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Driving New Brunswick’s Acadian Coast—Biking Kouchibouguac National Park

The Bay of Fundy and Fundy National Park might be the better known of the two national parks in New Brunswick, but Kouchibouguac (pronounced Koo-she-boo-gwac) is just as loved in the province. Only an hour north of Moncton, it’s a must-stop on the Acadian Route, especially for bikers and beach lovers. The national park has 60 km of hard-packed gravel trails, not unlike the carriage path trails in Maine’s Acadia National Park. This includes a sweet 6 km singletrack mountain biking route along Major Kollock Creek. 
 
I rented a bike at Ryans near spacious campsites nestled into the Acadian forest. There are no speeds on the bike because there are very few hills to endure. I cruised along the Kouchibouguac River smelling the sweet pines and spruce. The river is popular with paddlers in summer, coming to see the otters and osprey diving for fish. Also in the park, it’s not unusual to run into black bear, moose, and beavers. At La Source, site of a former well for villagers that used to live in the area, I returned past Ryans to the highlight of the park, Kellys Beach. Arguably, the most exquisite beach in the entire province, Kellys is a six-kilometer stretch of white sand that dips down into the surprisingly warm waters. To reach the coveted coastline, you walk on a long boardwalk over a lagoon, marsh, and dunes. After you’ve had your fill of sun and sea, return to Ryans to drop off the bike and grab a beer at the outdoor patio of Ryan’s Landing. The perfect ending to a perfect day.
 
I’ve had a blast driving the Acadian Route. Thanks for coming along for the ride. I’ll be at a classic Maine coastal resort, Linekin Bay, on Monday and Tuesday, back on Wednesday with one bonus blog on New Brunswick’s Bay of Fundy. In the meantime, stay active!
 
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Driving New Brunswick’s Acadian Coast—Good Eating in Caraquet

Continuing north from the Acadian Peninsula, the town of Caraquet is best known as the home of Festival acadien de Caraquet, which will celebrate its 50th anniversary this August. The two-week event, one of the most popular festivals in the Atlantic provinces pays tribute to the vibrant Acadian culture through music, cabaret, poetry, and wild parades. Yet, there’s another event happening here the rest of the year that food lovers in particular will cherish. Thanks to chef Karen Mersereau, Caraquet has become a hotbed of gastronomy. 
 
Mersereau was a food marketing rep in Toronto when she met Gerard Paulin, the third-generation hotelier of Hotel Paulin, a Victorian-era gem perched on a hill above the water of Caraquet Bay. A dozen years later, the couple are parents of a boy, Jules, and Karen is firmly entrenched at the helm of the hotel’s kitchen. She has wisely aligned herself with the top food harvesters in the region. 
 
The forests surrounding Caraquet are ripe with morels, chanterelles, oyster mushrooms, and other goodies like the foot of the cattail. Jean Patenaude made a name for himself scouring the countryside for edibles, bringing home laundry baskets full of wild mushrooms on ideal days in summer. Out on the water, Gaetan Dugas’ Caraquet Bay oysters are a prized commodity in high demand from chefs around North America. Especially the petites, small oysters that are both succulent and briny. Dugas’ ancestors include a pirate who commandeered a ship against the British in the 1750s, but it’s his father who taught him how to oyster farm and his grandfather who taught him the traditional ways of the local Mi’kmaq people. 
 
Mersereau takes advantage of both these men’s expertise to create a memorable wild mushroom oyster bisque. To ensure that every spoonful is chockful of meat, she throws in the native palourdes clam, similar to a quahaug. The bevy of local supplies would make most chefs weep with joy. Snow crabs, tuna, Atlantic salmon, shrimp, lobster, and halibut right off the boat, goat cheese and spring-fed lamb found in nearby farms, and blueberries and cloudberries grow wild along the coast, perfect for making a sublime pie. At Hotel Paulin, the locavore movement has reached its crescendo.
 
