Drifting and paddling, splishing and splashing. Being by the water on warm summer days – is that about as good as it gets?! We could ask these guys:
By the time this is posted we’ll be off camping, down by a different body of water in the Chaudière-Appalaches. I’ll catch up on all things WordPress next week. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Not in the water. Always my preference, especially after that time paddle boarding when I was distracted by a heron up a tree…
Our week at Opemican, camping close to the Ottawa River, was a hot and sticky series of days, the sort that make being on the water enticing, but wearing a life jacket and working at paddling not part of the deal. Since the weather wasn’t going to get any cooler or less muggy that week, we chose a sunny afternoon, carried lots of water and off we went.
The section of the Ottawa River we were on is also a lake, Lake Témiscaming, and it is huge, at least 100km long. I’ll be honest and say I reckon we paddled about, ooh, 70, or more like 60, or no, maybe 50, no, actually about six or seven kms! Pretty good, and clearly it’s sensible to save some for another trip…
Due to the heat, Mrs. PC wisely chose to skip this adventure, opting for shade and cold drinks under the trees by our tent. Scout wasn’t bothered either, so it was me, my brother and his partner.
Young PlaidCamper much prefers a kayak, particularly the little whitewater numbers, over a canoe, and the least worst fit for him was a plastic bath toy that looked ready to sink at a moment’s notice. That left me and his partner K, in a proper canoe, very much on and not in the water. Again, this seems sensible.
Goodness it was warm, and goodness, I didn’t mind one jot, because I hadn’t paddled a canoe in years, and it was so good. K and I managed to sort out a pretty good paddling rhythm and away we went. We stayed close to shore for minimal winds and easy progress. And also so my brother, when his mighty kayak swamped, would be able to swim/stagger to safety. Fortunately, this didn’t happen, but boy was he low in the water…
I mentioned in an earlier post how Young PlaidCamper is a bug magnet, and even out on the water this was true. As we paddled along serenely in the canoe, thoughts drifting past at the same pace as the lakeside, the only untoward interruptions came from behind, a combination of cursing and splashing as my brother tried to wash off/drown the flies without tipping himself. Brotherly love meant that I only smiled when he wasn’t looking. He is a funny guy, with a great sense of humour, and the bugs really got at him, yet he was still wisecracking his way through. A tip of the hat – not his kayak – for being such a sport. Those watching along the shore might have been amused and bemused in equal measure.
We managed a couple of hours before calling it an afternoon, stopping while ahead and reasonably dry. At the rental location, we’d been told there was a waterfall on the Ontario side of the lake, and getting there only involved one section of hard paddling. Well, when we got to the narrow point for crossing the lake, we looked and thought, nope, no way can we make it there and back in the time remaining. Maybe in the canoe, but no way on the sit on top kayak. Another time, when we’ve a bit more muscle memory we can rely on and once I’ve persuaded brother he’d much prefer a canoe…
Anyway, we had a wonderful afternoon, and I can’t wait for next time – with Mrs. PC on board, we’ll be paddling a different lake on a cooler September afternoon a few hours east of home. I don’t think my brother is joining us for that one…
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
We’ve enjoyed mostly warm and sunny days the past week, just right for finding quiet corners to sit with a cold drink and/or a picnic. There has been quite a bit of rain when it hasn’t been warm and sunny, and this seems to have been very good for various gardens.
I’ve included a few photographs from either the Île d’Orleans or the Plains of Abraham, and, the lavender aside, I’ve no idea what most of the plants are and I’m too lazy to look ‘em up…
I found the item above lurking in a cooler, an overlooked beer from our recent trip. I was going to save it for a more appropriate fall day and then I didn’t. A pretty decent offering, but not a summer beer!
I’ll get to sharing a bit more about our recent trip to the Parc national d’Opemican once I’ve sorted out photos and thoughts.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Meandering? Us? Never! Well, maybe… Read on if you’ve the time and patience for something slow going nowhere in particular!
