The first sign that the landscape had changed was the sudden appearance of large, smooth hills like the remains of an enormous sandcastle. Many of them were dark gray; on others, a thin layer of grass struggled up the sides. The hills had been around long enough that the houses and businesses at their bases seemed unperturbed by their presence, but clearly, these were not natural hills.
Then, along the left side of the road, a colossal pit came into sight, and if I hadn’t already known we were traveling through the town of Thetford Mines, Quebec, the hills would have been explained as mine waste. We stopped at a lookout point and walked onto a protected catwalk over the edge of the crater.
Asbestos comes from Thetford: note the present tense. Although the mineral’s use has been generally banned in North America because of health hazards, asbestos is exported to numerous developing nations. Mine operations are significantly smaller than they were 25 years ago, but yellow earthmovers still lumber along the slopes of the open mine.
I was mesmerized by the scene. Something about the pale, sinuous paths that spiraled down the sides of the pit, the gray layers of exposed earth, the sheer scale of absence—it was grotesquely beautiful. Probably I was mistaking awe for admiration. From the air, I’m sure I would have been reminded of a scar, just as those hills made me think of welts.
The windows of the observatory shielded us from the breezes sweeping across the vast open space. I had to wonder what had been removed from the surface of the land where we stood. What had been obliterated by the hills of tailings? What ponds, what parks, what homesteads bought out by convenient understanding of eminent domain?
What families had been wracked by asbestos-related health problems? And now, what families upturned by the scaling back of the mining industry?
I didn’t find the answers to those questions. We were simply passing through Thetford Mines on our way to Quebec City.
I’m glad our host, my aunt, knew that the scene was worth taking the long way to our destination. Never in a thousand years would it have been on my list of things to see while in Quebec, and it would take even longer before you’d see a photo of the mines on the cover of Fifty Plus. They’re just not as appealing as those hot air balloons. But the episode reminded me that the most memorable parts of a trip are often the unplanned stops. (See Randy Fitzgerald’s piece)
So read the travel articles in this month’s issue, plan vacations using guidebooks and tourism websites—but don’t forget to be receptive to serendipity and beauty in all their guises.

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