9/25/16, “My
White Whale”
Quebec,
Quebec
Printed on
my passport, under “Date of Issue”, is the date 9/24/12. That means that it would have been four years
ago today when the passport arrived in the mail. It had been eight years since I had left the
country at that time. It was a Tuesday,
so that Saturday, I woke up early, rented a car, and drove up to Canada, to
this very hotel where I am staying tonight.
I have come full circle.
Including that first trip, this marks the, I believe, 10th
time I have ventured to Canada since receiving that passport. My travels over those four years have brought
me to six continents and 65 countries, but each of the ten trips to Canada was
special in its own way, and, whenever I come here to Quebec, it always feels
like I’m home. This is the fourth time I
have been in Quebec since receiving that passport, and it will be the last for
quite some time.
In fact, I expect that
the next time I come here will be on a new passport, as I do not expect my
travels to bring me back to Eastern Canada anytime in the next six years. I will be going to British Columbia (Western
Canada) and Newfoundland and Labrador (Atlantic Canada) next year, but Eastern
Canada is done for the time being. It is
the part of Canada that feels like home, so it was bittersweet saying “Eastern
Canada Complete” today, but I took great pride in the adventures that allowed
me to do it, despite being thwarted twice previously in my attempt to see
Miguasha National Park, my white whale.
By and large, today was a boring day, but Miguasha National Park was the
main impetus for this trip. It is the
reason why I drove 20 hours over the course of 48, rather than just flying to
Toronto for the weekend. It is the
reason I am taking a 5:30 AM flight tomorrow morning rather than flying home
tonight. Was it worth it? Absolutely.
After I closed last night, I soon fell asleep, waking up after getting 3
REM cycles, which would barely be enough to function, especially given that I
was going to be driving close to nine hours today. Breakfast was extremely disappointing, but
the coffee was good, and that was what mattered most. I lit up a Toscano after breakfast as I got
ready. I then headed out. It would be close to three hours to get to
Miguasha, and I was looking at a hard noon arrival if I was lucky. I had hoped to stop at a Tim Horton’s for a
proper breakfast and tie that in with my gas stop, but I had no such luck.
Instead, I stopped for a gas at an
old-fashioned gas station with full service.
I had mentioned last night that my drive was without incident, but that
was not entirely true. I had run over a
hard traffic cone at one of the construction areas, and that had caused the air
in one of my tires to deflate considerably, especially combined with the cold
air, I realized. PV = nRT. P is Pressure, V is Volume, T is Temperature. If the temperature goes down, either pressure
or volume has to go down (or both). They
had an air compressor at the gas station.
I also got another lighter, an Acadian flag pin, and more coffee.
I lit up a Fuente, and it was a straight shot
from there to Miguasha National Park.
Soon enough, I crossed the bridge back into Quebec, and, before long, I
saw the signs for Miguasha National Park.
You couldn’t miss it. I was
unsure if they had a Plaque, since I couldn’t find it online, but, sure enough,
to my delight, they did. It was a
podium-style Plaque, angled and about four feet off the ground.
I enlisted the help of the first person I saw
in taking my ceremonial picture with the Plaque. She was five feet tall. This would be no easy task for her to get the
right angle. I had to kneel on the
ground to make it work. I tortured her a
bit in getting the perfect photo, but we did in the end. I went into the VC, which had a gift shop and
an information/ticket station with rangers.
They liked to talk. A lot. It was quite a process. I didn’t need a full lecture. I just needed to know where the inscription
photo was taken.
Eventually, he told me
and sold me my ticket. I think it was
12:30 PM at this point. So much for my
hard noon arrival. In case my reader is
unaware what I mean by the term hard arrival, I should contrast it with soft
arrival. If the GPS says that I will be
at a site at 12:00 PM, that is a soft arrival.
It means the time I arrive at the address in my car. The hard arrival time is when I have parked,
gotten everything I need out of the car, and walked into the building. That usually takes about 5-10 minutes. Part of my issue during my big Eurotrip three
years ago was that all my calculations were based on soft arrival times, and,
when you are stopping at 5 or more sites a day, the difference can add up to
close an hour a day. I have since
learned to never plan to arrive at a site less than an hour before closing
time.
I walked through the fossil
exhibit and down to the fossil cliffs, which was where the inscription photo
was taken, at the bottom of the staircase.
I had lit up my Hoyo de Monterrey, the last I would smoke from the box I
got in Rio, and I relished the moment. I
teased that I had been thwarted twice but that it couldn’t escape me. It was time.
I took my ceremonial picture and announced, “Quebec Complete. Eastern Canada Complete, [unpublishable]! Finally!!!”
I took some more ceremonial pictures up and down the fossil cliffs, but
it was just more of the same as what I saw at Joggins in July. The wind made the cigar burn quickly, and I
was very grateful for the sweatshirt I had bought in PEI that trip. I headed up and ditched the cigar outside the
VC and got my souvenirs before getting back on the road.
