Archive for the ‘Woods & Rivers’ Category
Snowy Family Portrait @ Johnville Bog
Akiva built two snowballs.
Here, we are four.
Sirius Cabin @ Mont Megantic
Yesterday, October 20th, we packed up & drove to the Observatory Sector of the Sépaq (Société des établissements de plein air du Québec) Park at Mont Megantic, a dark sky preserve, for the purpose of observing the Orionids Meteor Shower at its peak (October 21-23) during the new moon with zero ambient light. I had rented the Sirius rustic shelter in advance, for two nights, the minimum allowable rental. It was to have been awesome.
The hike to the cabin was not exactly rainy, tho not exactly dry, which is to say, the sky was very cloudy and the air was damp. We got to the cabin, conveniently located next to a tiny stream, and did all the useful setting-up of cabin things. In the evening, after the sun set, it was dark. Very dark. There was no ambient light. There was, in fact, no light. The clouds were thick. The air was thick. The dark sky was definitely well-preserved. We built a fire in the tiny cabin and roasted ourselves.
Today we went out hiking from the cabin. It was beautiful! The trees were bare, the mosses were brilliant and everywhere. I took no photographs. Again, it was not exactly rainy, tho not exactly dry. We went east then south along the Piedmont trail, 1.3 km, to the lookout at Belvédère du Soleil, at 730 m elevation. From there we continued east 0.3 km to the trail junction, then north 0.7 km to the lookout at L’Ascension, 905 m, then 0.1 km more to the lookout at La Révélation at 94o m in elevation. We took a short rest 0.4 km later at the Pèlerins cabin, 970 m in elevation, then continued on another kilometer to the top of Mont St Joseph (1075 m), the lookout at Belvédère du Levant (1030 m), and the historic church and tourist region— to which there is actually a road!— where I took some photos to give you a general idea of fogginess, tho not beauty. The fog tumbled over the top of the mountain on loose wind.
After procuring the obligatory photos to prove that we actually left the cabin (tho in truth we could have driven here, and there is no photographic evidence of having done otherwise), we hiked 0.9 km on Le Promenade boréale to the viewpoint Pic des Crépuscule (1060 m), 0.6 km to the point at Victoria Sud (1035 m). Somewhere along the way of the back mossy trails, we gathered a following of grey jays. They are cute because they are roundish in appearance, with light and dark grey feathers, and they look at you curiously. They hopped along after us on the empty back trails of Mont Megantic, among the fog and the dark brown trunks and the mottled fallen leaves, the end-of-season ferns gone to spore, and the myriad of brilliant greens of mosses coating rocks and earth and trees. We lost the birds somewhere around the next intersection, 1.6 km later, or a bit thereafter.
After another 1.1 km we reached the junction at Col-des-Trois-Sommets (910 m), then headed back to our own cabin, 1.2 km south of there, for a total of a few km altogether. You can do the math; I put out the numbers for you. What? You’re not going to do that? You don’t care? Fine, it was about 9.2 km. I know you don’t care, but I’m keeping track of statistics here. Caring is not what it’s about.
In the evening, we built a fire, careful not to repeat the cooking experience from the previous night, where we all had to get naked and jump in the stream because the cabin was such a sauna. Unfortunately, after dinner, the cabin just kept heating up. Reluctantly, we slid the windows open for air. And in the darkness, darkened by thick clouds and lack of moon, darkened by the dark sky preserve, we ran outside naked to the stream to cool off.
* * *
I took some photos of the kids playing with candles in the heat, as it is actually easier to take photos while sitting around in the dark than to take photos on a beautiful hike, despite the fact that I carried the camera specifically for the purpose of taking photos of the kids outside in the greenery of mosses. But no matter that. You’ll just have to believe me.
Despite careful planning, we saw no meteors.
Driftwood (Parc National du Fjord-du-Saguenay)
Akiva, throwing logs to the sea,
finds a bigger log from the base of the bluffs
and rolls it to the water
and paddles in the bay.
Log in the water!
Iris joins him,
& they bounce across the bay.
Later, when they return to land,
I tell them the log is to slow erosion, so please put it back by the bluffs.
They move like sea turtles up the sand,
footprints like turtle crawls, pushing their log-boat to its nest beyond the waves.
Here the photos stop.
Pushing a log on wet sand is not too hard.
Pushing a log a up a hill of forgiving sand
requires the force of a photographer.
Hike to the Abri Trois Murs des Cèdres
I.
Early in the morning, Akiva plays toss-the-disk—
and Iris reads and reads as the tide recedes and recedes—
—and recedes.
II.
Middle of the day.
Every year, we hike closer closer and closer to the Abri Trois Murs des Cèdres.
We reached it for the first time! It is not an easy hike.
It is all up and down and up and down and hot, with not enough water.
Not enough water is a problem.
There is water at the shelter if you have a filter. I did not know that. I did not bring a filter.
When we finally arrived at the shelter, I asked the kids to pose for the camera and look happy.
They did the best they could.
This is the sign that tells us how far we have to go to get back to where we came from.
III.
Evening, Martin plays toss the disk.
Akiva works on flamboyant catches.
Iris writes & writes.
I can’t decide which picture I like.
She writes—
She smiles!
She writes.
IV.
Before the sun sets, I force the two together into a smile.
No, I mean a smile.
I say, “Pretend you adore each other.”
Iris thinks that pretending to adore her younger brother is a hilarious idea.
Their expressions haven’t changed significantly over the past six years:
https://barefootfool.com/goofballs-lile-du-marais/
V.
& in the end, the sun does set.
Martin boils water for dishes at the campsite and washes in the little shelter,
where there is a sink to let out dirty water and a faucet to let in brownish, brackish water.
It is dark out. The lights are on. Martin & Akiva play a game of checkers before bed.
Camping @ Parc National du Fjord-du-Saguenay, Baie Sainte-Marguerite, 2025
I.
Akiva plays with fire.
II.
Martin returns with clean dishes.
III.
Iris in blue.
IV.
Martin in firelight.
V.
Family portraits without me.
Swimming Hole, Massawippi River
In search of a swimming hole, we went for a bike ride on the path from the parking lot near the Eustis covered bridge. We headed toward North Hatley, then left the path at some nice looking narrow trails, where we parked our bikes in a convenient patch of poison ivy. At the bottom of the path, there was a widening in the river, deep enough to swim in.
A man came down from the other side to let us know that if we touched his side of the river, we were trespassing, and that we’d probably get some infection swimming in the water, perhaps some parasites or an itchy rash. He didn’t seem to appreciate the fact that people swim in water— at least not if it’s within shouting distance of his house. I couldn’t actually see his house, and I don’t believe we were shouting, but he was especially vigilant.
Of course the river isn’t perfectly clean. Maybe there’s a sewage processing plant in North Hatley that’s located too close to the river. Maybe farmers’ fields run off into the river. The problem is, I don’t know how to live life and NOT play outside in water.
If I was a child living in Nigeria and my mother forbid me to swim in the river because of the risk of perpetual illness from schistosomiasis, as mothers there do, I would swim in the river. There is no better place to play, and no better place to cool off. It is a sad state of Earth.
Here in the Eastern Townships of Quebec,
where the water is relatively clean and we have chlorinated swimming pools and air conditioning,
I like to play in the river.
We did not get a rash. We did not get parasites. We did not get sick.
The river is still a lovely place to be at the moment.
