Charlevoix in September - Quebec's Autumn Symphony
The train curved along the mountainside, and suddenly the St. Lawrence River spread before me like a painted canvas – vast, blue, and dotted with the distant spouts of whales. To my right, the Laurentian mountains blazed with September colors: crimson maples, golden birches, and evergreens providing a constant backdrop of green. This was the Charlevoix region of Quebec, and I had arrived just as nature was staging its most spectacular performance of the year.
The Most Beautiful Drive in North America
Before boarding the Train de Charlevoix, I had driven the Route du Fleuve (Route 362) from Quebec City, consistently rated one of North America's most scenic drives. The 78-kilometer route from Baie-Saint-Paul to La Malbaie deserves every accolade. September had transformed it into a tunnel of fire, with maple trees creating cathedral arches of red and gold above the road.
I stopped countless times – at viewpoints overlooking the river where it widens to look like an inland sea, at tiny villages where church spires pierced the autumn sky, at roadside stands selling apple cider and maple products. Each turn revealed another postcard scene, and I quickly understood why the Group of Seven painters had been so inspired by this landscape.
Baie-Saint-Paul: Where Art Lives and Breathes
My base was Baie-Saint-Paul, a town that seems to have been designed by artists for artists. Birthplace of Cirque du Soleil, this 400-year-old settlement sits in a valley where the Gouffre River meets the St. Lawrence, surrounded by mountains that September had painted in impossible colors.
The main street, Rue Saint-Jean-Baptiste, was a delightful tumble of galleries, boutiques, and cafes. Over 30 art galleries and studios call this small town home, and September's clear light seemed to bring extra visitors eager to take home a piece of Charlevoix's beauty. I spent hours wandering from gallery to gallery, watching painters capture the landscape I'd just driven through, seeing the same view interpreted in dozens of different styles.
The Musée d'art contemporain de Baie-Saint-Paul provided a more formal art experience, but honestly, the entire town felt like a living gallery. Even the lamp posts were decorated with banners featuring local artwork, and murals adorned building walls. In the evening light, with the mountains glowing pink and purple, I understood why artists have been drawn here for over a century.
The Flavor Trail: A Culinary Journey
Charlevoix's Route des Saveurs (Flavor Trail) turned September's harvest season into a moveable feast. This network of over 40 producers, farms, and restaurants stretches from Baie-Saint-Paul to La Malbaie, each stop offering a taste of the region's terroir.
At Laiterie Charlevoix in Baie-Saint-Paul, I watched cheese being made and sampled their 1608 (named for the year Quebec was founded) – a firm cheese with notes of hazelnut that paired perfectly with local apple cider. The famous cheese curds, so fresh they squeaked against my teeth, became my road trip snack of choice.
The Mushroom House (La Maison du Bootlegger) introduced me to Charlevoix's foraged mushroom culture. September's cool nights and warm days create perfect conditions for mushrooms, and the owner's passion was infectious as he described hunting chanterelles, porcini, and other forest treasures. The mushroom pâté on fresh bread, with a glass of local hard cider, was a revelation.
At the Isle-aux-Coudres, reached by a free 15-minute ferry that itself offered spectacular views, I discovered the island's apple culture. The microclimate here produces exceptional apples, and September meant harvest time. At Verger Pedneault, I tasted apple ice cider – a Quebec invention where apples are frozen before pressing, concentrating the sugars into liquid gold. Sipping this nectar while looking across the St. Lawrence at the painted mountains felt like drinking autumn itself.
Whales in the St. Lawrence
September marks a special time for whale watching in Charlevoix. Thirteen species of whales visit the St. Lawrence, and fall sees them feeding heavily before migration. The confluence of the Saguenay River with the St. Lawrence creates an upwelling of nutrients that attracts everything from belugas to blue whales, making this one of the world's best whale-watching sites.
I joined a zodiac tour from Baie-Sainte-Catherine, bundled in the provided survival suit against the September chill. Within minutes of leaving the dock, we encountered our first whales – a pod of belugas, their white bodies ghostly beneath the dark water. These "canaries of the sea" are year-round residents, and their curious nature brought them close to our boat.
But the highlight came when we spotted the distinctive tall spout of a finback whale. The second-largest whale species in the world, this magnificent creature surfaced again and again, its 20-meter length impossible to fully comprehend until you see it in person. In the distance, we could see the smaller spouts of minke whales, and our guide pointed out harbor porpoises playing in our wake.
The mountains forming a backdrop to this marine ballet were at peak fall colors, creating a scene so perfect it felt staged. But this is Charlevoix's gift – the marriage of mountain and sea, forest and river, creating ecosystems of extraordinary richness.
The Train de Charlevoix: Romance on Rails
The Train de Charlevoix, running from June through October, offered a different perspective on the region's beauty. Boarding in Baie-Saint-Paul for the journey to La Malbaie, I settled into comfortable seats with panoramic windows designed for sightseeing.
