Here is where I spent last night.
I drove all around the town of Cabano and the local area last night but there wasn’t anywhere convenient to park up, so the back of the car park of the Metro supermarket had to do. I spent most of the night dying for a slash, freezing cold and I was awoken by a text message at 5:09.
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
and haven’t I had some good luck here?
I fully believe that if I’m using someone’s facilities, it’s only polite to show my gratitude in a positive way and so with the supermarket being open this morning, I went in to do some shopping.
And just look at this! Real vegan cheese! And here in Quebec too. I consequently stocked up with a good supply of this for the next few weeks. This will go nicely on my salad butties, won’t it?
Cabano is situated at the head of Lake Temiscouata, which is the at the headwaters of the Saint John River system.
Back in the old days this was the site of a portage – people travelling between Lower Canada and Acadia made use of waterways as much as possible but there were places where they needed to leave one waterway and carry their equipment (a portage) overland to the next waterway. Cabano was one such place.
You don’t need any guesses to be able to tell what this might have been at one time. And when you see a street called rue de la Gare– “Station Street”, your suspicions are confirmed.
In the 1980s Canada out-Beechinged Beeching when it came to savaging the railway network and east of the city of Quebec the railway network was all-but wiped out. The line between the St Lawrence and Edmundston, which followed the old routz of the coureurs de bois was one that was obliterated.
To see more of Cabano, because there is plenty to see, you need to go here.
When I came by here the first time that I came to Canada, I saw a sign to a town called, rather enigmatically, St Louis du Ha! Ha! – complete with exclamation marks.
I didn’t have the time to go to check it out, but I took some time out today to go for a look, to make sure that I wasn’t imagining it. And here I am. It certainly exists, and that is confirmed by Canada Post.
Despite the rain, I go for a wander around the town and I’m immediately sidetracked by a load of fire engines.
It turns out that today is the the 39th Annual Tournament of the Fire Brigades of East Quebec, a series of competitions for who has the prettiest fire engine and so on, and I’ve stumbled right into the middle of it.
Whatever next? I’ll probably find a tractor pull or something.
From here, my journey takes me southwards into the hills – or the Appalachian Mountains to be precise – along the Route des Beaux Lieux.
And had it not been for the depressing weather, the lieux would have been exceedingly beaux. As it was, I wasn’t complaining at all. That’s the town of St Eusèbe up there on that crest, and it was every bit as beautiful as it looks from down here.
The Route des Beaux Lieux takes me to some beautiful places such as the town of Packingham just down there.
But you can see that this road has really earned its name. Even in the miserable weather that I was having today, it was all quite pretty around here. In the sunshine (if ever they have sunshine all around here) this must be a beautiful road to drive. I’ve made a mental note to come back here again and see for myself.
I cross over into New Brunswick and head for Lac Baker, which is going to be my lunch stop. Lac Baker is renowned for its municipal beach, which attract visitors from miles around, so they say.
Parked up outside the church, there’s a lovely view over the lake, although there would have been an even better one had the weather been decent enough. And it gives me an opportunity to try out my new vegan cheese, which is delicious. I’ll have some more of this.
The road from Lac baker takes me along the Saint John River to Edmundston and there on the outskirts of the town I finally find part of whatever it is of the New Brunswick rail network that survives.
This line is the main freight line that runs from Moncton up over the mountains to Edmundston and then along the Saint John River and over to Montreal. Much to my surprise, there’s actually a train moving around down there too.
Edmundston is famous for three reasons.
- It has the third-largest French-speaking population outside France and Quebec
- It has historically adopted a neutral position in all of the arguments that have raged around here – to such an extent that it set itself up at one time as the Republic of Madawaska
- You can’t move around here without tripping over a paper mill
There are several paper mills here, one of which straddles the border with the USA and the liquid paper pulp passes over the river to the USA in a pressurised pipeline.
But look at the weather. It’s horrible and I’m not going for a walk around the town today. I’ll come back another time when the sun is shining.
Leaving Edmundston I caught up with my railway train. It’s pulled by three locomotives – two Canadian Nationals and a BC Rail – and there’s a power car in amongst the wagons, but I couldn’t see whose it was.
There’s a variety of rolling stock in there, including a wagon from the Illinois Central. Whatever is that doing in there?
Finally, the weather eases up and as it does so, the light disappears and I’m plunged into darkness. I suppose that you can’t have everything.
As I pull into Perth Andover, my arrival is celebrated by the local inhabitants with a fireworks display.
It’s Labour Day of course and the First Nation Community – Malicete, I think – here has been having a festival. The celebrations have concluded with this firework display and so, like everyone else here, I stop at the side of the road to find a good spec.
And so I arrive at my little piece of Canada. There are neighbours’ cars all over the placeand when the neighbour comes out onto the porch to see who it is who has arrived, I take the bull by the horns and go up to introduce myself.
This takes him completely by surprise.
And it’s pelting down again and we have thunder and lightning. What a way to arrive.
It’s just like my Demon King arrival in Milton Keynes.
