Tarmac ribbons criss-crossing the landscape, dusty back roads twisting between the cool shadows of ancient pines, and less traveled pathways connecting present to past, all I wander, seeking, seeing, with my keyboard and camera capturing scenes and stories to share with you.

Now in its sixth year, this venue has become an important part of my life, a place where I can express my thoughts and feelings about the things I see and do, hoping the process brings me a bit closer to friends and family who enjoy sharing my sometimes chaotic and often nonlinear observations and ideas. A journal, I suppose, but one with which I find pleasure in thinking others are alongside me on my journey.

Comments, thoughts, or just a friendly chat, use the response box below or email me at patrickgroleau@gmail.com.

August 24, 2014

GASPE WANDERABOUT - POST 3

... a reposting of one of the pictures from my last entry, if for no reason other than this is a place i will keep forever in my memory ...


... just outside the entrance to the park is the lighthouse ... alongside is a little shop selling hamburgers, hot dogs, several varieties of poutine, and, of course, patate frits ...


... madeline served me a bag of french fries, it turned out to be a bit more than i'd anticipated ...


... two days of rain, we coped ...


... everywhere was evidence of the tremendous geologic forces that shaped this landscaped millions and millions of years ago ...


... when i saw a sign proclaiming "marconi site" i was compelled to turn us onto a side road ... it took less than a second for me to realize the foolishness of my ways ... the surface of the rough cut roadbed was a sloppy layer of slippery wet clay ... i knew instantly that it would be dangerous to stop, so, heart in my throat, i led us up the giant hill, made the right hand turn onto the old coast highway, then, eric and jon sliding along behind me, i negotiated the rutted gravely road down to its end ... here, jon walks away muttering something about his uncle's sanity ...


... the beautiful setting was the location of the first maritime radio station in north america, and is also the location of this charming little lighthouse ... we had a cup of coffee, deservedly i let jon and eric chew my ears for a bit, then we suited up and bravely made the return journey to the main highway ...


... thirty mile-per-hour headwinds, driving rain, then, within the space of a few miles, the sky cleared and we found ourselves driving along one of the most splendid highways i've ever encountered ... cliffs above us, ocean at our side, we motored along as if time and space had been suspended ... i don't know which i found more intriguing, the pair of signs of which one said, "watch for falling rocks" while the other warned of "waves breaking over your car," or the two large fishing vessels tossed by the waves and smashed against the stone seawall so close to the road that i was momentarily tempted to see if i could reach out and touch one of them as i most astonishedly passed by them ...


... beaches composed of a seeming infinite variety of stones and rocks ...


... little villages, from the eves of the houses on a soft breeze drifted tales of a bygone era ...


... always ... always the ever-present evidence that each of our little stories is part of a much, much greater saga ...


... we stopped, rested, and accepted the gift of a very special quiet ...


... we began our "easy" day by cleaning from our bikes the remains of the mud and clay road i'd lead us down ...


... all spiffed up, bike nicely cleaned and me in a freshly laundered shirt ... 

... jon decided to take us on a little side trip ... the fee to go up was way too much, but we enjoyed looking at √Čole Cap-Chat, the largest vertical wind turbine in the world ...


... in places it was easy to forget ...


... easy to forget ...