Journey to the Charlevoix

Charlevoix, Quebec—It was the last week in August and when asked if she needed her winter gloves for this trip, I knew someone in New Jersey had visions of Nanook of the North. Shadow was going on vacation and I was to be her local guide, chronicler and photographer. Our destination was the Charlevoix, a giant meteorite crater that is the culinary center of Quebec and a region of exceptional motorcycle-touring roads.

We pull into Quebec City and ride down the beautiful boulevard called Grande Allée. Our destination is Auberge au Deaux Lions; an ideal, motorcycle-friendly B&B Inn that I had discovered in the Jean-Baptiste Quarter.

Quebec is one of my favorite destinations and this was Shadow’s first visit to the only city in North America that’s still surrounded by fortified walls. After a late lunch at a sidewalk café we stroll across Battlefield Park (the famous Plains of Abraham) and through the St. Louis Gate into the old city. Once within the fortified walls we enter a European city built during the 18th and 19th centuries. We amble down to Dufferin Terrace below the imposing Chateau Frontenac and then take the Funicular (an inclined, cable railway) down the cliff to Petite Champlain, a quarter known for its boutiques and galleries. After taking in the special exhibit at the Museum of Civilization we have a decadent meal of dessert crepes and an evening walk on a perfect summer night back to the inn.

This was a vacation trip, but I had scheduled a few stops so a timetable did exist. The Charlevoix is located an hour east of Quebec City, but our first stop is 10 minutes away on Autoroute 440 at Montmorency Falls. Over 100 feet higher than Niagara Falls, this magnificent waterfall drops from the escarpment in a thundering froth of whitewater and spray. It’s impressive and definitely a scenic photo op.

Road construction is unavoidable, but we’re stationary on an uphill incline with a 14-percent grade at the beginning of one of the top 10 scenic touring roads in Canada. The first place I want Shadow to see is a gristmill that dates to 1790. The miller is waiting for us and we’re already late.

Millwrights were the first mechanics and the massive water-powered machines that ground grain are the basis for the modern mechanical world. This one in the village of Les Éboulements still grinds locally grown wheat for artisan bakers and is an archetypal mill in a bucolic setting. Beveled gears (like on a vintage Ducati) and huge rotating belts with tensioners (like cam belts on a Harley) are powered by the waterwheel engine and driveshaft, only to be transferred to the secondary shaft and where the power is delivered to the final (rear) wheel—in this case, a precisely shaped granite grindstone. Any motorcycle mechanic will quickly comprehend the system. We don’t stay long because the millwright was waiting especially for us and wants to take the afternoon off to ride his motorcycle.

Les Éboulements means “the landslides” and the village is named for a massive one that took place during an earthquake in 1633. We drop down the hill where this event occurred, a descent of 1,000 feet on grades up to 18 percent, to the village of St-Joseph-de-la-Rive and board the free ferry to Isle-aux-Coudres (Hazelnut Island). It’s past lunchtime so we stop at the first place we come to. It turns out to be Boulangerie Bouchard, an artisan bakery with picnic tables and a priceless view of the Laurentian Mountains.

We return to Les Éboulements after a circuit of the island, another ferry trip and climb back up the hill. Shadow has confessed her passion for chocolate, so I’ve made arrangements for us to visit La Chocolaterie du Village. There are few people that know as much about chocolate as Yves Huppé, and with his wife Line, they create 50 types of Belgian-style chocolates from their own special recipe that uses 21 different types of cacao beans. We don’t leave empty handed.

After cruising along a highway with spectacular views we pull up to our abode for the next few days; the five-star Fairmont Le Manoir Richeleiu in La Malbaie. Eric, a friend of mine who’s the marketing manager for the hotel, greets us as we check in. He shows Shadow her room—a vast expanse of marble with a Jacuzzi in the middle of it—and then proceeds to give her a tour of this edifice overlooking the St. Lawrence River. Meanwhile my riding buddy François has arrived. The three of us have a dinner appointment at the House of the Bootlegger, but we’re running late.

The House of the Bootlegger was a real Prohibition speakeasy called Club du Monts (Mountain Club) that evolved into a museum/restaurant/nightclub. It was one of Elvis Presley’s favorite places (his wife Priscilla’s stepfather, Paul Beaulieu, was from Quebec). It’s a beautiful night ride into the mountains and when we arrive the Bootlegger is already cranked up to a volume where it’s difficult to have a conversation across the table—and the band hasn’t even started to play! Needless to say, it’s a late night before we get back to the hotel.

The next day we head to the village of Baie-St-Paul, a place that has a higher concentration of art galleries per capita than any town or city in North America and where the number of motorcyclists that arrive for Saturday lunch can rival that of a small rally. Chez Bourget is our lunch destination, but first we have to stop at the cheese factory.

The region is noted for its specialty food producers, including the Charlevoix Dairy. This venue has a large, paved parking lot, numerous picnic tables and a deli that sells a variety of local specialty products. The dairy makes four specialty cheeses (three that are unique) and naturally we leave with something to snack on later.

After polishing off lunch with homemade basil ice cream and balsamic-caramel reduction on strawberries we take a walk. There are many art galleries in this village, but Iris is so striking it’s always the first place I bring people. Then it’s off to the Baie-St-Paul Museum of Contemporary Art. I’m doing my best to convince Shadow that Quebec is not the backwoods—and think I’m succeeding—but it’s now mid-afternoon and time to head for the hills.

We travel along the rural Mountain Route with stupendous views of imposing mountains. On this road a person can actually perceive that they are riding across a meteorite crater. We wind our way towards that imposing wall of rock on a delightful road that twists through the forest for miles. The Malbaie River has carved an impressive canyon through these mountains and this area is now the Upper Malbaie River Gorge National Park (Parc National des Hautes-Gorges-de-la-Rivière-Malbaie). This is wilderness and the road ends at the lodge. The shadows are getting long in the depths of the gorge and we have an astronomy class to attend before supper and later some stargazing through the Charlevoix Observatory telescope. It’s time to mount up.

Sunday’s brunch has been arranged at La Domaine Le Forget, the internationally famous retreat for professional musicians that’s located in the village of Ste-Irénée. We’re shown to a table next to the stage where two harpists from Paraguay will perform. The buffet is about 40 feet of tables laden with pastries, pate, meats, fruits and desserts with one chef slicing whole smoked salmon and another serving an array of Quebec cheeses. We’re the only ones wearing motorcycle gear in this crowd, but we don’t receive a single odd look—that’s one of the differences between riding in the U.S. and riding in Canada. One can become very spoiled after touring in the Charlevoix.

The sky had been gray all day, but clouds now form in unusual patterns and by suppertime it begins to rain. Hurricane Irene has ravaged the Atlantic Coast and moved inland. Despite being hundreds of miles from Shadow’s home in New Jersey, there was no escaping the wrath of this storm: The lights go out. We finish an exquisite supper at 3 Canards by candlelight while the wind thrashes rain against the plate-glass windows. It’s just a bit of drama for our last night in the Charlevoix.

Emergency systems are still running off the generators when we meet for breakfast. The hotel has made some calls on our behalf and located a gas station with working pumps in nearby Clermont. We give the highway crews some time to remove debris from the roads and then head back to Montreal. Yet, there is time to stop in Quebec City for lunch. It’s ride to eat; eat to ride, but up here they call it joie de vivre and I hope Shadow got a taste of it.