TROIS RIVIERES

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Having done the industrial bit of Trois Rivieres back in 2011, it was time to see what the town can offer me by the way of sights and attractions. As I mentioned earlier, I've never been here before. I've simply driven around it on the freeway and my impressions have not been positive, due mainly to the smell given off by the processed wood pulp.

Being a Pisces I have an attraction to water - "but not so much as you want to bath in it" ...ed - and so I decided to follow the banks of the river into town

And do you know what? I'm pleasantly surprised. I seem to find myself parked up on a bluff overlooking the St Lawrence with all kinds of exciting things going on around me. There's even a view of the Pont Laviolette in the background.

And who, by the way, is Laviolette, after whom the bridge is named? I bet you have been wondering just that. In fact, Nicolas Goupil, the Sieur de Laviolette or "Lord Laviolette", was an associate of Champlain and was charged in 1634 - the 4th of July, so I am told, with the task of establishing a fur outpost on this site. The settlement that sprang up around the post, in the midst of territory occupied by the Huron, the Algonquin and the Abenaki, was the second colony, after Québec, to be established in what was called New France in those days. Montreal was not established until 1642.

We've seen the magnificent view upriver towards Montreal, and the view downriver towards Québec and the St Lawrence estuary isn't all that bad either. It's what they call a commanding position, and one that can dominate the river approaches to Montreal.

With all of the uncertainties over the political situation in North America, you can see the attraction of having an outpost up here on the bluff, and it's no surprise to anyone that it wasn't long before the decision was made to fortify the position.

Where I was standing, by the way, when I was taking this series of photographs is on a series of terraces known as the Parc Portuaire, or "Park of the Port", and you can see the port from here. It was at one time private property owned by one of the mayors of the city, Joseph-Edouard Turcotte, and he donated it to the town in 1857 for the purpose of making a public park.

It must have been exciting up here back in those days to watch the sailing ships come upriver in the tide. It's quite impressive even now to watch modern ships come up here, even if diesel engines have taken all of the skill, spectator enjoyment and profitable casual profits of looting a wrecked cargo, out of steering against the currents, sandbanks and submerged rocks.

That ship out there, the Kwintebank, looks like a typical Great Lakes bulk carrier. She's flying the Canadian flag from the masthead anyway, but none of that is correct - apart from the name of course. She's a Dutch ship, in case you hadn't guessed from the name, built in 2002 and of 9600 tonnes.

And a big "hello" to , the First Officer of the Kwintebank as it sailed up the river in September 2011, who sent me a mail when he saw the photo. He told me that he was looking out of the third porthole on the port side, but some people will tell me anything.

Nevertheless, his mail did remind me of the scene from Carry on Columbus when the representative of the Spanish crown came on board the ship
"Hello, sailor. Take me to the Captain!"
"Sailor? Sailor? I am the Captain's Mate!"
"I don't care who your friends are - just take me to the Captain!"

But when I came here in 2013, it wasn't like this at all. It seems that half of Canada is here with me.

That was what I thought when I drove into town and saw all of these people milling about in the streets. It made me wonder what was going on. I didn't have to look to far to find the answer, though. It seems that we are having a local market here on the waterfront - hence the crowds. And just for a change, we are having quite a nice day for it.

It seems to degenerate into some kind of gigantic street party too, running the whole length of the Promenade at the foot of the Platon and along the Turcotte Terrace. I shall have to go to investigate.

Before I do that, I shall present my compliments to the Pont Laviolette down there in the distance. What a fine example of a bow-girder bridge she is.

So here I am, mingling with the masses on the Terrace Turcotte, and masses of people there are too.

Masses of booths too, and all kinds of things are on sale here, from the exotic to the banal. It isn't much of a surprise to anyone to discover that beer, hot dogs and hamburgers are pretty high on the list.

And frozen fruit sorbets too. My luck is in. But there's no cash here. Payment is by jetons, tokens that you buy from conveniently-located booths up and down the promenade. What's that all about?

You could even buy a new car here too, if you so desired, and we were presented with a choice of either a little Hyundai Scion or a much larger Toyota Corolla. And here's a thing that many people will find surprising.

The little Scion, with its 1800cc engine, is stated, according to Government-approved statistics, to have a fuel consumption of 7.6 litres/100 kms in an urban environment and 5.9 litres/100 kms on the highways. She will set you back a mere $22,900.

The bigger Toyota, of an unknown cc, needs a mere 6.9 litres/100 kms in an urban environment and just 5.2 litres/100 kms on the highways, according to the same Government statistics, and costs just a couple of hundred dollars more.

I don't know about you but given the choice, I'd go for the legroom and the extra luggage space in the bigger car and not worry about the couple of hundred dollars, because I know that I would make it back on the fuel saving. These fuel consumption figures really do make a mockery of this "city car" concept.

