Airstream Time

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While setting up camp, I noticed two guys in the middle of the road putting golf balls around. I thought boy, these guys are avid! Later a group of four came around putting and laughing with lots of chatter in French. Then I saw them putt into a hole made from metal or plastic imbedded in the road, so we went over to see what was going on. They were really friendly, and one of the guys spoke English. They play golf every day, and there are serious tournaments. An 18-hole course winding through the streets of the campground, people came through all evening, most commenting to us in French. Little did I realize we had a prime spot overlooking the 11th hole! We talked with our friendly foursome for 15 minutes. One of the guys, Rene (?), is a retired auto mechanic teacher, who trained in Troy, Ohio and had traveled in the States. They wanted to know where we came from and why, and they admired our Airstream. We told them where we had been and that we would be Quebec three more months, which got some oos and aahs.  Rene said he was just up at Lac Saint Jean to get blueberries, saying he bought 15 pounds! His wife, Diane, makes blueberry pies, and Rene eats them three times a day. We let them go on with their game, and settled in for dinner at the picnic table.  Later we saw them walking across the open area. Diane was carrying a pie! I had some coffee cups made for special people, and I scrambled inside to find the last one. They wanted to look inside the Airstream and got a big kick out of it. After hugs and thank you’s, they headed home. After dinner we had a piece of wonderful, not-too-sweet blueberry pie. Four boys came out to play after their dinner. They were having a ball, waving to us as they went by. I wish I could understand what they were saying.

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56℉ at 4:00 am and a high of 74

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Fred told us about a great Zoo near Saint Feliciene, this was our destination today, but first we stopped at a boulangerie, La Maison Gourmande,  to buy some bread. Of course we then bought some bruschetta and muffins. Then off to the zoo. I cannot capture the beauty of the miles and miles of farmland we see when driving. Fields of wheat, oats, barley, potatoes in full bloom, blueberries and canola go on forever. They are perfect fields, uninterrupted by rocks or dips. All are ready for harvest now. Stopping by a wheat field to take some pictures, I knew I was pushing my luck with Martha. We had passed an incredibly beautiful farm several times, and this time she suggested we stop and get some pictures. The barns and the buildings are so pretty and well-kept, I can only imagine the expense. Their fields stretch to the horizon, and a beautiful river wanders along it’s border. There are so many blueberry fields, it seems they could supply the world. The colors of the crops are wonderful when the sun hits them just right rival trees in the fall. Many of the fields have perfect lines of trees, perhaps serving as wind breaks.

The zoo is a great one, built in a beautiful setting along a river and countryside. Walkways lead you around viewing areas, telling you about the animals, the trees and plants. Then you can board a little train on wheels that takes you around the grounds. There are too many deer, but we also saw virtually everything that lives in Canada – Elk, Moose, black bears, Musk Ox, buffalo, geese and ducks. You would drive right through buildings representing they way frontier life was, and drive by farmer and trapper’s cabins. There is an indian settlement and a fort. It gives you a good feel for how it was in those days. 

Not far from the zoo is a fromegerie, Chez Perron,, one of the last family-owned fromageries in Quebec. The girl in the shop spoke some English, but translations were difficult. We ended up buying three cheeses which turned out to be excellent. Once there were about 2,000 family fromageries in Quebec, but commercial operations have closed most of them. 

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60℉ at 5:00 am and high of 77

Pointe-Taillon National Park is a peninsula  jutting into Lac Saint-Jean and bordered on the north by the Peribonka River. There are no cars allowed in the park, but is set up best for bikes. My pictures don’t do it justice, as it is an incredibly beautiful park. We had a good wildlife-viewing day, seeing a Ruffed Grouse, Willow Ptarmigans, red squirrels, what I think were Flickers and our first sighting of a moose. It is a bit more difficult taking pictures while biking. I took a lot with the iPhone because it was faster and easier, but they don’t do the park justice. My friend, Mark Zablotsky, takes incredible pictures with his iPhone, but I haven’t gained the skill. I carry the Nikon with only one lens in a backpack, so you have to stop and remove the backpack, snap a few pictures, put it all back together and try to catch up with Martha. 

The Beaches are popular and beautiful, and we were looking hard for wildlife, although we biked between 11:00 and 3:30 – not good wildlife spotting time. There were tracks all over the roads. I guess they were moose, but they looked smaller than that. It would be so much fun to come back in the early morning or late evening and sit at one of the picnic tables and watch for moose. There is one moose bog with a big, camouflaged and screened blind. There is a huge moose bog close to the entrance. However, the center of attraction are the trees and ferns. The stands of Beech and Birch trees surrounded by a floor of three-foot tall ferns are just magnificent. You could ride the main loop of 25km in two hours as it is flat and easy going. However, if you go fast you will miss the beauty. It is more of a place to take all day, or camp and take a few days. It was almost hot enough to go for a swim, but the wind was blowing and it was 75 degrees, so it wasn’t quite warm enough. 