We’ve just got back from a short road and extended camping trip to Parc national d’Opemican. The park is about a ten hour drive from Quebec City. If you want to, you can make the trip from here to there in one long driving day, but we took two days, travelling more slowly, stopping often.
Our route passed through Montreal and Ottawa because that appeared to be the most direct. Did I mention travelling more slowly? The summer highway construction season all but assures you’re taking things slowly, so it was on with the tunes (yup, the Hip), down with the windows (and then back up because, city traffic fumes and humidity) and try to enjoy the construction enforced leisurely pace. I do like driving with windows rolled down if we’re moving at a (legal) pace that generates cool air. I know, my hair, but sometimes you’ve just got to go with it.
With Montreal and Ottawa in the rear view, things out of the (rolled down) windows get a good deal more interesting. The Ottawa Valley is wide and green and pleasantly agricultural before becoming increasingly wooded, rugged and wild as it swings northwest.
Approaching Opemican we’d ask are we in Ontario or are we in Quebec? Erm, yes? The river is the border between the two provinces, and we crisscrossed it a few times. I loved moving along(side) the river on those lazy hazy summer days. Later in the week I got to paddle on it. Marvellous. More on that in another post I suspect.
Earlier, we’d stopped in Arnprior, ON, to meet an old school friend, or rather, old school teaching friend and colleague from our time in Calgary. A wonderful teacher, it was P who gave me a copy of “Hatchet” by Gary Paulsen as she thought I might like it. She was right, and it influenced much of what I taught. With the novel as a starting point, students explored so many aspects about what it means to be in Canada. New Canadian, settler, refugee or First Nation, I’m almost certain every single student enjoyed the novel and how we uncovered so many areas of the curriculum. Geography, language, math, natural sciences, artistic expression, personal responsibility, risk taking, decision making, finding solutions, and remembering to never, ever bother a moose. So much in one short novel! If I ever return to the classroom, it’ll be with a copy of Hatchet in my back pocket… I owe P so much! So I bought her a beer.
P was in fine form. We’d always hoped to meet up at her family cottage near Bobcaygeon but never got to doing that and the cabin changed hands last summer. Fortuitously, we all happened to be passing through Arnprior the same weekend, and, just as fortuitously, the Cold Bear Brewing Company was open, served splendid beer, and was the most dog (and people) friendly brewery we’ve been to so far.
We’ll get to Arnprior again one day, explore a bit more, as it seemed a pleasant little riverside town. We couldn’t stay long this time as it was on the next day to rendezvous with my brother and his partner at Opemican.
I’ll write more about the fabulous week we had in a future post, but I’ll finish by saying if you ever go camping and want a mosquito distractor, some bait that’ll keep the little blighters away from you, then go with my brother. He’s a mosquito magnet! Every mosquito in western Quebec wanted to meet him. And only him. I have to say he complained far less than I would have, so hats off for that – and then back on again quickly, just in case. (If you have bought shares in any bug deterrent products in the past month, it was my brother who made your fortune!) Poor guy tried everything, to no avail. He’s quite a builder and tinkerer, and he left muttering something about creating a personal mini laser system to shoot down mosquitoes. I wouldn’t put it past him, but he wouldn’t be happy about the military-industrial complex knocking on his door and asking for the blueprints as a matter of national security.
More to follow! Thanks for reading and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
PS Now we’re home for a few days, I’ll be catching up on your posts and any comments over the weekend and into next week! (We were pretty much off grid for ten days – did anything happen while we were away? Scans headlines. Oh…)
Refusing to be put off by our recent black fly challenges (and armed with a new bug screen dome and lotion with possibly high radiation equivalent levels of DEET) we set off for a relatively mountainous region an hour or so northwest of Quebec City.
