Into Acadia

Gordon:  On our last day in Quebec (we spent almost four weeks in the province) we visited Miguasha Provincial Park.  It exists to protect an area in which a remarkable collection of fossils, mostly of fish, have been unearthed.  The 380 million year old fossils show the evolution of lobe finned fishes that were the ancestors of the first terrestrial vertebrates.  The fossil collection was astounding in its variety and the details preserved in some specimens.  Miguasha is one of a limited number of UNESCO designated sites in Canada.

We crossed into New Brunswick at Campbelltown, and two days later we have made our way to Caraquet, where we are staying for three nights.  The long stay will enable us to attend the Acadian national holiday (August 15) in the town that is considered to be the cultural capital of Acadia.  We have been seeing Acadian flags and other symbols since Bonaventure, on the Quebec side, but in this area of New Brunswick the Acadian kitsch is thick.

My mother's maiden name was Marguerite Marie Leblanc and she grew up in a French speaking Acadian family in the Memramcook valley near Moncton.  My ancestors arrived in Canada around 1655, and until my generation their first language was always French.  It was in a previous visit with relatives in Moncton that I realized that several of the members of my mother's family are Acadian nationalists, keenly attuned to the history of their culture.  It is therefore with more than the usual tourist interest that I observe the celebration of the Acadian national holiday.

Of course, with 30,000 visitors descending on Caraquet accommodation is at a premium.  Ruth unsuccessfully called a number of gîtes and hotels looking for a place to stay through the 15th. We later received a call from one of the gîtes she had contacted, saying that we could stay with a friend who provides overflow accommodation.  As a result, we are lodged with Mme. Chaisson (a very common surname in the area), who has given us the run of her bright, beautiful house, and cannot do enough to ensure our comfort.  She refers to me as "le garçon" which I find flattering since I will be turning 60 in a week.  We have been struck by the warm, relaxed hospitality in the Acadian area and our host has it in spades.

Southern coast of the Gaspé

Gordon:  While I was discreetly cooking breakfast over a backpacking stove set up outside the door of our hotel room - probably the only one doing so in the upscale establishment- we were treated to a great natural show on our last morning in Percé.  Presumably feeding on a large school of fish in the bay, hundreds of gannets were diving into the sea.  It was as though the sea was being strafed by machine gun fire.  Backlit by the sun rising over Rocher Percé, and accompanied by the sound of the birds striking the water, it was an amazing spectacle.

We were unable to arrange accommodation for the evening after we left Percé.  The official at the Tourist Office said that everything, including the campgrounds, was fully booked for the following two evenings.  However, when questioned, he did say that it was legal, or at least permissible, to wild camp on the beaches.  The town that was our destination, Newport, has no fewer than four rest stops (Halte Municipale) which are a wonderfully frequent amenity on this coast.  We selected the Halte with running water and a flush toilet, and cooked our dinner on one of the convenient picnic tables.  There are a couple of small islands just offshore that support gannet colonies, so while we reclined against a driftwood log we were treated to their unending show.  At sunset we set up our tent and had a great sleep.  When we got up in the morning we found that we had been joined by another tent, as well as a couple of young women sleeping in their car.

When we were staying in a campground on the northern coast of the Gaspé we met a friendly couple, Denyse and Daniel, who were camping in their VW van.  Denyse suggested that we contact her when we reached Bonaventure.  This was our destination after Newport, so we followed up on Denyse's invitation and found ourselves camped beside her cabin on the bank of the Bonaventure River.  This is a crystal clear salmon river that runs from the interior of the Gaspé.  It is very popular for kayaking and canoeing, with organized trips up to four days in length.  Denyse took us swimming and kayaking on the river, which was quite wonderful.  We were also introduced to her mother, sister, uncle, son and friends ... Denyse comes from a large family and seemed to be related to most of the people in the area.  The next day she joined us for the first 45 kms of our ride to Carleton-sur-Mer, stopping at a Halte for a lunch of locally smoked mackerel and cod, amongst other delights.  We had a wonderful time with Denyse (Daniel had unfortunately returned to work in the Eastern Townships.)

The place names for many of the towns in this area are English, a legacy of the United Empire Loyalists that settled here.  There is also a large number of people of Acadian descent.  Bonaventure, for example, is a predominantly Acadian town, with an Acadian museum and abundant Acadian flags.  The result of this cultural mixing is that most of the population is bilingual, with conversations bouncing between French and English, depending upon who is present.

