This Hidden Treasure in Quebec Offers Tasty Seafood, Picturesque Coastal Villages, and Breathtaking National Parks

My first experience of the Gaspé Peninsula was a burst of floral flavors: a spoonful of petals was offered to me during my visit five years ago. Quebec locals are often astonished when I recount this. That’s partly because this fertile stretch of eastern Canada, reaching out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence as if to connect with Newfoundland, is where many Quebecers spent their childhood vacations, largely untouched by international tourists like myself. It’s also because, while the Gaspé is renowned for a specific cuisine, it’s not flowers; it’s seafood.

When I returned last September with my husband, Craig, to explore the peninsula completely, I found that, even in an era of dwindling resources, this remains true. There are 22 salmon rivers winding through the peninsula, their crystal-clear waters bordered by trees. Delicious fresh seafood is available everywhere, from quaint island shacks to elegant waterfront dining spots. But fish have always represented more than just a meal; the peninsula's history could be told through its fins and scales.

The Indigenous Mi’kmaq people, who have ancestral ties to this land, likely migrated eastward up the St. Lawrence River, past what is now Montreal and Quebec City, settling here due to the abundant food supply. Around the year 1000, Vikings arrived to fish for cod, drying and salting it for transport back to Europe. In 1534, Jacques Cartier landed, erected a large crucifix in present-day Gaspé, and claimed the entire territory for France. Gaspésie, the French name for the peninsula, originates from the Mi’kmaq term Gespeg, meaning 'land’s end.' However, considering the Atlantic served as a medieval highway linking North America to Europe, 'land’s beginning' might also be fitting.

We planned a weeklong journey that would take us on a 565-mile loop northeast from Quebec City along the St. Lawrence River. We would make a stop at the furthest point for a brief encounter with the Gulf of St. Lawrence before returning via Chaleur Bay, with the water constantly on our left, sometimes so near it felt like we could leap in.

We started at Pointe-au-Père, reminded that wild waters offer more than just a stunning backdrop. We ascended the first of the slender, striking red-and-white lighthouses that guide vessels away from the St. Lawrence’s shores, and explored the adjacent museum, shaped like a sinking ship, which honors one tragic instance where the warning failed. A gripping film and touching exhibits include the tiny wallet of nine-year-old Dolly Brooks, who perished when the ocean liner Empress of Ireland sank in 1914 while traveling from Quebec to Liverpool, claiming more than two-thirds of its 1,477 passengers.

We journeyed further down the river towards Reford Gardens, a botanical wonderland near the village of Grand-Métis, about 200 miles northeast of Quebec City. It was here, five years prior, that I was offered a spoonful adorned with begonia, pansy, carnation, and marigold, a delightful precursor to an exquisite homegrown four-course meal. This unlikely, beautiful place and those flower-laden dishes sparked my curiosity about the rest of the peninsula.

To our right, the scenery transformed as forests and villages appeared and disappeared; on the left, the far bank of the mighty river gradually faded from view. The vistas were so breathtaking that I found it hard to believe Quebecers had kept the Gaspé Peninsula a secret for so long. Perhaps the answer lay beneath our tires. The road, built in 1929, meant you had to be quite determined to travel this far before.

Elsie Reford certainly fit the bill. Following her surgery, her doctor suggested gardening as a substitute for her fishing hobby. It’s safe to assume he never imagined his patient would cultivate the remarkable landscape that now carries her name, featuring an azalea walk, an arboretum, and groves of ferns and flowers in every shade of pink. Reford wasn’t a professional gardener; she was simply a determined Ontarian with considerable wealth. Although she began her work in 1926, before the road was built, she somehow transformed a spruce forest into a haven of beauty—even in a region that can experience snow as late as May. In the warm early fall, it was easy to forget the harshness of Quebec winters. Cartier nearly succumbed to what we now recognize as scurvy, saved only by a son of Donnacona, chief of the St. Lawrence Iroquois, who offered him tea made from the bark of the “aneda” (likely white cedar) tree.

