4 September 2008 Oh, no!!!

This post was supposed to be about the trip I made to St-Joseph-de-la-rive last weekend with my younger son. However, said son inadvertantly (???) packed my digie cam in his luggage. It's now in Montréal, and won't be recovered until he comes to Québec, or I go to Montréal, which won't be tomorrow. Siiiiigh! Didn't realize how much I love that DC! All is not lost, however. I have pictures from the trip I took to the same place with a friend, in July.
The town cited above is small, on the St. Lawrence, and literally has its back to a very fragile mountain. One of the sites to visit there is a humungous crater, now grass-covered, dug out by a comet in ages past. Most heavenly visitors don't make it through our atmosphere intact. If they do, they're usually bits and pieces, some large enough to do damage, but planet-threatening sized ones very rarely make it through. These last, to survive burning up in our atmosphere, need to be truly unimageably huge on entering our atmosphere, to do the damage the one did that landed in Charlesvoix county--where my son and I were.
Up an impossibly steep hill--Marc was driving, and when he saw the hill, said, "Good grief! (language amended for Internet purposes), "What gear am I going to use to get up that hill!" We did make it up to the top, however, where the town of Les Éboulements hangs onto the edge of said hill. Great view! The name of this town means, Landslides. The underpinnings of the whole region has been made fragile by the comet's landing. The first settlers found this out when an earthquake brought a side of the mountain tumbling down about them. Huge boulders are still visible, torn from the earth and flung about as by a giant's hand, are still visible in the countryside.
Earthquakes still shake the region from time to time, but one forgets this history when looking out on the St. Lawrence, already much wider at this point than in Québec, sunshine dancing on its waves. The blue of the river is repeated by the mountains on the far side, which blend in with the blue of the sky. Look long, and it seems that the three are one. Close your eyes and listen to the rhythm of the waves as they sigh onto the shore. Your heartbeat slows, your muscles relax, and life rocks you in gentle arms. Take a deep breath and let the salt air clear your lungs. Listen to the cry of the gulls, whose voices are part of the song of the St. Lawrence.
Pictures, top to bottom: 1. Hôtel Beauséjour, St-Joseph-de-la-rive; 2. part of hotel's porch; 3. yours truly, relaxing; 4. Quai at St-Joseph, looking back toward village; 5. Quai and ferry crossing to l'Isle aux Coudres; 6. view of intimidating road up to Les Éboulements; 7. outdoor part of Maritime Museum, with ship being overhauled for eventual tours. Ships like this were kings of the St. Lawrence, carrying logs and other merchandise at a time when there were no roads or railroads; 8. mast of an old, abandoned ship at the museum.