The Quebec Countryside: Riviere-du-Loup & Lake Temiscouata

July 19-21, 2023

July 19, 2023, Wednesday — Another Dead Church in Quebec

We camped at Pointe-Aux-Oies (Goose Point) just outside the town of Montmagny. The next morning, around noon, we headed northeast along the St. Lawrence River. Sometimes we took the Trans-Canada Highway and sometimes smaller roads.

In a little town, we stopped at an enormous Catholic church with three spires. The sign said it was open as a historic site, so we went inside. A guide named Alexis told us about the church. He was a rather sober young man and his English was excellent.

The church itself is large, ornate, and quite beautiful, with huge paintings, many statues, and lots of gilt over everything.

When I asked whether they still had services, Alexis said that the priest who serves mass there is serving 23 churches, and is from Burundi.

Stop and think about the implications of this fact. One very conservative, non-local priest, serving 23 churches.

When I asked more questions about religion, Alexis explained: “Religion has no place in Quebec.” He seemed interested in discussing this subject, so I asked if he intended to study religion. He said No, this was just a summer job. He is going to study paleontology.

I was curious about who paid him, and he said he was paid by the church. We had a conversation about some of the uses church buildings are now being put to, and he mentioned a gym or even a pool. He was not happy about this. I am always interested in the economics of religion.

Alexis also talked about a law in Quebec that prohibits teachers from displaying any religious artifacts. I had read about prohibitions against Muslim head wraps, but asked if this applied to jewelry such as a cross necklace. He said that it did.

Doug and I got back in Big Blue. The Quebec countryside is idyllic, with lots of sweeping cropland, the houses painted in bright colors, and the St. Lawrence river coursing along our left. There are bicycles lanes, with people using them, and everywhere you see artisans, metal sculptures, and woodworking.

We ate lunch outside at a casual cafe — panini sandwiches with “smoked meat” that was really just ham, and a small salad on the side. We ordered coffee and “pastries” that turned out to be some kind of whole grain nutty scone that were not worthy of the name “pastries,” IMO.

As we arrived in Riviere du Loup, which was our destination, I noticed a NordikSpa. Since Doug strained his knee yesterday, we stopped and made reservations for the next day. We can enjoy the spa from 1:00-5:00 and get dual massages at 4:30.

We pulled into the municipal campground in the pouring rain. We stood at an entrance booth trying to stay dry while rain cascaded behind us, grazing our backs. The guy inside, who was smoking, told us that we didn’t have reservations. I got out my laptop and checked my RV Trip Wizard App and my email and couldn’t find any information. We glitched.

Fortunately they were able to accommodate us.

We set up in the rain, then sat inside the camper and listened to it thunder while we fixed a bite of supper.

July 20, Thursday — Spa and Massage

We had another lazy morning. Doug fixed an omelet for a late breakfast, along with some fruit. We had to pack up to go to the spa in town, even though we’ll be returning to this same campsite tonight. One of the inconveniences of carrying your home on your back is that you can’t easily leave it behind. But it only takes us a few minutes to pack up. (Plus, Doug does most of the work.)

The NordikSpa was an outdoor area encased by the hotel. There were three water features — an ice cold plunge, a medium warm pool, which was the largest, and a hot pool. Also two saunas, which we did not use. Indoors there was a quiet room for lounging. The only negative was that the outdoor areas were not sheltered from the sun. I retreated to the shaded corners of the pools until the sun dropped lower.

It was very relaxing to go from one pool to another. There were only a few other people, and they also came and went from pool to pool. There were signs saying “Silence” so we didn’t chat with anyone. Plus we don’t speak French! The cold plunge was especially wonderful and invigorating.

The masseurs were both women, mine was named Louise. She spoke very little English so it was a bit humorous for us to connect, but she had wonderful firm hands. The masseuse who worked on Doug did a great job with his knee, and he reported that it felt much improved after all the soaking and stretching.

Afterward we had supper at a restaurant featuring “New Canadian Cuisine” called “Restaurant Le Saint-Patrice.” It was quite nice, set in the shade of trees. We each had a drink before dinner. Mine was called “La Romance” and was pink and too sweet. Doug got a “Bloody La Fimour” like a bloody Mary made with Clamato. We’ve heard that Bloody Caesar is very popular in Quebec. I don’t know why, but that fact surprises me.

After the meal we drove to see the view. Riviere du Loop perches over the St. Lawrence at a very wide point. Down below, one arm of land encircles a harbor and that arm comes to a point. At the point there’s a marina, with ferries that cross to St. Simeon on the other side — which is where a fjord enters the river.

