I will only say : FOG.
Fog in Argentia, Fog on Avalon, Fog and foghorn near Port aux Basques at the end. It wasn’t just like steaming Vistula in my hometown, Cracow (which has always driven me crazy). It was an „imagination blender” experience which no National Park of the Island can beat.
You didn’t kill me, you Fog, like in Hitchcock’s movie, you filled me with some kind of mysticism, simple but strong enough to dream about Newfoundland over and over again.