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NATASHQUAN - THE END OF THE ROAD
Just outside Aguanish is another one of these belvederes with a view over the Gulf of St Lawrence, and this is where I decided to spend the night. After all, it's just a short drive from Natashquan and this is where I need to be.
It was cold and damp here through the night but I have to put up with these things while I'm on the road, especially as I have a goal in view for later this morning. I can't afford to be choosy.
And while I was having my morning coffee, a lorry drove past me. A typical North-American type of lorry called an Autocar. I've not heard of that make before - I wonder who they are.
They say that this part of the road was only completed in 1996 but this particular piece of windy up-hill and down-dale road was of really poor quality and so I'm not sure what happened here.
However, you'll notice that they seem to be getting ready to do something about it by building a new piece of straight modern road up over the top and down the other side. That's what it looks like to me anyway.
You'll notice the plastic tubes that they are using as culverts for the streams to flow though. They've been clearly reading my notes from 2010.
This little cabin at the side of the road looks quite twee and picturesque, but I bet that it isn't. It must be really hell to live in that in the middle of winter. It wasn't exactly warm right now as you can tell by the snow on the ground, and we are coming up to mid-May.
What passes for soil is depressing enough too. Nothing but sand and even if you did manage to make some kind of fertile plot, the short growing season means that nothing at all of any use would grow in it.
And so I finally make it into Natashquan, the pays raconte. And why would it be called the "land of which an account has been given"? Presumably because it's the setting of several songs and poems written by Gilles Vigneault
The setting is beautiful enough, that's for sure. I can't say that it's overwhelming, but it's certainly not disappointing.
The modern tourist information centre was certainly disappointing, and not just because its so modern that it's totally out-of-place here in the town.
I drove past here five times in total and on every occasion it was closed. Natashquan is said to be famous for its warm welcome, but whoever wrote that has clearly never tried to visit the tourist information office here.
To make matters worse, the public access wifi was switched off so I couldn't even access the internet. This led to something of a diappointment as there was something that I needed to do.
The town of Natashquan is really in two halves - an eastern part and a western part and they are separated by a river.
There's a bridge over the river of course and that was an obvious candidate for a photograph. That wasn't as easy as it sounds either as there was a sharp bend right at the other end and every time I had my view set, a car or lorry would miraculously appear.
So why not go to the othet end to take the photo? Well, I had thought of that but there was nowhere to park. And I wasn't going to walk as it was teeming down with rain at this moment.
The harbour is in the western part of the town and that was somewhere high up on my list of places to visit - a "ports of call", you might say, if you pardon the expression.
There are a couple of fishing boats in the harbour and there's a refrigerated lorry or two up there, presumably from the processing plant at Havre-St-Pierre although I wouldn't know for sure, collecting the catch.
It was here that I had a major disappointment - one that I had been half-expecting and so it wasn't a devastating blow.
The ferry is running a couple of weeks behind schedule so not only is it fully-booked as far as cars go (there's only space for 12 cars), there's no car space for the next 6 weeks or so.
Not only that, apparently locals from the Lower North Shore have priority (which is only to be expected) over tourists. Many a time, a local will turn up with a car only to discover that all of the car spaces have been occupied by other coasters, as the locals from further down the coast are called. He will then travel as a foot passenger and have his car follow along on the next available voyage to the detriment of any casual tourist whose car will be bumped off the ship.
In other words, I can forget my plans for freighting the Dodge and Yours Truly to Blanc Sablon, which was the original plan. Still, I knew when I set out that I was being rather optimistic.
All that remains for me now is to drive down to the very end of Highway 138 and then retrace my steps to Forestville, hoping that the ferry to Rimouski is still operating.
By now, the weather has broken as I mentioned earlier and we are having a torrential rainstorm. Well, at least it's not snowing, which is always something to be grateful for, I suppose.
I'm off to one of the lakes just behind the town as it's now lunchtime and I want a quiet spec to sit and eat my butty. This involved taking the airport road into the interior and you can see what kind of landscape that we have here.
It's nothing but sand, heather and rough scrubland that's trying ts best to develop into an evergreen forest. It's typical tundra scenery here, pretty to look at but to be honest, it does become monotonous after a while, as a desert does.
I bet it's awful to try to live here and eke out a living. You won't gain a living from the land and it's just as well that I have a good stock of salad stuff in the Dodge because I'm not going to find what I want out here, that's for certain.
I thought that in my magnum opus I'd include a photograph of today's lunchstop.
