Forillon occupies the outermost tip of the Gaspé Peninsula, the point where the ancient Appalachian chain finally gives out. The geology here is layered and dramatic: limestone cliffs drop into the sea, salt marshes flatten into sand dunes, and boreal forest climbs the slopes behind them. This is the eastern terminus of a mountain range that stretches 2,400 kilometers southwest to Alabama, and the landscape carries the evidence -- folded rock, eroded headlands, and a coastline that looks as though it has been broken off rather than smoothed away. The Mi'kmaq and Haudenosaunee peoples used this area as a summer hunting and fishing ground long before Europeans arrived, and the richness that drew them remains. The waters offshore still teem with marine life, and the forests behind the cliffs shelter a surprising density of wildlife for a place that feels, standing on the headlands, like the edge of the world.

Forillon's creation came at a cost that took decades to acknowledge. In 1970, the Government of Canada asked Quebec to expropriate the land needed for the park. Quebec sub-contracted the negotiations to a private firm, and what followed was, by many accounts, coercive. The firm allegedly used bullying tactics to pressure 225 families into accepting settlements well below the value of their properties -- a stratagem that ensured a larger profit margin for the contractor while displacing people whose families had lived on this land for generations. Some were fishermen. Some were farmers. All of them lost their homes. It was not until 14 February 2011, more than forty years later, that the House of Commons of Canada adopted a motion issuing an official apology to the expropriated families. The apology could not return what had been taken, but it recognized a wrong that the park's beauty had long obscured.

Near Penouille beach, within the park boundaries, stand the remains of Fort Péninsule, a fortification built during World War II. The logic was straightforward and grim: if Germany conquered all of Europe, the British fleet would need a refuge, and the Gaspé Bay offered one. Fort Péninsule was built to protect one side of that bay; Fort Prével guarded the other. The invasion of Europe never reversed itself in the way the planners feared, and the cannons were never fired in anger. But they remain, accessible today through a tunnel that visitors can walk through -- a concrete reminder of how seriously wartime planners took the vulnerability of Canada's Atlantic coast. German U-boats did prowl the Gulf of Saint Lawrence during the war, torpedoing ships in Canadian waters, so the fear was not imaginary.

Forillon's wildlife is a catalog of northern abundance. Black bears move through the boreal forest alongside moose, lynx, and red foxes. Coyotes and porcupines share the understory with snowshoe hares, beavers, mink, and ermine. Along the cliffs, seabird colonies nest in ledges above the surf, and seals haul out on the rocks below. The real spectacle, though, is offshore. From May through December, whales pass through the waters near Forillon -- blue whales, humpback whales, minke whales, and fin whales, drawn by the rich currents where the Gulf of Saint Lawrence funnels marine life past the tip of the peninsula. Whale-watching boats launch from the park's shores, carrying visitors out to see animals that can weigh over 100 tonnes surfacing within view of the cliffs. The historic Hyman Store, preserved within the park, recalls the era when the fishing industry defined life here, and a pedestrian walk called Une Tournée dans les Parages leads visitors past the houses and agricultural buildings of early twentieth-century settlers.