Chasing Iceburgs

When we were planning our time in Twillingate, we knew there was one thing we had to do—go on an iceberg boat tour. We had booked it for the only full day we were going to be there, and it was something we were all looking forward to.

While we were sitting having a late lunch in Gander, my phone rang. It was Iceberg Quest.

The woman on the other end explained that, because of the forecasted high winds, they were cancelling all of the tours for the following day, including ours. The rain didn't really concern us, but the winds were expected to be quite strong.

Then she said they were adding an evening tour that same day if we were interested and could make it to Twillingate in time.

Knowing this would be our only chance, we jumped on it.

We quickly paid our bill, got back in the car, and headed for Twillingate.

We made it with a little time to spare. After checking into our Airbnb, we grabbed our rain gear and a few warm layers and made our way to the dock. It was cold and raining, but we were prepared.

It didn't take long to realize we'd made the right decision.

As we left the harbour, the crew shared stories about the area and explained that the icebergs we were about to see had broken away from glaciers in Greenland nearly three years earlier. Carried south by the Labrador Current, they drift thousands of kilometres before eventually reaching Newfoundland each spring.

As we rounded the point, the first iceberg came into view.

We had already seen a few icebergs from shore during our trip, but this was completely different. From a distance it looked big. Up close, it was hard to believe just how massive it really was.

The captain slowed the boat and circled the iceberg, giving everyone plenty of time to take it all in. I almost felt like we were standing on the deck of the Titanic, watching the iceberg approach.

One thing that surprised me was the colour. I had always imagined icebergs as being white, but many of them had beautiful blue streaks running through the ice. The crew explained that the blue colour is created by centuries of compressed ice. As the snow is compressed over time, the air is squeezed out, allowing the ice to absorb light differently. Some of the darker blue lines are created when meltwater fills cracks in the iceberg and freezes again.

Over the course of the tour, we saw five different icebergs. No two looked alike.

While we were circling the fourth iceberg, the boat wasn't quite as quiet. People were chatting, taking pictures, and moving around the deck when suddenly we heard a loud crack.

We all looked up just in time to see part of the side of the iceberg break away and crash into the ocean.

Our guide explained that this is called iceberg calving. As the iceberg melts and shifts, pieces naturally break away, creating the smaller chunks of ice known as bergy bits and growlers. He also told us it wasn't something they get to witness very often, so we realized we had been pretty lucky to see it.

As we headed back into the harbour, we were wet, we were cold, but we didn't care. 

Seeing an iceberg up close was something we'll never forget. And had the weather forecast been different, we never would have been on that evening tour or witnessed the iceberg calving.

It was an incredible night—one that has stayed with us long after the trip was over.