Once, the rock had two holes
The road from Caplan to Percé is known to me, in the detail only a cyclist can appreciate. In fact, even with a lapse of a quarter century, the road remained the same. Only the cosmetic details had changed.
Something about wild animals within staring range drives city folk to the zoo. My gang was no exception; after an excellent coffee and brioche breakfast in downtown Bonaventure, they were off to the Biopark, while I sat guard over a belt-breaking pup of a dog. Of course, she loved the attention and acted as if her only role was to sleep while I read and listened to AM radio. CHNC is still on the air, outlasting CFCY as the voice of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, and its antenna system at Paspebiac is still a work of art. Salt marsh is good electrical ground.
The idea of a museum devoted to early fishing and boatbuilding had no takers, so we wandered along to Chandler. The shipwreck of the Giuan was gone. One more mystery in my life. No sense hanging around the new marina if even my grounded ship was gone, and the CTMA Vacancier was not to be seen. So much for a photo of the third sister.
We had heavy bouts of rainshowers along the way to Percé, which gave some dramatic coastal views, but the hole surrounded by rock had changed little. It would appear that someone had a sale on Private signs, so wandering with the dog to take pics while the other two set off on the quest for the holey tunnel was restrained. Many other tourists to keep me company, though. In fact, we managed to snare free parking by leaving in just under an hour from the parking lot – rare to get a refund from a tollbooth.
The hills between Percé and Gaspé town remain as I remembered them, although the physical effort of sitting and staring didn’t match my two saddle tours. We stopped for coffee and Internet, and then strove on across Forillon.
The sun shining through dog-streaked windshield is hard on the brain, so my hints for motel time started early. We did the necessary detour down to Fame Point after exhibit closing time, but those pioneers of radio had to be made of strong stuff. Not a site for the absent wanderer;the wind probably always blows. In fact, there is a new windmill farm under construction in the area.
We finally scored a room at Riviere-Madeleine, had supper and invited the dog to have a good night’s rest. In passing, a display of very old postcards in the restaurant showed that once, the rock had two holes.
