Le Petit Phare watches over the southern shores of the St. Lawrence, Saint-André, Q.C. (Photo: Thomas Lundy) |
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“The spell which French Canada exercises over those who visit it for the first time is a potent one. To those who have long lived within its borders it is stronger still, and its strength increases with the passing of the years.” The preface to Frank Oliver Call’s 1926 The Spell of French Canada instantly grabbed me as my train wound its way out of Montreal, traversing the St. Lawrence river via the Victoria Bridge. Two weeks earlier, I’d discovered a beautiful hardcover copy of the vintage travel guide in a second-hand book store cut out of the back alley-facing wall of the city’s Grande Bibliothèque. The type of store so chock-full of books that it spills out onto the street. Call’s words struck a chord with me, but the resulting reverberations also triggered guilt. I’d spent nearly five years living in Montreal — and while Quebec’s metropolitan hub had certainly charmed me, I had neglected the rest of La Belle Province. Now, as I tucked into a VIA rail dinner and watched the late summer sun set over the city I’d come to call home, I knew I had the chance to change that. |
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| Quebec Birds and Whales Fall is a fine time of year for birding and whale-watching, when autumnal colours cover the countryside in la belle province, Quebec! Eagle-Eye’s Quebec tour begins in the provincial capital Quebec City, from which we explore Jacques Cartier National Park and Léon-Provancher Marsh to get a first taste of Quebec birding. Heading east, we stop at the famed Cap Tourmente National Wildlife Area where we experience the spectacle of thousands of migrating snow geese and other waterfowl. We head north into Grands Jardins National Park to experience a near-alpine boreal forest, then down the north shore of the mighty St. Lawrence, enjoying the fall scenery of the Charlevoix region. Reaching Tadoussac, we head out on the St. Lawrence in search of whales such as humpback, Minke, fin and especially beluga. |
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Snowmobiling in Paradise Basin. (Photo: Robin Esrock) |
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I'm having dinner with an American writer, a first-time visitor to Canada. Picking away at her introductory plate of poutine, we’re discussing the cultural differences that span the 49th parallel. In the United States, I explain, incredible natural attractions are heavily marketed and promoted on billboards, where visitors are usually charged for admission. We do that in Canada, too, of course, yet I often find myself exploring a destination or activity, and a guide will just casually mention there’s something worth seeing along the way. When I inevitably show up at that something, it kicks me hard in the bucket list. Soon after, we find ourselves admiring the world’s longest skating path on Lake Windermere in Invermere, B.C. Every year, the Toby Creek Nordic Ski Club grooms a 30-kilometre-plus track around this stunning lake, adding cross-country skiing and fat-biking trails and curling and hockey rinks for good measure. Framed by the Rockies and Purcell Mountain range, there are two main access points, with entrance by donation to support the multi-use path’s impressive maintenance. Conditions weren’t ideal for a skate on the Whiteway, so we walk the path, spotting ice-fishing cabins in the distance and bubbles suspended in the ice beneath our feet. It’s spectacular, but the Kootenay region is a spectacular region of British Columbia, so all of this is par for the course (11 of which welcomes golfers around Invermere each summer). |
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Friendly locals, tide-to-table seafood and some of the best fishing in Florida. Why Destin should be your next stop along the Florida Panhandle |
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Catching an early boat shuttle from the Emerald Grande to the adjacent beach means you can often enjoy the area with little-to-no people. (Photo: Samantha Pope) |
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I should have packed my ski goggles. It’s a ridiculous thought to have in the Florida Panhandle, where temperatures can reach 20 degrees Celsius even in the fall and winter. Still, it pops into my head as I squint at the sweeping white dunes that descend to the emerald coastline. The sun and sand interweave to form a bright glare reminiscent of ski runs back home in Canada, and I can’t help but chuckle as I realize I’m subconsciously searching for trail markers amid a sea of radiant white. I learned later that the brightness of the sand is due to ground quartz deposits from the Appalachian Mountains, which are highly reflective, hence my immediate vampire-like need for protective eyewear. As I step off the ramp of the boat shuttle, my feet vanish into the sugary sand with a soft scrunch. Unlike the stiffness of matted snow, these grains are so fine they spill onto the insoles of my Teva sandals, and with each step, I feel like I’m simultaneously floating and sinking into a powdery abyss. The beach I’ve arrived at – adjacent to my hotel, the Emerald Grande – is completely deserted, save for a handful of vibrant orange butterflies and dozens of shorebirds pecking at whatever the ocean has swept to the coast. |
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