Part 6

Pointe à Pic (Murray Bay, South) is known the world over for its magnificent landscapes and the rugged grandeur of the scenery with which nature has endowed it. Precipice, gorge and cloud-capped peaks are everywhere, and the general view, Alpine, Scottish and wild, is superb.

Champlain called here, and it was he who named it Malbaie on account of its rapid tide. The native French still use that name; for the words Murray Bay are difficult to pronounce, and when they do use this name it sounds like Mooriebay with a long ‘Moore’ and a short ‘bay.’ Pointe à Pic, on the other hand, rolls off their tongues with a delightful piquancy; no wonder they prefer to use it.

There is fishing, boating, sailing and bathing of a very enjoyable kind. Aquatic life has not been developed as much as it should have been with so many choice privileges right at hand. Carriage driving, tennis, and, particularly, golf are supreme. Perhaps this is not to be wondered at when the splendid and inexhaustible drives the neighborhood affords are considered; and the golf links are so beautiful and in such a splendid situation that the popularity of this healthful recreation is easily understood.

There are hundreds of pleasant cottages, many spacious bungalows and not a few country mansions. These are dotted in long picturesque lines by the shore of the Bay and on the cliffs that follow the bend of the water. These houses are to the right and left of the long road that runs from Point à Pic to the bridge at Murray Bay River, on which street or roadway the village houses, rented cottages and some of the hotels are placed. Many of the bungalows have charming situations right on the water, with pleasant gardens and decorative stone walls between main road and shore. Others are embowered in the hilly land that follows the contour of the Bay, where with breezy porches, enjoyable gardens and delightful air, the roofs and gables are all that show from the lower road. Rustic gates, zigzag steps up the grassy heights, handrails of saplings with the bark unstripped, and arbour-covered terraces or ‘rests’ with shady seats on the way up, all mark the country-like aspect of the surroundings.

There are many alluring drives in this neighborhood; few anywhere can compare with them. A more romantic trip than that to the Upper and Lower Falls of the Fraser River could hardly be imagined. Leaving the carriage, exploring the wood and descending into the ravine, a beautiful view is seen. The upper fall descends in two drops to a depth of two hundred and ninety feet, and the lower fall has a descent of one hundred and fifty feet. The Thou, Chute, Desbiens, and the Nearn Fall with its salmon leap, are favorite objectives for enjoyable driving excursions.

The long wharf at Point à Pic is a bustling centre when steamboats are coming in or going out. Rows of carriages are backed in compact lines as far as the eye can see. It is almost equally lively at night, and presents a gay sight with its strings of electric light and clusters of summer people congregating on the wharf to meet the coming and speed departing friends. Everyone comes to see the boats arrive and depart. Furniture, cots, etc., are being unloaded rapidly, and there, as a box is passed ashore the strong electric light shows it is addressed to—Cabot; historic name! The busy scene on steamer and wharf, the plash of the water, the bustle of the moving carriages, the long line of the pier thrown out from the stern cliff, the beautiful air and the fascination of a St. Lawrence sunset with its fairy panorama of fantastic cloud, silver tinted under the influence of the rising moon—these things constitute a scene that is truly delightful.

Owing to the fine drives in the neighborhood, carriages are very numerous. Almost every house of a _habitant_ has its stable, and whether he be a grocer, a shoemaker or what not, his _voiture_ may be seen emerging from its lane by the trim little cottage to meet every steamboat that calls at the wharf.

The life at Murray Bay is very pleasant; and it is sure to be enjoyed by all who like driving, walking, boating, bathing, tennis, golf, etc.; all of which recreations may be followed here to their full in the midst of ideal surroundings.

Cap à l’Aigle may be described as a farm-village resort. It has a pleasant little strip of shale and gravel beach. It has a waterfall, where, although the volume of water passing over it is small, the view is very picturesque. Beach life is not prominent in any of the Murray Bay resorts, unless it is at St. Irénée. This is because of the wonderful attraction the surrounding country has for walks, drives, and other outdoor recreations. A few houses cluster at the top of the road leading up from the wharf at Cap à l’Aigle, and farm houses extend along the tops of the cliffs in the direction of St. Fidèle and St. Simeon.

