Breakdown in Quebec City (Emotional, not Mechanical!) – Postcards from Canada, 2025

Ottawa to Quebec City – 445 km

I left Ottawa on the late side as I had lingered over breakfast and conversation with my host and with the other guests at my B&B. It was a bright sunny day and I was thrilled to drive over the bridge that crosses from Ottawa to Gatineau, Quebec – I was now in my sixth province! I enjoyed the first hour or two of the drive, through some nice rolling forested hills and with occasional views of the Ottawa River, but then I quickly grew tired of the increasing amount of traffic on the main highway so I rerouted to some secondary roads more to the north, but they were also surprisingly busy, and many of the small towns that I passed through (with wonderful names like Sainte-Sophie, Sainte-Esprit, and Joliette) were bookended on their outskirts with traffic lights and the non-too-appealing line of gas stations, box stores, and fast food outlets typical of so many Canadian towns. I wasn’t loving the drive, the afternoon was growing very warm, and as I rejoined the freeways and finally neared Quebec City the traffic began moving really fast and there were multiple on and off ramps to negotiate to get to where I was going which was an Airbnb located in a leafy suburb about 30 minutes from Quebec City’s historic downtown.

The Airbnb was great, with a lovely hostess, and I had booked two nights there with a plan to park my car and take a local bus to visit the city’s historic centre, Vieux Quebec, on the following day. I had visited Quebec City three times before. The first time was when I was 17 years old and had travelled solo to Quebec to visit with relatives and to attend the Roberge family’s Tricentennial Celebration on L’Isle d’Orleans. That visit had sparked my love of travel and history, and I was greatly looking forward to revisiting Vieux Quebec’s charming cobblestone streets, the quaint houses and shops of the Lower Town, and especially Place Royale square with the architecturally simple yet exquisite Notre-Dame-des-Victoires Church which was built in 1688. Here are photos of 17 year-old-me at the Citadelle, and on a Quebec City Street.

But…, I soon found out from my hostess Suzanne that all of the Quebec City buses were on strike! Also, there was a large music festival on in the city, and two cruise ships full of tourists were docked in the harbour which meant that the streets of the old town would be crowded with visitors. The afternoon had grown incredibly hot and humid, which I am not at all used to, and I suddenly felt extremely tired and very dispirited.

I tried to make the best of it – my accommodation was on the lower level of a nice house which had a lovely garden and a swimming pool that I was free to use. I had a relaxing swim, chatted with Suzanne over coffee about travelling in France, made dinner in my suite, rested, then googled driving routes to downtown and where to park, etc. for the following day. Perhaps I didn’t sleep well, because in the morning when I woke I was so tired that the thought of driving a half hour into the centre of the city, and being amongst crowds in the heat and the humidity, was just too much. Also weighing on my mind was the long drive of 580 km on following day to get to my next campsite in New Brunswick so I told Suzanne that I was thinking of abandoning my second night of accommodation and leaving that morning in order to divide the next day’s drive in half. She responded with such kindness and compassion that it was easy to burst into tears and sob in her arms about my fatigue and the heat and the driving and no buses, etc. etc., etc. She encouraged me to stay, and even offered to drive me downtown, but I told her that I would call home and then decide. More sobbing over the phone as I spilled my woes, but with Brent’s patient listening I calmed quickly and decided that I really did need to give up my visit to Vieux Quebec and break up the next day’s travel.

Quebec City to Parc Provincial de la République, New Brunswick – 311 km

I thanked Suzanne, packed up, and headed out, still feeling exhausted. Once on the network of freeways, the driving was immediately challenging and fast, and then it was positively terrifying driving across the bridge over the St. Lawrence because very dark and low thunderclouds had built up quickly and just as I drove onto the bridge they let loose a thick torrent of rain. My windshield wipers couldn’t keep up, and I could barely see anything in front of me or beside me, BUT NO-ONE SLOWED DOWN!!

The rain and heavy traffic continued for another hour or two as I travelled away from Quebec City and towards the border with New Brunswick. I made a short stop at La Pocatiere for a much-needed break and to walk to the edge of the St. Lawrence River, but even that was a bust as the shore was inaccessible. Here are the only two photos that I took on my two days of travel through Quebec!

