PARC NATIONAL DU BIC
Some places leave you with beautiful photographs. Others leave you seeing nature a little differently.
Parc national du Bic did both.
Located where the St. Lawrence River begins its journey toward the Atlantic Ocean, Bic feels unlike anywhere else I've visited in Canada. Every few hours, the tides transform the shoreline, revealing forests of seaweed, rocky coves, tide pools, and stretches of coastline that disappear beneath the water again. Deer wander quietly through the trails, harbour seals rest on offshore rocks, and the landscape seems to move at its own unhurried pace.
I arrived expecting beautiful scenery. I left with a sketchbook full of ideas and a new appreciation for coastal ecosystems.
If you're planning a visit, here are the things that made Bic unforgettable for me.
The first morning captured everything I would come to love about Bic.
The birds were singing, the wind carried the scent of salt, and a soft fog drifted across the sky. We woke to a landscape that felt quiet, wide, wild, and completely at peace. Standing there, looking out over the water, I remember thinking that few places had ever calmed my mind quite like this one.
Let the tides set the pace
The tides are what make Bic feel alive.
One moment the shoreline is underwater. A few hours later, long ribbons of kelp, shells, and smooth rocks emerge, completely changing where you can walk.
One afternoon, we sat by the rocky shore with no real plans other than watching the seals and cycling to one of the park's many bays. It had been a last-minute trip, and I hadn't spent much time researching what Bic was known for. As it turned out, I didn't need to.
Walking along the shoreline, listening to the sound of rocks shifting beneath my feet, was enough.
The more time I spent by the water, the more the coastline revealed itself.
Seaweed was what caught my attention first.
I hesitated before running my fingers over its slippery surface. Then a familiar feeling took over. I wanted to draw it, collect it, crush it, learn whether it could become ink. Being somewhere new always makes me wish I had more time. More time to observe, to sketch, to understand what I'm looking at.
I opened my sketchbook and started drawing.
As I sketched, I noticed an oddly shaped rock wrapped in seaweed. It looked frozen in time, yet its curves still carried the movement of the waves that had shaped it. It felt like a quiet reminder that even the stillest things are constantly changing.
Every time I looked up from my sketchbook, the tide had crept a little farther in.
I came across a uniquely shaped rock entangled with seaweed. It seemed frozen in time, yet still carried the shape of waves in its form—a symbol of both stillness and movement, waiting for the next tide to arrive.
Bring Binoculars
If you're visiting Bic, don't forget a pair of binoculars.
Watching the harbour seals became one of my favourite memories from the trip.
We counted them resting on the rocks, laughing as they playfully nudged one another into the water. Their silver-coloured skin glistened in the sun, and every so often another curious head would appear above the surface before disappearing beneath the waves again.
It wasn't a dramatic wildlife encounter.
It was slow, peaceful, and exactly the kind of moment that makes you forget to check the time.
Explore by Bike
Bringing our bikes turned out to be one of the best decisions we made.
Although the park rents bicycles, having our own meant we could wander from one bay to another whenever we felt like it, stopping whenever something caught our attention.
We cycled through forests, along the coastline, and past the remains of early settlers' homes scattered throughout the peninsula.
It was the perfect pace for a place like Bic.
Look closely on the trails
Every trail felt different.
One wandered through blooming Wild Roses before opening onto the shore. Another ended at a quiet bench overlooking the bay. A third disappeared into the woods before suddenly revealing a bright sandy beach.
I spent much of each walk looking down.
At mushrooms.
At lichens spreading across the rocks.
At tiny plants growing in the cracks along the trail.
I had hoped to find Quebec's provincial flower, the Blue Flag Iris, but I never did.
Instead, Bic reminded me that nature doesn't always reward us with what we're searching for. Sometimes it gives us something we wouldn't have noticed otherwise.
Expect the Unexpected
One evening, while wandering along the rocky shoreline, we noticed a fox chewing on something.
As we walked closer, we realized it was carrying a large piece of seal skin.
We watched quietly as the fox carefully hid its meal among the rocks before suddenly darting away as an eagle swept low across the bay.
Moments later, everything was still again.
The only sound left was the haunting call of loons echoing across the water while the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.
Even around our campsite, wildlife seemed completely at ease.
Foxes, rabbits, and deer wandered nearby without much concern for people. One evening we noticed a small bird sitting protectively over her chicks in a tree beside our campsite. We watched another bird return again and again with food, quietly feeding the family in the soft evening light.
Camp if you can
Camping allowed us to experience Bic beyond the busiest hours of the day.
Some mornings were wrapped in fog.
Others were bright enough to tempt us into swimming.
Some days brought rain, while others filled the peninsula with strong coastal winds.
No matter the weather, every evening ended the same way: sitting around the campfire, cooking dinner, sharing a drink, and watching daylight slowly disappear.
Although the campground was lively, the shoreline often felt surprisingly quiet.
It never took much to find a peaceful corner to yourself.
Wander to the end of the peninsula
On our final day, we visited Anse à Capelans.
We wandered across the rocks, stopping for wild blueberries and admiring the changing coastline, so distracted by the landscape that we unknowingly walked all the way to the end of the peninsula.
It felt like the perfect goodbye.
Our trip had begun by the water, and it ended there too.
Taste the local flavours
After several days of campfire meals, we decided to enjoy some of the region's local specialties.
Being in Quebec and so close to the ocean, we picked up takeout, found a quiet place by the shore, and paired it with a bottle of Quebec ice cider.
Another morning, we drove to Rimouski in search of birds near the lighthouse. Although we never spotted the species we were hoping for, the detour introduced us to local chocolatiers, cheese makers, and smoked meat shops.
That evening, our campsite turned into an improvised cheese board featuring local Quebec cheeses.
It was one of those simple meals that somehow becomes one of the memories you carry home.
Before you go
Parc national du Bic isn't a place I'd rush through.
Bring binoculars. Check the tides. Stop for the mushrooms, the seaweed, the lichens, and the wildflowers growing quietly beside the trail.
Sit on the rocks a little longer than you planned.
Watch the seals.
Listen to the loons.
Some of my favourite memories weren't the sweeping views, but the smaller moments in between: sketching seaweed while the tide slowly shifted around me, discovering wildlife when I least expected it, and realizing how much there is to notice when you stop trying to get somewhere.
Bic reminded me how much there is to notice when you simply slow down.
