There is something almost mythical about the idea of seeing an iceberg while standing on dry land, but it is a common occurrence on the shores of Newfoundland's iceberg alley.
Icebergs are actually broken chunks of the Greenland ice shield that are propelled south and east by the Labrador current all the way to the Gulf Stream, where they slowly expire in that warm mix of tropical water. 

Shedding half the sea and spraying the other half out its blowhole, the whale surfaces. A long, lazy slide brings the curious, intelligent eye level with your own. The dorsal fin and the majestic tale appear, and then slip beneath the surface. As long as a school bus, as heavy as five hundred people, the whale moves beneath you with the delicacy of a butterfly.

Waterways often act as natural barriers between nations, but in northern New Brunswick and northern Maine, the St. John River links the land that lies between Canada and the United States. The river knits together a francophone culture whose people share a common history and in this region, you can enjoy a "two-nation vacation," driving through a sleepy, delightfully old-fashioned corner of North America, that is really two sides of the same coin. 

The spring and summer of 2008 was a banner year for icebergs, so with the reports of "icebergs in every bay" we set off in early June for the eastern tip of Newfoundland.
We also wanted to hike the Skerwink Trail-which had become so popular that it was featured on the cover of the 2008 Newfoundland Tourist Guide. So we spent our first night at nearby Port Rexton at the Fisher's Loft Inn.