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Stepping out onto the clifftops at the head of the serves up pure drama. A boardwalk leads you through a carpet of scrubby shrubs and wild blueberries to an overlook. There, you can take in the hairpin turns of — the scenic 298-kilometre driving route that brought you here — and the vast, shimmering Atlantic that the road skirts along. Maybe you’ll see moose or carry a “just in case” stick for coyotes, because this place is wild, even if this famous hiking trail gets crowded sometimes.

There are many more glorious hikes along the Cabot Trail, which takes you along the rugged Cape Breton coastline, past massive Bras d’Or Lake, and through its soaring Highlands. The trail weaves in and out of and offers access to an abundance of waterfalls — many with pristine swimming holes, white-sand beaches, and lookouts that will make you want to stop the car again and again.

Tiny fishing villages dot the trail, offering down-home bakeries and restaurants. At the Chowder House in Neil’s Harbour, grab a cup of chowder and some fried clams to eat on a picnic bench overlooking the choppy ocean, or stop for a gourmet lobster or crab roll at the always charming in Ingonish Beach. Browse the traditional hooked rugs and folk art at boutiques in the Acadian village of Chéticamp, and the upscale artisanal wares along the Ingonish stretch of the trail.

You can camp in the national park, enjoy a quaint B&B, or overnight in glamping domes like the ones at in Pleasant Bay. Here, you can take in spectacular night skies and, if you’re lucky, the northern lights dancing over the ocean.

While you could technically road trip the entirety of the Cabot Trail over a few days, it’s impossible to take in the scope of Cape Breton in one visit. That’s why so many Canadians head to the east coast, and then just have to come back.

Lola Augustine Brown is a travel writer based in Nova Scotia who road trips along the Cabot Trail often.

2. See the spellbinding skies in the far north

While many come to , in search of the polar bears padding across the tundra each fall, this remote outpost offers a year-round spectacle of wildlife, wilderness and welcoming northern culture. It’s also one of Canada’s most accessible subarctic towns, reachable by rail (from Winnipeg) or plane.

In spring, as the land stirs from its deep freeze, the skies come alive with the flutter of wings — more than 175 bird species descend upon the rich wetlands. Summer brings the playful splashes and echoing calls of beluga whales, as thousands swim into the Churchill River estuary to give birth. On shore, boreal wildflowers bloom in a fleeting burst of colour, while polar bears, waiting for winter’s return, laze in meadows or atop sun-warmed coastal rocks.

As sea ice grips Hudson Bay, Churchill becomes one of the world’s most spellbinding places to witness the northern lights. Situated deep within the auroral oval, the town offers displays of green, pink and violet ribbons unfurling across the sky — as often as some 300 nights a year. In winter, the swirling colours illuminate the land’s frozen expanse, a sight that feels almost otherworldly.

Through it all, Churchill hums with life. The town’s offer warm hospitality (and, when needed, toasty gear). For a budget-conscious stay, welcomes travellers and scientific researchers alike, with learning vacations that include immersive experiences, from dogsledding with a Cree musher to igloo building with an Inuk guide.

Whether bathed in summer’s endless light or winter’s ethereal glow, Churchill is a place that stays with you, long after you’ve left its iconic shores.

Diane Selkirk is a travel writer based in Vancouver. She travelled to Churchill as a guest of Travel Manitoba, which did not review or approve this article.

3. Explore the dinosaur capital of the world

In , Alta., a mid-sized town about 90 minutes northeast of Calgary, in the heart of the Canadian Badlands, dinosaurs are serious business. The self-proclaimed dinosaur capital of the world boasts a “Dino Walk” mapping out dozens of velociraptor, brontosaurus and stegosaurus murals and plaster statues, at gas stations, the local Legion and real estate offices. The showpiece is the “world’s largest dinosaur,” a 25-metre-tall T-Rex with a stairway that leads to a lookout within its open mouth.

While the kitsch factor is certainly a draw, there’s plenty of real dinosaur action in the area to add context to Drumheller’s collection of fake dinos. The striated canyons and flat-topped hoodoos surrounding the town signify a fossil-rich terrain; millions of years ago, this was covered with jungles and swampland, making for a lot of dinosaurs easily preserved under water and soft ground. Combine that with the current soil erosion in the area, and you’ve got one of the best places to discover dinosaur remains in the world.

Hikers can explore to imagine walking among prehistoric giants — and there’s a small chance of spotting a fossil, which should be left intact and reported to local paleontologists. But the main attraction for dinosaur tourism is indisputably the , just west of downtown Drumheller.

The opposite of your typical “Jurassic Park”-themed tourist trap, the Tyrrell is a renowned scientific facility and home to over 160,000 fossil specimens. Much goes on behind the scenes, but visitors can wander through more than a dozen interactive exhibits featuring one of the world’s largest displays of dinosaur remains.

Knowing so many of these fossils were found in the surrounding hills or nearby makes the weight of millions of years of history feel that much more profound.

Elizabeth Chorney-Booth is a travel writer based in Calgary with family hailing from Drumheller.

4. View belugas in the St. Lawrence River

The 1599-founded waterfront village of , three hours from Quebec City, is an enchanting spot to observe Canada’s only population of belugas south of Churchill, Manitoba. The St. Lawrence River estuary is home to about 2,000 of the fabled white whales, which feed on cod and halibut and raise their young in this iconic Quebec destination.

Near the mouth of the glacier-carved Saguenay Fjord, the ghostly backs of belugas surface out of mist-shrouded waters, surrounded by flocks of diving razorbills and herds of inquisitive grey seals. It is a natural tapestry of epic proportions for passengers on local whale-watching boats, piloted by tour operators like at a respectful distance from the belugas.

Theirs is a tale of resilience. Circa 1980, hunting and pollution had shrunk this endangered population to just about 400 belugas. Today, the , spanning 1,245 square kilometres, protects their fragile habitat. Highly intelligent, the belugas use sonar for echolocation with high-pitched cries, and play together to promote social bonds and cognitive development.

Fostering beluga knowledge and research, the awaits just steps from the red-roofed Hôtel Tadoussac. At this engaging haven for cetacean biology buffs, life-sized outdoor beluga sculptures welcome visitors to Canada’s largest collection of whale skeletons, displayed magically in the “Ballet des Baleines” sound-and-light show.

For an Indigenous lens on belugas, ferry across the St. Lawrence to the city of Trois-Pistoles and head south to . Launched last year by the Wolastoqiyik Wahsipekuk First Nation, the ultra-modern observation centre on Gros-Cacouna mountain offers a trail with interpretive signs and a soul-filling St. Lawrence panorama. In these waters, the belugas endure with profound grace.

Lucas Aykroyd is a travel writer based in Vancouver. He travelled to Quebec as a guest of Bonjour Québec, which did not review or approve this article.