65℉ at 4:00 am and high of
Thursday, August 25, 2016
There was a 60% chance of rain, and it was raining when I got up. Martha suggested I go fishing again and she agreed to go with me. We decided to go back to the same spot since there was a nice parking area overlooking the river, and there was a picnic table. On the way over, Martha spotted a black bear eating blueberries about 600 yards away at the big overlook. After taking a few pictures, Martha was ready to go fishing. It was quite windy and cool, so I gave Martha my rain pull-over. I fished the big hole first to no avail and then worked my way upstream along the path. The river is deeper here, with big rocks that make it difficult to wade. It’s probably easier to fish this section with a spinning rod, but I didn’t bring it this time. I caught a few little ones, but no keepers, probably because I wasn’t fishing it very well. Martha walked along the path to the bridge that was out, enjoying the scenery. She watched me fish a while and then returned to read her book. Maybe it’s not a good book for this trip – a scary story at a cabin in the woods.
Above the bridge I found a spot where I could work my way around in the river, but it was a little dicey. Knowing I probably wouldn’t have time to find another spot to wade like this, I worked it hard, but there wasn’t much action. On the other side of the river, I climbed up on a big rock and changed my leader. A flight of 8 ducks landed right in front of me, but I didn’t recognize the type. They were medium-sized with red heads, but they weren’t Mergansers or Redheads. I moved my head once and they took off. There was a deep pool in front of my rock, and I worked it hard, but no luck. I didn’t want to work my way across the river again, so I decided to walk back to the bridge and cross. It was only 100 yards away, but it took me 20 minutes to get there. How do Moose and Caribou get around in this stuff? There was a lot of deadfall and thick bushes and you can’t walk a straight line. I thought there might be a path on this side, but there wasn’t. I even thought about going back to my rock and crossing, but decided to continue. I remembered stories of people getting turned around in thick woods and getting lost, but I kept close enough to hear the river. I was glad to see the old road at last, and the bridge was strong enough to walk across. Two fishing lures were stuck in the trees. I don’t know how you would lose lures in those spots, but they were huge spoons looking like something you might use for salmon.
We got back to camp and had to move the trailer back to site #50. The person who reserved the site for one night never showed. Oh well, we are getting more efficient at moving, and site #50 is a perfect site. Once settled in, I showered, and we went to the Visitor’s Center to do emails, post and chart the course for tomorrow. A couple sat across from us with a baby and a three-year old girl. The girl was a terror, who screamed to get what she wanted. The parents had no concern for anyone else. We decided to go north from here since we were half way to Saguenay. A very nice lady, Danielle, told us about biking around Lac Saint-Jean and a Blueberry Route. We had told Fred we would come to see him this week in LaBaie on the St. Lawrence, so I called him. I only had one bar of cell service and I was surprised to hear his wife answer. I wasn’t sure I had called the right number when the little terror started screaming again. I got up and walked to the door, but lost the connection. I hate telling someone I am going to be somewhere, and then not making it. I could only hope they didn’t go out shopping for a nice dinner we wouldn’t be there for, but I imagined they did. I emailed Fred telling him the change of plans. Of course he replied in a totally nice way, telling us where to go and what to see around Lac Saint-Jean. The kid was still screaming as Martine came over to the couch to go over their reservations, patiently explaining the park as she had probably done 100 times that day. Just like Genivieve, she is amazingly patient. I had to get out of there! We couldn’t settle on a campground in Lac Saint-Jean, and that kid kept screaming for attention.
Back at camp I poured a glass of wine and sat under the awning thinking about Martine. Driving back to the Visitor’s Center just as they were closing, I gave Martine a coffee cup with our logo on it and a bottle of wine. All I had to put it in was a plastic grocery bag, but it still brought a big smile to her face at the end of a very busy day.
Thanks for continuing to supply pictures and reading material for the handicapped. I’m laying here in bed at UVA hospital. I’m headed to Health South at 1 PM for two weeks of acute therapy, whatever that means. The “acute” part sounds like it could be a little challenging. It will be like old home week over there for me and their staff. Ground Hog Day.
In one way I feel very fortunate. I am not having to depend on you as a food source. “Fishing with Greg” is an old and familiar story of a nice hike, drop dead scenery, a beautiful fishing hole, minnows swimming around, lost lures, significant strategy and analytical palaver over a glass of wine, but no fish.
I am soooo jealous and envious given my circumstance that I find being too kind just doesn’t fit at the moment.
I m sure you are going to have a break out day soon. It is rumored, but not yet confirmed, that there is real good fishing in this part of Canada. Better luck to you. Poor Martha will just have to go to the store and buy a big thick Kobi steak or I have an original idea go out to a local restaurant and sample local cooking. Have a cultural experience
I’m sorry about having to go to acute therapy LeRoy, although if the therapist is really hot, it could be good. We are now at Lac Saint-Jean. We took a bike ride this morning, and I use the term morning lightly. Are you married? I wake up at 4:00 in the morning, have my coffee, write the blog and enjoy the quiet. I took some pictures of the incredible falls where we are staying, did some laundry, took the bikes out of the back of the truck, called the Nissan place for an oil change and cleaned up the back seat of the truck. By 11:00 Martha was ready to bike to a place where monks make chocolate-covered blueberries, cranberries, chocolate-covered marshmallows, and Easter bunnies. Are any of these on your hospital tray? I’m sure you wouldn’t like these, but we thought they were pretty good.
Martha, I’m so glad the Trout Fisherman overcame his humiliation and took you out to dinner. Tolerating someone who arises at 4 AM deserves A lot. What goes on from 4 to 7 AM is and and will remain a mystery to me. The meal description was tortuous. Little to compare with my cold broiled chicken here. I keep asking for a before meal margarita and wine with dinner but i’m making no headway. I don’t understand. It is my wheels that are broke down, nothing else. It is like being in jail.
Yes, Greg did take me out to dinner at the hotel restaurant right up the hill from the campground. That was convenient for the walk (downhill) after a good meal. This is not fair to tell you but I had the three local dishes. A hearty fava bean and barley soup, a potato, beef and pork torte, and the best piece of blueberry pie ever! We definitely will not lose weight on this leg of the trip! Take care. Martha