By Amy Bouchard Morin

Forthcoming in the November issue of Le Forum, Vol. 29 No. 4
 

    My cousin Christine came from Arizona to visit for a week.  She had mentioned that while she was here she wanted to go to Quebec City and to try to find the land that our ancestor from France settled when he arrived in 1650. I told her that Arthur and I would give her a tour of Quebec City during her visit so, off we went.   I had a map that Harold Lacadie had found describing where the land was (just a bit north of Ste Anne de Beaupre and the Ste. Anne River) in Cap Tourmente.  We decided that the second day would be devoted to the grand search.  We started our day with a visit to the basilica in Ste. Anne and to the church store.  Christine went over to the book corner and called me over all excited.  She had found a bunch of books about ancestors.  Each book had about twenty or thirty names of original settlers from France on the cover.  She started at one end of the books and I started at the other and sure enough there was Claude Bouchard's name. (I had visited his town and the shop where he was a tailor when I was in France.)  We each bought a book and headed to the car to officially begin our search.  We crossed the Ste. Anne River and shortly found a road sign saying Cap Tourmente.  Arthur took that road and it went curving toward the St. Lawrence River. After one big curve there was a private sign on a road/driveway leading to the Quebec Seminary then some beautiful fields and a big curve to the right past a large sign saying "National Wildlife Refuge".  We passed a souvenir/artisan shop attached to a house.  We continued on and to our surprise came right out on the main road just before the bridge over the Ste. Anne River.  Arthur laughed and said, "Well, here we go again."  And, we crossed the bridge and took the Cap Tourmente road again.  When we came to the little shop, he pulled in and said, "Okay, Amy, go in and find out where we are."  I knew I would be dusting off my French for sure and all conversations until I returned to the car were in French. I went into the shop and a nice lady came out and asked if she could help me.  I had Harold's map and told her we were hunting for Claude Bouchard's land.  She went into the house came back asked a few more questions then finally, came back and said for me to go in and talk with her husband in the kitchen.  He was getting his hair cut by a neighbor at the kitchen table with a beautician's cape around his neck.  He invited me in and had me sit at the table and tell him what I was looking for.  Then he said, "Well you just passed Claude's place.  He owned the land where the National Wildlife Refuge is now.  Before the government purchased the land there was an investigation performed by the Quebec Seminary to make sure that nothing of historical importance would be removed or destroyed.  There were two falling down buildings mostly foundations there, and the story was that the one that was where the new building is now was Claude's first home.  The other home was owned by a Larouche.  Go there and stop at the gate and tell the person there what you are looking for, and they will let you in."  I thanked this gentleman and returned to the car.  Arthur couldn't believe what I told him.  He turned the car around and we went to the gate, where I repeated my story. I got out of the car and showed the lady my map.  She said, "When the government purchased this land it was purchased from a Bouchard.  And, she confirmed that the new building was built over the place where the old tumbledown building and foundations were found.  We drove in and took a few pictures and were pleased that we had gone this far and accomplished this much.  As we left, I told Art and Chris that I had read in the book that we purchased in Ste Anne that Claude left this land with his family as well as his Mother-in-law and her family because his father-in-law was killed by the Mohawk Iroquois who were terrorizing  the area at that time.  They all went to live in Chateau Richer for awhile, because that town was closer to the city and better protected.  The people in Cap Tourmente wanted him to return with his family, but instead he sold the Cap Tourmente farm and on the same day Msgr de Laval granted him 12 acres frontage at Petit Riviere-Saint-Francois, beginning at the first stream closest to the Sot River.  I checked the map and it was only a short distance further, so Arthur headed that way.  He said it was too bad to be this close and not check it out. 
    Sure enough, a sort distance up the road another sign pointed the way to Petit Riviere/St. Francois. So, Art turned off and a short distance up the road it started down a hill which got steeper and steeper and very curvy.  Art said the brakes were getting spongy and were heating up, but there was no place to pull off so we kept going, it seemed straight down!  As we were almost at the bottom of the hill I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw a sign that said ìRue Claude Bouchardî.  I read it out loud, and Chris and I hollered ìSTOP!î  Poor Arthur was trying to stop.  When he finally was able he stopped, turned around and drove back to the road.  We parked beside the road sign.  The brakes were so hot you could not put your hand anywhere near the wheels and they really smelled like they were burning up.  Art said we were staying put until the brakes were absolutely cooled down, so Chris and I got out of the van and took a picture of the road sign.  Chris decided to take a walk up the road which on close inspection looked like a private road.  She went slowly, so that if anyone saw her they would not think she was up to no good, and the tar turned to gravel and she walked to the end where a foot bridge had been built and was chained off.  As she was returning to the car she saw a man, woman and young man in the back yard and went up and asked them if they spoke English.  ìNon, pas Anglais.î  Poor Chris dragged out a few words of French from when she was a child and said, ìMon ami parle Francais.î  And held up her hand asking them to wait.  The man shook his head, yes.  And, Chris came down the road calling for me to come.  When I joined her she told me about the bridge and the sign that said ìRiviere Sotî and right then I knew we were on Claudeís land.  When we reached the man, I explained what we were doing and he immediately started telling me about our ancestor.  I asked him he if was a Bouchard and he said, ìOui.î   His name is Simeon Bouchard, and he is descended from Francois, Claudeís oldest son.   Of course, he asked me which of Claudeís sons we were descended from, and I had no idea.  All my genealogy materials were home.  When we left home, I had no idea we would end up talking with a relative, however distant! [Actually, when we returned home I found out we descended from Antoine, the youngest son, who was killed by Wolfeís troops on their way up the river in 1759.]  Simeon was wonderful.  He told us that Claude built and operated a grain mill (the wheel was turned by a waterfall) which was over the bridge and a bit further up the gravel road that Chris had taken.  He had a picture on the cover of a book that he had written that showed the waterfall and some of the stone foundations of the mill.  Chris and I each purchased one of his books, which Simeon hesitated to sell us because he didnít want us to feel that he had shown it to us to make a sale.  We visited with Simeon for over an hour, and he told us a lot of information about Claude and said that anywhere we walked on this land or for that matter in the village we were stepping in Claudeís footsteps.  What a feeling of connection!  He said that Claude was buried in the Cemetery which was on top of another big hill, but that the marker that had been put there had been moved to the museum across the street from Simeonís house.  The town had to build a vault and the oldest part of the cemetery was the only place they could build it so it is right on top of Claudeís bones.  Simeon arranged for the museum to be opened for Chris and I to visit, and as we walked in the wall facing us was a floor to ceiling, wall to wall mural representing Claudeís arrival in Petit Riviere.  We took pictures of the mural and of Claudeís stone as well.  And, Simeon, Chris and I exchanged email addresses.  I have been corresponding with Simeon since we returned, and that is quite a job for me, since I speak and read French but writing is horrible.  Poor man, having to read what I write!   Anyway, what an adventure we had!