A Surprise at Land's End
By Rick Bolger
As printed in SPAN April 2000, the official publication of the Natural Arch and Bridge Society
Have you ever experienced something so unexpectedly stunning and beautiful -- that no matter how many photos you may have seen beforehand you still weren't prepared for it? Perhaps you were driving into Yosemite, or hiking up the slickrock to Delicate Arch. You go around that last bend, and suddenly you see something that refuses to fit in with all your prior understanding.
If you've been fortunate enough to experience this, you have some idea how I felt when I first saw Percé Rock. Like a miniature Gibraltar, Percé Rock stands at the eastern tip of Quebec's Gaspé Peninsula; a final sentry at the end of the Appalachian Mountain range.
For some reason the village of Percé (pronounced "Percy") and the entire Gaspé region has not really caught on as a big tourist destination. The tourists do visit, but not in throngs. Whenever my wife or I told someone where we were headed for our family vacation, we got puzzled looks in return. So my expectations weren't very high as we approached Percé from the southwest...until we crested that last hill and were presented with a sudden, unhindered view of mountains and sea, and the entirely unexpected rock.
With forested mountains on one side, and the sparkling blue sea on the other, Percé Rock appears golden-brown in the summer sun. From a distance, it looks like a limestone alligator, with a great arch for an eye. This was the scene that created a collective sense of newfound discovery as we approached. We knew Percé Rock had a notable arch, but we just weren't prepared for the entire vista.
The arch is all that remains of what was once twin arches, some 200 years ago. In the early 1800's the eastern, or "outer" arch collapsed. Chaotic rock piles and a few old drawings are the only evidence of the second arch. North of the support spire of what was the outer arch stands the remains of what was likely a third arch. Although this spire is now worn to a nubble only 15' high, it takes little imagination to visualize a third arch at something close to a 90º angle from the known fallen arch. Whether or not all three arches stood at the same time, one can only guess.
The remaining arch is a much different experience from most of the popular U.S. arches and bridges. The feature that sets Percé apart is the amount of solid rock above the opening. When you see the arch on foot, the opening is high enough, and the rock so massive that it is virtually impossible to see the sky above. Thus Percé presents an image more like a doorway to another sea, rather than a typical arch. [Some would argue that it is actually a natural bridge, but the bridge description makes no sense to Quebecors.]
Another difference between Percé and the typical arch is that it can be viewed any number of ways, from a variety of different vantage points. We happened to see it first from the road, where the arch is but a small irregularity in a beautiful sweeping seascape. The most popular view is by boat, which ferry tourists around the rock from morning till evening en route to Bonaventure Island, a nature preserve and nesting ground for gannets. On Bonaventure Island you can walk among the weatherbeaten remains of an old fishing village, and view Percé Rock from the same angle as a child would have, heading to school a century ago. Sea kayaking is popular; at high tide you may paddle right through the arch. Less adventurous folks enjoy still another view of the arch from quiet cottage porches and cozy gourmet bistros.
My favorite view of the arch is on foot, up close and personal. For four hours or so at low tide, Percé Rock can be reached via a wide spit that connects it with the mainland. Approaching from this angle, the rock appears like the proud and defiant bow of a great ship, a solid, impenetrable pointed peak. You then grope and splash your way along the long southern side of rock, which up close reveals a rainbow of reds, purples, ivory and yellow browns. The footing is difficult and at times treacherous, but young and old make the trek with usually only a bruise or two. After fifteen minutes of scrambling, you finally stand in the shadow of the magnificent arch. At this point the rock above hangs well over, and the arch opens to another sea, which seems quite strange after journeying along the base of a towering, solid cliff.
The alcove is filled with jumbled slabs of limestone, and every few minutes you can hear a frightening "voosh" of rocks entering the water like miniature bombs. Some rocks fall on one another, like the crack of a gunshot. Percé Rock is like a living entity; the pounding surf, salt spray and winds continue to sculpt and erode while it stands defiant, occasionally shedding rocks and revealing one of the trilobites that built it.
Proceeding past the arch is a torturous path to the outer fallen arch. Scrambling over the jumbled slabs, and having just heard the falling stones, it is quite easy to understand the cataclysm that happened here 200 years ago. It is also easy to understand the fate that will someday befall the remaining arch.
When the arch falls, be it next year or after ten millenia, Percé Rock will remain an impressive and awe-inspiring destination. Unfortunately, you'll have to travel to the far reaches of Quebec to see it. But considering the unspoiled beauty and the sparsely populated surroundings, I'm glad Percé decided to settle down way out at land's end, waiting to surprise the next unsuspecting tourist.