The train hugs the shore, passing through places inaccessible by road. We rolled through tiny villages where the track runs practically through people's backyards, past hidden coves where seals lounged on rocks, through forests where the September colors were so intense they seemed artificial. The commentary (bilingual in French and English) pointed out historical sites, geological features, and prime wildlife-viewing spots.
At La Malbaie, I had time to explore the grand Fairmont Le Manoir Richelieu, a castle-like resort that's hosted everyone from Charlie Chaplin to recent U.S. presidents. The gardens, overlooking the river, were particularly beautiful in September, with late-blooming flowers mixing with autumn foliage.
Artisan Culture and Local Traditions
Charlevoix's artisan culture extends beyond visual arts. In Baie-Saint-Paul, I visited Famille Migneron, where they've been making traditional Quebec tourtière (meat pie) for generations. September meant the addition of freshly harvested vegetables to the mix, and eating this comfort food while autumn rain pattered against the windows was pure hygge, Quebec-style.
The region's woodworking tradition was evident everywhere, from the massive timber-frame buildings to delicate carved sculptures in galleries. At Économusée du Bois in Saint-Aimé-des-Lacs, I watched a craftsman turn local wood into beautiful bowls and learned about the sustainable forestry practices that have preserved Charlevoix's forests for centuries.
The textile arts were represented too, particularly at studios producing catalognes – traditional Quebec rag rugs that have become collectible art pieces. Watching the weavers work, their hands moving in rhythms passed down through generations, connected me to Quebec's French colonial past in a tangible way.
September Weather: Nature's Perfect Balance
September in Charlevoix offers what might be the perfect weather for exploration. The days were warm enough for comfortable hiking (around 15-18°C/60-65°F), while evenings required a cozy sweater – ideal for gathering around fire pits at the auberge. The notorious summer black flies were gone, and the air had that crystalline quality that makes every view sharper, every color more intense.
Rain, when it came, only enhanced the experience. The smell of wet earth and decomposing leaves, the sound of rain on maple leaves, the mist rising from valleys – these became part of September's sensory symphony. And afterward, the sun would break through, making every remaining leaf sparkle like stained glass.
La Malbaie and Murray Bay
La Malbaie, also known as Murray Bay from its Scottish settlement history, provided a more refined contrast to artistic Baie-Saint-Paul. This has been a resort destination since the 19th century when wealthy Americans would summer here to escape the heat. The grand villas and hotels speak to this golden age, though September's smaller crowds made it feel more like a local secret than an international destination.
The Jardins de Quatre-Vents, open only a few days each summer and fall, happened to coincide with my visit. These private gardens, considered among the finest in North America, were spectacular in September, with late-season flowers mixing with turning foliage, creating tapestries of color that no painter could improve upon.
Practical Magic for September Visits
Charlevoix in September requires flexibility. The weather can change quickly, so layers are essential. I learned to keep rain gear handy but also sunglasses – often needing both in the same day. The tourist infrastructure is still fully operational in September, but reservations become easier and rates often drop after Labour Day.
The region is best explored with a car, though the train offers a wonderful alternative perspective. The free ferry to Isle-aux-Coudres runs year-round and became one of my favorite experiences – a mini-cruise with spectacular views that costs nothing.
Most importantly, September in Charlevoix requires a willingness to slow down. This isn't a region for rushing between must-see attractions. It's a place for pulling over at the tenth scenic viewpoint even though you stopped at the previous nine, for lingering over a cidre de glace while watching the sunset paint the mountains, for taking the walking trail instead of driving because the forest is too beautiful to pass by in a car.
A Symphony's Final Movement
My last evening in Charlevoix, I stood on the shore in Baie-Saint-Paul as the sun set behind the mountains. The St. Lawrence stretched endlessly eastward, its surface turned copper by the dying light. Behind me, the mountains wore their September finest – a tapestry of red, gold, and green that would soon give way to winter white. Somewhere out in the darkening water, whales continued their ancient migrations.
Charlevoix in September is nature's symphony reaching its crescendo before the quiet of winter. It's a region that reminds you why people have always been drawn to places where mountains meet the sea, where human culture has learned to harmonize with natural rhythms rather than dominate them. The artists who fill Baie-Saint-Paul's galleries aren't creating beauty – they're simply trying to capture what nature provides here in abundance.
As I drove back toward Quebec City the next morning, taking the inland route through Jacques-Cartier National Park where the fall colors reached their absolute peak, I carried with me the taste of fresh cheese curds, the sound of whales breathing, the sight of endless forests dressed in autumn's finest. Charlevoix had shown me that sometimes the best travel experiences come not from famous capitals or exotic destinations, but from places where the land itself is the main attraction, and September is its standing ovation.