I rejoined the highway and thankfully the traffic eased once I was past Riviere-du-Loup, and I was finally able to relax a bit for the last hour and a half of the drive. I was thrilled to cross the border into New Brunswick – I was finally in the Maritimes! – and relieved to find a decent campsite a short while later at the peaceful, green and shaded Parc Provincial de la République. I settled into my site and walked off some of my stress on a trail along the river. Then more stress seeped away as I sat at a table near the pool and wrote in my journal, charged my electronics, and did laundry. The teenage workers there were wonderful – friendly, curious, and fluent in both French and English. I chatted with several lads, and with the lovely girl who was working in the gift shop. On her break, she asked to sit with me because she saw me journaling and felt inspired to work on her poetry beside me. We talked for a while (her mother is a published author), and then wrote in silence, side by side, companionably. I felt happy and grateful, and so glad that I had made the decision to break up the long drive into two days. I was also feeling proud and relieved – I had driven across Canada, safely, all the way to the Maritimes! So, here is one of my very favourite photos from my entire trip. A bag of New Brunswick’s famous Covered Bridge potato chips to show that I had arrived!

Thank you, readers, if you made it through all of the above woe-is-me text! Next time, lots of joy and photos from the beautiful province of New Brunswick. (And later, much more positive times in Quebec!) 🙂

I Kiss My Toyota Everyday – Reflections and Gratitude

Visiting Family in Quebec, Northern Quebec to Ontario, and on to Manitoba, and Feeling Much Gratitude for our Spectacular Country

August 24, 2025

Hello everyone. Yes, I kiss my Toyota everyday, and often many times a day! I kiss my fingers and then pat the steering wheel and say, “Thank you Toyota. I love you Toyota”, and sometimes I say “Sorry Toyota,” when the road is extra-bumpy or the day is hot and the drive is long. I finally looked at my trip meter today and I have driven 14,975 km since I first left Vancouver (!), with still at least another 2303 km to go if I drive the most direct route home, which I won’t, as I prefer the secondary highways where I can take my time. My trusty and valiant 2007 Toyota Highlander is a star! (Youtube’s Car Angel, a used-car expert, says “Best car ever made, period.”) Here we are, this morning, stopped again at the longitudinal centre of Canada, just east of Winnipeg, but this time heading west.

I am so far behind on my posts, and I hope to publish some this winter, but a quick summary of the last few weeks is that, after visiting the Maritimes (if possible I would have doubled or tripled my time there), and after a quick tour around the Gaspé peninsula, I spent a week visiting my dear aunts and uncles and a cousin in Quebec, at Baie-Comeau and around Lac St. Jean. It has been seven years since I last saw them, and I was lovingly embraced and received (and very well fed!). What a joy it was to see them, and to exchange news and tell stories and talk from morning ‘til night, ensemble en français. Merci à tous! Je vous aime!

If I had more time (and more stamina for busy urban areas and complicated, traffic-filled roads) I would have also visited aunts, uncles, and cousins who live in and around Montreal and Quebec City. But, while touring the Gaspé peninsula, I noticed that the fireweed was full with deeply wine-coloured seed pods, and showing the last of its flowers, and a single dry leaf blowing across the highway almost had me in tears. “Time to turn back,” it said.

So, after my stay with relatives I began the journey westward in earnest and drove over 2300 kilometres in four days. First, I travelled from Lac St. Jean to a campsite at Lac Normand, east of Val d’Or. What a brilliant day of driving that was, with blue skies and bright white clouds reflected in every placid lake that I passed. Here are just two of many,

and here is Lac Norman as I sat on a large granite boulder on the shore and watched day turn to evening,

and then to sunset.

The next morning, I thought to take a photo of my “pour la route” Quebecois gifts – wild Lac St. Jean blueberries, picked with Richard and Paulette, a jar of caramel made by my Tante Liette, and canned moose and partridge given to me by my Tante Flo. Merci!

The next day’s drive, from Lac Normand to Wawa was equally beautiful with forests, rivers, lakes, and a few small towns. I stopped for awhile for wifi at the Cozy Diner in Matheson where I treated myself to a second breakfast of the day, and then couldn’t resist a maple-chocolate-bacon muffin for the road.

I was googling the possibility of a two-day jaunt north from Cochrane to Moosoonee and Moose Factory, just south of James Bay, by train, but I was too last-minute with my idea and it wasn’t possible to organize reasonably-priced accommodations. Oh well, perhaps another time! (When I taught grades 4 and 5, and we did mapping skills, we would explore a map of Ontario in the Nelson Intermediate Atlas, and one of my questions was always, “How can you get to Moosoonee at B4 (or whatever the grid location was), and the answer was “By train, airplane, or boat – there is no road.”)

