Gaspe Part 2: Lighthouses
Thursday’s Trek

“River, take me along in your sunshine, sing me a song
Ever moving and winding and free
You rolling old river, you changing old river
Let's you and me, river, run down to the sea.” (from “River” written by Joni Mitchell)

 Yesterday we seldom got away from the water for more than a few minutes at a time, following the wide, almost navy blue St. Lawrence  until it met its destiny and became the Gulf of St. Lawrence. I can’t imagine a lovelier coastal drive—the road hugged the coast tightly almost the entire way.

 The waves splattered against the low seawall and sprayed the passing traffic. We went from lighthouse to lighthouse—really only three— and from village to village.

La Martre Light

Cap de la Madeleine Lighthouse

Cap des Rosiers Lighthouse

 We expected these places to be fishing villages; however, we saw no boats or other evidence of fishing. Little towns with a few businesses, one Catholic church with a huge silver steeple per town, a gas station, and on to the next place. So many panoramic scenes that it was hard to keep up with them, one right after another.







\ Finally, along the drive, we saw a farm with cattle! This was a first, and we didn’t see it until mid-way through our trip. The only other animal we have seen so far besides dogs at rest areas and birds was a squirrel. We’re hoping to change that today.

One of the interesting points along this road, in Cap-Chat, we encountered a windmill farm, supposedly one of the largest in North America. Their dominance in the landscape leaves us with mixed feelings. They take away from the pristine beauty of the world; however, they benefit its natural resources.












 As we approached Gaspé, we encountered a convoy of wide-load trucks carrying one massive windmill blade per truck and other trucks carried parts of the windmills’ bases, all heading west off the peninsula.

The tiny, modest houses sitting on the banks of the river/ocean, sitting there without a care in the world, with clothes on the lines, and wood for the winter already stacked up around the house, are evidence of the simplicity of life in this area. Most of the houses are white or stone with many bright colors interspersed among them—blue houses, red houses, green houses, red and green houses, white houses with royal blue or red roofs, etc. English is a second language for everyone who lives here. 

We stopped at a picnic area and had what seemed at the time to be a substantial picnic—yogurt, Boursin cheese, whole grain crackers, peanut butter, blueberries, and grapes;

 however, by 8 o’clock, as darkness was overtaking us, we realized we had stopped to take too many pictures and see too many sights,


and we were hungry but needing to get to our hotel in Percé. What seemed like a feast at the time didn’t last long enough, so we resorted to popcorn. When we arrived, we learned from the hotel clerk that she had wondered if we were coming and had called our home about 6:30 and talked with our son, Tod, who had no way of getting in touch with us and had no idea where we were. We have no cell service here and only keep in touch by email in the evenings or mornings. Tod, of course, was concerned because we weren’t where we supposed to be. This is a small hotel. We had already pre-paid for the room. I don’t know if they wanted to give it to someone else or if they wanted to go home. Once we got in and got settled, we were locked in, and Tod was able to call our room to check on us.

 It is a lovely place. We knew we would see Percé Rock from our balcony, although we could not see it last night. The beautiful moon on the water was a peaceful site after a long day. The first thing I did this morning was jump up and look out the window to this:

On with our day now. Hoping to find some wildlife!