Iceberg ahead; Newfoundland and Labrador adventure holiday

Forming the most easterly Province of Atlantic Canada, Newfoundland and Labrador is a mere five-and-a-half-hour flight from London, making this wilderness destination entirely possible for those seeking a long weekend that feels worlds away from home.

Quaint villages awash with candy-coloured buildings punctuate a formidable wilderness of muscled mountains, dense forests and dark blue waters. Newfoundland and Labrador feels nothing short of magical, which has only been accentuated by the herd of icebergs that have slowly clinked their way down from the Arctic in the past few weeks.

This was the basis of my two-day adventure with Jake, my 12-year-old explorer, who, having been glued to the recent news of a 670 feet long iceberg, was eager to see these natural phenomena for himself during May half-term.

The people of Newfoundland and Labrador only heighten the perception of Canadians as some of the most well-natured and thoughtful people on the planet, and setting off for our first water-based iceberg hunt, there was already a feeling of camaraderie on our boat and a shared anticipation for the giant sculptures that lay ahead.

 The sheer size of these icy monsters is simply dazzling. While the North Atlantic Ocean is almost black in colour, the water sloshing up against the icebergs is a clear Maldivian turquoise, only adding to the sense of otherworldliness and the mystery that what we were looking it is only a quarter of the size that lies beneath the surface; an unfortunate factor that destroyed the Titanic in 1912, which rests only 370 miles south-east of the Province.

Following our first boat ride, I was bullied into activity I would have rather left to my son who decided that a puffin-eye view was instrumental in his exploration. Zip-lining is one of the adventure activities that Newfoundland and Labrador offers; ensuring picture-perfect views over what feels like the entire Province, and an ideal way to assess the magnificent size of the icebergs against the toy-town harbour.

While Jake cut through the air with a youthful exuberance, I stayed suspended amongst the treetops, legs dangling, clutching my guide, trying to remain calm in front of my son who was quite happily filming the entire fiasco and urging the zip-lining team to ‘leave her up there’.

And having seen the icebergs from the sky, it was our mission to get close enough to touch. While there is an option to hike the meadow dappled mountains for prime views of the bergs, with a teenager as a companion, sadly dry land was not an option.

We met the fantastic team at Island Rooms who shared our determination in getting Jake as close as possible to these formidable glacial hunks, via a small but perfectly comfortable fishing boat for four. The family owned business works with local children during off season by teaching them about the glacial wilderness that surrounds them and the bounty of fish that earmarks Atlantic Canada as a destination for foodies. But there is chance for tourists to get involved, as the company runs the same adventures during the spring and summer months. So, we set off, sights set on icebergs and stomachs growling for freshly caught fish.

Puffins swooped overhead, cerulean waves crashed against the fishing boat, and wind-swept anticipation filled the air as we approached the ‘berg. Waiting for the right wave to gently ease us nearer, finally we were close enough for Jake to run his hands over the smooth, polished finish and to even hold a chunk of 10,000-year-old ice in his hands.

Rosy cheeks warmed by steaming bowls of mussels, artisan stone-baked pizzas in downtown St. Johns, and of course, the freshly caught lobster so proudly endemic to the Province, the gastronomic flair of Newfoundland and Labrador is the charming result of teams of old traditional fishermen and a burgeoning wave of hipster-esque eateries.

After a packed two days of ‘berg hunts, flying through tree tops, and sampling as much of the local cuisine as possible, I sink into my five-hour flight back to London, a sleeping 12-year old by my side. Work emails blinking away and beckoning me back to a hot and humid London, I concentrate on my much-needed Newfoundland and Labrador Iceberg vodka and tonic; watching the ice as it gently clinks against the glass.