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The Passionate People of Lamèque and Miscou Islands

All it takes is a one-minute conversation with Dr. Mathieu Duguay to understand how he persuaded the finest harpsichordists and cellists in Amsterdam, New York, and Berlin to come perform Bach in a 300-seat seat church on the island of Lamèque. A genuine lover of music, Duguay knows the most talented period performers of the day and has flown them over to New Brunswick to play in a church, acclaimed for its exceptional acoustics and vibrantly painted interior. Today, the Baroque Music Festival, now in its 37th season, is the best of its kind in North America. 
 
If you make the wise decision to venture off the Acadian Route and travel on Route 113 to Lamèque and Miscou Islands on the Acadian Peninsula, you’ll quickly realize that Duguay is just one of many colorful characters that light up this sylvan setting. Sandra LeCouteur grew up in the circa-1856 lighthouse on the edge of Miscou Island. Her father, the lighthouse keeper, is known for catching the largest tuna in the world, a whopping 1243 pounds. On select nights in summer, LeCouteur sings on a small stage inside the lighthouse and her deep voice resonates within these historic walls. 
 
Just beyond the Miscou Island Bridge, La Terrasse à Steve is named for the owner, a seafood lover who uses lobster 14 different ways. Sit down at one of the picnic tables overlooking the harbor and dine on lobster casserole, lobster paste sushi, or simply a lobster just out of the pot. Ask if you can see his 13-pound lobster, which is for photographs only. Then write your name on one of the wooden poles, right next to the guy from Alaska. Finally, there’s the seafood pizza at Au P’tit Mousse, written up in Michelin of all places. One bite of Patrick Noel’s sublime combination of lobster, clam, shrimp, and scallop topping and you’ll forgive him for being a Montreal Canadians fan. 
 
Climbing the Miscou Island Lighthouse and looking out over the water, feeling like you’re on the edge of the great abyss, or lounging on the sublime white beaches are the main reasons folks visit the Acadian Peninsula. But spend more than an afternoon here and you’ll realize it’s the people that make this place special. 
 
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Driving New Brunswick’s Acadian Coast—Stopping for Lobster in Shediac

All you have to do is take one look at the 35-foot long lobster sculpture at the entrance to the seaside town of Shediac to know that you’ve reached the crustacean capital of the Maritimes. You’ll soon pass a lobster plant and many restaurants offering lobster rolls and PEI mussels. Yet, the best way to have a taste of lobster is aboard the Lobster Tales Cruise with Ron and Denise Cormier. For 29 years, Ron worked as a lobsterman scouring the waters of Shediac Bay and Northumberland Strait, the large body of water between New Brunswick and PEI. Now he passes on his vast knowledge of lobster to the fortunate visitors who board his boat for a 2 ½-hour cruise. Not only will you pull up traps to find lobsters, crabs, and a rubber chicken (Ron has a great sense of humor), but you’ll also learn to tell the difference between a female and male lobster (wider tail, of course) and how to eat a lobster properly. And eat you will, out at sea overlooking Shediac Island. Listen to traditional Acadian music while digging into the sweet lobster meat, which needs no butter to savor. If you need something to wash it down, the boat is well-equipped with a full bar. 

 
For more upscale dining, head to Maison Tait in town. Chef Mike Harris has returned home after working for six years at the Fairmont Hamilton in Bermuda. One bite of a succulent mussel dipped in a tasty coconut and curry sauce, and you’ll be happy to have him back in the Moncton area. If you need a place to crash after the rich chocolate lava cake, the circa-1911 Maison Tate just renovated their rooms upstairs. 
 
