend.
Besides being adorable and walkable, St. John's has an oddly high concentration of chic and hip bars and eateries. My foodie/professional chef/adventure eater Mike McGirr and his husband, Travers, rendez-voused with us in both Halifax and St. John's and helped guide our palates to some superb and completely unexpected venues. I was very open and adventurous on this trip, breaking my pescatarian ways, having my first oysters, mussels, lobster, duck and moose. When in the Maritimes...
"Newfoundland is an island of austere, washed-out beauty and vast unpopulated wilderness. Yet here, in its capital and largest city, one finds scads of homes coloured like tropical fruit, plus bustling street life and a dim urban (yet small-town friendly) buzz. For all that, North America's oldest city doesn't just contrast the province it dominates. St John's exudes wry wit, stoicism and lust for life, and to this end embodies some of Newfoundland's best values."
After our Maritime adventure was over, we had a quick weekend hop through New York to celebrate Stonewall 50. New York fully embraced its place in the rainbow; everything was decked out and bedazzled in the colours of Pride.
And a perfect ending to a fantastic trip - we were upgraded to business class on our flight home, our first flat-bed flying experience. So nice, I didn't even need an Ambien. I could get used to that...