There are numerous pleasant walks along the breezy heights, and the road to Murray Bay River and village is an enjoyable one. Cap à l’Aigle has a quiet, restful, and simple life that suits it for those who desire to spend the summer not too near to a town; and in addition, it has the advantage of being within reasonable distance of the busy summer centre at Murray Bay.

On the south shore of the St. Lawrence, almost opposite Cap à l’Aigle, lies bright and picturesque Kamouraska, with its white houses lining the river, and its five verdant islands reposing within convenient reach for the enjoyment of boating, bathing and fishing. There are summer cottages here pleasantly placed along the banks, and a number of stopping-places for visitors are found on the quiet streets. Driving, walking, and tennis are the recreations, with the usual social life found in country vacation centres. The village is very prettily laid out; and the enjoyable stretches of beach, with the abundant tree-growth of the neighborhood, make this a favorite spot. Kamouraska is near the Intercolonial Railway station of St. Paschal, from which place it is reached by a carriage drive of about six miles.

1. Bungalow 2. Cape Fortin 3. Lower Fraser Falls 4. Bungalow

Rivière du Loup, some twenty-three miles down the St. Lawrence from Kamouraska, is a growing city of considerable importance. It took its name from the seals, once very numerous by the mouth of the river. It has a pleasant situation on high land, and on that account it has cool air. The long main street stretches continuously to Fraserville, and follows the channel of the river for some distance. It is a natural tourist centre; and the hotel accommodation is good. The hotels at the Fraserville end are particularly suited to those making a stay in the neighborhood; for some are large and roomy, with nice gardens and a fine view of the river from the quiet porches and balconies on the St. Lawrence side. There are pleasant drives to Notre Dame du Portage village, Cacouna, etc.; and enjoyable trips may be made over the lines of the Intercolonial and Temiscouata Railways, as well as on the river in various directions. Lake Temiscouata, or ‘Winding Water,’ the Touladi River and Lake, the Madawaska, or ‘Never-Frozen’ River and the Acadian village of Edmundston are all reached by going over the line of the Temiscouata Railway. These places are all in the heart of a good fishing and hunting country.

At ‘The Point’ on the river, numerous cottages have been built for the enjoyment of cool river breezes, and here, too, good summer hotels are found where gay companies spend happy days in boating and other amusements. The wharf with its promenade 2,500 feet long is a favorite spot at all times, and from this point the steamers of the Trans St. Laurent Company leave for Tadousac and the Saguenay, almost immediately opposite on the north shore some twenty-five miles across.

The celebrated Falls of the Rivière du Loup are still beautiful, although mills, etc., have made sad inroads on their beauty. They are seen to best advantage by crossing the Intercolonial Railway bridge and walking through the fields to a point down stream where a high bank commands a full view of the river bed and the fall above.

Rivière du Loup is the centre of an interesting district; its stores are very attractive, and its streets shady and well kept; while the Fraserville district and the summer resorts of ‘The Point’ affords attractive opportunities for passing many a restful week in the summer days. From this point, too, may be had one of the best views of the north shore mountains found along the whole river.

No more pleasant a way of reaching Tadousac and the world-famous Saguenay River can be imagined than that enjoyed by taking a steamer of the Trans St. Laurent Company from Rivière du Loup wharf. It is a delightful trip of about two hours and a half, and it is doubtful whether any other way of approaching the Saguenay gives the pleasure and breadth of prospect that this commands.

Near where the steamboat lies at the starting wharf, great three-masted merchantmen anchor to discharge and take on freight, and tied up by the wharf itself huge steam barges receive their freight of pulp wood for the U. S. A.