On a slight uphill, I pointed out a snake, a garter snake, to Martha. A couple of bikers came in the other direction, and she somehow jammed the bike chain down below the sprockets. It took a while to see what the problem was, but we couldn’t unjam it. Of course we were at the opposite side of the park from the truck. We pulled on the chain and tried to move the wheel back and forth to no avail. I had two tools in my bike bag, and after working for half an hour, was finally able to pry the two jammed links from their wedged position. Fortunately Martha had a wipe in her backpack to clean the chain grease from my hands. Maybe it was providence that made us stop. We suddenly saw that we were surrounded by perfect blueberries – everywhere! Emptying one water bottle into another, we filled it with blueberries in 15 minutes. You pay $10 for two quarts of blueberries. Picking these, we realized this is a good price, but then there is something to picking wild, fresh fruits. Later, Martha would make desert of Greek yogurt, blueberries and honey – yum!

Now we felt we needed to ride with more pace. I kept seeing things I wanted to take pictures of, but couldn’t. We came upon a ptarmigan that stood like a statue beside the road while I took pictures. As I rode away, I thought surely someone has carved this decoy and left a camera to video people like us taking pictures of it. Then we came across two more. They let me get just a few feet away and kept right on eating!

This is a wonderful park that could be explored many times in all seasons. I can only imagine it when the leaves change.

55℉ at 5:30 and high of 60.

Sunday, August 28, 2016

It’s nice to have a rainy day every now and then to catch up on things, so we did some laundry and did some research on where to go next. By afternoon we had had enough! We drove around looking for a bakery (boulangerie) and discovered a mall. We would never have seen it as it was well-disguised, but saw a few people going in. I think half the town was in there. Then across the street was a movie rental place, so we rented two movies and bought three that were on sale. After dinner, we settled in to watch a movie in bed for the first time. What a luxury! It was pouring down rain, so we had to turn the volume up. The movie was “Concussion” with Will Smith. He is so good, and it was a great movie based on a true story, but I had to stop it half way through. With this really hard rain and sitting next to a huge river, right beside a monster rapid, I remembered being in Banff when the Bow River Falls flooded with an amazing amount of water. No one seemed concerned and there were no sirens, so I went to sleep. By morning I could see little difference in the already awesome water flow. Monday is supposed to be very nice, so we will go ride our bikes around Pointe-Taillon National Park, almost an island on the north side of Lac Saint-Jean.

The options for biking in this region are amazing. They have done everything possible to make this a destination biking area with camping areas, picnic areas, overlooks and big bike lanes. You could ride here for weeks and weeks! I love the signs for $200 fine if you leave trash. We need those in the US!

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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.

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60℉ at 5:00 am and high of 72 

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

We only signed up for two nights, so today we would either have to leave or find another site. Martine was again very helpful, finding us a place with now power for one night and then we could return to #50 the next night. The Visitor’s Center is very nice, quaint, with a little shop and chairs and couches to sit and read your emails. There are great tables outside with views of these magnificent mountains, but you can’t get WIFI outside. By the time we got back down, site #40 was vacant, so we moved. Martha fixed some sandwiches and we drove an hour through the park to take a hike to the Chutes on Riviere Malbaie. The more I see, the more respect I have for this great river. It flows north through the park, turns east and then flows south through another National Park, Haute Gorge, then on to the town of La Malbie before flowing into the St. Lawrence. 

The hike is supposed to take 3 hours round trip, but some of that is viewing time at the Chute, and it is certainly a chute. A well-traveled path, it is graveled all the way and not a bad walk, although there are several steep ups and downs. We got a few more looks at the river along the way. My truck said it was a perfect 72 degrees with a great breeze. I work a very light fishing shirt and long pants thinking we would be walking a path. I don’t know what it is. Maybe the atmosphere is thinner, and it seems the humidity is much less, but if you are in the sun, it is very hot! If you are sitting in the shade, it is wonderful. We stopped at the Visitors Center and got another fishing permit. By the time we got back to the trailer, the truck said it was 78, but the thermometer said it was 98. The sun was hitting the trailer thermometer full bore, so it really isn’t accurate, but it does give you a feel for the heat. I took a cold water shower. 