Percé and Bonaventure Island

Ruth: We cycled to Percé from Gaspé on our wettest day yet. We were fortunate enough to find a cafe serving up waffles to wait out the worst of the rainstorms. By the time we made it to Percé we were wet and exhausted and our motel had no record of our reservation. Everything in Percé was fully booked. After a dark moment  I found the confirmation number I was geven when I booked, and suddenly they were not full after all. We ended up in a better room with an outstanding view. 

This morning the rain was gone and the sun was shining. Perfect conditions for an excursion to Bonaventure island. Apologies ahead of time for envy inspiring photos to follow. 

Northern coast of the Gaspé

Gordon:  The first 25 kms of our ride yesterday was pure bliss.  The road followed the edge of the sea, snaking around the headlands and charging into the bays.  Traffic was light, the road was pancake flat, and we were generally within a few feet of the water.  A pod of whales was easily spotted by the plumes of mist from their breathing.  Ruth was so much in the moment she thought she might achieve Enlightenment at any moment.

This state of mind evaporated when we left Sainte Madeleine, which is where an 83 km gap in the Route Verte begins.  The guide book explains that the break is due to a lack of paved shoulders and "an overabundance of steep climbs".  Indeed, the first hill out of Sainte Madeleine climbs 250 metres at a knee-straining 13% grade.  By the time we reached our destination for the day, Pointe-à-la-Frégate, we had climbed the equivalent of three Malahats on this roller coaster road.

We got caught in a torrential rain storm, leading us once again to seek the comfort of poutine.  The large order we shared could only be described as a trough of poutine.  While we were shoveling it into our faces, we chatted with a 60-something American woman who was completing a walk from Key West, Florida to the tip of the Gaspé.  She looked like she weighed about 90 pounds, and had the focus and self-assurance of a solitary long distance walker.  We may have just cycled 2,000 kms, but she made me feel like a mere dilettante.

From the window of our charming hotel we watched gannets plunge into the sea, while seals and a pod of porpoises passed by.  A groundhog is on the lawn in front of us. We also saw a pair of peregrine falcons wheeling and screeching as we cycled by a cliff face yesterday.  Throw some gregarious Québécois into the mix and you have an area amazingly rich in wildlife.

Ruth: Day two off the route verte from Ponte-á-la-Frigate to  Rivière-au-Renard was a roller coaster from start to finish but another beautiful day. I only had to push my bike up one of the steepest grades to save my knees.  Gord just retuned with groceries including a whole sugar pie. Wow!!!

Saint Anne des Monts to Mont Louis in the Haute Gaspésie.

Ruth: It doesn't get better than this. After a couple of moderate hills the cycling today flattened out into a ribbon of asphalt snaking its way around several headlands and beaches. Add to that three separate sightings of minke whales and a lovely camping spot at the end of the day. Perfect. 

The landscape is changing quickly. The villages out on barren points are now being squeezed between coves and mountains that rise up right behind. Tomorrow our flat ribbon will disappear as we climb some of the steepest grades on the Gaspé peninsula.

Gordon:  We generally check for local activities when we are in a town, and yesterday we got lucky.  Alejandra Ribera was playing in Sainte-Anne-des-Monts at a small cultural centre just a hundred metres from our hotel.  Her music could be characterized as alternative, with jazz and Latin influences.  We had front row seats for the thoroughly delightful concert.

Phoque à l'orange

Gordon:  We had the quintessential Canadian day today: pancakes with real maple syrup for breakfast, followed by a morning clubbing the seals.  Just kidding, we had bread and jam for breakfast.

We have been fortunate to see a number of interesting wild animals in recent days.  This 

morning we were cycling along the coast with a rock garden just offshore.  For several kilometres most of the rocks had one or more seals on them.  (The French word for a seal is "phoque".  I think that Ruth agreed to cycle in Quebec just for the opportunity to say phoque, proving that 12 year old humour is not just for guys.)

Yesterday we made an early stop for water in the RV campground in the Parc du Bic.  Systematically working the area was a beautiful red fox.  I have seen foxes before, but I have never had the opportunity to observe one over a period of several minutes.  The fox finally found a tasty morsel beside one of the fire pits and dashed off into the underbrush.

There are lots of waterfowl in the shallow areas along the sea. these include sea gulls, cormorants, mallards, and eider ducks.  I am intrigued by the latter (which are known locally as "le canard duvet") because I thought they were uncommon.  The eider ducks are similar in size to the mallards, and as it is no longer "la saison d'amour" (the mating season) both genders have similar dark plumage.

Ruth: I have to cut Gord off here, the Phoque à l'orange is almost ready.