Gaspe

In the morning the sea mist still covers the Festive Sea Shack hostel and I say my goodbyes to Carly, Steph and Riana. They are returning to Montreal and I have arranged a lift further up the coast towards the end of the peninsula with a French girl called Perrine.  She doesn’t have much English and I begin to regret being so typically-English lazy last week and allowing the others to communicate in French for me. I pull out my very rusty school French, which is strangely punctuated with the occasional German word, but we manage to maintain something of a conversation. On the journey Perrine wants to stop at tourist places to take photos, but the sea mist shrouds everything and there are almost no views of what I imagine would be beautiful coastal scenery. We pass several lighthouses and stop briefly to take a picture at one which is also an historic site where Marconi set up the first North American maritime radio station.

Lighthouse

We arrive at the hostel where we are both staying. It is a remote, rustic affair, with an outdoor bar and a garden looking out over the sea. I sit in the garden looking out across the grey, misty sea and watch flocks of sea birds dive-bombing themselves into the water with a plop to catch fish. My dormitory is a little wooden house with bunks downstairs and a wooden ladder leading up into the eaves, Heidi-style, where there is a double and a single bed. I am lucky enough to have the double bed and it almost feels like my own space.

Hostel at L’Anse au Griffon

Dormitory House

There is a national park at the end of the peninsula and I want to hike to Cap Gaspe where the Appalachian Mountains rise out of the Gulf of St Lawrence. The name Gaspe comes from the native Micmac name meaning Land’s End. Nearby is also where Jacques Cartier landed in 1534 and  'discovered' Canada. I find myself attracted to remote places where the sea and the land meet. The park information tells me that there is a lot of wildlife here, including black bears, but encouragingly the park blurb says that no-one has ever been attacked by a bear in this park.

My hike starts at a harbour and passes through restored buildings of an old fishing village. It was mainly Jersey and Guernsey Islanders who settled here at the end of the 19^th century and made a living from cod fishing and salting. There is a restored general store which was the hub of the settlement and a house where two women in period costume sit quietly sewing and chatting.   

Hyman and Sons Store

Historic House

Women Sewing Inside the House

The sea is calm and the mist is still hanging around today and as I take the path along the cliff top it is difficult to tell the difference between the sea and the sky. There are views to small stoney coves where cormorants sit on the rocks and the cliffs are made of interesting diagonal strata. The path passes through wild flowers and into an old cemetery where a plaque reads:

‘They came on the sea from the Channel Islands of Jersey and Guernsey; beside the sea they built churches, homes and schools; from the sea they lived and by the sea they rest.’

Misty Sea Shore

Wild Flowers

Indian Cove Cemetery

Rock Strata

As the path carries on there is evidence of the bears as some of the grass and flowers are flattened and there are piles of fresh bear poo on the path. I am not too worried, as this is a popular path and there are many other people around. After 2 hours I reach the end of the land at Cap Gaspe where a lighthouse stands. A plaque marks the start of the International Appalachian Trail which leads 4500km from here to Georgia. 

Cap Gaspe Lighthouse

Retracing my steps back along the trail I come round a corner to see a small black bear cub on the path in front of me. I stop and he takes no notice of me. A man coming in the other direction claps his hands and the bear trots off into the undergrowth. The man and I chat briefly to speculate about where the cub’s mother might be and then we hurry off. From here I clank my walking poles together from time to time to make some noise.

Black Bear Cub

The next part of the trail is up to a lookout and I take the path, eventhough  the mist still hangs on the hills and I don’t expect to get a view. At the top of the hill a wooden tower has been built which affords a 360 degree view. On a clear day the view would be of the Appalachian Mountains and the Gulf of St Lawrence, but I can only imagine it as today there is a 360 degree view of cloud!

Me in the Clouds