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“The big ones are massive. They can be as tall as a 20-story building,” she says. And what you see doesn’t even include 90 per cent of their bulk, hidden beneath the waves.

Hyduk, who guides iceberg-chasing tours out of St. Lunaire-Griquet, a small community on the tip of Newfoundland’s Great Northern Peninsula, says the magic of icebergs isn’t just their remarkable size. It’s also in how they can transform from jagged pinnacles into graceful arches or looming islands depending on the day, the angle or even the light.

“One stayed off St. Lunaire-Griquet for over a month and a half after it grounded on the seabed,” she recalls. “As it melted and shed ice — called ‘growlers’ or ‘bergy bits,’ depending on size — it constantly changed, reshaping overnight.”

While spotting these roving behemoths floating off the rugged Newfoundland and Labrador coast once struck fear into the hearts of seafaring fishers, today their route — known as — has emerged as one of Canada’s most spectacular natural attractions.

Every spring, enormous icebergs break free from Greenland’s glaciers or Arctic Canada’s ice sheets and begin their meandering migration south. Some stretch the length of an entire city block, and can float right into the bays of quiet coastal villages, before making their way to the open waters of the North Atlantic.

“Ten-thousand-plus years ago, they started as a snowfall,” says Hyduk. Over millennia, these layers of snow compressed into glaciers and ice sheets, eventually “breaking into pieces” and calving into the ocean as icebergs. Caught by winds and currents, these newly birthed icebergs drift through pack ice and into warmer waters.

By the time they arrive off Newfoundland and Labrador’s coast, they shimmer in hues from brilliant white to electric blue. Each colour tells a different story of their history, age and density, Hyduk explains, with the oldest icebergs sparkling in vivid green and blue.

Iceberg season in this part of Canada occupies a fleeting window from April to July, but even at its peak, spotting one isn’t guaranteed. In a typical year, 700 to 800 icebergs traverse Iceberg Alley, but in some years, none appear at all.

Seeing an iceberg, or several, often comes down to luck, patience and timing. A good vantage point with sweeping ocean views helps, as does choosing to visit a hot spot like St. Lunaire-Griquet, Twillingate or Trinity, where tour operators track icebergs and offer boat trips or kayak paddles to get visitors up close. Following a site like and being willing to switch locations can also improve your odds.

Even if the icebergs initially prove elusive, there are still plenty of ways to get in the spirit. Locals put harvested iceberg water to creative use, crafting everything from to Quidi Vidi Brewery’s and Great Auk Winery’s . East Coast Glow even incorporates iceberg water into its skincare line.

Once you’re out there on the water, there’s much more to see than just ice. Iceberg season coincides with the northward migration of whales and seabirds, offering a rare chance to witness multiple natural wonders all at once.

Whales breach and spout, seabirds dive in great flocks, and somewhere in the background, sculptural bergs float silently past — a fleeting but unforgettable spectacle written in ice and salt spray.

Diane Selkirk travelled as a guest of Newfoundland and Labrador Tourism, which did not review or approve this article.