So, I carried on west, towards Timmins, and the road was so fun to drive and mostly empty of cars. As on many days before, music helped to eat up the miles – Elton John, Chris Isaak, and CCR’s Greatest Hits album (especially) were fantastic to drive to, and my Toyota and I were one with the road and the sky and the music. (I wish I had a “curve in the road” photo to share, or one with a view from a rise, but the one below, on a straight stretch, will have to suffice.)

In Wawa, I camped stealth in town after having a simple dinner and a long walk at the town’s peaceful lakefront park.

The following morning, I felt a strong fondness for this little town, and I decided that I would take a photo of the giant wooden goose that it is famous for.

But the photo that I really wanted, but was too shy to ask for, was of an older couple, dressed in matching red-checked shirts, and carrying large cups of Tim Hortons coffee, he in a ball cap. They looked stereotypically very Canadian, and very happy to be on holiday and visiting Wawa’s giant Canada goose!

So, Canada. What a country! When I was on my way east, and travelling in Saskatchewan in late June, a few days before Canada Day, a radio host – Dave, “The Voice of Saskatchewan” – was asking listeners to call in and say how proud they are of our country, on a scale of 0-10. He started off with his own rating of 8.5, saying that he was generally very proud of Canada, but that there were some things to fix. His first caller, though, said, “Zero.” Omg, why? Because, he said, he pays too much in taxes and the “fat cats” in Ottawa waste it and take it for themselves, etc. He continued on with his whining and complaining so I soon turned it off. I felt sorry for the fellow, with a glass completely empty instead of, c’mon, at least half full! I thought to myself, at the time as I continued to drive, that I was also at about 8.5 or 9 on the scale, but after having driven across this great and beautiful country, with its friendly, kind, hardworking and down-to-earth people – young and old, with their families here for generations, or recent immigrants – I am beyond “ten out of ten” proud of Canada. That poor fellow. I think of him sometimes, likely listening to negative news each and every day that skews his perception of reality and makes him angry and unhappy. Turn it off, I would say to him if I could, and look around you and see all of the good things that we have – there is a whole lot to be grateful for in our, not-perfect, but nevertheless exceptional country.

Now, when I started this post, some hours ago, I had intended to write out a gratitude list, but I will save that for another time as the list is long! Instead, here are several more photos from my drive across northern Quebec and Ontario.

There was some industry too, but not much, as I passed through miles of beautiful wilderness. There were high-power transmission lines that cut across the land, or followed the highway in places, and I passed several mines including the massive open pit gold mine at Malartic. As well, I had to stop quite a few times where there was road construction going on. I don’t envy any of the workers those hard jobs!

I loved this stop on the shore of Lake Superior as I neared Thunder Bay (so fun to scamper on those rocks),

and after Thunder Bay (which is aptly named) I lost the sunny skies to dark clouds, and episodes of light and sometimes heavy rain for much of the day.

But that was okay. Quieter music kept me company – Simon & Garfunkel, Neil Young, Patsy Cline, and Roy Orbison, among others – as I focussed on driving the increasingly very busy Trans Canada/Ontario 17 and 17A Highways across the border into Manitoba, and on to a campground at Falcon Beach. Then, this morning, those near-constant forests on both sides of the highway disappeared, and I emerged onto the Prairies, with views that stretch to the horizon in every direction. Hello Prairies!

Tomorrow, my Toyota and I are off to Riding Mountain National Park, (our National Parks, and Provincial Parks, and their staff, are definitely on my gratitude list – we should make more parks!), and then I will continue to make my way, not too fast and not too slow, back to Vancouver. Thank you, dear Toyota, thank you, Canada, and thank you very much to everyone for reading. Xxoo.

Les Îles-de-la-Madeleine, Part One – Postcards from Canada

Ferry Crossing, Île du Havre Aubert and Île du Cap Aux Meules

I was excited to drive onto the Madeleine II ferry for the five hour crossing to Cap Aux Meules which is the second largest, and most populated, of the Îles-de-la-Madeleine. It was a calm and beautiful day, with smooth sailing, and I enjoyed exploring the ship’s many lounges and outdoor decks.

Everyone was in a holiday mood, and this passenger was feeling very relaxed indeed!

I had hoped to get some blogging done, but when I asked about wifi, la madame a dit (avec un sourire), “On se connecte avec la mer.” I read, wandered, sorted photos, and wandered, and I was very excited for the first views of Île d’Entrée which is the only populated island that is not connected to the other islands of the archipelago. Here is a view from our closest passing,

and soon there were views of Cap aux Meules from the other side of the ship.

