Saint John's

Standing at Cape Spear Lighthouse, the rugged sentinel perched defiantly at the easternmost tip of North America, isn't merely sightseeing-it's existential bragging rights. Yes, there's a certain smugness in being able to declare, over your next overpriced cocktail, that you've stood closer to Dublin than Denver, gazing out towards watery horizons that once lured explorers and shipwrecked sailors alike. Come obnoxiously early-sunrise, preferably, when the light spills over the edge of the continent in shameless Technicolor-and pack layers, because Newfoundland weather has all the predictability of a caffeinated toddler. Plan at least a few days in advance (though your Instagram feed will thank you endlessly) and budget precisely zero dollars, unless the souvenir shop's siren-song whale magnets break your willpower. And speaking of whales, binoculars and a flask of hot coffee can transform your brisk maritime vigil into a first-class whale-watching expedition. Sure, standing on a windswept cliff surrounded by hardy locals who never seem to admit they're cold might feel absurdly symbolic-borderline cliche-but trust me: standing at the brink of a continent, salt on your lips and wind slapping sense into you, is well worth the story you'll tell later.

Hiking Newfoundland's East Coast Trail is like signing up for Mother Nature's own boot camp: grueling yet breathtaking, mildly punishing yet oddly therapeutic. Stretching along the Atlantic's ragged edge near Saint John's, this 300-kilometer trail teeters between postcard-perfect scenery and a salty, wind-whipped slap in the face. With misty coves, vertigo-inducing sea stacks, and cliffs that practically dare you closer, the trail whispers Viking sagas and sailor tales-you can almost see ghosts of mariners waving back from the fog. Practicality is key: start early, preferably just after dawn, when the morning sun turns the sea to molten gold and the crowds are still nursing hangovers in town. Plan at least a month ahead, unless you fancy wrestling with last-minute bookings or camping solo with the seabirds. Budget generously for sturdy boots, snacks, and decent rain gear-the weather here flips faster than a politician's promises. And pack a good flask of rum or whiskey-partly to toast your survival and partly to bribe fellow hikers into sharing their trail secrets. Whether you're after soul-searching solitude, life-altering vistas, or simply a rugged tale to impress strangers at bars, the East Coast Trail delivers. Trust me, even if your calves curse you for a week, the memories-and bragging rights-will stick around far longer.

If you've ever fantasized about slipping into a quaint maritime postcard, Brigus is the cozy Newfoundland hideaway where you'll want to drop anchor overnight. With a history steeped in salty sea captains, 19th-century Arctic explorers, and scandalously picturesque cottages straight out of an Anne of Green Gables fever dream, Brigus is an unpretentious charmer. Wander through quiet streets in the golden glow of twilight-ideally around sunset, when Instagrammers and locals alike scramble for the perfect spot to capture pastel cottages reflected onto a glassy sea, pretending they found it first. Book at least a month ahead if your heart's set on a cottage stay in summer, and budget around $150 CAD per night-a pittance, really, for front-row seats to the Atlantic dawn. Remember to pack a good sweater, sturdy shoes (those cobbled streets will punish impractical footwear), and your capacity for storytelling. Because even if you're skeptical about the soul-restoring powers of fresh salt air and piping-hot cod tongues, at the very least you'll leave Brigus loaded with enough charming anecdotes (and envy-inducing photos) to sustain your bragging rights through many dreary dinner parties back home.