I was encouraged as the route changed from six lane highway to two lane black top (with narrow single lane bridges over small rivers and streams) to a range road that became a dirt track the last few kilometres. We were hoping for something a little remote – our booking advised no electricity or running water and very little cell coverage (all true) – and when we checked in at the office, the friendly welcome and laidback attitude boded well. Also, yes, the campground a few hundred metres away might not have any modern services, but, bonus, was that a fridge full of cold local beers? Well, I’m not saying, but Mrs. PC seemed particularly happy…
Our site was large, shaded and quiet. Spacious enough to accommodate our tent, the truck and the larger than expected dome tent bug screen. My first apartment was smaller. We put it up over the provided bench and picnic table with room to spare. Great for Scout to wander around “indoors but outside” and off leash.
The black fly count was far lower than our previous outing, and we’d have probably been ok without the screen, but it was pleasant to be able to rustle up and eat meals without any bugstractions.
We’re meeting up with friends/family next week, another camping trip, on the Quebec-Ontario border just north of Algonquin Park. I understand it can be a little buggy there, so we’ll be able to entertain in numbers under the dome. Or if not entertain (yeah, they’ve heard our stories before) then at least be comfortable.
Anyway, back to the Vallée Bras-du-Nord – it is a gem! Mountainous and green, a pretty valley with great hiking and biking trails and lots of camping options. It would be fun to snowshoe or xc ski in winter, and it has the feel of being a fishing place? I’m not too sure of the fishing scene in Quebec. The rivers and streams are plentiful and appear clean to the untrained eye.
We hiked a couple of trails, and our favourite was to the Delaney Falls. My camera was dying, but I managed a few shots. Honestly, if you ever find yourself out that way, the one hour each way hike from Shannahan Information Centre to the falls is a winner. It is leafy and relatively flat along the river valley bottom with a short rise to the falls on well constructed forest trails. Roots, rocks and puddles make it one to watch where you step, but nothing too strenuous, and a perfect length for a warm day. Take bug spray and water and all will be well!
Our evenings were warm, one or two sharp rain showers aside, and the best sight in the later evenings was the lightning bugs. Loved seeing those. Only a few, and flashing on and off through the darkening trees. For me, they made camping seem like, well, camping!
We’re hoping to return in the fall, most likely for a daylong outing to check out the leaf colour and enjoy a vigorous hike on a fresh fall day.
Not too sure about how connected we’ll be internet-wise for the next week or two. I’ll aim to post a short something at the end of the week as usual, and then catch up on my reading after we return home.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
This coming Monday! Happy Canada Day if you choose to celebrate.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – I’m so happy to be a Canadian citizen and that Canada is my home. It’s not perfect – is anywhere? – definitely a work in progress, but overall seems to be heading in a positive direction.
So, happy Canada Day this coming Monday. Maybe you’re Canadian, know some Canadians, live near Canada or just like maple syrup?!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
“You’ll love it up there, but, you know, black fly season?”
Can’t say we weren’t warned, but goodness, black fly season is a challenge! I’ve camped in bear country, wolf country and spider and snake territory. I’ve been under canvas in the high desert, the low desert, in rain forests and the mountains. It’s been too hot, too cold, too wet or too dry. I’ve even tent camped in a field in England. None of that, whatever challenges they might hold, came close to black flies in the north woods. Banana slugs and ants? I love you guys. And I’ll never complain about mosquitoes again… (I will, of course I will, but they’re a breeze compared to black flies!)
We rolled up and pitched our tent in slightly overcast and light-ish wind conditions after a day of rain showers. By the following morning the skies had cleared and if you wouldn’t call it hot, the next day or two were pleasantly warm. One or two black flies, one or two mosquitoes but no big deal. Those flies were waiting for the sudden heat and humidity of day four! A lovely morning, with mid teens temperatures and blue skies. These gave way to a bit more cloud cover, increased humidity, a temperature climb and then the onslaught – onslaught I say – of black flies. Onslaught!
