Pointe à Pic is gay, lively and fashionable; Murray Bay, town-like and not lonely; St. Irénée, a beach resort for quiet people who take with them their own amusements; while Cap à l’Aigle is suited for those who like farm and country life, with good air and walks along the cliffs and through country fields. Pointe à Pic and Murray Bay are nearly connected; and as St. Irénée and Cap à l’Aigle are just a few miles south and east, there is plenty of occupation, even for those who live in the quiet outer resorts; for the St. Lawrence steamboats call at all the wharves, and it is easy to go from one place to the other by steamer, as well as by carriage. Summer costumes from nearly every part of the world make gay the long wharf at Pointe à Pic, and with the hundreds of carriages drawn up for the reception of visitors and guests arriving by steamer the scene is animating, lively and full of interest.
The scenery of St. Irénée is very fine. The shore is green and fresh. There are no unsightly landslides, and no bare rock. The elevation is a bold one, with high mountains behind fading into grey and blue. The gentle-sloping shore dotted with white cottages runs to a point at the south that is shaped like the bastion of a fort. The shore is of rock and gravel, with sand in some places. A stone road extends along the shore and makes a pleasant promenade. A short distance from the wharf, north and south—in fact directly at the wharf—is the open country where the habitants still live the simple life of other days. St. Irénée is essentially a summer place—there is neither town nor village. The main road to Pointe à Pic makes a very enjoyable course for a country ramble, as it abounds in by-roads and quiet paths that lead through hill and dale where may be heard the merry music of many a dashing cascade and sprightly rill. The bungalows are all prettily placed at varying heights—always in choice spots that command a direct view of the water and shore. There is no obtruding village life, and no place where ‘shopping’ may be done. All the signs of life are contributed by the summer residents. There is little or no formality. Ladies and children lounge on the hotel piazza, saunter along the hillside and country roads, or form sociable groups on the shore as they do fancy-work and sewing, or write letters—the children taking their fill of pleasure from the shore with spade and pail.
A few tied-up schooners float lazily at the wharf, awaiting their next period of activity. River steamboats between Quebec, Murray Bay and Tadousac call here, and it is also a port of call for the Government Steamship Champlain.
The pleasant residences of the Forget family are prominent on the shelving hillside. The balustraded promenade, high up, with its projecting bastion or observation terrace, its garden, walks, seats and prettily arranged grounds, is a delightful point from which to enjoy a commanding view of the shore, the wharf and the broad vista of waters. A short walk from each end of the main or shore promenade brings out at little hamlets or groupings of cottages of the native residents. They present many points of interest for visitors, and pleasant rambles may thus be enjoyed by those who would see how quaint a life the people of remote parts in this province still enjoy.
A short distance to the north of the wharf there is a fine stretch of clean sand, backed by rocks and turf. There are generally low piles of newly-sawn lumber, stacked up near the wharf end of this beach, where children may have jolly times playing ‘hide-and-seek,’ or climbing and building houses on the shore from drift-wood, ‘ends’ and cuttings. A walk of but half a mile leads to the attractive little stream that here falls into the St. Lawrence, and meets real waves as it plunges into its seaward goal. Across the little stream the stray logs that have grounded, the rocks, the cottages on the hill, the rustling trees, the soaring height of the near-hills, the bright green of the small point, the darker green of the great cape beyond, the dim outline of the far-away mountain range and the broad stretch of cool waters dotted with gracefully floating vessels; all these make ideal summer surroundings. It is a pleasant spot. A great charm for many will be the simplicity of all, unspoiled by crowds—fashion left out. Children may here realize all the joys of early youth; and adults, as they rest on the beach, will live over again the joyous days of the care-free long ago. Few who roam the delightful strand would know it was not the seashore. It is salt water, of course; and it may be called an inner sea without the decided range of temperature experienced on the open Atlantic coast.
Pointe à Pic (Murray Bay, South) is known the world over for its magnificent landscapes and the rugged grandeur of the scenery with which nature has endowed it. Precipice, gorge and cloud-capped peaks are everywhere, and the general view, Alpine, Scottish and wild, is superb.
Cape Blanc, Murray Bay
Champlain called here, and it was he who named it Malbaie on account of its rapid tide. The native French still use that name; for the words Murray Bay are difficult to pronounce, and when they do use this name it sounds like Mooriebay with a long ‘Moore’ and a short ‘bay.’ Pointe à Pic, on the other hand, rolls off their tongues with a delightful piquancy; no wonder they prefer to use it.