Along the banks of the Saint Lawrence River, about twenty miles northeast of Québec City, the road begins to climb. The villages thin, the hills blush with color, and suddenly — rising above the scarlet treetops — the twin spires of the Basilica of Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré pierce the autumn sky.

For centuries, pilgrims have followed this same route. Some came seeking healing, others solace. But every traveler who arrives beneath these soaring towers feels it — a hush, a shift, a sense of standing somewhere sacred.

In fall, when the Laurentian foothills glow like stained glass, the basilica seems to shimmer between heaven and earth.

A Pilgrimage Through Time

The story of Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré begins in 1658, when shipwrecked sailors promised to build a chapel honoring Saint Anne, the grandmother of Jesus, if she spared their lives from a violent storm. They survived — and kept their vow.

The small wooden chapel that rose on this riverside bluff soon became a beacon for miracles. The first recorded healing occurred during its construction, when a man crippled by rheumatism helped lay the first stones — and walked away cured. Word spread quickly. Within decades, pilgrims were traveling from across North America to visit the shrine.

The grand basilica that stands today — completed in 1946 after fire destroyed its predecessor — carries the weight of that legacy in every carved column and glimmering mosaic.

The Road to the Basilica

If you’re coming from Québec City, the drive along Route 138 feels like a pilgrimage of its own. The road hugs the river, winding past cider orchards, sugar shacks, and farm stands brimming with pumpkins and apples. In October, the landscape burns in shades of crimson and gold.

As you approach the town of Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré, the basilica appears like a vision — its twin spires rising above the river valley, its stone façade glowing against the hillside forest.

You’ll hear the bells long before you reach the steps.

Inside the Sanctuary: Where Light Becomes Prayer

Step through the great bronze doors, and the outside world fades into silence. Inside, the basilica opens like a revelation — vast, golden, and serene. The ceilings arch high above in soft pastels, while sunlight pours through stained glass, painting the marble floors in pools of color.

Along the pillars hang crutches and braces, left behind by those who claim to have been healed here. Hundreds of them — silent witnesses to centuries of faith.

At the heart of the church stands a bronze statue of Saint Anne, her expression gentle, almost maternal. Pilgrims kneel before her, lighting candles that flicker beneath the mosaics of angels. Nearby, a stone stairway leads to the crypt chapel, where the air is cool and still, the kind of quiet that feels alive.

The Ceiling: Heaven on Earth

Don’t forget to look up.

The basilica’s ceiling is one of the most extraordinary in Canada — a sweeping masterpiece of color and devotion. Each of the 240 panels tells a story from Saint Anne’s life or from the history of faith in Québec. In autumn, when the afternoon sun slants through the western windows, the ceiling seems to glow with the same fire as the maples outside.

It’s easy to lose track of time here. The light shifts, footsteps echo softly, and the scent of wax and stone fills the air. You might come in as a visitor, but you leave as something quieter — a witness to beauty, to endurance, to grace.

The Healing Spring and the Way of the Cross

Outside the basilica, the grounds themselves are sacred. A short walk leads to the fountain of Saint Anne, where pilgrims have drawn water for centuries, believing it carries healing powers. The fountain’s gentle trickle blends with the rustle of leaves, the murmur of prayers, the distant toll of bells.

Behind the church, a wooded hill rises steeply toward a shrine. This is the Way of the Cross, a winding path lined with life-sized bronze sculptures depicting the Passion of Christ. In autumn, the trail is cloaked in amber leaves. Pilgrims climb slowly, pausing at each station, the crunch of their footsteps mingling with the whisper of wind through the maples.

From the top, the view is breathtaking — the river stretching silver and still below, the basilica’s spires gleaming like lighthouses above the trees.

Autumn’s Blessing

Fall transforms Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré into something otherworldly. The sunlight is softer, the air sharper, the crowds fewer. Pilgrims and travelers share the quiet grounds, each absorbed in their own kind of reverence.

Across the street, small cafés and local shops offer hot cider, maple taffy, and handmade rosaries. Bells ring every hour, echoing over the rooftops and through the orchards. As dusk falls, the basilica’s stone façade takes on the color of honey, and the spires glow against the purple hills.

Whether you come seeking faith or simply peace, autumn here feels like a season of grace — a gentle reminder that beauty, too, can be a kind of healing.

A Symbol of Hope

Through wars, fires, and floods, the Basilica of Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré has endured. More than 8 million visitors have come over the centuries, each leaving something behind — a candle, a prayer, a story.

What makes this place extraordinary isn’t just its architecture or its miracles — it’s the feeling it gives you. The sense that time pauses, that the sacred and the earthly blur together beneath a canopy of color.

In the end, it’s not about the distance you’ve traveled, but about the stillness you find when you arrive.

If You Visit in Fall

Location: 10018 Avenue Royale, Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré, Québec

Distance: About 30 minutes from Québec City along Route 138

Best Time to Visit: Late September through mid-October, when the Laurentians are aflame with color

Entry: Free, donations welcome

Tours: Guided visits and audio tours available; mass celebrated daily

Nearby: Combine your visit with a stop at Canyon Sainte-Anne (10 minutes away) or Île d’Orléans for apple picking and fall treats

A Moment Beneath the Maples

As you leave, step back once more and look at the basilica from across the road. Its spires rise against the red hills, the river glimmers beyond, and a canopy of gold leaves drifts through the air.

For a moment, everything feels suspended — the sound of the bells, the scent of woodsmoke, the shimmer of light on stone.

This is Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré in autumn — a place where miracles meet the maples, and where even the air feels touched by grace.