Life in Canada is...
Three National Geographic photographers spent 15 days in a yellow RV, traveling across Atlantic Canada. Their mission? To find out what life is truly like for the regular Canadians who live in this remarkable part of the world.
Three National Geographic photographers spent 15 days in a yellow RV, traveling across Atlantic Canada. Their mission? To find out what life is truly like for the regular Canadians who live in this remarkable part of the world.

A snapshot of this once in a lifetime road trip. Click an image to find out more.
National Geographic photographer Kiliii Yüyan heads toward the trusty yellow RV that will transport him and fellow National Geographic photographers Ami Vitale and Matthieu Paley thousands of miles from the emerald shores of Prince Edward Island to the much larger and wilder province of Newfoundland and Labrador. Their mission: To uncover the wild, beautiful and offbeat spirit of these Atlantic provinces through encounters with unusual people, spectacular places and iconic creatures. Along the way they dive deep into the fishing, foraging and farming communities that abound here, connect with Indigenous cultures and witness roving icebergs, coral encrusted shipwrecks and spectacular fjords.
On day one in Prince Edward Island, the photographers have a chance encounter with Tyler Stordy, who is on a road trip of his own with his father. With golden hour in full effect, Kiliii Yüyan takes the opportunity to photograph Tyler in his beloved VW van that belonged to his grandmother. It feels like an auspicious start to the journey—especially off the back of a short trek through bucolic forests alive with birdsong, followed by an ice-cold dip in the ocean. PEI is about the size of Bali, Indonesia, and is famous for its agriculture, particularly potatoes, and for its mariculture, both lobsters and oysters, which both happen to be in season.
Clad in waders and with a ubiquitous pencil behind his ear, oysterman Jeff Noye drags his boat out towards the oyster beds at Valley Pearl Oysters in Malpeque Bay, Prince Edward Island (PEI). Noye uses a hand rake to collect the oysters from the seabed. These Atlantic oysters (Crassostrea virginica) are a key PEI product and a staple among local people. They were promptly served up seconds out of the water to photographers Kiliii Yüyan and Matthieu Paley, who proceeded to gorge themselves—purely in the interests of photojournalism, of course! Besides running Pearl Valley Oysters, Noye is the elected mayor of his local town, Tyne Valley. He’s also a musician and actor, who hosts bawdy dinner theatre performances at his premises, mostly attended by locals.
JoAnna Howlett’s family have fished for lobster in Prince Edward Island for generations—and yet she is the first woman in her family to join a crew on the lobster boat. Her grandfather held to the superstition that “a woman aboard is bad luck,” and her father encouraged his son to fish, but not his daughter. Howlett has now been lobster fishing for four years and during the season she’ll be out on the water from 4.30 a.m. every day. What started out as a pushback against the patriarchy turned into a passion, which also informs her art. She uses the accoutrements of lobster fishing—nets, traps, cages, the lobster themselves—in her sculptures and installations, often examining gender issues through them.
Sisters, Bailey & Layla, lie together in spring grass thick with dandelions on Lennox Island, a Mi’kmaq First Nations community in Malpeque Bay off the coast of Prince Edward Island. The siblings are of Mi’kmaq heritage and part of a crew that practices traditional dances among other cultural customs. The Mi’kmaq have inhabited the Atlantic seaboard region, now part of Canada, for thousands of years. During the colonial period, many of their traditions came close to disappearing—a tragedy that is being countered now through a vibrant cultural revival. On Lennox Island, visitors can try their hand at baking bannock bread, making drums, quill work and even learning some dance moves.
For Nick Chindamo, the forests on his Prince Edward Island home are like a giant pantry. A passionate forager, Chindamo has developed an encyclopedic knowledge of the flora and fungi that grow in the wilds here—and as a career chef, he is just as adept at preparing them in the kitchen. Where many see simply “a wall of green,” Chindamo recognizes not only plants, but their families and the growth cycles that dictate what can be eaten and when. Many of the plants he collects are cousins or ancestors to the domesticated plants we eat every day—a fact that the tastebuds confirm when he serves them up at the acclaimed The Inn at Bay Fortune, where he works.
Dianne Foerg stands among horses and donkeys that she has rescued and now houses at the non-profit Wild Rose Sanctuary on Prince Edward Island (PEI). Foerg has been rescuing neglected equines and donkeys from the slaughterhouse for more than 40 years. Today, there are more than 70 animals at the sanctuary, which are looked after by Foerg and a group of dedicated volunteers. They welcome visitors, volunteers and donations. While it’s not possible to ride these horses, there are a number of stables on PEI that provide horse riding opportunities through a range of landscapes from beaches to woodland.
Kristen Hickey looks down at the community of Norris Point on the northern side of Bonne Bay in Gros Morne National Park. Hickey and her father Keith Payne are of Indigenous Mi’kmaq descent and provide a range of tours in the region with tour company Gros Morne Adventures. Visitors can experience this unique wilderness with its vertiginous glacial valleys, fjords and mountains, through jeep safaris, canoeing and kayaking trips, and cultural nature tours that introduce them to the Indigenous history of the region, describing what life might have been like for the communities that lived here as long as 5,000 years ago.
There is a thriving population of wild moose in Gros Morne National Park, and despite being elusive, there is a good chance of spotting them on a visit. The species was introduced to Newfoundland more than 100 years ago and went on to proliferate, especially in the island’s national parks. This female was spotted from Tablelands—a unique geological phenomenon where the Earth’s mantle is exposed, offering hikers the opportunity to walk on rocks that are usually deep beneath the surface. Moose are a crepuscular species, and there are countless signs warning drivers to be vigilant on the roads in the park.