More Travel Inspiration: Our Readers' Top Cities in Canada

On this journey, just as five years ago, my plate often seemed adorned with petals—unsurprisingly, in a peninsula boasting four national parks and an array of flora that attracted the renowned Québécois botanist Frère Marie-Victorin. At Gîte du Mont-Albert, a hotel in Gaspésie National Park where we spent our first night, I noticed a photo of him from his visit to the area. However, as wall decor, it was eclipsed by the enormous stuffed moose head in the restaurant: the peninsula’s wildlife is remarkable, too, featuring black bears, lynx, beavers, ermines, and over 150 bird species. This park holds one of the highest moose populations in Quebec and the only caribou herd south of the St. Lawrence. That night, instead of spotting herbivores, I found myself imitating their dining habits, concluding my meal with sugar pie and ice cream made from melilot, or white sweet clover, which grows nearby and tastes like vanilla.

However, more often than flowers, I was served an array of fish. And what an array it was: a hearty fish soup at Café de l’Anse along the riverbank near Forillon National Park, where we spent our second and third nights in the Ôasis—a campground of five tiny teardrop-shaped structures almost on the beach; a sandwich packed with a bounty of shrimp at La Poissonnerie du Pêcheur, a roadside fish market and café with a forested view across to New Brunswick. Even the Resto des Margaulx offered an exceptional lobster sandwich, and this humble shack is the only establishment on Bonaventure Island, which has remained uninhabited since 1971.

Bonaventure wasn’t our first excursion away from the mainland. Our stop in Forillon included a whale-watching boat trip, providing a close encounter with a humpback whale over 40 feet long and two smaller minke whales frolicking nearby. We also enjoyed a guided kayaking tour, where we found ourselves eye to eye with a dozen harbor seals, their large dark eyes and sleek fur making them as adorable as puppies. Next, we ventured to Gaspé, the midpoint of our journey, renowned mainly for its stunning setting, sheltered from the gulf within a picturesque inlet, and for the delightful 15-minute walk along a waterside boardwalk from the plaza, which proudly claims the title of the Birthplace of Canada.

We spent our fourth and fifth nights at the Hôtel La Normandie in Percé, an exceptionally charming town located at the tip of the peninsula. Percé gets its name from a massive piece of pierced limestone just offshore, a natural marvel weighing an estimated 5 million tons, which, from one angle, resembles a giant horse drinking from the sea. This sight was nearly as unforgettable as the mountain of shellfish at La Maison du Pêcheur, a waterfront eatery that also showcased flowers in an even more unexpected place than Elsie Reford’s gardens: my cocktail. “It’s sea buckthorn berry,” Craig informed me, consulting his translation app for the tangy, apricot-colored berries blended into a drink featuring local gin, absinthe, and spruce beer. The bartender, like nearly everyone I encountered, was bilingual, yet the term for argousier had stumped her.

The enormous holed rock loomed large as we passed on our hour-long boat ride to Bonaventure. We enjoyed a tranquil hike across the island, with the wind whispering through the tall grass and the water gently lapping against the cliff base, interrupted only by what sounded like a loudly wailing baby. Looking down at the water, we spotted more seals basking on the rocks, howling jovially to one another. Whether noisy or quiet, these creatures, alongside the herons, cormorants, and bald eagles, had chosen this spot for a reason. It seems we were all drawn here for the fish.

This was also true for one of the oddest wild creatures, the northern gannet—a long-beaked white bird with striking blue eyes. One of the world’s largest colonies nests on the eastern side of Bonaventure Island, and our hike concluded at a high cliff where birds settled like snowflakes on every ledge, dotting the dark, rocky ground in their thousands. I opted to avoid the wooden viewing tower and instead positioned myself further back, away from the scent of guano, to watch them dive down to feed their fluffy gray chicks.

We chose a different path back to the dock, meandering through the woods and stopping for those exceptional lobster sandwiches paired with craft beer. Quebecers are passionate and skilled brewers, allowing us to punctuate our journey with breaks for local drafts. After the boat returned us to Percé, we enjoyed an evening at the Pit Caribou pub, where we listened to live music while savoring Cuvée Edras, a fantastic limited-edition beer made with Riesling wort. Along the road, we were frequently tempted to pause and peek into interesting microbreweries. However, it wasn't until we reached the final one, Tête d’Allumette, in St.-André-de-Kamouraska, a trendy spot with salty snacks and views of the brewing vats, that it struck me these beers were, in a way, mouthfuls of flowers. I was sipping on Grosse Fleur, which is actually infused with petals.

