BCAA Travel Blog

We have left Rimouski, Suzie’s hometown and the place where Sidney Crosby played his junior hockey, and are motoring across the St. Lawrence in a ferry. It’s a small vessel compared to B.C.’s mammoth models, but this ferry has something that B.C. ferries don’t have–seatbelts. Now that’s a bit alarming. The boat is rocking today, but not so severely that we have to buckle up. I have my binoculars handy since we expect to see some whales. Although it seems odd to associate whales with rivers, the St. Lawrence is host to 13 species of cetaceans, including earth’s largest mammal–the blue whale. Only the belugas live here year round; the other giants migrate into the river in summer because the waters are rich with krill and fish. Here in the estuary, the Laurentian Channel plunges some 300 metres deep, forming an underwater gorge in which fresh water from the St. Lawrence mixes with the cold Labrador current and water from the North Atlantic to create a soupy broth of life.

We make the crossing and head for Les Escoumis to visit the Saguenay-St. Lawrence Marine Park. The centre’s mandate is to protect and showcase the various species and ecosystems found in the St. Lawrence Estuary and the Saguenay Fjord. This unique park, which is entirely underwater, covers a surface area of 1,246 kilometres. The centre has an interactive show in which visitors can watch and talk to divers that swim out underwater equipped with headphones and microphones. Evidently there are a lot of whales in the area, so many that campers have been complaining that they can’t sleep at night because of the spouting sounds of the leviathans. There is an observation deck here with telescopes to allow people to scan the river for whales. As we gaze out over the swells we spot a humpback. Our host tells is that this is Tic-Tac-Toe, a female who returns to the area each year, often with a calf in tow.

In the afternoon we drive to Tadoussac, the oldest village in Canada and the site of the first official fur-trading post. Founded in 1599, Tadoussac was the first European settlement built north of Mexico. Situated in one of the most beautiful bays in the world, the town of 900 permanent residents sits beneath rounded hills that inspired its name–it comes from the Algonquin word tatoushak, meaning “breasts.”

Basque whalers were the first Europeans to live here and by the time Samuel de Champlain arrived in 1603, Tadoussac was a thriving trading post. By the mid-1800s, Tadoussac had evolved into a lumber settlement and holiday resort for wealthy Anglophones. Today, the main industry is tourism, specifically whale watching. In fact, some call it the No. 1 whale-watching spot in Canada. Two decades ago, just a few boats were taking out tourists. Now there are a dozen companies, operating 55 boats that handle about 350,000 passengers annually–people who eat in the restaurants and stay in the hotels and B&Bs that have sprung up in recent years. All told, the local whale economy generates an estimated 1,000 direct and indirect jobs.

We joint the giddy throng, climbing into rubber boots and bulky Michelin Man style clothing that functions as a life preserver and troop down to the docks. Our guide for the voyage is Chantal, a pretty biologist with a sexy voice, who tells us before departing to “Use me as your tool.” I certainly don’t have any objection to that request. Out on the open water it becomes clear that the easiest way to find whales is to follow the birds. Shrieking flocks of sea gulls circle above the fish, and the whales follow the fish. We see several Minke whales and Tic-Tac-Toe makes another cameo appearance. Chantal proves to be a great guide, offering scientific information on the whales in two languages and adding a dose of drama with her raspy French delivery. “There, to the right at four o’clock. “Superb. Superb. Incroyable!”

Our home for the night is the Hotel Tadoussac, which first opened its doors in 1864. Once considered the jewel in the crown of Canada Steamship Line, the hotel still retains a touch of stately elegance with its whitewashed walls, red roof, dormer windows and cupola. History is all around us. Directly across the road is the oldest wooden church in Canada, the tiny Chapelle de Tadoussac. Also known as the Indians’ Chapel, it was built by Jesuit missionaries in their efforts to convert the Montagnais to Christianity and it still contains some of the original religious items used when the chapel was first constructed in 1747. Tucked on the other side of the hotel, the steep-roofed Poste de Traite Chauvin replicates–right down to the handmade nails–the first trading post on the north shore of the St Lawrence as described in Champlain’s 1603 diary. It houses a small museum of beaver pelts and knicknacks pertaining to the fur trade.

Once again our evening meal is terrific, replete with service by waiters wearing white gloves. This marks the fourth straight night we have enjoyed first-rate cuisine and yet we have not eaten in a place with a population over 3,000. I can’t imagine having the same success rate in towns of this size in B.C., or anywhere else in Canada for that matter. After dinner, I stroll outside and sit in one of the hotel’s wooden lawn chairs and let the sweet summer breeze blow over me. Sadly, this marks the end of our tour. Tommorow we return to Quebec City. High overhead I pick out the Big Dipper, la grande ourse, twinkling in the heavens. I give it a salute and wander off to bed.

Filed under: Writing from the road