The weather changed as we began in Perce. Clouds and drizzle created a slightly sad mood of departure. The Rock looked like a dark, menacing sea creature the either commanded us to stay or threatened to devour us. Either way, we couldn't avoid looking at it as we made our departure preparations. Once on the road, we continued to skirt the Gaspe coast, and cast our eyes back at the huge dark anvil of the rock and the incredible and forbidding coast that rose out of the sea like a palisade. If we hadn't already driven that coast, we would never have believed it possible that humans could travel it. More small seaside towns, a little less charming in the greyness. Then, inexplicably, we turned inland.
And what greeted us was one of the most incredible other-worldly drives we've ever done. Through the immensity of La Haute Gaspésie we labored, over rolling never-ending mountains and surrounded by real forest. The trees were close to the road, tall, silent, almost suffocating in their height. It was a true mixed forest with deep green evergreens providing the perfect backdrop to the riot of colour of the hardwood, fully aflame on this first day of autumn. Onward it went, one stunning vista after another. It was as though an artist had created it: and, in many ways, it truly was a work of art.
Eventually, we broke through to the north side of the Gaspe and turned west, again hugging the rocky coast, perilously close to the water's edge. More small towns strung out along the coast, but unlike the southern holiday towns, these seemed more like working towns, with fishing harbours, dirt farms and older weathered buildings. The far north shore of the St. Lawrence was invisible and we were staggered by the sheer size of it, on both the map and to our eyes.
Gradually, towns became cities and mountains gave way to good farms. The St. Lawrence shrank and the far shore, still mountainous, looked like we could touch it, even though it was still miles away.
Lou began to re-visit places of her youth in her mind: Trois Pistoles, La Pocatiere, and St-Jean-Port-Joli, where she studied as a young woman. We didn't leave the main road to see them, and maybe it's just as well. One of the quaint towns advertised a McDonald's, and we didn't want to see that.
Finally, it was Montmagny for our final road sleep, where our journey first began. So many ways to close the circle. We are exhausted and we have one more marathon drive tomorrow. But, at least, tomorrow we'll be home.
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| Gaspésie coast with Perce in background, left. |
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| La Gaspésie, fall colours |
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| La Gaspesie |
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| Fishing village, south shore of the St. Lawrence River |
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| Break from driving, south shore of the St. Lawrence, approaching Montmagny |
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