On a map, the Great Northern Peninsula looks like a stout cudgel threatening the shores of Labrador. If Newfoundland can be said to have a beaten track (I wouldn't say that, but it does get a lot busier in summer), rest assured that this peninsula is way, way off that track. It's not nearly as mountainous or starkly dramatic as Gros Morne, but the road here unspools for miles through tuckamore and evergreen forests, along a coastline that kneels right at the feet of striking hills. There are few services here, and even fewer organized diversions. But it's got history in spades, a handful of scenic fishing villages clustering along its rocky coast, and some of the most unspoiled terrain you can drive to in North America. (The road here is in good condition, your chief hazard being the occasional stray moose or caribou -- or, in spring, an infrequent polar bear wandering through, still hungry after a long trip south on an ice floe. Yes, really.)
Long story short: It's nice here. Really nice. And quiet -- at-the-ends-of-the-Earth quiet.