We were
up and out and about quite early today, both knowing that we had a
long drive ahead of us to get to Quebec. Before leaving Tadoussac we
went past the campsite and down to the dunes. Although these are
drifts of sand I think they are technically not dunes because they were
created by waves not wind. Unlike the dunes we had seen
in Greenwich, PEI these were not highly protected behind fences and
with boarded walkways.
Massive chain-ferry across
the Saguenay
Driving back through Tadousac it was already busy with tour buses on
their way to the whale cruises. We went to look at the Sea Mammals
Interpretation Centre but had forgotten that in the off season it
does not open until midday. For once we were too early! The weather
was still pretty foul so we decided not to go up the Saguenay fjord
valley and instead headed on to Quebec. At Tadoussac the tarmac road
is transformed into a little ferry across the fjord to the other
side. We timed it just right and rolled onto the ferry before it
headed off. The crossing was a short ten minute ride but with the
wind up it was quite a bumpy ride. The ferry is a chain link ferry
and took a bit of an odd zig zag route to get across. The whales
were all somewhere else today and we saw none along the way.
On the other side there was a noticeable increase in population. The
villages were still really only a block deep along the side of the
road but they were longer and more drawn out, almost running one
into the next. Again there was a real feeling that this is a holiday
home destination and that the wealthy and affluent passed away their
summers here. This was even more true when we reached Malbaie. Most
of the town was a fairly standard run of the mill place with malls
with the usual high street names. But if you follow the 362
instead of the main route 138 it takes you through a part of
town that looks more like an English village.
I would be intrigued to know what the local residents here think of
what has happened to their part of town. ON the bay is the Fairmont
Hotel Charlevoix, a big concrete looking place that has been
designed in the same style as the Hotel Frontenac in Quebec. The
hotel will have brought trade and business to the town but the key
draw here is that it is home to a large casino. The roads have been
converted into one way streets to ease the traffic flow, something
that it needed based on what we saw.
It is still off season so the casino itself was quiet. We got there
at about lunchtime, strange to be in a casino at that time of day.
About 90% of the building is full of row after row of slot machines.
There is a small area for high roller gamblers and the rest is card
tables and roulette. We set ourselves a limit and played a quick
game of roulette, quick because Stef opted to bet either on red or
on black whilst I picked off different individual numbers. It pains
me to say that Stef's tactic worked. It was a bit of a shit or bust
approach as he put his full pot of money on in one go. The croupier
did a very good job of not looking down her nose too much at our
betting tactics but I do not think we were her most exciting
customers of the day.
Being up on the roulette we changed some of our winnings into a
small bucket of quarters and headed for the slot machines. I am sure
these have in built sensors so that they can detect that a new
person has come to play. Each time we changed machine we won
slightly to start with but the casino soon got its money back. Had
we not given a tip to the croupier we would have been about five
dollars up. As it was we left seventy five cents down, Not bad
really. The biggest surprise was that in the short time we were in
there it had become packed out - full of senior citizens. I am not
sure if this was the day after pensions had been paid but they were
all avidly gambling away. Interestingly though all they played were
the slot machines, the card tables were well and truly left alone.
Before leaving we went to have a quick look inside the hotel. I do
not know why, because I have never seen one, but it made me think of
an Austrian hunting lodge. It is owned by the Fairmont chain, the
company that built grand hotels across Canada following the path of
the railway. There are pictures along the wall of how the hotel
looked in its heyday. The main hall was full of paintings and
hunting style trophies. These are well and truly gone and there is
now an empty and anonymous feeling to it. They use the Tea Room for
wedding ceremonies. It is a beautiful English style parlour but with
four big columns in the middle of the room there cannot be many
guests who get a good view of the proceedings.
Rather than following the coast road we headed inland on the main
138 route. The area from here down to Baie-Saint-Paul is a large
65km crater formed by a meteor that landed here millions of years
ago. With the weather still be wet and murky it was difficult to get
any feeling that we were in a crater, it was probably also so big
that you would not get a sense of it anyway.
Erm, flowers eh?
Our route took us into Quebec and we got there a little after four
in the afternoon. We found our way into the centre and parked up
near to Place d'Armes to go to Tourist Information. Our initial
reaction to the old town of Quebec was that we could have been
transported a few thousand kilometres away and now be in a small
village somewhere in deepest darkest France. The only thing that
gave it away was the number of Japanese tourists with cameras
hanging from their necks photographing everything in sight.
Tourist Information confirmed our suspicion that the nearest
campsite was some way out of town so we opted to stay in a hotel
instead. It goes against the grain but is the best way to make the
most of our visit. They had told us where the main streets with
hotels and B&B's were and we headed off in search of a bed for the
night. At the first small hotel we came to, theMarie Rollet, we
asked if they had a room. They can accommodate us for three nights
but we will have to change room each night, not ideal but they said
that as it is Thanksgiving weekend all of the hotels are very busy.
Not wanting to hunt around we registered and then went to get our
stuff.
We did a quick pack on Morty and drove up to the hotel. I hopped out
with our bag and a man from the hotel went with Stef to park Morty
up. He is too tall to fit in their underground car park so we have
had to leave him down by the port. I checked in to our room. They
had told us that for the first night we would have a separate
bathroom across the hall. What they had not told us was that the
bedroom itself was tiny, about the size of two double beds, and that
the loo and shower were two separate rooms at the other end of the
hallway. It was not quite what we had expected but we had little
option.
Settled in, we went for a bit of a wander around town. In amongst
the French style building are a few typically Irish and English
style pubs. They seem oddly out of place here. The old town centre
seems quite small and it was not long before we had a feel for it.
We opted for typically Canadian fare for dinner at Aux Anciens
Canadiens. The restaurant is based in the Maison Jacquet. Built in
1675 it is one of the oldest buildings in Quebec and was one of the
largest houses in the upper town in its day. The menu was also from
a previous age. My Country Platter had Quebec meat pie, meat balls
and salt pork. Stef's Trappers Treat has Lac St-Jean meat pie and
pheasant and buffalo casserole. It was old style country cooking
with hearty portions, the type of food you want on a cold winter's
day. Next to us was a Japanese couple and I wondered what they made
of it as it is was at the other end of the culinary extreme from
typical Japanese food.
The benefit of a small town centre was that we did not have far to
go to get back to our hotel. We were both pretty tired and there was
a cold wind blowing so we were grateful for a short walk. With both
of us in our room it was cosy. We were looking out onto the main
street and having spent most of the last few months on campsites on
the edges of town it was strange to hear the noise of traffic
outside.
