A crescent of sand in the middle of the Atlantic. No pier, no village, no trees. Sable Island first appears as a pale line on the horizon, about 300 kilometres southeast of Halifax. The ship slows, the engines quiet down, and binoculars are already being raised on deck. This port call is unlike any other in Canada: it has to be earned, it depends on the wind, and it leaves its mark on those who set foot on its dunes.

A Zodiac landing, if the sea allows

Here, everything begins with a Zodiac crossing. The boats leave the expedition ship and head for the beach, where the crew guides each passenger ashore. Sable Island National Park Reserve is managed by Parks Canada, which oversees every visit: groups remain small, movements follow the high-tide line, and biosecurity measures protect this fragile ecosystem. Barely a few hundred people land here each year, between June and October. Simply walking here places travellers in a very small circle.

The wild horses

They emerge from the dunes in small groups, manes in the wind, indifferent to visitors. About five hundred horses live here freely, descendants of animals introduced in the 18th century. No one feeds them and no veterinarian treats them: Canadian law leaves them entirely to themselves. Watching them graze on the dune grasses, at a respectful distance, is the heart of the day. The onboard guides remind everyone of the rule: you don't approach, you don't touch, you look. And simply looking is enough.

The Graveyard of the Atlantic

The shifting sandbars around the island have trapped more than 350 ships since the 16th century. These shipwrecks earned the island its nickname of the Graveyard of the Atlantic and explain the human presence that still remains: a research station, a few scattered buildings, two lighthouses at either end. The guides tell these stories as you walk, while the waves unroll their foam on both sides of the crescent, some forty kilometres long and rarely more than a kilometre and a half wide.

Unexpected wildlife

The horses share their territory with the world's largest colony of grey seals. In season, thousands of them gather on the beaches, and their hoarse chorus accompanies the entire visit. In the tall grass flits the Ipswich sparrow, a subspecies of the Savannah sparrow that nests nowhere else on the planet. The onboard birders make no secret of their excitement when one comes near. Between sightings, you'll notice the freshwater ponds nestled in hollows in the terrain, where the herds come to drink.

Preparing well

An outing like this requires a minimum of organization, and the expedition staff handle it with rigour.

• Landing is always conditional on the weather and sea conditions.
• Waterproof boots are required for going ashore on the beach.
• Windproof clothing is essential: there's no natural shelter on site.
• Walks range from two to five kilometres, on soft ground.
• No shops or services: everything comes back on board with you, trash included.

Back to the ship

When it's time to climb back into the Zodiac, several passengers turn for one last look at the dunes. Sometimes a horse's silhouette stands out there, motionless, as if bidding farewell. The ride back is often made in silence. It isn't fatigue: it's the awareness of having walked on a place the sea has defended for centuries and that Canada protects with jealous care. Long afterward, when you think back on this cruise, it's often this strip of sand, its noisy seals and its free horses that come to mind first.