Deciding on the Cobb Grill to fix dinner, I got the charcoal going while Martha went for a shower. As we were getting ready, a park ranger knocked on our door. She said something about having to talk to us about something. Wondering what we had done wrong, we went out to meet her. She wanted us to come to her talk tonight on black bears, and she pointed out the sign on the table. She said the talk would be in French and her English wasn’t so good, but obviously there was a problem with a bear at the campground.  Martha fixed another great meal of Pepper Steak, onions and squash. I cleaned up the Cobb Grill at a spigot a few sites down, and we cleaned the picnic table. It was now a beautiful, cool evening, so I walked the trash bag to the bin. Grizzly bears worry me, but I think of black bears like a giant Labrador Retriever. If they smell food, they will come and lick the grill, or take your bird-feeder down for a bunch of seeds. I’m sure a campground like this is good hunting grounds for a bear, but it’s not like a Grizzly in Yellowstone that will rip the door off a Honda go get a pack of Nabs. Again, though, I am happy to not be sleeping in a tent.

Martha and I looked at the map and decided to go north on 381 to Saguenay next. A lady at the shower house told her there were great bike trails there, and fiord cruises. Haute Gorge is only 50 miles from here, but you have to go back down to Rt. 40 and back up, so going north first makes the most sense, and there is a lot to see in that area. Where the Saguenay River meets the St. Lawrence, there are whale cruises.

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42℉ at 4:00 AM, high of 65

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

I was excited and a bit nervous to go to the other side of the park to fish the Malbaie River. It was 5:30 and fairly light as I set out. I stopped in the parking lot to read the map to see where I was going. I drove north on 381 to the next entrance to the park on Rt. 60 west. There was no one at the entrance and I was happy to see the gate open. It’s a brand new paved road for a while, going through a huge area that was burned in a fire in 1999. At the top of a hill is a viewing area where you get a sense of how vast the park is. Normally you drive through the park on tree-lined roads where visibility is limited. Where this area was burned you can see forever.  I expected to see moose of a bear, but didn’t see anything. However, I say a big bear scat on the paved road, and when the road turned to dirt, there were moose tracks going right down the road. Hearing a loon call, I stopped at a lake and took a picture. It could have been a photography shoot. I love this time of morning with the chance to see wildlife. Lakes and streams have mist coming off, as the sun begins to light the trees. But I had fishing to do, so I pressed on. 

It took an hour to get to the stream. On the first bridge crossing, I took a couple of pictures. In trout stream terms, at least in the east, this is a big river. At the bridge it was running fast. I scouted the length of the river along the course of the fishable stretch of 7km, but who knows what is best when you are new to an area. You just take your best shot and go. I turned down a small road, figuring this might be more secluded, but at the end there was a very large parking area with a picnic table. It was also a trail head. There was a huge pool below a rapid, a place where Kelly would probably catch 30 fish……if they were there. Surely this spot was fished out, but I decided to give it a go. 

I was quite happy there wasn’t a film crew there as I tore the truck apart to find the right gear. This was the first time fly fishing on this trip. The vest was in the back seat. The waders were in the tool box, so I had to remove the tarp covering the bikes. The shoes were in the truck bed under the bikes. Having kicked up some grasshoppers at the visitor’s center, I looked everywhere for a box with grasshoppers and other flies in it, but couldn’t find it. Where is the net? Do I really need it for Brook Trout? Found it behind the back seat. My leader was a bit short as usual, but I need to get fishing. Finally I got into the gear and put on a Tom Thumb, the most versatile and popular fly in Canada. I only have one. Putting on little cheap glasses, I had a hard time. 

Finally getting down to the pool, I cautiously waded to the other side of the river. How deep is it? Is it slippery? Are there holes? How cold is it? Although the water is pretty clear, it is typically tannin-stained, so it isn’t always easy to see where you are stepping. I lost the Tom Thumb on a snag on the fourth cast. Lost another fly on a fish. Tried a Wolly Bugger. #@*#! I can hear Kelly giving me grief now! I tied on something that looked like a Tom Thumb, but wasn’t. Little fish liked it, but there were no takers by any keepers. Maybe it was the fly. Maybe the pool was fished out of keepers. I don’t know, but now it was 10:00 and Martha wanted fish for dinner. I made my way back to the truck and ate Martha’s sandwich from the restaurant yesterday and drank some water. I had brought my work glasses with loupes, so I put them on and tied on a Royal Coachman. Damn, I can see! If Brook Trout in Virginia like a Coachman, will Canadian Brookies like it? 