1. On the Beach 2. On the Rocks

As the crossing is made, numerous craft of all kinds come into view. Boats, launches, barges, yachts, schooners, steamships, ocean liners and naval vessels all pass by. The air is delightful and invigorating, and the salt breeze from the ocean is both perceptible and stimulating. The water is smooth, with just a gentle swell. There is hardly a ripple to be seen, save here and there where without apparent reason a tiny wavelet bursts on the surface and spreads its milky froth around for a brief second or two, and then becomes lost to the sight in the general silvery calm that prevails. The sky overhead is clear, while near the horizon beautiful clouds of grey and sun-lit white lend enchantment to the distant mountain range on the north, now drawing nearer and nearer and gradually becoming distinguishable. To the west a barge is crossing south, and its long trail of black smoke reaches down to the Hare Islands where it mingles with the white fleece of the cloud horizon and reflects a glint of sunshine over the island slopes.

To the far west the Allan liner that passed by an hour before is mingling its smoke and vapor with that of the barge, and building strange and fantastic castles in the air. To the east Red Island looks like a long pontoon craft calmly sailing over the waters. Before us the mountain range that erstwhile was dark, and dimly visible, is now clearing and coming within view, and shows light and shade of green fields and darker woodland.

As if by magic, the water has suddenly taken on a deep blue, and the effect is to make the distant hills further off than they seemed before. Now we pass through a river of molten silver, the wake of a vessel that went by long ago. Gliding through, we reach a lake-like expanse, cerulean in hue, and St. Catharines comes into view over the bow of our vessel, with Tadousac beyond on the right.

We are now nearing the famous Saguenay, where the mariners of ten centuries ago tarried after their long voyage to the ‘Ultima Thule’ of those remote days.

That which appeared to be a huge cloud bank over the rent in the mountain range, where pours out the river in a mighty flood, is now assuming form as a second and greater range beyond, dwarfing more and more the high riparian hills into comparative insignificance.

But Tadousac is near, its grand prospect is spread out for our gaze on every side, and we are making fast to a wharf in a romantic, rocky cove—both wharf and cove presenting the appearance of having dropped out of some picture-book in the clouds, so charming and striking is the whole scene.

Tadousac was named by the native Montagnais Indians, the word meaning mounds, or, as in this case, mountains. It has been said that the village is placed like a nest in the midst of granite rocks that surround the mouth of the Saguenay. It is built on a crescent-like terrace, backed and flanked by mountains, and has a fine view over the harbor, river, and distant shore of the St. Lawrence. The whole life of the place is so tranquil and uncommercial that it does not intrude on the visitor’s pleasure. It does not follow from this that there is an absence of life here—quite the contrary, for Tadousac is a favorite resort of thousands; but what is meant is that throngs are rarely seen on the streets or roads. A thousand people may arrive on one of the great steamboats, and for a while a scene of activity prevails at the wharf; but in a short time they disperse for the roads, woods, lakes, park, shore and hotels, and soon the usual tranquility prevails. There is nothing to mar the repose of the slumbering little Chapel of the Jesuits on the heights; and its bell, over three centuries old, still rings true. The Government Piscicultural Station, or salmon hatchery, is beautifully placed and kept, overlooking the wharf and rocky cove. Here the little creek Anse a l’Eau makes out, and the tiny waterfall, the lake, the platform walks, the summer house, and climbing on the rocky slopes, attract many to a quiet enjoyment of their beauties.

Golf, tennis, walks, boating, etc., are the chief amusements, and children find plenty of occupation playing on the fronting sand beach, or in climbing the rocks and hills. There is a pleasant promenade in front of the principal hotel. It faces south-east, commands one of the noblest prospects ever seen, and is immediately above the beach and open to the cool summer breeze. Summer houses or pergolas dot the walk on the top of the cliff, and there is no lack of pleasant walks in many directions. There are places where the first thought on arrival is, “how can I occupy my time?” The thought that immediately comes to mind here is, “how can I see what is to be seen here in a few days—a week—or a month?”

