The rugosa roses were in full bloom, even in the sandy soils near the river beaches. On Saturday our friend took us to Port-au-Persil, literally "Parsley Port," so named by Samuel Champlain because he thought he saw Scottish parsley growing there. Oddly enough, eventually Port-au-Persil was settled by Scottish families. Now, the little settlement is a mixture of French year-round dwellers and Anglo "summer people."
We had a picnic on the beach, where our friend used to come as a child with her grandmother and great-aunts. There were dry salami, Quebec cheeses, smoked mackerel, French bread, a bit of paté, and hard-boiled eggs, which we cracked and ate dipped in salt poured into a crevice in the rocks. "My grandmother liked to come here and have what she called a 'tea picnic,' our friend told us. "We'd make a fire in the rocks, and boil the kettle right there, and have tea with little sandwiches and often hard-boiled eggs." She looked out at the water and smiled. "I've eaten a lot of hard-boiled eggs on this beach!"
After lunch we explored the tide pools, being careful not to slip on the wet mats of seaweed. The pools were teeming with all sizes of a small, green, shrimp-like crustacean, and many many snails.
Then we went clamberng over the rocks, many of which had amazing, almost perfectly straight grey stripes in the pink granite.
This is Labrador tea, growing lushly at the edge of the rocks.
And this is the interior of the tiny seaside chapel shown in the second photo. Services were held here once a month in the summer until recently, when the house nearby changed hands; the present owners allow the chapel to remain open but don't permit public worship there, which is a shame - no one seems to know why. Though probably there were memories of tragedies held between those white walls, the chapel had a lovely, peaceful feeling inside, looking out at the water.
What a lovely little holiday in a gorgeous area, how I've enjoyed these posts. The history is interesting compared to our 'younger' west coast yet there are similarities in the landscape (minus our huge mountains). I can imagine you doing a drawing of that fascinating striped rock, Beth.
Posted by: Marja-Leena | July 24, 2012 at 02:02 PM
I can't believe I grew up in Quebec City and only went to Charlevoix once (that I can remember). Your blog posts make me want to go back and explore much more! (except for the black flies part...)
Posted by: Martine | July 24, 2012 at 03:06 PM
Marja-Leena, it was you I was thinking of as I wandered around these fascinating rocks! Too many to photograph. Jonathan says I must be drawn to geological hot spots...I'm planning some prints and maybe some small oil or pastel landscapes from the trip, so stay tuned!
When the black flies are exploring your food it does get to be a bit too much...but you should definitely go. Next time we'll stay longer and go to Tadoussac and the Saguenay.
Posted by: Beth | July 24, 2012 at 03:42 PM
A beautiful place; I love the white-painted interior of the chapel, different from anything you'd see here. Perhaps the flies aren't so bad earlier in the year, like Scottish midges?
Posted by: Lucy | July 24, 2012 at 04:41 PM
To visit the Charlevoix region has now moved up a few levels on my 'want to do' list. Fascinating rocks. As if one were looking at them through striped curtains. And pic-nic on the rocks! A gift of a day.
Posted by: Ellena | July 24, 2012 at 05:10 PM
Great memories. I particularly liked the last photo, Beth.
Posted by: Mary | July 24, 2012 at 05:56 PM
Lovely, Beth, these two Charlevoix posts. Thank you.
Posted by: Robert | July 25, 2012 at 12:44 PM
Knew there would be a Marja-Leena striped-rock comment! And the chapel is lovely. What a shame that it is a look-don't-touch thing now...
Posted by: marly youmans | July 25, 2012 at 02:01 PM
What a stunning place, Beth, one I knew nothing about and your photos are fantastic. Without the carnivorous flies it could be paradise!
Posted by: Natalie | July 25, 2012 at 06:44 PM