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hope that other day is soon .. thanks again for anothe great write up.
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Happy National Bikini Day! 🏖️👙👀
Mégiscane River, Québec
- Thread starter Erica
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Days 27 - 28
Yesterday afternoon the wind blew from all four directions. Last night it blew so cold I unhooked and zipped tight the little ventilation slits at the top of the tent. I think I heard a bear last night, snuffling on three sides of the tent. I got up and grabbed the bear spray as quietly as I could. Too cold to leave the tent, but I sat at attention bear spray in hand. An hour later, hearing nothing more, I lay back down and slowly fell asleep.
Winds have buffeted me for three days. This morning, no wind. Relief for my ears. The sun is maize but blocked by substantial clouds. I snacked on what I could find. Drank Tang. Couldn't find the mango rollups. Huddling under the jack pines, I pondered my situation. There was no way I would make it even part way down the Mégiscane. At this rate it would take me weeks just to get to the middle pourvoirie. And would it even be open? Jean told me he was closing up his pourvoirie the first week in September and after that he would only be in now and then with hunters. It seemed reasonable that others might do the same. I decided I needed to get to the pourvoirie just outside of lac du Poét by the first week in September if I am going to get out of here. The uncertainty here was getting to me. This is more or less how I felt.
I watched the weather for about an hour, hoping to see it clear. Occasionally the sun would blow open the cloud cover to reveal a slit of blue. I decided that was good enough and prepared to leave.
After a couple of hours scouting and searching for a portage trail, I ran and lined the canoe through the first set of rapids. All went perfectly as planned. I felt ecstatic about how well the bridle system works and pleased over all. I was on the river again! On this trip I have to wring every drop of pleasure from my few successes.
Still inexplicably tired, upon reviewing and scouting the next set I made several errors. I saw a path through the rapids that in theory I could drag through, although there was not enough water. My tired brain told me to go ahead and try it. Hah! My cerebrum must have been totally on strike because there wasn't enough water, wasn't enough room between the boulders and the canoe became entirely rock bound, loaded, before I admitted defeat. I compounded this error by pulling and pushing as hard as I could, even hearing a crack a couple of times, until finally the rocks released the canoe into deeper water. As best I could tell, nothing was leaking so on we went. Lined past the second part of this rapid and was pleased to have us all at the bottom in one piece.
But the rapids were not done with us. Swift water grabbed the boat. I had to set the ferry angle and pull to shore again on river left.
One would think I would have learned by now, but I continued with more mistakes. Cerebrum still on strike. I got back in the boat with a half a plan to ferry to the middle and eddy turn river right into a tiny eddy. But the current was too strong, the eddy not far downstream and smaller than a Wee Lassie. I was pretty much useless at the helm at this point and the canoe promptly got snagged by two rocks, one bow and one stern. The current kept the canoe firmly in place in the middle of the river. I sat in the canoe for some time pondering my choices of which there were few. I stepped out of the boat on the upstream side, probably guided by the few neurons I had still working.
I held the stern at the ferry position and walked the boat toward the shore, scraping on rocks. All went well until the bottom dropped out and the canoe was unexpectedly ripped away from me. Luckily I was able to grab it in time and complete the ferry to river left. I was cold, exhausted and miserable.
I made camp in a micro-meadow filled with goldenrod and bottle gentian.
Yesterday afternoon the wind blew from all four directions. Last night it blew so cold I unhooked and zipped tight the little ventilation slits at the top of the tent. I think I heard a bear last night, snuffling on three sides of the tent. I got up and grabbed the bear spray as quietly as I could. Too cold to leave the tent, but I sat at attention bear spray in hand. An hour later, hearing nothing more, I lay back down and slowly fell asleep.
Winds have buffeted me for three days. This morning, no wind. Relief for my ears. The sun is maize but blocked by substantial clouds. I snacked on what I could find. Drank Tang. Couldn't find the mango rollups. Huddling under the jack pines, I pondered my situation. There was no way I would make it even part way down the Mégiscane. At this rate it would take me weeks just to get to the middle pourvoirie. And would it even be open? Jean told me he was closing up his pourvoirie the first week in September and after that he would only be in now and then with hunters. It seemed reasonable that others might do the same. I decided I needed to get to the pourvoirie just outside of lac du Poét by the first week in September if I am going to get out of here. The uncertainty here was getting to me. This is more or less how I felt.
I watched the weather for about an hour, hoping to see it clear. Occasionally the sun would blow open the cloud cover to reveal a slit of blue. I decided that was good enough and prepared to leave.
After a couple of hours scouting and searching for a portage trail, I ran and lined the canoe through the first set of rapids. All went perfectly as planned. I felt ecstatic about how well the bridle system works and pleased over all. I was on the river again! On this trip I have to wring every drop of pleasure from my few successes.
Still inexplicably tired, upon reviewing and scouting the next set I made several errors. I saw a path through the rapids that in theory I could drag through, although there was not enough water. My tired brain told me to go ahead and try it. Hah! My cerebrum must have been totally on strike because there wasn't enough water, wasn't enough room between the boulders and the canoe became entirely rock bound, loaded, before I admitted defeat. I compounded this error by pulling and pushing as hard as I could, even hearing a crack a couple of times, until finally the rocks released the canoe into deeper water. As best I could tell, nothing was leaking so on we went. Lined past the second part of this rapid and was pleased to have us all at the bottom in one piece.
But the rapids were not done with us. Swift water grabbed the boat. I had to set the ferry angle and pull to shore again on river left.
One would think I would have learned by now, but I continued with more mistakes. Cerebrum still on strike. I got back in the boat with a half a plan to ferry to the middle and eddy turn river right into a tiny eddy. But the current was too strong, the eddy not far downstream and smaller than a Wee Lassie. I was pretty much useless at the helm at this point and the canoe promptly got snagged by two rocks, one bow and one stern. The current kept the canoe firmly in place in the middle of the river. I sat in the canoe for some time pondering my choices of which there were few. I stepped out of the boat on the upstream side, probably guided by the few neurons I had still working.
I held the stern at the ferry position and walked the boat toward the shore, scraping on rocks. All went well until the bottom dropped out and the canoe was unexpectedly ripped away from me. Luckily I was able to grab it in time and complete the ferry to river left. I was cold, exhausted and miserable.
I made camp in a micro-meadow filled with goldenrod and bottle gentian.
