The aforementioned dam is way down there.
Day two at the park, took a river boat up the Rivière Malbaie above the dam. The dam was built in the early 1900s so logs could be floated down the river.
Fall colors in full force at Parc des Haute Gorges.
Spent an absolutely beautiful two days camping at Parc des Haute Gorges. The first night and morning were cold cold cold, but it warmed up beautifully during the day. We went on the park's "signature" hike; 800 meters up to the overlook in 5km. Our campsite is somewhere on the river down below.
Caroline preparing to pillage the village of La Malbaie.
On our way up to Parc national des Haute Gorges de la Rivière Malbaie we drove through the Charlevoix region, a picturesque countryside of rolling hills and meadows along the St. Lawrence fleuve (big-ass river) known for its farms, vineyards, restaurants, producers — sort of like France.
Think it's about time this cannon was put to good use again.
Yesterday Caroline met actually the friendliest sweetest puppy in all of Quèbec.
Morning light kissing the roofs of Quèbec City as I walk downtown to pick up our rental car. On the road for Charlevoix now, and Parque de Haute Gorges tonight.
Our French Airbnb host Alisson says she likes Québec City because the people here are friendly and happy. In France, she says, everybody is sad.
Québec City. A decidedly European labrynth of alleyways and rues with almost as many secret nooks and crannies as touristy gift shops lining the narrow twisting cobblestone roads. The Old City neatly confined within medieval walls and ramparts, perched above the St. Lawrence River, and the newer part of town bisected by sheer rock bluffs scaled by endless iron staircases. Street performers playing with fire and knives, the hustle and bustle ceaseless and invigorating and overwhelming and never ending — until, ten blocks later, when you find yourself unharmed in a sleepy neighborhood with small rear decks hanging off the backs of ancient apartment buildings and tidy corner stores where the attendant tells you not to buy wine from him because the tax is too much and everyone knows you should get it from the liquor store around the corner.
A lovely city.
Lower Old Town. Supposedly the narrowest street in North America.