Come mid-July, I went for a week up the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland, plus across the Strait of Belle Isle to Labrador and the little bit of Quebec.

Taking the ferry to Labrador, I landed in Blanc-Sablon Quebec where you can drive for 70km (44mi) west and arrive in the small town of Vieux-Fort Quebec. As someone who loves visiting geographically isolated places, I enjoy driving the QC-138 to its end whenever I'm in the area.

The only way to get down the coast further from here would be to get on the Quebec North Shore ferry back in Blanc-Sablon.

I also found myself in L'Anse-au-Clair, which allowed me to hike more of the Labrador Pioneer Footpath.

After previously following the Labrador Pioneer Footpath to the impressive Overfall Brook Falls outside Forteau, I was more than happy to explore what the footpath would bring in L'Anse-au-Clair. Here, it was the site of L'Anse au Cotard.

In the early 1800s, Jersey fishermen from the Channel Islands in the north of France, came here to work for the merchants at Blanc-Sablon and Forteau. One of these Jersey fishermen was James Dumaresq, who set up his premises here at L'Anse au Cotard, building his home just to the south of L'Anse-au-Clair. Dumaresq eventually married Louise Bonenfant at Blanc-Sablon in 1818.

Bishop Edward Feild, after visiting in 1849, remarked that James Dumaresq's house was the finest he had seen along the Labrador coast. There were three dwellings and seventeen Dumaresq's living here by 1857.

This site was discovered by archeologists in 1986 and heavily excavated in 2004. The excavations revealed more of the three stone structures present, along with a stone footpath indicative of a Jersey settlement.

Today, signboards show a map of the foundation sites, with pictures of the cutlery and tea cups found at various spots in the old dwellings.

Following Labrador, it was back across to the Island of Newfoundland and up to St. Anthony, where not much was new. The old rink was still standing and the skatepark was still in the slanted parking lot of the new rink.

Cruising around the nearby villages in the evening hour, we climbed to the overlook in Great Brehat where it was pleasant although shadowy. It wasn't until we approached St. Carols that we realized the difference one cove over can make. Here the sun was shining on a rainbow that dipped over an almost perfectly placed iceberg.

It just got ridiculous from there.

While it was near sunset and that was something we could control, the heavy cloud cover of Great Brehat was instead perfect broken clouds that sucked up and accentuated the angled purple light, clouds that continued to shine more and more as we thought one last picture was always going to be the finest.

And that's not to mention the Northern Harrier that initially drew us down this road, or the whale that rounded Crow Head (sorry I couldn't capture the whale at this distance), or the Bald Eagle that flew off from the right-hand cliff and also entered the absurd scene.

It was windy too, which added to the turbulence and excitement of the whole scene, as we giddily laughed and kept yelling back and forth about the preposterousness of this all.

For all of the sunset camping plans I make, I couldn't imagine cooking dinner and having this scene unfurl while boiling water for crummy pasta, haha. It was silly enough even as we drove around checking out the sights.

Of course a couple days later was just as crazy, if not more crazy, as we went to check out the salmonless underground river in Roddickton.

Look at this tranquil brook disappear!

(I joke, but the trail, woods and river are actually a really pleasant stop if you're in the Roddickton area.)

We also finally stayed at the Genevieve Bay Inn, which is the old elementary school that used to serve Plum Point and the surrounding communities.

I was ready and excited for a really strange stay.

It wasn't nearly as second-rate and kitschy as I envisioned, but rather a nice place to spend the night. They embraced the school history with cute things like the DVD player being placed in an old desk, but not so much that it felt like you were staying in a school fleeing a natural disaster.

As funny as it sounds, I'd probably recommend this old elementary school-turned-motel more than a lot of places on the island.