A Fluke.

Light the way.

Quirpon Island, NL – Sheer rockfaces angle sharply to the ocean, towering over rounded hills painted in shades of ochre, sand and olive green. Wild sage lingers in the air.

It’s a beautiful day for a hike. 

Each step is either a crunch over spongey, dry muskeg or a discomforting sink into moist peat. Hiking shoes or rubber boots are a must.

Everything seems to have been blown off the towering plateaus, which are punctuated by dark pools and endless views. The harshness of the climate is written across everything. 

With warmth, however: resilience. Mounds of flowering Moss campion resemble vintage women's hats. Lichens and sub-Arctic ground flowers grasp to life between the molars of rock hewn by wind and time.

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.

In the distance, we see a new, small iceberg, tucked into a cove. From the top of the hill, we can see five – all of which have moved significant distances from where they were yesterday.

Given the perfect visibility, and a quiet that has descended upon the island with all but two couples leaving this morning, we had contemplated another tour on the Zodiac. Instead, we're watching seals and at least a dozen whales frolic right off the shore.

Summiting the hill behind the lighthouse, we see the orange boat sitting in the bay. With a huge sigh and spray, a humpback dives right beside it, flipping its tail over the boat.

Despite a glorious hike, we're now questioning our decision.