This was a heavenly place, an inn made up of various cabins, sitting on the Gaspe Peninsula, on a long stretch of beach extending several miles. The kitchen is accessible to all, breakfast is a choice of several good things individually made for each guest. It feels more like a large roomy country home where you are free to roam a series of dreamlike spaces, design your meal, only your hosts are not meddlesome like bad relatives but helpful, yet mindful of your independence in this homey space: The hosts are like the type of relatives you wish you had. There are a myriad of touches that make this place special beyond the spectacular view, such as the aesthetics of the place, its non commercial smell, that even the best hotels suffer from with nauseating aromatic cleansers. Here the wood construction and wood furniture give off a cedar smell, the place is spotless and everything works. The bedding is so
comfortable that you will sleep even if you are an insomniac. I was, to quote Blanche Dubois, dependent “on the kindness of strangers,” as this is a region requiring a car and I came just with a pair of legs, a train, a regional airline, buses; and relied on two fantastic taxi drivers, a kind fellow traveler and a construction worker— who saved me halfway of a crazy walk back from town to the hotel. Had I
been stuck at Cape de Base Gaspesie, however, I would not have minded one bit. I am glad I had the good sense to choose it.
