After our day in Quebec City, we drove an half hour north to the Jacques Cartier Provincial Park and followed the river. It was misty and mysterious.
Champlain’s exploration of the northern wilds from Pioneers of France:
“Now they glided beneath overhanging cliffs, where, seeing but unseen, the crouched wild-cat eyes them from the thicket; now through the maze of water-girdled rocks, which the white cedar and spruce clasped with serpent-like roots, or among islands where old hemlocks darkened the water with deep green shadow.
“Aloft, the white pine towered above a sea of verdure; old fir trees, hoary and grim, shaggy with pendent mosses, leaned above the stream and beneath, dead and submerged, some fallen oak thrust from the current its bare, bleached limbs, like the skeleton of a drowned giant. In the weedy cove stood the moose, neck-deep in water to escape the flies, wading shoreward, with glistening sides, as the canoes drew near, shaking his broad antlers and writhing his hideous nostril, as with clumsy trot he vanished in the woods.”