Sometimes the most spontaneous detours leave the strongest impressions.
That morning in Saint Pierre, we hadn’t planned on leaving the island. But after completing two walking tours around St. Pierre and checking the ferry schedule, we realized we could still catch the 3:00pm boat to Miquelon. We looked at each other, shrugged, and said, “Why not?”
After paying €24 per person for round-trip tickets, we boarded our 90-minute ferry ride to Miquelon. Pro tip: stay on the left side for the best views as you depart and arrive.
By 4:30pm, we were stepping off the ferry onto the quieter, more remote sister island of Miquelon.
The Quieter Sister Island
While Saint-Pierre serves as the better-known, bustling hub of this French overseas territory, Miquelon is the larger but quieter sibling. Geographically fascinating, Miquelon and neighboring Langlade are actually two separate islands connected by a narrow sandy isthmus called the Dune de Langlade, stretching over 13 miles as one of the world’s longest natural sandbars.
Sparsely populated and rugged, the island shelters fewer than 600 residents, many descended from Basque and Acadian settlers.
It carries the atmosphere of a remote Atlantic outpost, where the pace slows to a whisper and the wind does most of the talking.
Village Life at the Edge of the New World
From the ferry, we walked into the heart of the main village toward Église de Miquelon, its modest steeple rising above rooftops like a compass needle for locals to know where the town center is.
Simple wooden houses line gravel streets, their shutters painted in soft, weather-worn pastels that speak to decades of Atlantic storms.
We encountered perhaps half a dozen people during our exploration, each offering a friendly wave or nod, the kind of genuine acknowledgment you find in places where everyone knows everyone.
After two leisurely rounds walking through sleepy, windswept Miquelon, we returned to catch our ferry back to Saint Pierre.
A Rough Return
The return journey proved far from pleasant.
What had been a smooth crossing to Miquelon transformed into a stomach-churning ordeal on the way back. The wind intensified and seas turned rough, with waves slamming against the hull as the boat pitched violently side to side while lurching up and down. I couldn’t fathom how the ship maintained forward progress through such chaos.
About halfway through the crossing, passengers around us began reaching for barf bags or lying motionless with eyes squeezed shut. Staff members circulated offering additional barf bags, plastic bags to contain those, and water-dampened paper towels for queasy foreheads. The scene felt straight out of the scene out of Triangle of Sadness. Sometimes that’s exactly the kind of authentic experience that makes a journey truly memorable.
When we docked back in Saint-Pierre remarkably on schedule an hour and a half later, the stable gravel walk to our hotel felt like pure luxury. We grabbed some hotel food, recentered ourselves, and turned in early, knowing our morning flight to Halifax on Air Saint-Pierre awaited just hours away.
Farewell to French Territory
On our final morning, we boarded the 9am PJ1121 flight back to Halifax, allowing plenty of time to catch our 2:30pm direct flight to NYC.
This quick but immersive side trip to Saint-Pierre & Miquelon felt like stepping into a tiny time capsule of France: the perfect conclusion to this stretch of Atlantic Canada exploration.
- At time of posting in Miquelon, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 100% | Wind Speed: 26km/hr | Cloud Cover: rainy and windy