It was about 1:30 PM at that point, and I
hadn’t eaten lunch yet. I was looking at
a hard arrival at the hotel in Quebec of 8 PM.
That meant I would not be getting to sleep before 11 AM, which would
allow three hours of sleep, 2 full REMS, if I was lucky. I would get more sleep on the plane and in
the cab, but I knew tomorrow would be a rough day. With some difficulty, I finally found a place
for lunch, the French Canadian version of a roadside diner. I ordered their signature sandwich (basically
a Philly Cheesesteak) and poutine, along with coffee. It took way too long to come out. The whole process took almost half an hour,
but I was starving, and it was all quite good.
I lit up an LFD, which smoked terribly, followed by an Aging Room. After the Aging Room, I stopped for gas and
some snacks. I spent way too long
picking out the snacks, but I was still looking good for the 8 PM hard arrival
at the hotel. I lit up a Camacho for my
last cigar of the drive, switching from Avril to Disney music after the
cigar. I opened the windows at that
point to air out the car. While I was
driving, it was raining at numerous points, and I saw a rainbow at one
point. At another point, I saw a
beautiful vista of the Saint Lawrence River.
Soon enough, driving on cruise control most of the way, I was entering
the city of Quebec. I took a wrong turn,
which actually didn’t add any time and brought me to a gas station, where I
gassed up for the last time and cleaned out the car.
I then went to the hotel. It was all so familiar. Even though I was here four years, I
remembered it all. In fact, all of Old
Quebec looked so familiar, even though it had been two years since I was last
here. It was a bit of a process to find
out from the innkeeper where to park the car (just down the block was the
eventual answer). I checked in and went
up to my room. I had thought I had
reserved the same room that I had gotten last time, but apparently not. This room was about half the size and much
shittier. It also faced the opposite
direction. This would not do. I asked if he had any other rooms
available. He did not. Oh, well.
I would only be spending about four hours in the room total, anyway. I situated myself and headed outside.
I knew exactly where I would be getting
dinner. There is a restaurant with a patio
in view of the Plaque, and I had always wanted to go there. As I walked to the restaurant, I knew that I
was home. This was where I was meant to
be, and I was so happy that I had come full circle like this. I stopped for a flag pin on the way, the one I
have not being in good condition.
Something that is interesting about Quebec is that they consider
themselves a nation, not a province. The
legislative assembly building is called the National Parliament of Quebec.
I soon came to the familiar plaza and saw
that no one was sitting outside. I went
in to the restaurant and asked if I could sit outside. Eventually they agreed. I ordered a glass of local red wine, along
with their signature beef bourguignon. Once
they brought out the wine, I lit up a Vegas Robaina Canada Exclusivo. I was so home. This is the fifth time I have been in
Quebec. Only New York, Boston,
Philadelphia, and Washington have it beat.
I have been to a bunch of cities three times, including Seattle,
Portland, Los Angeles, and Toronto. November
will bring me to Atlanta and London for my fourth visits to each.
Quebec is my favorite city in North America,
other than New York, and the magic was still there, made even more magical by
eating dinner in view of the Plaque.
They brought the beef, and I started to eat and smoke. It was blissful. A few minutes later, I was told that I could
not smoke on the patio, even though I was the only one out there. I put the cigar down, but he told me that the
cigar itself could not even be on the patio.
There was a planter connected to the patio. I put the cigar in the planter. That was acceptable. The meal was delicious, and I paid my check
and retrieved my cigar.
I then went to
pay homage to the Plaque. It is, without
a doubt, the best World Heritage Site in the world. There is a whole garden dedicated to the
Plaque with flowers in the shape of the WHS logo and UNESCO flags surrounding
it. There is a 3D rendition of the logo
behind the Plaque. I knelt in front of
the garden and paid my respect. I then
had a conversation with the Plaque, which I was now visiting for the fifth time
(well, more if I can count multiple visits during each trip).
Is it possible to love an inanimate
object? If it is, I love this Plaque. I was on the verge of tears as I said goodbye
to the Plaque, knowing that I would not be seeing it for quite some time. I kissed the WHS logo on the Plaque, thanking
it for all the good memories. I listed the
five remaining WHS I needed to visit in Canada, and I promised the Plaque that
I would eventually return. I said
goodbye and walked away. It was very
bittersweet. This was the WHS Plaque I
had now seen more than any other WHS Plaque, even the one at Independence
Hall.
I stopped for souvenirs, as I always
do, also stopping for a maple latte, which was quite good. I got to the hotel and ditched the cigar
outside. I went up to the room and
realized that it would be stupid to write my entry from the room. There was a nice bench outside the hotel, and
it had the view I wanted. I headed back
down with my computer bag and sat on the bench, where I lit up my favorite
Ardor, glad to add “Quebec, Quebec” to the datelines under which I had smoked
it, (followed by a Romeo y Julieta) and proceeded to write this entry, which I
will now close so that I can publish and get some sleep before I have to go to
the airport. I have had a lot of great
memories in Eastern Canada, and, as I keep saying, it is quite bittersweet that
my time in this region is now at an end.
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