August 4th: Needing a break and a nap after our forced concert experience, as well as some time cleaning up the tumultuousness that the waves created, we motored a few hours to the small fishing village of Sainte-Thérèse-de-Gaspé. We couldn’t quite find the anchorage that was listed on our charts, so we tied up (for the very first time) to a fishing wharf. After attempting to figure out how much line to leave out to accommodate for the changing tides, we settled in. We really had no idea if we were supposed to be there or not, but we were pretty much ignored for the day except for a few curious inhabitants of the town that would poke their head over the wall every now an again to see who was visiting amongst the fishing vessels.
We didn’t explore the town, just mostly slept and recuperated, and the next morning we heard someone attempting to get our attention in French, waving a piece of paper. It was a registration which cost us a whopping $15 for our night’s stay. If nothing else, fishing wharfs, especially off-season, are definitely inexpensive.
We departed the next morning for our last refuge in Québec and pulled into Chandler a few hours later. Marina de Chandler is a tiny spot with only a couple dozen or so slips, most meant for much smaller boats. We tied up to their dock with the help of two of their members after doing as sharp of a turn that we could manage around their breakwall to the outer-most dock. The one gentleman who took care of the club after-hours as a volunteer was extremely kind; he graciously drove John to get our jerry cans filled and gave us free bags of ice for our still-broken fridge. We were happy and productive; enjoying hot showers, clean laundry, got organized, provisioned, and prepared for our departure from Québec.
It seems that every marina that we go to comes with its very own resident heron. Chandler’s heron (and his kingfisher friend) hung out beside us while he hunted for his dinner, and I managed to happily stalk him for some photos. He didn’t seem to mind.
We had been in Québec for 33 days. It was a beautiful province, and definitely worth re-visiting at some point (possibly after I’ve brushed up on my French). Heaven knows we only saw a very small portion of it, but it also seemed like a never-ending province – one that took much longer for us to voyage through than we had expected. So with a bit of anticipation, one last beautiful Québec sunset, and a good night’s sleep, we left the next morning to cross the bay to New Brunswick.
