7/10/17 Falling in Love Again

The Gaspé proved itself to us today.

Sea sounds woke us gently and we were filled with anticipation for the ride ahead. Leaving Bonaventure in our rear view mirror, we ran east along the gulf. Morphing into another world, we were transported by route 132 into a seascape of rising cliffs that gently fell toward small settlements in the coves below.  One of the many beautiful Haltes, or rest stops along the way saw us playing with giant lobster pots and chairs. Then the Pickled Egg Incident occurred.

Our morning picnic shopping had proved difficult due to our weak grasp of the language. Asking for hard boiled eggs, we ended up with a jar of the pickled variety instead. Not meant to ride motorcycles, the jar opened in my saddlebag and spewed vinegar over its contents. But what could have been ugly turned hilarious as we weren't sure if our tears were from the pungent odor or our laughter as we cleaned out the mess. Shit happens and then you move on! 

And we did! Flying along the St. Lawrence we rose, then fell, then soared again. Through woodland, immaculate farms and several coastal villages, we rode, kissed by cool maritime breeze. Our picnic niche for the day surrounded us with a panorama of promontories, distant mountains and rocky coast. Tall ships sailed eerily on the horizon, reminiscent of a local tale of a wrecked ship whose captain haunts the waters  in his ghostly galleon, searching for his drowned fiancée. A friendly Québécois shared his smoked salmon with us. He was so excited about its excellence that he needed someone else's affirmation, since his wife was pregnant and couldn't partake. We communicated brokenly, but smiles, mercis and best wishes resonated across the language barrier. 

In vain we serched for the smoked salmon shop our French friend had recommended, as we rode through Percé, a charming little town defined by monolithic sea carved arches off its coast. Closing in on the most easterly point of our trek around the peninsula, full sun broke through and warmed our faces as we leaned into the west after passing the town of Gaspé. 

A new vista opened as we ran for miles, tightly funneled between sheer rocky cliffs and the sea. Sometimes twining hundreds of feet over the gulf, the road then whirled us down in a wild descent that brought us to yet another charming bouquet of brightly colored houses nestled in a small village. For the first time of this trip, Rascal got to spread her wings and we flew toward the west as the sun rolled behind the mountains. Coming to a rest in Sainte-Anne-des-Monts, we kicked off our boots, put our feet up and sighed in deep satisfaction at having lived another indelible day. 

So far, the Gaspésie has given us many different performances. From friendly tourist destination to wild, lonely and haunting flights over rocky shores, this jut of land into the Gulf of St. Lawrence covers it all. And as we experience it with the weather in our faces and ever changing road under our wheels, we have fallen in love with yet another ride, road whores that we are.

Morning view

"And that's the truth!"

Nice catch

Lunch view

Tall ships sailed the horizon

A lonely promontory 

Me and Lawrence

Distinguishing Percé 

I hope this is the only moose we see

At the top of the peninsula

Gaspé

Every turn was a thrill

Settlements dot the coast in coves

Riding west 

A pirate ship?