Today, most of the 12,000 or so Madelinots are descended from these early Acadians, save for a small population whose ancestors were Scottish settlers. Fishing runs through their veins still and it continues to be the main industry on “Les Îles.” Fleets of fishermen leave the ports across the islands from spring to fall, plying the cold gulf for lobster, crab, scallops and mackerel. The fishing industry supports the restaurants and smokehouses, which, in turn, draw the tour operators and the visitors who flock to artisanal food businesses and boutiques. All these livelihoods are built on the bounty of the sea. Fishing is present even at church, which seems just as ubiquitous on the islands, white chapels dotting the rolling landscape almost everywhere we go. At Holy Trinity on Grosse Île, stained glass panels depict Jesus as a fisherman, wearing a cable-knit sweater and black rubber boots. And as we brave the short drive on Route 199 in near whiteout conditions to sample some of these fruits du mer — praying the municipality doesn’t shut down the roads behind us — we may need this fisherman Jesus more than ever.

Back in the early days of Mi-Carême on the islands, before Amazon and costume rentals, people made do with what they had, whether that was homemade ensembles or something cobbled together from what they already owned, says Isabelle Cummings, vice-president of the Comité de la Mi-Carême in Fatima and deputy manager for the municipality. A Madelinot with deep roots, she has celebrated Mi-Carême in Fatima with her family since childhood. “My best memory of Mi-Carême is seeing my grandmother at 85 years old, sitting with my young girls — all together, all my family in the house, playing guitar, singing, having fun with the people who arrive. It’s priceless,” she says. 

Mi-Carême dates back to medieval Europe when French Catholic parishioners held parties to ceremoniously, and secretly, take a break during the long fast of Lent. Disguises were worn as a way for partygoers to stay anonymous from the clergy. The celebration, which always starts on the third Tuesday of Lent (hence the name, mid-Lent), came to Canada with the earliest French colonizers in the 1600s and remained a strong tradition mostly in Acadia. On Les Îles, Acadians brought Mi-Carême with them when they settled here — a little light in the dark times following le Grand Dérangement, or the Great Deportation. Here, and in a handful of other Acadian communities in New Brunswick and Quebec, the custom remains. 

This year, Cummings says she received 40 people at her home, built by her great-grandfather in Fatima in 1917. The family home has hosted Mi-Carême for as long as she can remember. “You know what? Living on an island, it’s small and people know each other. But, like in every community, people get busy,” she says. “So at this time of the year, in March during Mi-Carême, we take a break … and get in touch with people we haven’t seen for a long time.”