Le Poisson, Le Poisson!

Day 16

Because we are so far east, and the entirety of Quebec is on Eastern Standard, the sun rises here at 4:30 am. This is an unfortunate fact when living in a translucent tent. It is beautiful, though, when you awaken to a ribbon of salmon pink over the ocean, whatever time it is.

Our morning today is gorgeous and sunny. We stare out into the sea while sipping the morning coffee. There is a path that leads to the bottom of the cliff made mostly of stairs balanced precariously on a sheer face of shale. The stairs share this angle with a fresh water spring that flow straight from the cliff into the Gulf. The beach is made of black pebbles, some with stark white splotches or perfect pin stripes, or images that look like runes. We find a big smooth boulder on which to perch, and contemplate the temperature of the water. The Pirate is brave, and jumps in. I am not brave, so I don't.

We are day tripping today, it's the first time we've done this. We have the Girl pretty much unloaded, suddenly skinny without her saddlebags and full pack. She's ready to zip down the coast to Gaspe for the day. We stop first in l'Anse-au-Griffon at a newly renovated Centre Culturel le Griffon/ Cafe for breakfast. We decide that the building must have been an old fish cooler, there are still thick doors with heavy duty hardware, like big freezer latches. We have dark coffee, homemade bread with homemade strawberry preserves, and ham and asparagus crepes. Just outside of the restaurant is the most enchanting bay, especially in the sunny warmth of this day. We are tempted to just stay here.

Instead, we wind on the coastal road to Gaspe, the “big town” out here. It's cute, though touristy. It takes us 10 minutes to walk up and down the main drag, choosing to skip to predictably kitschy shops. One shop we do not skip is the epicerie, a little market full of all of the gourmet ingredients we've been dying for. We browse around and decide to come back before we leave town. On to lunch; we settle on a little place on the corner called Brulerie Cafe des Artistes. We sit outside on these cool little picnic tables and await out meager feast. We are trying the day's special: a house made hotdog. When it arrives, it's clear that some things got lost in translation, because this is no hotdog, it is a master piece. The “hotdog” is more of a sausage, round and cooked to soft perfection. The center is soft, kind of creamy, and perfectly salty and spiced. It is on a warm bun, with whole seeded mustard and crispy fried bright green seaweed. We instantly regret ordering only one. It also came with a perfectly crispy and tart apple cabbage slaw.

After lunch we hit the Gaspesie Musee, which, if the building is any indication, will be beautiful and fascinating. It's not. It basically chronicles the exploitation and plundering of the resource-rich Gaspesie by the English and French. Does every nation in the world have this in common?

Now for grocery shopping, since this is our day-of-eating. First the epicurie, the Marche des Saveurs Gaspesiennes, for white wine and shallot sausages, little syrupy Belgian waffles and a fresh baguette. Then to the regular marche for eggs, a stick of garlic white wine butter and our beloved Quebeciose Notre Vin Maison, then to the SAQ (the liquor store) for a good old bottle of Crown Royal (which no longer comes in a purple bag. Where ever will little boys stow their G.I. Joes?), and finally to the poissonerie for the 2.2 pound lobster. All of this without any more French than merci and bonjour.

Our meal is as good as it sounds and it's all cooked over the campfire. The Pirate tears into that lobster like, well, like the Canadian border patrol tears into the rig of suspicious looking bike-packers; nothing is left undiscovered.