They were everywhere! Oh how I miss the lightweight drone and whine of a mosquito or two. (Like the regular lightweight drone and whine of a contented PlaidCamper before the onslaught. Onslaught I say!) Music compared to the heavy chainsaw buzzing, dive bombing and all out in your face antics of the black flies. They were relentless! I didn’t get a single bite (Mrs PC picked up a few when one got in her hair above the back of her neck – ouch!) so the several gallons of bug spray worked to some extent, but still they zoomed in and away, over and over. And in such numbers – you simply couldn’t ignore them!
After almost two decades camping in various Canadian locations, you’d think we’d have encountered this before, but nope. We will be aiming to avoid another black fly adventure, that’s for sure. Yes, we were warned, and, after the first three days, were still ignorantly wondering what the big deal was. Well, now we know!
I’ll explore a bit more in another post about other aspects of the trip, but, driving home, having been seen off by the black flies, this is what we were talking about the most, so I’d thought I’d share! Definitely a lesson learned and isn’t doing something the hard way a more certain way of remembering the lesson?! There are certainly far worse things than being in the woods in black fly season, but for those few hours before we sounded the retreat, I’d have taken some convincing…
Mrs PC’s black fly bites are healing, so no external scars, but we’re still reeling from the intensity of the experience. The adventures of an almost outdoorsman? Yup, still an almost outdoorsman, and still learning through mistakes. Usually I like making new to me discoveries, but this wasn’t one of those times! We’re off again next week, a slightly shorter trip, closer to home and not too northerly. Black fly season, the worst of it, is almost done now – isn’t it?!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
As I write this (Wednesday) it is snowing! I love winter and I love snow, but it is late April now and we wouldn’t mind an escape. We’re making plans, and they mostly feature a tent. Next month? In a tent? We’re quite intent on seeing it happen. Oh dear…
Hard to believe, but yesterday we were in shirtsleeves on the deck drinking our morning coffee. To be fair, snow aside, we could do that every morning if we really wanted to. So many food and drink pieces the last few weeks. Coffee on the deck this week, the two in a row prison and food stories told here the past couple of weeks, and now this one is called Escape plans – do we have a third prison tale? (And a broken promise?)
No no! Late winter cabin fever, that’s all. I’m stuck. The walls are closing in! No more prison stories this week, not after two weeks. Instead, let’s escape, break out (stop it, PlaidCamper) and make a run for it, to the woods. They’ll never find us there…
Yes, we have had enough dry days for the ground to be less soggy and make walking in the woods a more or less everyday event – until the mosquitoes hatch. Scout has been very pleased by our woodland return, and it’s been an effort to keep up with her.
Of course we had to check in with the trolls. The ground had been trampled all about, but no sign of the trolls themselves. Sensibly, they keep out of sight, not wanting the publicity. It’s bad enough I take pictures of their house. That is bad of me, since trolls must be an endangered species – after all, have you ever seen one? (I don’t mean the trolls that, mentally or literally, have never left the parental home, and are living in the basement, sad little things, fighting culture wars and being aggrieved ‘cos, oh I don’t know, bathrooms and toilets are binary/non binary or gendered or some sh*t – honestly, keyboard warriors, do you think a toilet even cares if you’re non-dangly/dangly? There’s so much going on and wrong in the world, but our brave culture warriors want to fight about potty time and get offended that a s/he/they person is using the “wrong” bathroom. Ok…)
Tangent alert! Oops! Too late. Instead, let’s pretend I care enough about forest trolls to pretend to go along with the story they aren’t real. (Huh?!) So, they aren’t real, and they don’t live in a stone house in the woods behind us. Forget I mentioned them. And forget all the dangly stuff. And, I don’t know, maybe forget this entire post? It must be the cabin fever talking – let’s get out of here. Quite potty. I should go now. To the bathroom? Oh dear…
A brief post this week since I can’t talk about trolls or prison. Or bathrooms. It’s like I’ve been shackled. It’s definitely time to make an escape!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Let’s have another food and incarceration post! Cake and a jail break! Let’s spring ‘em out! (I promise you this will be the final post I write making my almost non-existent connections between food and gaol! And finding lots of different words for jail, prison, the big house, clink, lock up, chokey, correctional facility, slammer, and bastille. Pretty sure there are many, many more, but I won’t encourage me…)
Why another prison themed post? I don’t hear you asking. Good question. Well, quite by coincidence, after JH commented last week she thought I was going to mention La Petite Bastille here in Quebec City, we happened to be wandering past the prison, turned hostel, turned gallery earlier this week. No, really!