Keith Payne heads out just after sunrise in early spring in search of moose with National Geographic photographer, Ami Vitale. Payne is an avid outdoorsman who leads tours for Gros Morne Adventures, tapping into his Indigenous heritage and a lifetime spent out in nature to bring the wild to life. Payne takes visitors to a deserted beach, where he prepares food in the traditional way over an open fire, and shares with visitors his archaeological knowledge of the peoples that lived in the region as long ago as the end of the last Ice Age.
Nathan Hornidge and Richard Butt tend to plants in Butt’s greenhouse in the community of Cormack on the island of Newfoundland. The two men are part of a thriving community of growers, producers, foragers and foodies committed to sourcing healthy food from nature and sharing it with visitors. Butt runs Birchbark Farm, a sustainable agriculture business using traditional methods to grow nutritious greens, and Hornidge is a talented chef and entrepreneur, who creates abundant feasts with Newfoundland and Labrador ingredients.
Amanda Oake tends to beehives at Pollen Nation Farm, the business she runs with her husband and chef, Nathan Hornidge. Newfoundland bees are unique in that they are not affected by the invasive varroa mite, a parasite which attacks and feeds on honey bees and has been decimating hives around the world. Oake’s bees are free of antibiotics and produce a rich floral, fruity honey that the couple sells in small batches. The pair also frequent the hives early evenings, when they like to drink a glass of wine while being lulled by the gentle hum of the bees.
The stretch that runs along the eastern coastline of Newfoundland and Labrador is often colloquially called “Iceberg Alley,” thanks to the large number of icebergs that float along the island’s coastline. Most of these icebergs will have traveled all the way across the Atlantic and Labrador Sea from Greenland, where they were once a part of the Greenland ice sheet. Visitors are able to get up close to the ephemeral ice sculptures via boat and helicopter tours from communities like Twillingate and Fogo Island in the north, and Cape Spear and Witless Bay in the east.
Photographer Matthieu Paley takes to a tandem kayak off the coast of Bell Island. A short drive from Newfoundland and Labrador’s capital St John’s, Bell Island is a popular destination for kayakers, thanks to the unique geology of its spectacular 100-foot cliffs, sea stacks and sea caves. Whereas much of the rest of the region comprises granite and shale, Bell Island is sandstone, which tides and winds have sculpted into otherworldly formations. The striations in the rocks are like the rings in a tree trunk, speaking of countless millennia of slow erosion.
Dive guide, John Olivero, shines a light on a plumose anemone on one of the four shipwrecks that visitors can dive at Bell Island, Newfoundland and Labrador. The four ships were carrying iron ore and were all sunk by German U-boats in 1942 with the loss of 60 men. Today, all four wrecks are home to thriving cold water reefs that support species including sea stars, anemones and lion’s mane jellyfish. Diving here is somewhat specialized and requires a dry suit and lights—but the rewards are substantial from both historical and natural history perspectives.
Newfoundland’s eponymous canine is a testament to the island’s storied seafaring history. Genetically related to retrievers and water spaniels, as well as possibly to mastiffs and Great Pyrenees, these gentle giants served as living lifelines for generations of seafarers hauling nets, carrying rope between ships, and plunging into frigid seas to rescue sailors, thanks to their webbed paws and water-repellent coats. Ironically, though the breed bears Newfoundland's name and maritime legacy, these "Newfies" are now relatively rare on their namesake island, their descendants scattered globally as family companions rather than working sea dogs.
Bird Rock in Cape St Mary’s Ecological Reserve in southwest Newfoundland hosts 30,000 northern gannets in a cacophony of wings, calls, and constant motion. Visitors can observe these master divers from just 30 feet away, witnessing their spectacular 165 feet plunge-dives that can send spray 10 feet high. Black-legged kittiwakes claim the higher ledges while penguin-like common murres and razorbills nest closer to the water. This is the southernmost colony of northern gannets in North America and the third largest nesting site, offering an intimate window on unique behaviors—from feeding to courting to those spectacular dives.
Two hours from Cape St Mary’s on Newfoundland’s east coast, another spectacular seabird aggregation is to be found. Witless Bay Ecological Reserve is home to North America's largest colony of Atlantic puffins—upwards of half a million birds across four islands. These quirky, two-tone seabirds sport brilliant orange-red beaks during breeding season, and despite their cute and comical appearances are capable of remarkable underwater acrobatics, using their wings as flippers to catch multiple fish crosswise in their beaks—10 or more at once thanks to backward-facing spines on their tongues. While the islands are off-limits except for scientists, visitors can experience these charismatic “sea parrots” by boat—either on the open water or around their burrows on land.
A visitor is “screeched in” by a local Newfoundlander in the island’s capital St John’s. This theatrical initiation, born of Newfoundland’s fishing heritage, allows the initiate (or “come away from”) to become an honorary Newfoundlander if they successfully recite a (possibly) age-old verse before kissing a cod and downing a shot of screech rum. Some say this satirical tribute echoes the triangular trade when Newfoundland exchanged salted codfish for West Indies rum. The tradition likely traces its roots to folkloric maritime and visitor initiations. Successful initiates receive a certificate and are welcome in Newfoundland for the rest of their lives.
Photographer Kiliii Yüyan captures the sunrise at Cape Spear, the easternmost point of the Americas. This peninsula, just seven miles from downtown St John’s, is the first place in the continent to witness the dawn of the day. It’s also home to Newfoundland’s oldest lighthouse, dating back to 1836, and for a long time the chief approach light for St John’s harbor before it was eclipsed in 1955 by a modern replacement. The morning light begins to paint the horizon in terracotta hues as early as 5 a.m. in summer, before the sun crests the horizon, lighting an expanse of Atlantic Ocean, where icebergs often appear and you may even be lucky enough to see whales breach.