The display of the Aurora Borealis is often magnificent in this region. The Indians call this the reflection of the Camp Fires in the Happy Hunting-Grounds. On a night when the sky is cloudless, and brilliant with stars, it is a joyous experience to camp out. Possibly there is just enough of a breeze to fan the flickering flame of the camp fire. The broad expanse of the St. Lawrence is unruffled by a single ripple, and as the gaze follows its surface the glorious stars are mirrored like shining jewels. Looking to the mountains, great rays of white shoot upward from behind their far-away heights. Stupendous arches of purple mount into the blue sky, transient, evanescent; for soon the dream-like fabric crumbles and disappears, to be followed by red or crimson flames and a suffused glow as of some cosmic conflagration in far-off space.

The white porpoise is hunted with harpoons on the Saguenay and St. Lawrence rivers. A length of fifteen feet for this fish is not uncommon. They are not unlike the whale in appearance and are often mistaken for their more unwieldy brother. Much art is used to draw sufficiently near to make a good ‘strike.’ A boat with a white bottom has been used for this purpose, with a wooden porpoise, or decoy, painted slate-color in imitation of the young fish. Fenced enclosures, formed like a trap, are quite common in many parts of the river. The fish enter, become confused in seeking an outlet, and are easily caught when the tide lowers. Seals are also caught in this locality, and even small whales are harpooned at times.

A broad sand-bank reaches out into the St. Lawrence just a short distance above the Saguenay. It is related that here a whale was pursued by a swordfish. The fish, provided by nature with its sharp weapon of offence, was chasing the unlucky whale, which moved with great rapidity in the direction of the shore, making huge leaps out of the water and giving out loud bellowing sounds as it sped along. The whale was all of forty feet in length, and its enemy was fully grown and must have measured twenty feet over all.

Confused by the near approach of its dread enemy, the whale went too close to the sand-bar and was soon floundering about in only ten feet of water. The swordfish now made off, possibly alarmed by the tremendous splashing and the too-near approach to land. As the tide was rapidly going out—it falls some eighteen feet here—there was danger for the whale in being stranded high and dry. It lashed out with its tail and churned the water with billowing foam. At last after repeated rolls towards deep water it got off, and soon its joyful spouting could be seen in the distance as it escaped and made its way down the Gulf.

Seals are also caught with the harpoon. To get near them unperceived, Indians have made holes in the sands at low tide. Here they hide under a blanket and imitate the cry of the seal. The seals down by the water’s edge are attracted from their native element, and gradually draw near. They make very slow progress on the land, and when too far away to escape back to the water the Indians pounce out and kill dozens with blows from their hatchets.

The Saguenay River is possibly the chief tributary of the St. Lawrence. In every way it is remarkable. Deep, bold, and with headlands of awful height, a trip over its waters from Tadousac to Chicoutimi is an unique experience; for nowhere else can similar scenes be found. The source of the river is in those streams that empty into the head waters of Pikouagami, or Lake St. John, the principal of which are the Peribonka and Mistassini rivers. The Metabetchouan, an important stream, also flows into Lake St. John; and these rivers with the Chicoutimi, Marguerite, Ha-Ha, and numerous smaller rivers, all unite to swell the great flood of the almost bottomless Saguenay. There are numerous lakes north and south of the river, and, almost needless to state, the whole district abounds in mountain, gorge, and waterfall scenery of the wildest kind. Tumultuous rapids are everywhere; and the awful contrast with them of cloud-capped mountain and the silent, still and deep, unfathomable water below is almost overpowering.

It has been said of the Saguenay that it is not properly a river. It is a tremendous chasm like that of the Jordan Valley and the Dead Sea, cleft for sixty miles almost in a straight line through the heart of a mountain wilderness. There is not a part of the river that does not impress one with its grandeur and sublimity. The Indians, in their usual direct nomenclature, called the river Saggishsekuss, ‘a river whose banks are precipitous’; and from that name the more pronounceable Saguenay has been derived. Jacques Cartier and Champlain both sailed on this river, and tradition has it that Roberval penetrated far inland and never returned.

