It started off as a day trip, I guess, and as an opportunity to show off a part of the region to a friend who was in Québec City for just a few weeks participating in a French language training program. The plan was to drive around on l'Ile d'Orléans and check out Montmorency Falls. We quickly came to the conclusion, that sitting in a car for any length of time would not be in the cards as this was one a precious few darn near perfect weather days we had experienced up to that point in what had been a rather dull stretch of late spring and early summer conditions.
So, after driving around the island without any major stops, but still appreciating that it has something to offer -nice place, wrong time type of situation- we pulled into the parking lot of “le parc des chutes Montmorency” just a few minutes from the bridge back on the north shore of the St-Lawrence somewhere around noon-ish. The first place that one's attention is drawn to is obviously to the falls themselves. I won't go on and on about the statistical data but suffice it to say that they're higher but not as wide or as thunderous as Niagara Falls, but they are quite impressive nonetheless.
What they may lack, in some people's eyes, in terms of Niagara's overwhelming power, they more than make up for in sheer beauty and style, which makes it the perfect falls for the Quebec City area. Beauty and style.
I said that the first thing that one notices are the falls. The second thing that one notices was to be our mission for the next while, and that, was the staircase that hugged the cliffside, 478 steps. Then the walking trail at the top which turned west and then on to two walking bridges, one over a gorge, the other over the falls themselves. Then, onto the Manoir Montmorency, a stately building with a manicured lawn, impeccable garden and panoramic patio. There is also a gondola that ferries visitors up and down from the Manoir to the base of the falls, avoid the hassle of the staircase and bridges altogether, but, I knew that being with an athletically inclined companion, that the stairs were going to be the route for which we would opt.
It wasn't really the climbing of the stairs that felt challenging, it was the presence of the two bridges between the base and the Manoir which were cause for, let's call it, preoccupation, on my part for I am afraid of heights.
This is not something that causes me a lot of problems in a day-to-day kind of way, but on this day, it was clearly going to be an issue. How big an issue it would be, I decided, left to circumstance. “I'll cross that bridge when I get to it”, is the way in which I decided to look at this situation. So for the moment, climbing up those stairs became the focus of my attention.
This would be as good a point an any in the story to address the levels of physical fitness of both Alison and myself. Actually, it is more the variance of levels of physical fitness between Alison and me. She is an athlete. I was an athlete. She cycles, plays sports, doesn't overindulge and seems to like endurance tests. I smoke too much, drink too much coffee, don't exercise regularly and am about 20 pounds over what we used to call “my fighting weight”. And I also never really enjoyed endurance related physical activity in the first place. I am a sports guy. I like games. I'm a guy. Running, long distance cycling and cross country skiing bore me to tears. I need to keep some type of score. But, this was a challenge and as any guy, or at least any guy I've ever been associated with, will tell you, I wasn't about to let either the stairs or the bridges get the best of me, and there was no way that I was going to let Alison get the best of me either. I know that it wasn't a competition, but I still have some pride and the fact of the matter was that there was no way that I was going to go down without a fight. It may be irrational thinking, but life's all about being irrational...
While walking the 500 meters or so from the parking lot to the base of the stairway it became clear that I would be faced with three major challenges. In no particular order these were; climbing the 487 rather steep steps without huffing and puffing and making it to the top with some semblance of dignity, dealing with the two bridges and the height related issues and, of course, my footwear.
Yes, my footwear. I was wearing brand new, out-of-the-box, leather sandals. The only time prior to that morning that I had worn them was when I tried them on for size at the shoe store. And, I was wearing socks then. No socks that morning, obviously, because “Who the hell wears socks with sandals?”. If you're going to wear socks, wear shoes, it's just the way it is. Anyway, I've had enough blisters on my feet to know that this was going to be a get-blisters-on-your-feet day. I've also had enough blisters on my feet to know that they won't kill you. So just suck it up, princess.
