Arriving at the marina requires entry via the lock gate
I love Quebec City. I personally consider it to be THE most beautiful city in North America. I think I can speak with some authority here because, mostly through work, I have actually been to at least ninety percent of the cities in North America with a population of over 50,000. I have been here at all times of year, even during -30°F winter days, and it always takes my breath away. It is an impossibly romantic city and a wonderful hidden gem. If you happen to be in North America and don't want to foot the bill to go to Paris or Vienna, try Quebec City. You will not be disappointed.
Of course, I am mostly talking about the old city. The newer districts around it could have been transplanted from almost anywhere and don't offer quite the charm. One of the things I like about the old city is that it is small enough to see at a meandering pace, while also being hilly enough to deliver a moderate dose of exercise. Then you can do it over and over again, taking in each vista in different light and weather. Each time I do it, it just fills my heart with it's beauty as if it were my first sighting.
Maryanne and I had only a loose itinerary, which allowed us plenty of time between tours and museums to walk hand-in-hand through Quebec City's streets and parks.
We spent our first day getting a feel of the town, with an amble along the waterfront, through the lower old town, then up to the upper old town (I used the funicular, Kyle walked), where the hotel "Le Château Frontenac" dominates (even in the rain). We found places to dine, and took a fancy drink in the Frontenac's 1608 bar with a view.
On Day 2 the sun came out, we ambled about and we partook in several tours: the parliament building, and the Frontenac hotel, and ambled through parklands
A tour inside the Frontenac Hotel
Plains of Abraham (parklands)
And at night the city is even more charming
Because Maryanne and I had more time than was usually available on my work layovers, we had the luxury of exploring more of the city than I had previously seen. One of my favorite areas that I'd missed so far is the Petit-Champlain Quarter (a shopping district), which lies at the base of the cliffs far below the main part of old town. The district is only a block or two wide, but it is positively charming.
Day 3 we continued ambling through the city, visiting a number of beautiful churches, and the seminary buildings, and Notre-Dame Cathedral; then headed off to the Citadel for a formal tour
The Citadel is the site of Quebec City's oldest fortifications (although the current configuration is from early 1800's), and it remains an active military base today; so entry is only possible with the official tour guides.
On our third day in the city, we were taking a tour of the citadel at the top when Maryanne, probably skipping as if she were a character in The Sound of Music, sprained her ankle on a pothole. Maryanne hates missing out on things, so I knew it was serious when she limped toward the exit while insisting the rest of the group, including me, carry on without her.
When I was reunited with her afterwards, I was distressed to find her sitting with her swollen leg elevated. It looks like "walk it off" was not going to be an option. She was terribly upset, from the pain, obviously, but just as much from worry about what this was going to do to our immediate plans. She was enjoying ambling around the city and tomorrow we had a long provisioning trip planned. She was even worried that she wouldn't to be able to manage the boat during her upcoming watches, or even act as deckhand when we left the marina. {Maryanne:I first rolled my ankle back in December in Iceland, and while it recovered, it seems weeker now and prone to rolling and bringing me right back to square one. I knew I'd barely be able to put any weight on it for a couple of days, and that drew an early end to the fun in Quebec City.. Ugh!}
We decided that a professional opinion was probably wise, and booked a cab to the nearest hospital's urgent care department. When we got there, Maryanne was given two choices for treatment: Fork over $1,200 bucks just to get through the door, where extra would then be required for any x-ray or consult (or anything else really), or rest and hope. Defeated, she quickly chose the latter, feeling forking out that much money to verify what we already suspected wasn't so wise.
Okay, we both have a modicum of medical training. I guess it's going to be up to us. We took a cab to the nearest pharmacy, where we loaded up on ankle supports, bandages, and pain meds, and then took Maryanne home to convalesce.
Maryanne insisted Kyle spent our remaining spare time exploring, while she rested aboard Begonia
The next day, even though she admitted to feeling no better, she insisted on coming along for the big provision. I think her general reasoning was that, although I can be very helpful as an assistant, I am useless as the director. I think she had visions of receiving texts from me every three seconds asking her exactly what she wanted and decided it would be less pain and hardship for her if she just came along and tried to put all of her weight on the shopping cart. The only compromise I could get out of her (which wasn't hard) was that we would at least take a cab to and from the store instead of our usual walking.
On our day of departure, we left the marina a little bit too early for high tide and had to be lowered a meter or so in the lock to the height of the river. The forecast was such that, instead of a three or four day passage for our next leg, we would need to stop and anchor for a day in the middle. This meant she wouldn't have to stand watches for the first day and could stay inside with her foot propped up on a a big pillow.
It was hard to leave, knowing we will almost certainly not go to the trouble to sail this way again and that, since Quebec City isn't really on the way between our respective families, we likely may never see it again. Still, it was a marvelous few days (apart from the ankle thing) and we're glad we got to see it once more.