I was still contemplating the significance of flowers versus fish, land against water, when we arrived at the Paspébiac National Historic Site, situated on the edge of a barachois, a lagoon formed by a sandbar where immense quantities of cod were once dried, salted, and shipped out. Lorraine Parisé, our guide and a member of a family that has worked there for generations, reminisced, “In the 19th century, you could buy a hat for twelve cod, or shoes for fifteen.” Fish was not merely a food source, or even just a means of income: “It was our money.”

To reach this collection of 19th-century warehouses, we rounded the peninsula onto its southern side and crossed a causeway onto a narrow strip of land extending into Chaleur Bay, which Cartier sailed into in early July 1534. He named it Chaleur, after the French word for warmth, as he found it “more temperate than Spain.” We enjoyed beautiful weather, pleasantly cool for hiking and biking through the many forests and parks, yet warm enough to make all our boat rides enjoyable. The sun illuminated groves of maple, birch, and balsam fir mixed with white clapboard houses, sparkled on the water, glimmered off slender metal church spires, and highlighted the rugged cliff edges and the lighthouses that adorned them.

More Trip Ideas: Explore Canada's Golden Triangle: A Spectacular Road Trip Featuring Hot Springs, Waterfalls, and Hiking Trails

As I strolled through Paspébiac, which has transformed into an open-air museum, it became evident that this side of the peninsula was indeed warmer than the northern stretch along the St. Lawrence River. This was true even with the wind, which was beneficial for drying freshly caught fish, weaving through the historic buildings that showcased memorabilia, photographs, and exhibits about boatbuilding, including an active forge with a blacksmith at work. The breeze tugged at our clothes in the open areas where cod were once spread out. Still — more temperate than Spain?

We continued our drive westward along the southern coastline of the peninsula towards Carleton-sur-Mer, where the waters of Chaleur Bay shimmered so brightly they made the sky appear dull. At times, the bay came so close to the road that it felt like the two were greeting each other. In La Mie Véritable, a bakery and delicatessen in Carleton, a cheerful server from Marseille, France, who was bravely adjusting to the winters after falling for a Quebecer, informed us that a fisherman lived in the house across the street. We decided to knock, and he sold us fresh oysters along with a shucking knife.

We journeyed with our harvest through a dense forest to Mont St.-Joseph, where five magnificent domed cabins awaited us. As we arrived, the sun painted the sky in vibrant fuchsia hues over the treetops and sea while we enjoyed fresh oysters and grilled sweet corn from Quebec. Each dome is tucked away among the trees, giving us a delightful sense of seclusion: like forest dwellers, equipped with shelter, electricity, and a gas barbecue on the deck. The spacious curved interiors included a kitchen, a lofted bed, and, best of all, two hammocks. The views were breathtaking, as were the oysters.

French dominion over Quebec came to a close in 1760 after the Battle of Restigouche in Chaleur Bay; the British victory cut off supplies to French forces, showing that fish once again influenced Canada's fate, this time for England. The battle derived its name from the Restigouche River, which flows northeast from the Appalachian Mountains, forming the boundary between Quebec and New Brunswick before it empties into Chaleur Bay. Today, this historic battleground is preserved as a site of significance. Nearby, in Miguasha National Park, we trekked along a picturesque two-mile trail by the water, named Evolution of Life, which highlights a cliff rich in well-preserved fossils from the Devonian period (known as the Age of Fishes), recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site.

After our hike, we explored a captivating permanent exhibition that framed the context of rare specimens, which resembled exquisite sculptures, many of which were extracted from the cliff before it was protected, allowing anyone to take home a priceless 350-million-year-old keepsake. Among the exhibits was a spiny fish, extinct for 250 million years, known as Diplacanthus horridus, along with the so-called 'prince of Miguasha.' This early ancestor of land vertebrates so fascinated Swedish scientist Erik Jarvik that he devoted his entire 60-year career to studying it.

