Île d’Orléans, Island of Enchantment: Saint-Jean

Île d’Orléans is but a small island on the Saint-Lawrence River about five kilometers east of downtown Québec City, away from the hustle and bustle of urban life and the tourist mob, but its historical and cultural significance cannot be discounted. In fact, diminutive as it is in the whole province of Québec, it is considered the “Birthplace of New France” and the “Cradle of French civilization in North America.”

Île d’Orléans was one of the first parts of the province that was settled by the French. In the 17^th century, more than 300 families came here from north-west France, mostly from the Normandy and Pitou regions, to establish permanent homes in what was then New France. Some have stayed there for centuries, while others have spread out to the mainland. A large percentage of French Canadians can actually trace their ancestry back to the early residents of this island.

But it is even older than that. The island has long been inhabited by Indigenous tribes. In fact, the Huron peoples called it Minigo, meaning “enchanted island.” When French explorer Jacques Cartier first set foot on this land in 1535, he named it Île de Bascuz (Island of Bacchus), after the Greek god of wine, because of the abundance of wild grape vines growing all over the island. When he returned a year later, he renamed it Île d’Orléans in honour of Henri II, Duke of Orléans and the second son of Francis I, the then-King of France.

The first settlers were attracted by the island’s fertile soil and since the early days of colonization, agriculture has been the main livelihood of its people. Known as “The Garden of Québec,” it remains a largely rural place and its current inhabitants have preserved its pastoral heritage, even after the island became more accessible with the completion of the Pont de l’Île in 1935 that connected it to the mainland in Beauport.

And despite the increase in traffic and the influx of visitors, the island has maintained its historical character and traditional way of life. More than 600 of its houses and buildings were classified as heritage property and in 1990, the entire island was designated a National Historic Site of Canada, thus protecting it from commercial development.

Today, Île d’Orléans is a popular destination for day-trippers from Québec City, as well as avid cyclists and hiking enthusiasts. It has also carved its place as the epicentre of Québec’s agri-tourism movement and a culinary haven. Just 15 minutes from Québec City by car, and about 8 kilometers wide and 35 kilometers long, it can easily be explored from a few hours to a full day, depending on the number of stops you choose to make.

A 60-kilometer road called Chemin Royale circles the whole island and three main roads, Rue d’Orléans, Route Prévost, and Route des Prêtre, connect it from north to south near the western tip. You may have heard that Chemin Royale was featured in a 1975 song entitled, “Le Tour de l’Île” composed by Francophone musician and Île d’Orléans-native, Félix Leclerc.

If you travel along the perimeter of the island along this route, you will be treated to its spectacular landscape, from jagged coves and capes to hilly reliefs and small valleys, as well as the stretch of greenery with fields of berries and luscious vineyards, not to mention the gorgeous scenery stretching along the banks of the Saint Lawrence River. No wonder, Sir Felix was inspired by the beauty and had set it to music.

Though I have never heard his song which, for sure, was written in French, I think I could relate with his wistful sentiments. When my family and I drove around the island, we simply fell under its spell – so simple and rustic, yet full of warmth and charm.

From the bridge, we traveled counterclockwise via Chemin Royale. Following this road will give you the opportunity to see all six villages that comprise the island – Sainte-Pétronille, Saint-Laurent, Saint-Jean, Saint-François, Sainte-Famille, and Saint-Pierre.

Saint-Jean

When we finally got back to the main road after a series of reroutes (due to road construction), we were close to the border with the next village, Saint-Jean, and this turned out to be our favourite.

In the heart of the town, well-preserved luxurious homes dating from 1825 to 1860 dot the street. These were the homes of sea captains and river pilots who worked in the Saint-Laurent waterway and were more financially prosperous than the boatbuilders and shipyard workers.

The "Scottish brick" in the façades of several of the homes are firebricks crafted from renowned Glasgow manufacturers and were used as ship ballasts to stabilize vessels travelling from Europe to the Americas. They were repurposed for local construction due to their strength and durability, and were considered a sign of luxury and wealth. The street is literally like a movie set for all its quaintness and colour.

The most notable house is No. 1415 known as Manoir Mauvide-Genest, home of a French surgeon and pharmacist who settled here in 1720. He built this manor in 1752, became a successful merchant , and went on to acquire most of the western part of the island. It is now a museum filled with authentic and reproduction furniture pieces from that era. In the summer, it offers guided tours that give guests information about the history of the house, Mauvide-Genest’s surgery and apothecary practice (surgical tools, medical theories, and preparation of drugs and remedies), and the huge garden that has medicinal plants used that time to concoct ancient remedies.

Along the way, we also saw a long line of coquettish cottages that have been transformed into art galleries and artists’ studios, as well as shops, boutiques, restaurants, and inns. There were also kiosks selling fresh fruits and vegetables and lemonade and ice cream stands.

One place I would have liked to check out was the Du Capitaine Ferme et Vinaigrerie, famous for its vinegar named after a captain who belonged to the family of the owners. They started their business as blackcurrant farmers and later on dabbled with aromatized vinegar after they acquired a traditional processing plant. Soon, they were producing wine vinegar with their home-grown blackcurrants. After their initial success, the owner decided to pursue studies and research in vinegar production from three continents and brought home the knowledge to produce his own artisan vinegar that is said to give the world-famous balsamic vinegar of Modena, Italy some serious competition.

