Newfoundland's Lessons on Resilience and Tourism in Atlantic Canada
In October, I had the privilege of attending the IMPACT Sustainable Travel & Tourism Atlantic Canada Regional Event—the very first gathering of its kind in our region, and the younger sibling to the national conference that has shaped sustainability conversations in Victoria for nearly a decade. What I didn’t expect was how deeply my first-ever visit to Newfoundland, even a short one, would shift the way I see resilience in Atlantic Canada’s tourism landscape, and the potential future we could shape together.
I arrived in St. John’s on a Sunday at noon, carry-on in hand. I’ve lived across Atlantic Canada, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick in particular, and I thought I knew the familiar warmth of the Maritimes. But the moment I stepped onto “the rock,” I felt something different. It wasn’t just welcoming, it was enveloping. Newfoundland has a distinct presence: magical, grounded, humorous, and instinctively human. People talk about the “culture shock” of Newfoundland, and I understood it immediately. This place is enchanting, deeply real, and quietly proud. No wonder it has built a global reputation for resilience and hospitality. It doesn’t just greet you; it draws you in.
Within twenty minutes of landing and checking into the JAG Hotel, our conference venue, an unexpected moment of Newfoundland generosity found me. A front-desk host handed me an extra ticket someone had dropped off for a sold-out performance of Codco, a beloved cultural institution in Newfoundland’s comedy and theatre scene. I’d never heard of it, but I trusted the serendipity and said yes.
Suddenly, I was sitting in the upper balcony of The Soundhouse, surrounded by locals, absorbing an afternoon of music, sharp wit, cultural commentary, and unmistakable Newfoundland humour. I remember thinking: I’ve been here for twenty minutes, and I’m already folded into something special. That kind of welcome is rare. It is also a clue to something deeper.
After the show, I wandered to Quidi Vidi, a tiny fishing village tucked between cliffs and coves. From there, I decided to hike up and over Signal Hill. A few minutes into the trail, I offered to take a photo for a mother and her two daughters. That simple act blossomed into an invitation to join them for their hike. We spent the afternoon together sharing stories about family, place, and what it means to be in Atlantic Canada. I had been in Newfoundland for two hours. And I already felt held by a place I barely knew.
These small moments revealed something big: Newfoundland’s tourism sector feels sustainable because of how people live and how communities operate. Tourism is woven into community life, not layered on top of it.
That is the essence of regenerative tourism, tourism that strengthens the social, cultural, environmental, and economic fabric of a place, rather than depleting it. Newfoundland didn’t adopt regenerative tourism because it was trendy. It grew into it because community well-being, culture, and survival have always been intertwined.
Why Newfoundland’s Tourism Feels Naturally Resilient?
Newfoundland never developed mass tourism in the conventional sense. Its remote, rugged geography, spread across outports, shaped a tourism model rooted in community, connection, slow travel, and small-scale. Visitors tend to stay longer, spend more locally, and engage more deeply with heritage, culture, and nature. This is partly by necessity and partly by design.
Some of Canada’s most innovative tourism models emerged here:
Fogo Island & Shorefast, where a social enterprise reinvests all surpluses from the Fogo Island Inn directly into community well-being, culture, and local entrepreneurship. It’s a living example of regenerative tourism—economic value recirculated, cultural value honoured, and community value strengthened.
Bonavista’s new tourism levy, where a portion of visitor accommodation revenue will be reinvested into community infrastructure and heritage preservation. This is tourism as a community investment tool.
Gros Morne Institute for Sustainable Tourism (GMIST) is a rural training hub that helps operators design deeper, community-led, experiential offerings rooted in stewardship.
Across Newfoundland and Labrador, community-led and Indigenous-led experiences embody stewardship-first principles—small groups, deep cultural engagement, local governance, and an emphasis on place over volume.
These models have common DNA: local ownership, community benefit, cultural integrity, slow travel, deeper stays, and high-quality, high-value visitor engagement. They reflect a tourism system designed around the well-being of people and place first.
The common thread? Tourism is led by community values, not just market demand. And that is the heart of regenerative tourism.
High-Volume vs. High-Value: Two Different Tourism Realities
One of the clearest distinctions between Newfoundland and Nova Scotia lies in the architecture of their tourism systems. Nova Scotia’s model, shaped by its accessibility, infrastructure, and diversified visitor markets, naturally leans toward higher-volume visitation. We welcome regional road-trippers, business event delegates, cruise passengers, festival-goers, and short-stay travellers. This brings vibrancy, global visibility, and significant economic benefit. It supports small businesses, restaurants, cultural institutions, and a wide range of operators.
But volume also brings challenges. It can concentrate benefits unevenly. It can strain infrastructure at peak moments. We’re already seeing this in the iconic community of Peggy’s Cove. And some segments, particularly cruise tourism, offer economic value but often limited local circulation, shorter community engagement, and patterns that don’t always align with regenerative or community-led principles. Cruises are a reminder that more visitors do not automatically mean more value, especially if that value doesn’t circulate deeply or support long-term community well-being.
Newfoundland attracts travellers who tend to stay longer, spend more locally, and engage more deeply with communities, whether by design or by geography. It is, in many ways, a low-volume, high-value destination. Not high value in terms of price, but in meaning, connection, and community impact. And we’re starting to see this in Nova Scotia as well, as communities seek to have tourism serve the community, not the other way around.
Newfoundland’s model reminds us that quality, depth, and community benefit can be powerful indicators of success. And it invites Nova Scotia to ask: How can we weave more high-value principles into a high-volume system?
Not by reducing visitation, but by enriching the impact.
What Nova Scotia Can Learn: With Optimism, Not Comparison
Newfoundland’s story is not one to replicate; it’s one to learn from. Nova Scotia has its own identity, strengths, and opportunities. We have world-class arts, vibrant coastal communities, Indigenous leadership, deep food traditions, a strong tourism ecosystem, and a growing sustainability movement. The question is how to shape our tourism future so it aligns more closely with our local values and community needs, as Newfoundland has done with its own.
We can strengthen local ownership and reduce economic leakage.
We can design visitor flows that support smaller communities, not only high-traffic points.
We can expand revenue mechanisms that reinvest in local well-being.
We can build capacity for regenerative tourism across the province.
We can celebrate slower, deeper, story-rich experiences that already exist here.
We can become more intentionally regenerative by honouring who we are and what we care about.
A Shared Atlantic Path Forward
What Newfoundland showed me in a few days is that resilience is built through welcome, humility, relationships, culture, community memory, and a deep sense of place. It’s built through people who lift each other and invite strangers into the fold without hesitation.
As Halifax and Nova Scotia continue strengthening our sustainability and regenerative tourism commitments, especially in business events, community partnerships, and regional collaboration, we have all the ingredients to carve out our own story. Newfoundland simply reminds us of what’s possible when a destination leads with heart.
And if a place can make you feel like family before you’ve even unpacked your bag, that is a place worth learning from with the same warmth and spirit that define us here in Nova Scotia.