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New Brunswick Week—Driving the Acadian Coast

Stretching 110 miles from Shediac to Caraquet, the northeastern coast of New Brunswick boasts the warmest waters north of Virginia, the sand dunes of Kouchibouguac National Park, lonely lighthouses on Miscou Island, and the largest lobster processing facility on the continent. Yet, the real reason folks go out of their way to venture to the Acadian Coast is to experience the French Canadian culture. Stop at any of the small towns and you’ll notice a distinctive joie de vivre, with foot-stomping fiddle music, down-home French cooking accentuating the local seafood catch, and festivals that celebrate the Acadians’ 400-year-old history in the Atlantic Maritimes. One step inside the local boulangerie or patisserie and you’ll realize that this part of New Brunswick is just as French as Quebec, the reason why New Brunswick is the only province in Canada that is officially bilingual. This week, I’ll be driving the Acadian Coast, on assignment for The Boston Globe. I plan to go lobstering, biking, sea kayaking, and more. I’ll fill you in on all the details, so you’ll know exactly what to do on your next trip to the Atlantic Maritimes! 
 
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My Favorite Small Outfitters, Cook Island Divers, Rarotonga

You can get your scuba diving certification at the neighborhood indoor pool over the course of 3 months or you can do it in the South Pacific over the course of three days. Cook Island Divers is where I learned to scuba dive and it resulted in one of my first travel stories back in 1991. Perhaps I’m feeling nostalgic, but it’s hard not to praise Greg Wilson, one of the finest instructors in the business. It also don’t hurt that the surrounding ocean offers visibility over 100 feet and water temperatures in the 75 to 85 degree range. If you’re thinking about obtaining your scuba diving certification, this would be my top choice. Then continue onward to the pristine waters of Aitutaki, Taveuni’s Rainbow Reef, and Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. 

 
Next week, if all goes as planned, I’ll be blogging from New Brunswick, Canada’s Acadian Coast. Ciao for now. 
 
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My Favorite Small Outfitters, Ken’s Hinterland Adventure Tours, Dominica

Unlike the rest of the Caribbean, the attraction in Dominica is not the beach, but a lush mountainous interior ripe with every tropical fruit and vegetable imaginable and inundated with so much water that around every bend is another raging waterfall, a serene swimming hole nestled in the thick bush, or a hidden hot spring to rest your weary body after a day in the outdoors. Indeed, this island closest to Martinique has become an affordable haven for the active traveler who yearns to hike through a jungle-like forest. My guide for a week of treks into the interior was Kent Augiste of Ken’s Hinterland Adventure Tours. The highlight was a 7-hour round-trip hike inside Morne Trois Pitons National Park to the crater known as Boiling Lake. We hiked through a dense forest of tall gommier trees, staring at the iridescent purple-throated hummingbirds as they kept us company. Afterwards, we lounged in the natural hot spring at Papillote Wilderness Retreat. Owner Anne Jno Baptiste first came to the island from the States in 1961. Eight years later, she bought a 7-acre chunk of land enveloped by the rainforest that she would cultivate into a flower-rich botanical garden and one of the Caribbean’s first eco-resorts. 

 
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My Favorite Small Outfitters, Fat Tire Bike Tours, Paris

Those of you with a love of art history know Giverny as the home of Claude Monet. Less than an hour by train from Paris, you can make the pilgrimage to Monet’s home and his spectacular Japanese water garden inundated with day lilies, the inspiration for many of the works that hang on the walls of the Musée d’Orsay in Paris and other impressive collections of Impressionism around the globe. Fat Tire Bike Tours escorts riders from Paris’ St. Lazare train station to the quaint village of Vernon. Once you arrive, you head to an outdoor market to stock up on picnic food–soft, creamy Reblochon cheese, slices of yummy Rosette de Lyon sausage, duck liver pate, warm baguettes from the neighborhood boulangerie, juicy strawberries and apricots, and a bottle of wine to wash it down. After passing out bikes, our guide Andrew led us to the banks of the Seine River where we watched a family of swans swim as we dug into our goodies. Then we were off on an easy 5km bike trail that connects Vernon with Giverny. We entered the picturesque hamlet and were soon walking over that Japanese bridge seen in many of Monet’s works. The whole trip took from Paris took about 8 hours and cost 65 Euros per biker, a perfect day trip. They also offer a bike trip to Versailles and a nighttime cruise to famous Parisian sights like the Louvre and Notre Dame. 