We weren’t trying to break anyone out, or break in, and avoided any of the “file in a baked cake” sort of escapade. I do wonder about that. The file in a cake – has that ever really happened, and how would it go? It got me thinking as we walked around the outside of the building, what sort of cake would work best? A light Victoria sponge doesn’t seem much use – the file would fall out, be discovered too soon. Perhaps a heavy chocolate cake? I can see the problem with a tasty chocolate cake (said no one, ever) – if the guards are easily bribed or the sort to turn a blind eye to a file in a cake, wouldn’t they also be the sort to eat a delicious chocolate cake meant for an inmate? No cake reaches the inmate, so no file, and no escape! Nope, not a chocolate cake, then.
My grandmother made a bread pudding so dense you could easily hide a file in there. And a length of rope attached to a grappling iron, a couple of crowbars and even the keys to the getaway vehicle parked under the wall. Maybe even the getaway vehicle itself. I’m telling you, it was a dense dessert. Would probably take days for an entire prison wing plus the guards to eat enough to finally find the file – honestly, it was that heavy. You’d be so tired after chomping through all that bread pudding you’d need a nap, then probably forget you’d even intended to break out. Just writing about that pudding has made me forget why we’re talking about it. Oh yes, prison break cakes! If anyone has any suggestions, or a recipe to share, please feel free to do so below. This post isn’t going quite where I’d intended…
La Petite Bastille is now part of La Musée National des beaux-arts du Québec, but currently closed and undergoing refurbishment. So no old prison visit for us, and instead we viewed the “Generations” display on at MNBAQ, our last of what has been several visits to view this collection. We’ve loved visiting this one! Instead of trying and failing to summarize it, I’ll borrow from the MNBAQ descriptor and post a link. “In addition to presenting the works of several artists rarely seen in Québec City, Generations: The Sobey Family and Canadian Art thus offers a genuine panorama of Canadian creativity past and present, reflected both in tormented landscapes and abstractions, and in personal narratives and striking revisions of Canadian history.” The exhibition is on until mid May…Generations
Predictably enough, my favourite paintings in this collection were by Tom Thomson. I have his canoe at home. Oh, ok, a postcard on my desk:
From prisons to cakes to paintings, I seem to have drifted off, like a birchbark canoe caught on a gentle early summer breeze. Perhaps a good enough time to stop all this vaguely (un)connected nonsense?
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
To spring! There have been one or two days this past week where the air has felt almost warm, with a softness or mildness that is more than just strong sunshine on a cold winter day. Yes, I think spring might be right around the corner! (Let’s ignore the forecast for tomorrow – Thursday, at the time of writing – where it’s likely we’ll delight in a high of 1C and somewhere between 5-10 cm of snow. Nothing more than a seasonal blip…)
In recent days we’ve enjoyed a cup of coffee or two on the deck, wavering between do we need a jacket – yes we do – and/or we don’t really need a jacket, do we – yes, you really do. Give it another week or three, and maybe then lose the jackets.
There has been a steady increase in birdsong, along with the almost ceaseless sound of snowmelt and surface water dripping from roof tops and gurgling into drains. The edges of gradually reappearing grassy areas are showing just a hint or two of green as the sunshine melts the last of the ice banks.
Goodness, have we time to finish the Easter chocolate before finding time to start cutting the lawn? (Lawn? Steady on, OldPlaidCamper – I think small patch of grass is closer to the mark. Lawn…)
I’ll leave it here for now, feeling optimistic about spring as we look past the next few days towards a weekend and beyond that promises something positively balmy. In the meantime, where’s that jacket? And, oh no, the snow shovels?
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
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