Shallow water in the lower Saguenay must not be expected, and even at the head of navigation a name is found that signifies ‘deep water.’ This is Chicoutimi, a delightful village where Scandinavian vessels come to load up with lumber. Some claim that the name of the village is derived from the Indian word Ishkotimew, meaning ‘up to here the water is deep.’ Be that as it may, it is a picturesque place, where many of the cottages are roofed with birch-bark, and where trim flower gardens, and cottage doors festooned with climbing vines, may be seen. The dashing mountain stream Chicoutimi, which has a wild descent of near 500 feet in seven miles, enters the Saguenay just above the village, and puts on a white bridal-fall in honor of its union with the stern Saguenay.

On the way from Tadousac to Chicoutimi, the mouth of the Marguerite River is passed. This river is distant from Tadousac about 14 miles, and it has a beauty of its own claimed by some to compare with that of the larger river, but, of course, on a smaller scale. The scenery is romantic in the extreme. Swirling eddies and foaming rapids turn sharply around the high cliffs, which are water-worn and smooth below from the action of the dashing foam. Here and there are quiet pools, deep and silent; and some are in almost perpetual shade from overhanging cliff and woodland.

Some seventeen miles above stands Cape Eternity, with Eternity Bay between it and the giant twin-brother Cape Trinity. Many have felt that here the ‘climax of the awe-inspiring scenery of the Saguenay is reached.’ A huge wall of limestone here towers up and projects boldly over the river. Those who pass beneath it give a shudder of apprehension as they realize that a fall would mean annihilation for all below. The great column has been likened to a colossal stairway of three enormous treads, fit ascension to the clouds for the giant gods of the early Indian’s dream. Cape Eternity is 1700 feet high, and Cape Trinity 1500 feet. These enormous bulwarks of rock are stern and grand in the awful majesty of their height and power. As the eye soars upward, the pine-trees that have gained a foothold in the fissures serve to accentuate the prodigious heights, for onward and upward they loom until lost as specks of nothingness.

As Chicoutimi is gradually neared, the water of Ha-Ha Bay opens up on the south. It received its odd name from the peals of laughter indulged in by the early French explorers who took it for the main channel of the river, and who found their mistake when they reached the end of the cul-de-sac.

In and about Chicoutimi and the neighboring villages are numerous places of great interest; and doubtless many who visit this district will wish to go part or all the way to Lake St. John for the pleasure of returning by canoe, and of enjoying the lively sport of shooting the rapids in care of two skilful Indian guides. At Portage de l’Enfant an Indian child managed to perform a feat that few could be likely to imitate successfully: that of going over the 50-foot fall in a canoe, and escaping uninjured. For lovers of the curious, the church at Chicoutimi contains an ancient bell with an inscription on it that no one has been able to decipher.

If so minded, the traveller who finds himself in this delightful district may go by rail from Chicoutimi to Roberval at the south-western end of Lake St. John. Here, in more open country, another series of excursions may be had, and, not forgetting the pleasure of a stay at Roberval as a centre, those who are fond of steamboat trips, driving, walking, boating and canoeing may go in many directions.

The steamboat trip from Roberval to the Grand Discharge and ‘Thousand Isles of the Saguenay’ is a favorite one. There is nothing similar to it elsewhere. The drives to Ouiatchouan Falls, picturesque and nearly 300 feet high, and the Montagnais village of Pointe Bleue are full of interest and novelty. Many other trips are possible.

Much of the country to the north of the lake is unexplored. The same remark applies to the rivers of the northern district, or rather to their upper waters. Across Lake St. John, therefore, is ground where the experienced huntsman or nature-lover may find ample occupation in new fields.

The happy sojourner in these regions will soon become accustomed to the Indian names, and, if the use of ‘fire-water’ is eschewed, words like Chamouchouan and Ashuapmouchouan will roll trippingly from the tongue.