It was time to leave Chaleur Bay and journey across the neck of the peninsula back to its northern edge. The St. Lawrence felt like an old companion as I enjoyed a gin and tonic, looking out from the glass-walled deck of a bar at the St.-Laurent Distillery, which opened in 2022. Mist swirled over the water like a scene from a ghost tale while the bartender recounted stories of bootleggers who used this spot to smuggle alcohol during Prohibition: a fascinating shift, as the transformation from illicit rotgut to superb (and legal) gin, crafted from local riverside botanicals — and more flowers! — certainly seemed like progress from my vantage point.

As the mist began to lift, a familiar red-and-white striped column emerged: the Pointe-au-Père lighthouse. We had returned to where we began. Cartier envisioned fortune through fish and sought the flowers, or at least the tree bark, to survive. My journey was solely for the joy of eating and learning, to inhale the salty air and witness the stunning beauty of this wild eastern fragment of Canada’s early history. His months were filled with complexity, controversy, and global significance, while our week had been nothing short of pure delight.

A Grand Tour of Gaspé

Where to Stay

Géodômes Desjardins: Perched above the coastline of Carleton-sur-Mer, these five domes provide breathtaking vistas. Each dome is equipped with hammocks, a kitchen, and a spacious wraparound terrace featuring a barbecue.

Gîte du Mont-Albert: A 60-room hotel established in 1950 within Gaspésie National Park. The ample breakfast is clearly designed for hikers, who can step outside to immerse themselves in the magnificent woodland scenery.

Hôtel La Normandie: Located just beyond the waterfront boardwalk in Percé, this modest hotel features a great restaurant and balconies that offer views of the iconic Percé Rock.

The Ôasis: The only way to stay within the stunning Forillon National Park is to reserve a spot at a designated campground. Luckily, there are several unique accommodations available, including five delightful teardrop-shaped cabins just a two-minute stroll from the ocean.

Where to Eat and Drink

Café de l’Anse: Situated close to Forillon National Park in L’Anse-au-Griffon, this charming restaurant offers a menu featuring rich fish soup, fish burgers, and locally sourced monkfish.

La Maison du Pêcheur: Recognized as Percé’s top dining spot, this restaurant serves the finest coastal delicacies: lobster, sea urchin, arctic char, and Gaspé seafood chowder. The cocktail menu, filled with creative concoctions, adds a lively touch to the atmosphere.

La Mie Véritable: This bakery and grocery store in Carleton-sur-Mer is perfect for gathering supplies before heading into the wilderness for a night on Mont St.-Joseph.

La Poissonnerie du Pêcheur: A fish market located in Bonaventure, also offering fresh seafood in tasty sandwiches and hot dishes.

Le Mange-Grenouille: This quaint building in Le Bic was formerly a general store. Over a century later, it has transformed into a quirky inn filled with antiques, featuring a remarkable restaurant.

Pit Caribou: A classic pub on the main street of Percé, renowned as one of the peninsula’s leading microbreweries. Enjoy charcuterie, cheese, and smoked fish platters, along with fantastic live music.

Resto des Margaulx: While Bonaventure Island may be deserted, it boasts one thriving eatery. Nothing compares to a lobster or crab sandwich paired with a microbrew at this shack with a terrace overlooking the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

Tête d’Allumette: This microbrewery in St.-André-de-Kamouraska utilizes traditional wood fire brewing to create beers served in the pub or on the terrace.

What to Do

Bonaventure Island National Park: The boat trip past the massive rock that lends its name to Percé is a delightful excursion, even before arriving at the charming island.

Forillon National Park: Kayaking to a seal colony offers an unforgettable experience as you watch these creatures swim and bask in the sun. Summer is also prime time for whale watching.

Micmac Interpretation Site of Gespeg: This permanent exhibit near Gaspé Bay features a fascinating collection of traditional artifacts, but the highlight is a reconstruction of a 17th-century Indigenous encampment.

Miguasha National Park: This cliff is so abundant in ancient fossils that it has earned UNESCO World Heritage status. The museum nearby is nearly as filled with fossils as the cliff itself.

Pointe-au-Père Lighthouse National Historic Site: Ascending the stairs of this lighthouse rewards you with stunning views over the St. Lawrence.

Reford Gardens (Les Jardins de Métis): In the early 20th century, Elsie Reford transformed a wild area near Grand-Métis into a breathtaking floral haven.

This story originally appeared in the October 2023 issue of Dinogo under the title "At Land's End."