Return to Natashquan

We have returned to Natashquan three times; our first visit there was in the year 2000, when we tried to fly further northeast but had to turn round in the air just short of Chevery because of a dangerous weather system. This set-back was one of the reasons why we aimed for Newfoundland and Labrador from the same direction this year: our aim being to land beyond the End of the Road this time. Once again, we stopped at Natashquan both on our way out and on our way back; it's an appealing destination and the airport supplies fuel. Above is a photo of the River Natashquan seen through the low broken clouds as we descended towards it from the east on our homeward journey.

Lunch on both visits this summer was at the Bistro de l'Échourie on the beach, that doubles as a community centre, dance hall, theatre and tourist information place, displaying, for example, pictures of the cloudberries (chicoutés) that grow nearby. It used to be a Youth Hostel. Another place worth finding is Le Bord du Cap, the former General Store run by the Vigneault and Landry families (a good three-quarters of the villagers' surnames were either Vigneault or Landry!) that's now a proudly run museum telling the villagers' stories, in particular the rise to fame in the boîtes à chanson of Quebec City of their most charismatic inhabitant, their Homme de Paroles and Quebec separatist, Gilles Vigneault, who called Natashquan his "tendre berceau de la poésie québécoise" and whose recordings (like this one) are to be heard un peu partout dans le village.

For more than three centuries after Natashquan was first discovered by Jacques Cartier, the place was a camp site for about fifty families of the Montagnais, who traded furs here and gave yearly thanks for the return of the salmon, setting off all together in canoes to fish up-river once the ice broke. It was the chief man and he alone who decided when to depart and where to rest on these expeditions. Natashquan wasn't settled by white fishermen until the 1850s and not until 1882 did Alfred Vigneault open his shop that he bequeathed to his adopted son, Emilien Landry, in 1935, who took the business from strength to strength, opening a branch in Aguanish and so on. In 1982 a centenary celebration took place, with all the neighbouring communities invited to participate. It is not easy to supply such a remote part of Canada with groceries, even nowadays, as I realised when the airport staff told me how it took them four days to plough the runway on one occasion this winter, during which time the village had no fresh supply of milk, fruit or vegetables. Route 138 is too long to plough in its entirety and the port is typically iced-in till May. In the old days, the important people in the community, other than the fishermen, were the lighthouse keeper, the priest and the nuns who ran the village school and acted as nurses. A doctor from Havre St Pierre would only visit the place once every three months, so people had to be self-sufficient. We saw the dog sleds (known as cométiques) that transported men and supplies in winter, as did the small schooners, the goélettes, in summer. There was no road built through the village until 1951 and no road to the village from elsewhere until 1996.

Once we'd finished exploring the museum and crossed the bridge to the rest of the village, we continued our walk along the road and came upon the Pas du Portageur, as I mentioned in another blogpost, last week. Here are some of the pictures we took. Can someone identify those blue berries?

Hungry after our hike, we finished the day at the Restaurant John Débardeur that has a sea-going theme, the waiters and waitresses all in naval uniforms, and its name a reference to yet another chanson by Gilles Vigneault, the words and music of whose chorus is printed on the table mats:

John Débardeur charge et décharge
Les caboteurs, les cargos et les barges.
Toujours à terre, jamais au large,
Ça c'est l'affaire de John Débardeur.