It'a actually the local seaplane base, complete with car park, landing jetty, fuel tank, fuel pump, office and all that kind of thing. I'm not really all that sure exactly what its reason is for being here but it's certainly interesting to see. However it would have been much more interesting had there been a seaplane or two tethered to the landing jetty.
I suppose, thinking on, that it's all to do with the outlying islands here. Even if they aren't populated, they have to be visited from time to time and using a boat would take forever.
And while I was eating my butty, I was reading a story concerning John Edwards, editor of the Sedalia Democrat newspaper back in the 1870s and 80s. It includes a delightful euphemism for having been out on a bender, as reported by the aforemention who used to go off on one himself quite often.
Upon returning home, he would always announce
"I have just returned home from the Indian Territory"
The seaplane base isn't the only important hang-out in the area for aviation buffs. Natashquan also has an airport, something quite essential, I suppose, for anyone in a hurry (although if you were the kind of person who was usually in a hurry, you wouldn't want to be coming right out here).
It's a little more friendly than the airport that we visited at Baie Comeau about a hundred years ago - there's no charge for parking.
So back on Highway 138, ever continuing east because we haven't finished yet.
Attached to the township of Natashquan is an area known as Pointe-Parent. This really was at one time the end of the road.
This area is famous for being the site of Manteo-Matikap, which was a Montagnais meeting place and fishing encampment at the end of spring. That date was significant in that it was about the earliest that it was feasible to travel from outlying places and also coincided with the arrival of the salmon.
Today, however, during the months of July and August it becomes a tourist trap where the meeting place is "recreated" and tourists can come to experience an "authentic traditional meal" and sleep, if they so desire, in an "Innu tent".
In case you are wondering, by the way, I worked for 15 years in the tourism industry and I've seen all of this kind of thing from the other side of the fence.
Work is, however, still continuing on Highway 138 and it is being slowly extended eastwards - the emphasis being on the "slowly". Here, we arrive at the end of the metalled road and prepare to take the gravel extension, and we are told that the end of the road is still 18 kilometres away.
As for the road itself, you can see all of the dust that is being created as the odd car or two passes down there and makes the place look shrouded in fog. This is in a damp mid-May morning. It must be hell down there in August.
There's a bit of an old road down there to the right. That is probably a track for motorised snowmobiles during the period when there is snow on the ground, and was perhaps the old track out here before this extension to Highway 138 was built.
I have to admit that I wouldn't fancy my chances of driving down there in a hire car. The hire company would have something to say about it if I were to do so, and quite rightly so.
My attention was drawn, as yours probably was, in the previous photograph to the triangular layout of the electricity poles. When I found one that was nearer the road I went for a closer inspection.
They aren't really triangular. It's a traditional upright wooden pole with a horizontal brace at the foot and a couple of diagonal braces in triangluar form that keep the whole thing in position. Something quite essential given the humid nature of the groud. Without the bracing, the pole would just keel over.
And you will notice the plastic tube being used as a culvert. They really HAVE been reading my notes about the use of galvanised tubes.
So that's your lot, people. That's me finished. This is the very end of Highway 138 and we can't go anywhere beyond this point - not even on foot as it is all fenced off. There's a huge embankment and ditch that's been dug across the road so I can't even see beyond it.
They are still working on extending Highway 138 of course, but it won't be finished until long after I've been transformed into an oak tree in that natural cemetery in North Yorkshire.
As far as the locals go, the guy in the ferry terminal with whom I spoke earlier this morning is not at all optimistic about them doing anything serious about completing this road to connect up with the other end coming upstream from Blanc Sablon.
He told me that the ferry company has recently spent God alone knows how many millions of dollars building a new ship with a much bigger carrying capacity and with room for more than twice as many cars. The company wouldn't be doing that if it were afraid of road-going competition. We've seen ferries out here that are over 40 years old, like the MV Apollo for example.
Well anyway, so, what now? Nothing for it now except to turn round and head for home - or at least to Forestville and hope that the ferry across to Rimouski is working as I haven't been on that one yet.
Or so you might think.
But I have a cunning plan and I'm not going to give up quite that easily. I haven't come all this way merely to turn around and go quietly home.
And had I come here 18 months later, I wouldn't have had to turn round either. On September 26, 2013, this stretch of road was opened, and now it's possible to drive all the way to Kegaska.
And not only that, little bits of Highway 138 isolated from the main network, such as the route Mecatina between Mutton Bay and La Tabatière, have seen survey parties and the word "upgrade" has been mentioned.
Who knows? Maybe the threat of Blanc Sablon seceding from Quebec and rejoining Newfoundland and Labrador has finally galvanised the Quebec Government into action.
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