During our ferry journey
we met up with a local fisherman, Dany, who joined us for the usual round of cribbage. After a few (wins) he unexpectedly
invited us to a lobster feast, giving us his phone number and address and insisted we call tomorrow. We were later joined
by an older man, a local theatre actor who was obviously as eccentric as he was intoxicated. He happily mumbled an assortment
of nonsense in his harsh French Acadian accent, meanwhile blurting out the few English words he knew.
Off the ferry we found ourselves
tenting on the tiny Peninsula of Gros Cap on Cap-Aux-Meules, a convenient and still scenic central island.
We spent the better part of the
next day exploring the Eastern group of islands on the archipelago. We ran into Dany from the ferry, who recognized our
van. The Beast is something of a celebrity! The feast had been cancelled because of late fishing times but
we appreciated the offer none-the-less. As we drove around in circles, we came across the oddest, most creative little art
gallery run by an even odder lady. She had sculpted and shaped beach trash into pieces of very interesting, very
Back on the central island before
expected, we found ourselves with an entire evening to play crib at the local taverns that dot the islands core area. Still
craving lobster, we found a great restaurant to fill our stomachs and Keith’s on tap to quench our thirst.
On Entry Isalnd we
found ourselves transported to what felt like an entirely new country. This tiny island is an escape from mainstream, where land
and sea combine with the most amazing results People live life at an easy pace. They farm and fish and spend the
better part of the day outdoors. They have one store, a school and a church surrounded by an amazing backdrop
to keep them nothing if not humble.
We spent an entire day on this
isolated island napping in fields, walking along beaches, chatting with fishermen, and sitting 600 feet above sea level, watching
farm animals graze between the rolling green hills.
Our tour of the west islands proved
just as spectacular. The Beast drove between mountainous sand dunes, along stretches of sandy beaches and
red cliffs that jutted dramatically out of the water. The ocean sparkled and the breeze was cool. We wandered around
the tiny shops and museums, spending a pleasant afternoon as tourists. We even ran into our drunken theater pal hitchhiking
his way to the bank. That evening we enjoyed our usual round of crib and beer before crawling into the van, abandoning
our tent for fear of hypothermia.
June 19 was our first (and most certainly not the last) rainy day. Luckily we had
a week’s worth of laundry to catch up on and our crib board on standby. After cleaning our clothes and scouting
yard sales for deals, we ate lunch at a cute cafe only to once again find ourselves talking gibberish to the
old actor whose slurred accent still rendered us clueless.
That day we spent 6 hours playing crib at all the pubs before
finally settling down for some "Musique Quebecoise" and a rowdy audience of fans. * *See below for lame attempt at french
language writing. Keep in mind that I can't type accents on this keyboard and I have absolutely no skill!
**Et maintenent je vais essayer
d'ecrire en francais.
Pendent qu'on visitais les Iles
de Madeleine on a ecoute le "musique quebecoise" auz Bar Bentral. Tout l'monde fumais, buovais, et chantais. Bien la, on a
passe une bonne soiree...la, la!!