I walked down a trail leading downstream. There was a marker for a short, little access trail to the river. I soon learned this trail goes the entire length of the river with access trails every 30 yards or so. Geez, that’s nice! I went in at 47, but only a few little 4” fish. I tried #46, same thing. I went back to the truck and got the spinning rod and some lures. I was going to catch fish!! Now carrying the fly rod and spinning rod, I went down to #45. Wading half way across the river, I threw the spinning lure at a log on the other side. Reeling slowly, it hung. I couldn’t get across to get it, so I broke it off. Now I have been fishing for two or three hours and have lost a spinning lure and three flies! There were words. I fished the spinning rod for 20 minutes with no luck, so I went back to the fly rod. Little 4” trout loved the Coachman, sometimes hitting it just as it landed, but not so often as it drifted. I have not mastered the art of mending my line to get the perfect drift, so if this is what needs to be done, I am toast. I dropped down to #41. It was pretty flat water all along here, but I was running out of time. I would have to try this area. I waded across, fishing the far shore where the water was deepest. I caught 15 4” trout. Well, they are reproducing well in this river. There HAS to be a momma or papa somewhere! Then he hit. They don’t come out of the water like they do in Virginia, but this one was smart. He headed for a log. I didn’t trust my knot. I thought the line was strong enough, but I had bent the barb back so I could release all those little fish easier. How well was he hooked? I have watched the Master, Kelly, bring in big fish, and he is very patient. His rod is a 6-weight and has much more flex than mine, so I have broken off some big fish. I loosened the drag and kept my hand off the line. He headed for a big rock, so I pulled him away. He was strong, stripping off some line. I let him go. It seemed like 10 or 15 minutes. Several times I tied to get him to the net, but he would have nothing of it. Finally I was able to drag him to a sandbar and net him. He filled the net, matching some of the bigger fish we caught in British Columbia. I probably would have let him go, being such a beautiful fish, but Martha wanted dinner. I went back and fished another half hour, only catching little fish. Looking downstream for another spot, I decided it would be best to get back. It was 1:00 and Martha had no means of going anywhere from camp, so I decided to start back at 1:00.

Martine told me there was a fish cleaning station at the junction of 60 and 381, so I stopped there. It was a little room on the back of that visitor’s center, which was closed although there were a lot of park cars and trucks outside. I couldn’t read the instructions and I wasn’t sure how to fill out the card, but there was a scale to weigh the fish, so I did. There is also a big roll of wax paper so you can wrap your fish. How nice! I got back to camp about 2:30 and found Martha reading the travel book on Quebec. Uh Oh, we must be leaving! 

August 24, Tuesday

Martha here.

First, let me say that we are now into our fourth week of camping.  It’s just hard to believe.  Knock on wood, we have had no major problems and we are still talking to each other.

Greg must have been very excited about fishing.  I think I heard him get up around 3:30 a.m. and drive away some time after 5 a.m.  

Not 5 minutes after he left I thought I felt the camper shake and someone step on the steps.  I called out “Greg, is that you?” and got no answer.  I tried to look outside to see what/who was out there (a bear? a moose?) but the windows were fogged up (40+ degrees this morning) and could not see anything, so back to bed I went where it was nice and warm.

Anyway, I hope Greg has good luck fishing.  It would be great to have a fresh trout for dinner, put some in the freezer, and give a trout to Martine, too.  She was a great help to us at registration.  And she was so excited that Greg was going to fly fish standing in the river.  The typical Canadian way in these parts seems to be from a row boat in a big lake.  She asked if he had waders and if he needed lures.  After explaining the 5K stretch of river he could fish, she put a big star where the best spot was!  

BTY, I tried out my poor French and said “Mon nom est Martha, aussi”.  Both Martine and the other Martha laughed.  Martine also told us that ‘Martine’ is the feminine of Martin and that she has a twin brother named Martin!

Tues., early evening

YES!!!!!  Fish for dinner!

I’ll let Greg tell you the fishing story . . . but we had Brook trout for dinner.

Kelly, how did I do?  Kind of looks like the trout you fixed for Rhonda and me when we met you and Greg in Jasper/Banff during Fish Across Canada.

Leroy, awesome . . . I think I can say ‘better than Graves Mountain’.  The trout was only 5 hours out of the water when we had it for dinner.

See pictures below, dinner fit for a king.  Brook trout cooked in foil with EOO, parsley, and lemon with Butternut squash cooked in foil with white and brown sugar cinnamon, and butter, and Uncle Ben’s 90 second brown and wild rice.  OK, a girl has to know when to cheat!  But an awesome dinner!