Road Trip to Coaticook - day one

There is a palpable sense of excitement in the air this morning, with this being our first TRUE getaway from home since the whole Covid thing went down. Bags lay in a pile at the door, while a cooler sat open in the kitchen, waiting to be filled with the ingredients of a menu I had been planning for the past 2 weeks. Not wanting to waste any more time than necessary, we eat breakfast while I gather food, standing over the counter inhaling bites of tortilla spread with peanut butter, and gulps of coffee.

The cats seem out of sorts - Kali hides in dark corners while Persie meows dejectedly at the back door, wanting to be let out. Slinky sulks on the couch, not really knowing what is going on. Being a Covid kitten, she hasn't known a time when we both have been away from home for more than a day. She's our post-travel "baby".

Turns out, we pack as much for a 3-day camping trip as we do for 3 weeks of international backpacking. The back seat of the car is stuffed with our sofa-bed mattress, because why can't we enjoy the comforts of home while sleeping in a tent in the wilderness?! Car loaded, gas tank filled, instructions given to our temporary cat wrangler, and we are finally on the road, flying down the 10, opposite a sluggish line of holiday-goers returning to to the city. Memories flood back to me, as we continue west through the Montérégie, of weekend trips to the family cottage, a line of trees whizzing by, and the crunchy ends of a store-bought baguette munched in the car. 

We attempt to stop at the "question mark" information centre, but find it closed, asphalt cracking open and tall weeds poking their way through. We do find another option, in Bromont, among the outlet stores and tourist trains. We get what we need and beat a hasty retreat. This is not the tourist action that we seek!

Finally, over the rolling mountains past Magog, we turn onto less frequented roads, heading past tall pine forests and flat patchwork farm fields. We reach the Villageois town of Coaticook, with its quaint vintage main street, its old building and new strip malls, like any good Québec town. 

We head to the north of town past the Gorge, the main draw, which we will leave for later. Instead, we stop at the Microbrasserie Coaticook, known for its unfiltered beers and maybe its pub food, too. Not sure, the online reviews were mixed at best. We decide to give it a shot, since we're here, and there's beer to taste, and it will be our first port-Covid restaurant experience - big shoes to fill. Turns out its a good gamble, and that a lot of people were wrong. The salmon tartar I order is just the right combination of fresh, lemony and spicy, and the staff are accommodating enough enough to give me more croutons instead of fries that I can never eat. Mario's fish n' chips is moist and flaky, sealed under its thick, crispy crusty batter coating, which makes the right noise when tapped with a fork. It sits on a generous nest of greasy fries, but the real star, according to Mario, is the sweet, spiced rice & grains salad that comes along with the dish. He insists that he could eat a whole bowl of that and nothing else! Also, custom beer-tasting board for the win!

Bellies full of delicious food and beer, and a quick stop at the boutique to pick up a few cans of of our favourites for at camp, and we head, with the rest of the world, across the street to the Laiterie Coaticook. Here in this old dairy factory, they make the best ice cream in the province. And yes, even though you can get the stuff in just about any grocery store in Québec, here you can try more original flavours like banana, cinnamon bun or pineapple & coconut, that are only available at their ice cream bar. At picnic tables in the sun, we join the rest of the sweet-toothed travelers  licking desperately at their melting cones, while drips of sticky-sweet cream trickle down their hands. Smart thinkers, these people at Laiterie Coaticook - they have installed a small sink outside to wash away all that stickiness away. Maybe it was for Covid hand-washing measures, I don't know, but it is much appreciated on this hot, ice-cream-melting summer afternoon.

Back on the road, we head south to Lac Lyster, a quiet cottage area surrounded by jutting granite pinnacles, where our backwoods campsite waits to welcome us. Deep in the forest but still close to those pesky permanent sites, we find ourselves alone with nature, our brand-spanking-new tent, and a fire pit begging to be cooked over. First, we take a little pre-dinner climb up the trail at the back of the campground, to the top on Mont Seguin, with its white granite cap and walk lined with raspberry bushes. We climbed and picked, then descended and picked some more, filling up Mario's cap with the tiny, tart berries. Oh, and the view of Mont Pinnacle across the lake is superb.

Dinner is Mario's Scout camp specialty: foil packs cooked on the fire, like hobo meals. True camping food. One holds chunks of red pepper and garlic, another sliced potatoes with sage and green onions, topped with butter. We grill some chicken souvlaki from Adonis, and use fresh pita to scoop up all the tasty morsels. The Gose beer from Coaticook pairs well with the meal.

We dive into the tent for a post-dinner nap, before heading out for our evening of adventure, and just in time - as soon as we close the zipper, a massive storm hits the area, dumping bucketfuls of rain on us. And only the area - not 5 minutes' drive back to Coaticook and the roads are dry again. Which is a good thing since hiking in the dark and rain is NOT a fun combination!

Foresta Lumina is a nightly light spectacle put on along the trails of the Gorge de Coaticook, including the long suspension bridge. It's a story of a girl who travels in the forest and meets its spirits, which remind me of the Kodama spirits from Princess Mononoke, right down to the green glow they give off, and the accompanying high-pitched chirps they make. We venture through the dark woods into the forest, hundreds of lights come pouring over the mountain towards us, as if to greet us. They dance in patterns, giggling among the trees, or so it seems. At the bridge, white beams of light streak towards us, while a misty portal beckons on the other side. We descend towards the  bottom of the gorge, passing through a forest alight with rain drops, glowing through the fog, which intensifies into an orchestral thunder shower, lights flashing every which way. And deep in the belly of the gorge, we find ourselves surrounded by the dancing lights of a thousand fairies, swirling and twirling their way up and down the rocks, covering the ground we walk on, making the whole world spin. 

As we climb back out of the gorge, and out of the world of Foresta Lumina, I realize that what we have just experienced is nothing short of magical, and there is no way I am ever going to be able to describe it using words. I can only say that it is something that needs to be experienced by everyone, and that you should definitely go. But maybe not for the 11 o'clock showing, because now we are sleepy.