I don't know about today of course because I'm well out of the loop but in the 80s and 90s Toyotas were by far and away the best cars to ever come out of the rising sun.

And here's another thing.

While I was prowling around the market, I encountered a couple more of the Province of Quebec's finest, and I was intrigued by the nature of the machines upon which they were mounted.

As you know, the only way to find out the answer to anything is to ask the question, and so I duly approached the aforementioned. These machines are called T3 (pronounced tay trwa, which is an almost-identical pronunciation to tais-toi - or "shut your gob!") Mobile.

They are powered by electric motors, travel at up to 30 kph, have disc brakes and are "much better than being on a pushbike".

So, as Bernard Bresslaw said in Carry On Up The Khyber, "now we know!"

There's even more excitement going on up there, judging by all of the flags, and all of the people milling around. This has to be something worth investigating.

Whatever it is, it's taking place in a little park that I visted when I was here in 2011 (more of which anon), and I note that it's sponsored by a well-known chain of Québecois chemists. I was therefore tempted to say to myself that whatever it is, it could be just what the doctor ordered.

I'll get my coat.

Ahh - it's a circus thats up here entertaining us. All kinds of clowns and all kinds of acrobats, but no real animals, thank you very much. We have strong opinions about that kind of thing.

Mostly children in the audience of course, and as Gerry Rafferty once famously said -
"Everybody seems to have a good time,"
"Nobody goes stepping out of line,"
"Everyone's agreed that everything will turn out fine"

But never mind about 2013 - back in 2011 I hadn't been 30 seconds on the site of Laviolette's early settlement before I had changed my opinion of the town and so, changing the habits of a lifetime, I put a couple of dollars in a parking meter for two hours parking and resolve to undertake a further exploration

You can see the Dodge from 2011. It's the second vehicle up there on the right hand side. And what you can't see, unfortunately, is the black squirrel that greeted my arrival. They have them here too.

I mentioned Le Platon a little earlier, didn't I?

This part of Trois Rivieres is called Le Platon and it was where Laviolette's fort of 1634 was built. I was expecting that Le Platon would have been something to do with "plateau", seeing as it is in fact a plateau at 100 feet above the river, but apparently it's supposed to be a corruption of Peloton. That's a complete surprise to me. I didn't even know that they had the Tour de France in 1634, and I'm sure that you won't able to see it from here.

But this old bit on the bluff just here is much nicer that I was expecting. I'm glad that I took the trouble to come here for a nosey around.

With the Dodge now safely installed at a parking meter I set off for a prowl around the old town to see what I can see.

That old white building just there looking out over the river is the CSRA Building. And the CSRA is the Co-opérative des Services Regroupés en Approvisionnement de la Mauricie et du Centre-du-Québec, which looks as if it might be the head office of the local social welfare organisations for the area.

La Mauricie by the way is the name given to the area around here and inland, and you might be wondering how that name originates. So let me tell you a rather long story.

You will probably be thinking that the name of the town - Trois Rivieres - comes from the fact that there are three rivers here. But, of course, there aren't. There are only two. One is of course the St Lawrence and the other is the St Maurice. And why the area around here is called La Mauricie is because it is effectively the area of the valley of the St Lawrence.

And so why "Trois Rivieres" then? Well that's because there are two large islands, the Isle de St Quentin and the Isle de la Poterie, in the mouth of the St Maurice where it joins the St Lawrence, and with two large islands, you have of course three channels.

As for the St Maurice, this was the river by which the early fur traders set out into the interior. It was also the site of the first industrial complex in Canada - the Forge of St Maurice was set up there, just a few miles from Trois Rivieres, in 1730 and operated until 1883.

Now, after all of my exertions during the 24 hours following my arrival here on Saturday early afternoon in 2013, I find that I have advanced not a millimetre, for in the early afternoon of Sunday I find myself having lunch in more or less exactly the same spot as I did yesterday in Trois Rivieres, except that rather than sitting in the car, I'm sitting on an empty bench right on the edge of the terrace overlooking the river. I can't think of a nicer spot to stop and have lunch

Even more astonishing was that there was no space for me to park as I drove past, but as I drove back and rounded the corner onto the terrace a car, parked on the other side of the road, exactly where I was parked yesterday, pulled away. I did a quick spin round on the handbrake and slid into the empty space before a vehicle coming the other way had time to react.

That's not something that happens every day.

To sum up, just let me say that old town here on the Platon is really impressive and the site is tremendous. Every step seems to be seeped in history and there are very few places in North America about which that can be said. As for that rocky headland butte thing - it's a real beaut.

But not everyone agrees with me. A Swedish naturalist by the name of Peter Kalm passed this way in the summer of 1749 and during his visit he wrote what I suppose could effectively be called the first ever tourist guide. His recorded opinion of Trois Rivieres back then was that it was
"a little market town which had the appearance of a large village".

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