This last weekend was absolutely incredible. After a month or more of school, language and financial stress, God provided for me and a couple girlfriends to go on a super-cheap roadtrip to the Atlantic coast. Armed with 3 days worth of peanut-butter and jelly and a rental car with unlimited kilometres, we left Québec City Friday morning at 7am, pumped full of caffeine and ready for anything.
Our destination the first night was an auberge (like a dorm-motel) in a little coastal village called Sainte-Anne-des-Monts. It was supposed to be about a 6 hour drive, but being as Ashley, Sarah and I are all obsessed with getting that elusive 'perfect photo', we took 12 hours to get there. The journey was the best part of the trip. Sarah had been out east about 10 years ago, but for Ashley and I, this was as far east in Canada as we had ever been. We took Route 132 most of the way - it runs along the south shore of St. Lawrence, and for about 90% of the trip, the ocean is in plain view on the north side of the road. Québec City is situated on the St. Lawrence where it narrows, and the further you go east, the wider it opens up until you completely lose sight of the other shore (and are looking straight at Newfoundland, far off in the distance). Our first photo stop was at Sainte-Anne-de-la-Pocatière (see photos on right) - it was super cold, but the view was fantastic. Next, we stopped in Rivière-du-Loup, and enjoyed peanut-butter and jelly near a waterfall. Between Rivière-du-Loup and Rimouski, we came across ruins of an old stone house - it looked really old, but there was no sign explaining what it was or who it belonged to (see photos). Great for cool photos, though. The rest of the day was more of the same - drive a little, stop for photos, drive a little more, stop for more photos - until we finally made it to Sainte-Anne-des-Monts for the night.
The next morning, we left before the sun came up, and when dawn finally arrived, the scenery had dramatically changed from the day before. Our first stop was an old red lighthouse in a tiny fishing village. The highway signs warned drivers of crashing waves that may overcome the highway. The day started out cloudy, and at random points on the way, the winds really picked up and were so strong that we couldn't even keep our cameras steady for a photo. We were standing on a cliff (at least 100m high) not far from Forillon National Park trying to take pictures but were getting drenched. When we got back into the car, we licked our lips and discovered that it wasn't rain that had got us all wet, but ocean spray from 100m below. It was a wild exerience - I have never been in winds that strong, and frankly, I hope I never do again! The storm was at its strongest driving through Forillon National Park, so we couldn't really see the cliffs that we had heard so much about, but that was OK. On the other side, the weather quickly calmed down, and the sun even peeked out for awhile. In Gaspé, we came across the site where Jacques Cartier placed a cross to claim Canada for France back in 1534, surrounded by monuments with very politically incorrect passages written from his diary on his impressions of the Native people of the day. About an hour more on the highway, we arrived at our destination - Rocher Percé (see photos). It is a giant piece of barren rock that sits like an island jutting 88m up and 433m long off the shores of the village, with a giant hole near the seaward end. It was absolutely breathtaking - nothing like it on the West Coast that I have ever seen before. We were hoping to walk out to it (it's possible in summer during low tide), but the sea was really stormy, and the stairway down to the water was closed. We found a pier on the shore, and spent about an hour taking pictures of it from every possible angle. It was amazing the way the colours of the rock changed as the sun tried to come out and the clouds shifted. You could probably spend a whole day just watching the Rock adjust to its natural lighting. We nearly got drenched from the crashing waves on the pier that not only spewed water, but also spit out all kinds of sealife onto the shore. Some of the crashing waves were at least 6-7m high, and they were strong enough to pull you back into the sea. After taking an inordinate amount of photos, we decided to head back 4 hours down the road to Sainte-Anne-des-Monts for the night. On the way back, we came across at least 10 cars with giant game tied to the front of all sizes and makes of cars (moose, deer, etc) - some had the whole animal, others had huge moose heads attached to the hoods of their cars like bullhorns on a Texan Cadillac. I grew up in the sticks, but I have never seen anything like that in my life. When we got back to the auberge, we asked our dorm-mother about it; she said hunting was like a religion out here, and that today was the last day of moose season. Men put these dead animals on their cars like trophies to show off to everyone else. She said that locals get so worked up about the hunt that the conservation officers spend more time breaking up fights than they do checking for poachers. Another thing we noticed was how quiet things were on the road and in towns - not only was tourist season long over (so most businesses were closed), but most locals were in the mountains hunting. It made it easy to not spend any money we didn't have to - our PB&J and other snacks suited us just fine.
Another quirk of this area is that most towns are one street wide - everyone seems to live right on the highway and or right on the shore. Very few yards have trees, although less than a mile from the shore are giant forests and mountains. Directions to places are given in terms of their proximity to the local Catholic church - and no matter how small the town is, they have a giant church that stands 5 times taller than any other building (sort of like grain elevators in Saskatchewan). Gas stations are very basic - gas and car parts are the only things sold there (no snacks, coffee, etc). The further east you drive, the less likely anyone will speak English with you (although if they do, they will advertise it on their sign - "We speak English!"). Whoever built Route 132 decided that going around hills and gradually grading the road must have been a waste of time - some hills were 17% grade, and I can't remember how many times I slowed down the car because the road seemed to go straight down a hill. It was like a roller coaster sometimes - ha.
It was a much needed escape from life at Laval, and I am so thankful for all the fun we had together. Now, I am into midterms and am praying for a miracle to do well on my Economics exam on Thursday. Next week is Reading break, and I will be using it to get ahead in a lot of my work. Hope you all are doing well - I would love to hear from you. Miss you all, and talk to you again soon.
KNL