 
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My Favorite Small Outfitters, Bob Hicks at Gros Morne Adventures

 

In the summer of 2002, I had the pleasure of backpacking the stunning Long Range Traverse, on assignment for Backpacker magazine. Nestled within Newfoundland’s Gros Morne National Park, a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site because of its unique combination of quartzite rock and wetland terrain, the Long Range Mountains could very well be the one of the last remnants of pristine wilderness within a three-hour flight of New York and Boston. There were no manicured trails with requisite wooden signs showing us which way to go and exact mileage to get there. The Long Range Traverse is a 35 kilometer semi-circular route where topo maps and a compass are a necessity to find your way among the web of caribou paths. Indeed, caribou and moose far outnumbered the four other backpackers we saw on the four-day traverse, averaging one hiker per day. 
 
With limited amount of time, my friend and I decided to hire an outfitter, Bob Hicks, co-owner of Gros Morne Adventures. The advantage of having a guide is obviously you won’t get lost for hours, sliding knee-deep in the muck or coming out of the brush with sharp tuckamore branches nesting in your hair (tuckamore is Newfoundland’s version of the stunted balsam tree, comparable in appearance to krummholz in the Alps). You also won’t miss the slight detours from the route that lead to striking overlooks above three landlocked fjords. I’m sure you’ve seen a version of this photo on many advertisements for clothing and travel. This is a shot of Bob Hicks taken by my buddy, Jeff Katz. 

 

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My Favorite Small Outfitters, Mahoosuc Guide Service, Newry, Maine

I’m very excited this week to divulge my favorite regional outfitters, the small guys who have no budget to advertise and create a catalog, but know their locale like the back of their hand. In fact, many of the larger outfitters hire these guys to take their groups out. First up, Mahoosuc Guide Service, based in Newry, Maine. The best introduction to Mahoosuc is to simply share the intro of the article I wrote about paddling the Maine Woods for Sierra Magazine. 
 
Wearing a felt hat, plaid shirt, and a graying beard, Kevin Slater sits in the back of his canoe, looking as comfortable as most men his age are reclining in a Lazy-Boy. His stroke is short, fluid, with a short inward snap at the end to steer him exactly where he needs to be in a river dotted with boulders. In front of him sits his faithful companion, a peach-colored husky named Kara. Several months from now, when the maples grow barren and the pines are heavy with snow, Kara will be in a raucous team of her fellow Yukon brethren pulling a dogsled through the melt. But now, at the peak of fall foliage in northern Maine, with the maples and poplars on the hillside radiant with splashes of yellow, plum, and purple, Kara can rest and she does just that with her head jutting out over the edge. 
Like the paddles we hold in our hands, the 17 ½ and 20-foot long wood and canvas canoes we sit in were all created by Slater. It takes more than 120 hours of work to carve one of these delicately ribbed beauties out of northern white cedar and cherry wood, using only native varieties. 
“I was taught that you can find anything you need to make in these woods,” says Slater.
His skilled craftsmanship was passed down from his mentor, who Slater refers to simply as the “Old Timer.” As in, “after paddling the entire Allagash, the Old Timer told me to go to the local store and get ten days of supplies. I was going to go back upstream on my own. That’s how I learned how to canoe these rivers.”
Slater is the latest in a long line of teachers and students who learned to live in the Maine woods and to navigate the maze of blue waterways, a seemingly countless number of lakes, rivers, streams, and ponds that branch off in every direction to form this capillary system deep in the forest. The baton, (or in this case, a paddle) has been passed over the generations from the Wabanaki Indians to European fur traders to a growing legion of naturalists with familiar names like Emerson and Thoreau to the timbermen of the 20th century, and lastly the recreational paddlers like you and me who yearn to get lost in a timeless bubble far away from the hyperkinetic mindset of modernity.