“By car?” The person across from me at the table has a look of naked scepticism mixed with a touch of disdain plastered across his face.
“With the kids?!” His spouse’s visage is contorted in a mask of abject horror.
I have just outlined to them my plan to travel from Toronto to Halifax and back. By car. With a ten-year-old and an eight-year-old in the back seat.
If the thought of spending three weeks on the road with your family triggers heart palpitations, I invite you to join me virtually for this first in a multi-part series exploring the fantastic wonders of Canada’s Eastern provinces (sorry Newfoundland; I’m saving you for a solo visit all to yourself).
21 days
5602 kilometers
4 provinces
69 hours and 32 minutes of driving
0 “Are we there yet’s”
Quebec City
The clack-clack of hoofs on cobblestone streets. A steady thrum of French conversation. Fairy-tale castles of wood and stone from a bygone age. Had I travelled nine hours by plane, this could be any enchanting European destination. Remarkably, having journeyed for the same amount of time by car, I still find myself in a world so unlike my home in Toronto that I may as well have flown across the ocean.
The skyline of Old Quebec City is dominated by the imposing majesty of the Chateau Frontenac. Its copper spires pierce the city hilltop just outside the fortifications of La Citadelle de Québec. The fortress and its accompanying battlements tell the three-hundred-year old story of the violent tug-of-war between the British and the French. With the jewel of Quebec City ultimately wrested from the French by the British, further defensive enhancements focussed on repelling a possible American invasion. I drink in the complex and fascinating history while my kids entertain themselves by clambering over cannons, interacting with the soldiers of the famed Vandoo regiment, and engaging in a little mock archeology as they unearth replica artifacts from a reconstructed latrine site.
Old Quebec’s charms are best appreciated on foot, meandering through the narrow stone streets, weaving past colourfully dressed buskers while following the wafting scent of a particularly pungent poutine. I set up shop in the heart of the upper town at the Hôtel Clarendon. Completed in 1927 and situated beside old Quebec’s only skyscraper (a 1930’s art deco marvel, The Price Building), the hotel itself is a key stop on tours of the city. After a long day hiking the city’s hills and valleys, it’s a pleasure to be a mere two blocks from our dinner reservation in Quebec City’s oldest home. The warren of semi-private dining rooms that now make up the restaurant, Aux Anciens Canadiens, date back to 1675 with the construction of the Maison Jacquet. Tasteful renovations maintain the old-world soul of the building while adding a nod and a wink to modern sensibilities such as flatscreen TV’s tuned to the flurry of activity going on in the restaurant’s kitchen. The walls are dotted with 18th century muskets, farm implements and kitchen tools. We pass the time awaiting our entrées by studying a framed collection of brass keys beside our table. The fare is classically French Canadian with a broad range of game meats, garden vegetables, and seafood preparations, all redolent with the thick steamy smells of hearty sauces and stock. You can’t go wrong with the main course, provided you have the good sense to finish it off with a sampling of maple syrup desserts. I engage in some heated fork swordsmanship with the kids parrying attacks on my maple syrup pie between mouthfuls of deliciously burnt crème brûlée.
My hunger for history satiated both literally and figuratively, I seek out a change of pace for our next day. Just a few minutes outside of the city’s downtown, we marvel at Montmorency Falls—a massive cascade of torrential water that stands higher than its more famous Niagara Falls cousin. In less than half an hour, the congested city streets are a distant memory as I hike the wooded forest trials of Canyon St. Anne. My youngest daughter is racing back and forth across a swaying suspension bridge giggling maniacally while my wife and eldest daughter fight back the urge to vomit 243’ down to the raging gorge below. Safely back on solid ground, we make a stop on our return drive at the imposing Saint Anne de Baupré basilica. Constructed in 1923 to replace the previous chapel which had been destroyed by fire, the hundred-year-old building is an awe-inspiring mix of stone and stained glass that rivals the great churches of Europe. A jumble of canes and crutches are lashed to the entrance columns testifying to the miraculous healing properties attributed to Saint Anne.
My final day in Quebec City is a smorgasbord of attractions and activities. Walruses, sea lions, polar bears, and jelly fish entertain us at the Aquarium du Québec before we return to the old quarter riding the funicular down into the lower city’s labyrinth of cafes and art galleries. As night begins to fall, throngs of people spill into Quebec’s open port lands, jockeying for position under the stars to catch this evening’s performance of Les Chemins Invisibles. This open-air Cirque du Soleil production is so much more than an acrobatic spectacle—it is feats of unimaginable human creativity given physical form. We sit on the stone steps gobsmacked that a show which rivals Cirque’s mega productions in Las Vegas, performed using a series of mobile cranes and forklifts that pirouette and sashay amongst the audience, could be offered nightly and absolutely free.
Exiting the show, a bright crescent moon has taken up position in the cloudless sky over the Chateau. It is the perfect backdrop to the explosive pyrotechnics bursting over the St. Lawrence River and a fitting send off to Quebec City’s balanced blend of old-world European charm, natural adventure, and modern cultural playground.
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