This evening the water was very smooth, a lovely sun dropping lower.

July 21, Friday — Lake Temiscouta

A very cool morning. I got out a long-sleeved layer for each of us. We went to the town of Riviere du Loup to get breakfast. We parked and walked up and down the main street of the little town. The first place we stopped at was a café that only offered coffee and pastries. The second café was the same. So we acquiesced. We sat down and had coffee and pastry.

Walking on, we saw another restaurant, a chain named “Mike’s,” which was serving a full breakfast. So we stopped for a second breakfast, something closer to what we had in mind. Doug got a “sweet and salty” option which included a Belgian waffle and toast with creton, which is a pork sandwich spread similar to liverwurst. I felt a bit like a hobbit, eating two breakfasts.

Doug is rather enamored of this small town and thinks we should retire here. I can understand. The town is very quaint and has a lot of public art, and lovely little cafés and restaurants. He loves that it sits up on a hill with a view of the mighty St. Lawrence.

Today’s plan is to drive to Lake Témiscouata (tem-i-SQUAT-a) along a secondary road, Route 291. If we see a garage sale, we will stop because we need to replace one of our coffee mugs, which has developed a crack.

Once again we are driving through bucolic farmland planted with corn and alfalfa, and dairy farms.

Another small town. Another enormous, deserted Catholic church.

At a wide bend along a country road, we spy tables of junk — moose antlers, car tires, rusted signs, ratty snowshoes. I think it was the snowshoes that got Doug. He stopped.

An elderly man appeared, rather disheveled. He spoke only French, but opened the door to his shop and gestured us inside. His shop was a dark, low-ceilinged room crammed full of items: car parts, trinkets, dishes and home furnishings, including animal hooves made into hat hooks. You know, essentials.

There was music playing in the background, the “500 Miles” song that Doug loves.

Doug pantomimed that we were looking for a coffee mug. The man pushed buttons on a flip phone and handed the phone to Doug. Apparently it was the man’s son, and Doug told him what he was looking for. He handed the phone back to the elderly man, who disappeared. He returned with a box. Doug rustled through it. Most of the items were chipped or broken, but he did find a coffee cup featuring a hockey player and the word Nescafé. He bought it for five dollars which, of course was too much. Now the old man can tell his friends that Americans are idiots, which will make him happy.

We drove on and I dosed off. Doug drove to the town of Témiscouata sur Lac.

Unfortunately we needed to go to the national park by the same name, and that is on the other side of the lake. It’s actually quite a distance away. The Temiscouata Lake is long and narrow, shaped like a forgotten segment of river. Crossing it involves a long detour, whichever way you drive. Plus we didn’t know exactly where we were headed. I couldn’t find the details that I thought I put in our calendar.

So I called the national park and was finally able to speak to someone in English. She sent me an email in English — which made me realize that I had previously received it in French. Plus there are multiple campgrounds at Temiscouata — ours is Anse a William. This is a big park and I now realize that people plan their vacations here the way we might plan a trip to Yellowstone.

This was definitely the biggest language obstacle we’ve experienced so far, and it’s no-one’s fault except my own. Plus it’s the second night in a row we screwed up our reservations. I suppose you can tell at what point in our trip planning we got weary.

The drive around the Temiscouata Lake reminded me of northern Minnesota, with abundant pine trees on either side of the road. But more hills. We passed a depository of pine logs which held an astounding amount of cut timber — more than I have ever seen in one place.

For a couple of miles the winding road inclined at a 10% grade or more, and had absolutely no shoulder. Not a relaxing drive.

We arrived and found our campsite, quite large. Both electric and water available. We’re only staying one night and the process of arriving has been quite an ordeal.

We went for a walk to the lake’s edge. We talked to the ferry operator and now finally understand that two ferries cross this lake, a car ferry at the south end, a pedestrian/bike ferry on the north end, which is where we have ended up. We could have gone for a ferry ride but opted not to, as it was overcast and threatening to rain. Plus there are mosquitoes.

We walked a bit more and a Visitors Center appeared rather miraculously on the shoreline. We bought some wood for a campfire, which came in a reusable sling, and a fire starter made of a pine cone and paraffin. Also a hunk of soft goat cheese to round out our supper. We had some black lumpfish caviar in our larder, so for supper we had crackers with the oozing cheese and caviar, not too shabby.

Doug built a fire and fixed us each a Canadian Old Fashioned — Canadian whisky with maple syrup, on the rocks, garnished with orange peel. We have adopted this as the signature drink for this trip.

If you’re so inclined, feel free to raise your glass to our Big Blue Adventure!