I hadn't been as focused on a task to the degree that I was about climbing the stairs in quite a while. Driving a bus with 55 passengers on board in a snowstorm in Northern Alberta was probably the last time that I had been in this zone. Getting enough air and choosing a good pace were two priorities. At least if I focused on that, I wouldn't be looking around and getting freaked out about the heights. “Look straight ahead and climb”. Easy enough. So up we go...
You climb about three levels before you reach the first observation deck. It is basically the spot where the staircase turns right as you go up and it is where people stop to take pictures for the first time. I remember thinking that I was going to be okay in terms of physically being able to climb the stairs but now the heights were starting to have an effect on me. I hate the sensation that it causes within me. It is both a mental and physical discomfort. I attempted to walk to the edge of the deck and take pictures but I figured that I had better not push my luck so I ended up standing about 5 feet back and snapping a few quick pictures and refocusing on the climb. It's at this point that I first noticed the beginnings of the blistering on my feet. The tops of both of them were turning red and were starting to heat up. “Nothing I can do about it now, so keep going”, which is exactly what I did. Eventually we made it to the first of three covered areas along the climb. It's at about the one third mark. It is at this point that I decided that I was not going to push the height issue and handed the camera to Alison. I was going to climb all the way up, eventually cross the two bridges, but I wasn't going to walk to the edge in order to get the pictures. So for the remainder of the climb I was just trying to find a suitable rhythm and “gettin' 'er done” as the saying, no matter how grammatically imperfect, goes.
And get 'er done I did. Made it to the top in fairly decent shape. Good enough shape to start looking for a smoking spot, which is of course, a sad commentary on the grip that nicotine has on my brain and body. But one of the only benefits of a smoke break is that it provides me with an occasion to take stock of a situation.
It is at this point that I could confirm that blisters were not only a probability, they were now a fact. I'm not an expert on the various levels that make up skin but I can explain it thusly. There was separation between the top two levels. Whatever they happen to be named. And it burned. So once we headed up the little hill that led to the first bridge, it was off with the sandals and “walk in the grass Tommy Boy”. My friend Alison, of course, showed absolutely no signs of physical effort whatsoever. Literally a “walk in the park” for her. But, so be it, we headed for the bridge...
It turned out the first bridge along the way was quite wider and quite a bit sturdier than I had imagined. There was none of the walking across a span while holding on to both of sides that I had pictured. Rather the bridge was about 3 to 4 people wide, depending on the people, with good sized railings on either sides and no wobbling whatsoever. But it was still high over a gorge and I just looked straight ahead and avoided looking down at all costs. There would be no lollygagging for me.
After crossing the first bridge, the trail leads into the woods then turns left towards the falls, and the second bridge. As we approached the falls, two things caught my attention. The first was that there was a little canteen that served hot dogs and hamburgers, but beer as well. And the second thing I noticed was that there was a perfect spot to stop for another smoke, (a pattern with the smoking thing...), which had a pretty good view of the bridge, the river and the top of the falls.
Now this second bridge was an even more impressive structure. It reminded me a little of a railroad bridge that can be found in the Gaspé peninsula, my home area. On the right of the bridge was the river which flowed about 15 to 20 feet below, to the left were the falls and their 260 some odd feet drop. The right side didn't bother me too much, but I wasn't a big fan of the left side. So again, it was straight ahead, good walking pace, no farting around, stay cool but get this over with. Again, mission accomplished. I came, I saw, I crossed...
At this point I thought that I had seen the last of the two bridges because I thought that there was a trail that led back down the other side. I thought this, but I was wrong, as we were to discover in just a few minutes.
* Note. This is the spot in the story where I stopped writing some weeks ago. The long and the short of it at this point is that after, walking around pointlessly due to my thinking that I knew a shortcut (great plan with blistered feet) we went back down the same route. I now have two little scars on the tops of my feet to remind me of that walk. I've also been back alone and climbed the stairs and crossed the bridges, but this time with proper footwear. And 15 to 20 less pounds...
