Last month, I finally made it to Gros Morne National Park in Newfoundland, and I’m still thinking about it.
There are places that impress you, and then there are places that rearrange something in you. Gros Morne belongs in the second category. It is vast, mountainous, coastal, and deeply alive in a way that feels almost old-fashioned now—like wild country before the world learned how to package it. The best comparison I can make is that it reminded me of the national parks out west in America: the scale, the drama, the sense that nature is operating on its own terms. But here, there was something else too—space. Silence. Room to breathe. I could wander for hours without feeling like I was standing in line for beauty.
And beauty, here, is everywhere.
There are places that impress you, and then there are places that rearrange something in you. Gros Morne belongs in the second category. It is vast, mountainous, coastal, and deeply alive in a way that feels almost old-fashioned now—like wild country before the world learned how to package it. The best comparison I can make is that it reminded me of the national parks out west in America: the scale, the drama, the sense that nature is operating on its own terms. But here, there was something else too—space. Silence. Room to breathe. I could wander for hours without feeling like I was standing in line for beauty.
And beauty, here, is everywhere.
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