We headed for the Port du Cap Aux Meules, and had great views of the harbour as we entered and then waited for the first levels of vehicles to unload.

The harbour area and the town of Cap aux Meules (the main administrative and service centre of the islands) were very busy with people and traffic, and I went directly to my excellent and peaceful campsite at Barachois Camping on the other side of the island. My exploring would start the following day with a trip to Île Havre Aubert which is the southernmost island in the archipelago. It is connected to the island of Cap aux Meules by a highway that sits atop a long sandspit,

with the beach and sea on one side and a wide lagoon on the other which is bounded on its far side by another long spit. (It is super interesting to look at the geography of the islands using google maps, satellite view.)

On Les Îles I had expected to see long beaches, grassy dunes, lagoons, red sea cliffs, and colourful houses and characterful settlements, but the hills and the forests of the islands were a surprise to me. As I arrived on Île Havre Aubert, and approached its namesake town, I passed a sign for La Butte St. Antoine, a tall and steep grassy hill that called to me. I climbed up to here,

heading for the far peak, and noticed that a road can take cars half way up! But, it felt really good to climb after all of the level trails I walked on PEI! From the top there were views down to another, lower butte (de la Croix), and beyond that to the curving beach of La Grave and the long line of Sandy Hook spit in the distance.

I walked the trail down and then up to the top of Butte de la Croix, with views back to the higher butte and its grey and pink cliff slashing down to the sea.

This is a zoomed in view of La Grave below. It is a former fishing village, with its grey cedar-shake heritage buildings now housing art galleries, craft and gift shops, restaurants and boutiques.

I drove into La Grave, but it was very busy with people strolling and cars looking for parking. I found a spot, but had little desire to stroll with the tourists, so I went to the wonderful high beach of stones behind the shops, with views forward up the beach towards a headland, and looking back towards the buttes.

Next I drove to the harbour, with a stop on the hill heading up out of La Grave, for a great view back,

and then another stop to gaze across the shallow basin of Havre Amherst to the dunes of Sandy Hook spit, my next destination.

And here is the Sandy Hook beach! Looking first to the west,

then to the east.

Wow! The spit is around 6 km long and I walked about halfway, and was very happy indeed. I walked to around here, with views towards Île d’Entrée,

before turning for the walk back.

The strong wind was pushing dry grains of sand at speed over the darker wet grains, creating wispy, ever-shifting, and phantom-like ribbons of sand towards me. In places, the dry sand becomes trapped by an object and creates attractive patterns that were fun to photograph.

I found a quiet place for lunch, by the lagoon and out of the wind, and then I went for a walk along the Point à Margarite where I found lovely solitude, beautiful views, and then a patch of wild raspberries, perfect for dessert.

I continued along the south coast of Île Havre Aubert to the lighthouse at Cap du Sud,

and then along the west coast, loving the drive and the views of colourful houses scattered here and there over the undulating landscape. I made a quick stop at the beginning of Plage de l’Ouest where kite surfers were making the most of the wind. (You can click on any photo for a larger view.)

Then, I took the Rue de la Montagne east up into the hills, and through forest, to cut across the centre of the island, and for a few moments I felt like I could be on a B.C. Gulf Island. It was a very pretty drive!

I rejoined the main road, Highway 199, to return to Île Cap Aux Meules where I decided to explore several sites on the west side of the island before heading to my campsite. I headed for the Anse de l’Étang du Nord, where I admired this beautiful sculpture entitled, “Les Pecheurs”,

and then I continued to the lighthouse at Cap Hérissé which sits atop dramatically-sculpted and high red cliffs.

The views were spectacular from every angle as I looked back down the coast, walked all around and away from the lighthouse, and then made my way further along the coast on the cliff tops.

In the distance I could see a small ridge of buttes,

and though I was beginning to feel tired I couldn’t resist the walk there, and then the climb up.

The wind waving through the grasses and flowers, the views, the sea, the air – it was all so incredibly beautiful and exhilirating!

I felt replete as I made my way back down to the lighthouse,

but I did make one last stop at the clifftops of La Belle Anse where I viewed the cliffs carefully, as common sense and the very graphic sign warns one to do!

And then, finally, I returned to camp, a little tired, a lot happy, and very very grateful to be visiting les très belles Îles-de-la- Madeleine.