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.