In order to maintain the authenticity of the development of their fruit wine vinegars, they even constructed a traditional vinegar house dedicated to crafting high-standard quality wine and balsamic vinegars that preserves age-old methods. The vinegar house has a cellar designed to follow the traditional aging process. Visitors can do a tour of this beautifully-landscaped building surrounded by fruit trees, and then later on pick their own fruits – blackcurrants, cherries, plums, blueberries, and gooseberries.

At the boutique, visitors can purchase their signature products – their line of fruit vinegars and their blackcurrant food items such as syrups, wine and vinegar jellies, spreads, mustard, and velouté. These products are used by many Québec restaurants. We could have bought some more blackcurrant items for my dad-in-law, but the shop was closed that day, so we drove on.

We passed by Quai de Saint-Jean, a large pontoon on the river with lampposts along the side and wooden benches overlooking Saint Lawrence River. It looked like there was some kind of beach and plenty of boulders and rocks along the wharf, but we didn’t stop there.

Instead, we drove for a few more blocks until we reached the Church of Saint-Jean, which has been standing in that spot since 1734. There was small, winding road branching out from Chemin Royale behind the church that went down to the shore. It was lined with colourful flowering shrubs and decorative grass. We followed it and discovered a spacious parking lot overlooking the water.  We first went to see the church, but it was already closed, so I just a picture of its façade and the statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in front of its doors.

My boys were more interested in exploring the riverbank. They discovered that from the parking lot, there were steps leading down towards the water. The tide was low and we could see the red and white rock formations that run along the bank.

My geologist husband got excited. I remember him mumbling about what kind of rocks these were and how good of a sample they are of something, but the details were all lost on me as he called our son, and off they scampered like little boys on their first day of camp.

There were also large boulders, and it looked like a “beach” from afar. But upon close inspection, you will realize that it is comprised of ground shale instead of sand, stretched from there all the way to the quay that we passed by a few minutes ago.

I followed my boys and I noticed that the rock formations were indeed interesting. They resemble striped scallop shells, very thin and arranged like layered fans. After getting a quick overview of the rock spread and then walking further to the water to feel the sloshing waves on our feet, my husband walked back to the car and emerged after a few minutes lugging a bucket. Uh-oh! That bucket contained rock hammers, a pick, magnifying lens, plus a couple of goggles. I did not have to guess what he was up to. When our son saw him, he jumped up and down and said, “Yay! We’re going to get some rock samples!” I was 100% sure it would take a while.

I watched them for a few minutes then told them I was going to explore the village on foot and that I’d be back in 20 minutes or so. I got a couple of grunts for as soon as they found their spot, they went at it right away and did not even notice me.

I walked to the cemetery adjacent to the church. It’s an old one, with tombstones dating back to the 18^th century. Surrounded by low walls that are hardly able to hold up the waves from reclaiming the dead, it stands in silent testimony to a great number of sea captains and river pilots who lost their lives at sea.

There is something about visiting cemeteries that makes me pensive and think about the meaning of our existence, the passage of time, the transience of life, and the mysteries of death. After my brief reverie, I said a prayer for the souls of those buried here and went on my way.

I crossed the street to see this interesting bakery called La Boulange in a white and gray ancestral house. I heard they have excellent bread, pastries, pizza, soups, sandwiches, and coffee. But alas, it was closed. It would have been nice to enjoy a croissant with a cup of coffee on the terrace!

Beside it is a small park with picnic tables and benches under shady trees. There was a family playing a game of soccer and a group of seniors huddled on one table playing chess.

I walked on and admired the Regency-style homes up close, taking pictures along the way – houses with façades in stucco, carved front doors framed by columns, elegant wrought-iron balconies, bay windows, and sweeping verandas. On this particular section of the village, you could shoot a period film without altering much.

When I noticed that it was getting dark, I walked back to the church yard. My boys were still busy picking at rocks and counting their inventory, so I waited semi-impatiently in one corner. I had to remind them a couple of times to hurry up because it was getting late and the tide was rising. It’s a good thing I had a beautiful view of the sunset from where I was sitting. It more than made up for the extra minutes of waiting. When they were finally done, we loaded their box of rocks in the car and resumed with our journey.

Just past the church of Saint-Jean, is a small road marked as Route de Mitan. A local mentioned that if we are pressed for time, we could cut across the island through here and end up in Saint-Famille. The route is supposed to be a landscape treasure passing cornfields, apple orchards, and maple farms. But we decided to continue with the full loop of the island as we did not want to skip the next village of Saint-François.

Before we reached the border, we passed by a sugar shack called La Sucrérie Blouin, located on the edge of the Saint Lawrence River and in the maple grove. Since it was off-season for the maple festival, the only thing we could do there was to either shop for maple products or dine at their famous restaurant. We’ve already taken our son to a sugar shack in Ontario, so we drove on.