On the eastern edge of Canada, I found a tiny, enchanting island from a bygone era

The rumbling engine and whipping wind that made me grip the back of my kids’ shirts while they scanned the frigid water for dolphins and whales magically quieted when our ferry made the final turn into the sheltered harbour. During the hour-long trip across the open Labrador Sea — from Mary’s Harbour to Battle Island — we had to shout to hear each other, but as we glimpsed the picturesque 19th-century settlement of Battle Harbour, our voices dropped to whispers. With wide eyes, our youngest daughter, Leah, turned to ask, “Is that where we’re going to live?”

We took in the rugged coastline and historical buildings that dotted the landscape along an inlet the locals call a “tickle.” Approaching the dock, we could see strangers waving us inland with the enthusiasm you’d expect from long-lost friends. By then, we were a few days into our road trip across Newfoundland and Labrador with our four kids — Leah, Paige, Seth and Noelle, then six, 10, 12 and 14 — so the East Coast welcome felt familiar.

We expected to be charmed by our stay at the far-flung settlement, located where the southeast tip of Labrador meets the Atlantic Ocean, but the tidy village and treeless terrain had us captivated from the moment we stepped onto land, and into a time and space so removed from our busy lives in Toronto.

Of course, it was the remoteness that called to my history-buff husband. When we first became parents, he suggested we take a different approach to travel as a family: Instead of trips abroad, we’d explore every province and encourage our children to learn about Canada’s past. This particular adventure, however, caused me some trepidation since we’d be unplugged with young kids (Battle Harbour is largely tech-free, with limited cell service). My husband couldn’t wait for it to begin.

Battle Harbour is one of the few National Historic Sites of Canada where you can spend the night, and we made our way along a boardwalk to our lodgings, the beautifully restored Grenfell Cottage. The English-style dwelling, with its red gable roof and white wooden façade, is a registered heritage structure that has stood since the early 1900s.

We learned it originally served as accommodations for doctors and nurses who cared for the locals, which convinced our kids it was haunted. The house is one of a handful of historical cottages where travellers can stay (beyond the rooms at Battle Harbour Inn and the restored Merchant Building), but besides the few families who summer here, only staff live on the island during the visitor season. We’d soon discover how connected they were to its history.

After scouting out the cottage, each of us laying claim to a quilt-covered bed, we set out on foot for an official tour. Our guide, Nelson Smith, a fifth-generation fisherman turned heritage carpenter who grew up in Battle Harbour, led us around the island, detailing the significance of the carefully preserved fishing artifacts and mercantile buildings. Feeling as if we were walking through the pages of a history book, we listened attentively (the locals speak in a dialect known as Newfoundland English) as he shared his lived experiences.

Battle Harbour was once the salt fish capital of the world, but the tides began to turn in the 1960s. Due to overfishing and industrialization, the waters became largely depleted by the mid-1960s. In addition, a resettlement program to bring people back into major towns had relocated remaining residents (“livyers”) to the mainland by 1968.

Although some returned during summers to fish, the village remained vacant for years — until a visit in 1980 by Gordon Slade, Newfoundland’s then-deputy minister of fisheries, inspired a project to revive Battle Harbour as a living museum. The official restoration began with the St. James Anglican Church in 1990. Smith was among the fishermen trained to restore buildings to their original state and ended up getting married in the church in 1997.

The one-kilometre-long island can be covered in its entirety in a leisurely couple of hours, but we were hungry by the time we arrived at the dining hall, inside the heritage Salmon Store, for the first of several meals we’d have during our stay. Around the communal table, we met other visitors, including painter Jean Claude Roy, who returns to Battle Harbour every year to capture the view in his art. The next morning, we came upon him and his easel just outside our cottage, the perfect vantage point for painting the harbour below.

Our time around the table — savouring traditional Labrador dishes, like homemade moose pie and fishcakes — provided more opportunities to listen and learn about the past. One chef, Daphne Smith, took a shine to our brood and shared stories about her childhood. She helped us understand that Battle Harbour had been a hard place for families to survive.

A credit-based economy, known as the truck system and used for much of the 19th century, had the effect of saddling many fishing families with lifelong debt: Merchant barons provided essential supplies to fishermen on credit in the spring, in exchange for dried fish in the fall, but because the price for fish was low, repayment was often beyond reach.

Smith’s family was among those relocated when she was a young girl. Still, she had fond memories of early childhood, and we could feel how glad she was to be home again. When she told my kids a story about her mother being in labour — flying across the frozen sea to the mainland on a traditional dog-drawn komatik sled covered in heavy blankets — she beamed with pride when they guessed the baby who returned the same way days later was her.

When not learning from the locals, we went exploring on our own. From morning until night, our kids ran over the bouncy Arctic shrubs, grasses and mosses, and along well-worn paths, yelling out to each other after they figured out how far their voices carried on the wind. There was no need to worry about roads or traffic, and the only “street lights” were the stars. We woke one morning to see an extraordinary iceberg that had travelled down from Greenland framed in the window of our cottage, like one of Roy’s paintings come to life.

By the time we climbed onto the ferry to leave, it felt like we were saying goodbye to a familiar place. As we picked up speed, one of our kids waved wildly, exclaiming, “Oh, we will miss our friends.” In Battle Harbour, we discovered the freedom of being distanced from the frantic world while staying connected to the community around us. The lessons in resilience we were given have helped us navigate the past year, and the isolation we had no idea was coming in our own story. We can’t wait to go back and tell them.

The Star understands the restrictions on travel during the coronavirus pandemic. But like you, we dream of travelling again, and we’re publishing this story with future trips in mind.