Anomaly of anomalies in North America - a territory that actually belongs to France. When I first heard about this place ever so recently I felt betrayed - for those bastards who designed the Canadian Studies highschool course, and wherever you learned the political geography of the world as well, had failed to mention these two islands. You would figure that in Canada that we would at least be taught that, in fact, two little islands were kept as a part of France. Then again, maybe I was just sleeping through that class anyways.

The little airline Air St. Pierre flies an ATR from Halifax to here, and lands on a tiny little runway that sits on the opposite end of the bay from the town of St. Pierre. The town, of course, is tiny; but I couldn't get over how much traffic this little town had. Despite the small town everyone uses their vehicle, and I bet you that this town has one of the highest traffic to population ratios in the world. That's just speculation though.

The place is entirely French - they fly the french flag, use French francs as their currency, they drive European vehicles, and even stamp your passport as you walk through Immigration. Of course, with tourism being their central industry aside from fishing, everyone's speaking a little english.

But what else can you say? The hills and mountains behind the town, that make up the majority of the small island, are beautiful hiking territory. I had never visited this part of the world before - the rocky, eroded islands that make up the Newfoundland geography, and on these rocks are thick beds of moss. It's like walking on pillows when wandering the small island. Standing on a windy rock overlooking the town and the coast, I felt implications of the spectacularly lonely and barren frontier which makes up the northeast coast of North America. The sun even takes longer to set out here.

The next day I took the ferry to Miquelon, an even tinier town on the larger island. I grabbed a trail map of the island and took off down the road. After about half an hour of walking, with the town out of sight and a heavy damp mist clouding everything, I ran into a pack of wild horses. You've got to love that. Luckily, they simply stared at me, and made no attempts to trample me to death for their lunch.





Wandering the coastline of Miquelon, you come across some even tinier villages - places like Mirand, which has three cabins in the forest. And another village which has a population of maybe ten. The coastline is pristine, and a barely noticeable trail winds along the cliff.

I hiked for far too long around the coast - I eventually wandered inland, soaking myself in the wet marshes, freaking out when I though I saw a bear's footprint in the moss - there can't be any bears on this island! The joy of hiking in a place like this is that it's difficult to get lost - the coast is always near, and the forests are only short stumpy affairs which won't get you entirely lost. After spending so many times in the B.C. wilderness surrounded by thick rainforests and giant mountains, it was nice to just be able to look over the horizon and survey which direction I was heading. I could get to like that.

It took me much longer to circle the coast than I had expected - about six hours. I finally found the road on the opposite end of the island, and some truck stopped and the driver asked me in french if I wanted a ride back to town in the back of the truck. This is what I inferred, because I had no idea what the hell he was actually saying in french (you think you know the language, and then someone actually says something in it). Back at the town I relaxed for an hour before the ferry, and headed on back to St. Pierre.

In the end, the diversion to this odd place out in the atlantic was worth it I suppose - it's scenic and pleasant. Just don't expect too much of anything to do around there. Would these two little islands be better off in the hands of Canada, as a province of Quebec or Newfoundland? Definitely not. Chances are that they get a disproportionate amount of tax money from mainland France sent to them, and if they were under the control of a province I bet you they would just be two more backwater towns in middle nowwhere. For their position in the middle of nowwhere, they've got it made - and it adds a fourth dimension to the politics of North America, like a footnote that could change the game if it ever applies. Hard to reach, and if you're in the west like me not worth the effort; but still a memorable destination nonetheless.
-August 1999









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