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hope that other day is soon .. thanks again for anothe great write up.
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Happy World Snake Day! 🐍⛎𓆗
Mégiscane River, Québec
- Thread starter Erica
- Start date
- Joined
- Nov 30, 2017
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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.
- Joined
- Nov 30, 2017
- Messages
- 1,260
- Reaction score
- 4,264
August 28-29, 2026.
Cold and windy came the dawn. Total low cloud cover. I didn't get out of the tent until 9 am and it was still looking grim. The wind cut through me. Chilly fingers struggled with pack straps. I was now worried about making it to the pourvoirie before they closed down for the winter. Still, anticipating the risk of hypothermia by getting wet in the rapids, I went back into the tent. Re-evaluated around noon. It was still cold and windy, but the temperature felt a bit warmer. I decided to try it. I lined the canoe and one pack to the bottom of the rapids but not cleanly. Baseball to grapefruit sized rocks spread widely on the verge, wet and treacherous.. I slipped twice; the second slip put me into a three quarters roll. By the time I got back to the tent, it was 4 pm. I had no energy for more. I crawled into the tent, huddled up and tried to get warm. It took a long time.
It rained hard that night and rained throughout the morning. Yesterday's fall exacerbated the shoulder pain. I could not delay more. I tried to keep my spirits up and focus on all that was good. The inside of the tent was mostly dry. My down sleeping bag had just a tiny bit wet at the bottom. I was alone in a beautiful land, cheering the sky every time a streak of blue opened up. But despite my earnest cheering, the periodic slices of blue, slide closed as easily as they had opened.
I struggled with getting the packs and gear down to the bottom of this rapids. There was no path through the shoreline or even a break in the brush. I tried it several times, hoping to open up a path, but it stayed closed and literally breath-taking. The rocks continued to be wet and slippery. I suddenly got an inspiration. Why not line the packs down the rapids. I could attached a rope or two, toss them in the water and have the water do the work.
The water battered the packs against the rocks. Sometimes the rocks stopped the packs and I had to jerk the lines around to free the pack. It was during this process I noticed the very first sign that someone else had traversed this river. A smudge of bright red on the tallest boulder. I believe this might be recped who descended this river earlier in spring when ice blocked their voyage. At the bottom, the blue pack suffered by losing a strap and the orange pack get a little water inside the pack, but not inside the liner. I called it a success.
Recped?
Going up and down this stretch of river gave me plenty of opportunities to examine the rocks. Here wer have agood example of what, in. Deeper water, could easily catch a foot and hold an unfortunate paddler under water.
The map showed yet another stretch of narrow water, which probably meant more rapids. I had spent the day so
far struggling with the portage and thought to my self if there was another portage, I would never make it. This is the negative voice which pops up whenever I am tired. I've learned to ignore it. And to my great surprise the river became something totally unexpected.
Without transition, it changed character. The banks turned to dry stone revetement. The riverbed was eased into wide S-shaped curves. The water was deep and fast. I had never seen anything like it. It stopped looking like a river and started looking like a Disney ride. The sky even cleared. I was in for more surprises when I reached Lac du Poét.
Cold and windy came the dawn. Total low cloud cover. I didn't get out of the tent until 9 am and it was still looking grim. The wind cut through me. Chilly fingers struggled with pack straps. I was now worried about making it to the pourvoirie before they closed down for the winter. Still, anticipating the risk of hypothermia by getting wet in the rapids, I went back into the tent. Re-evaluated around noon. It was still cold and windy, but the temperature felt a bit warmer. I decided to try it. I lined the canoe and one pack to the bottom of the rapids but not cleanly. Baseball to grapefruit sized rocks spread widely on the verge, wet and treacherous.. I slipped twice; the second slip put me into a three quarters roll. By the time I got back to the tent, it was 4 pm. I had no energy for more. I crawled into the tent, huddled up and tried to get warm. It took a long time.
It rained hard that night and rained throughout the morning. Yesterday's fall exacerbated the shoulder pain. I could not delay more. I tried to keep my spirits up and focus on all that was good. The inside of the tent was mostly dry. My down sleeping bag had just a tiny bit wet at the bottom. I was alone in a beautiful land, cheering the sky every time a streak of blue opened up. But despite my earnest cheering, the periodic slices of blue, slide closed as easily as they had opened.
I struggled with getting the packs and gear down to the bottom of this rapids. There was no path through the shoreline or even a break in the brush. I tried it several times, hoping to open up a path, but it stayed closed and literally breath-taking. The rocks continued to be wet and slippery. I suddenly got an inspiration. Why not line the packs down the rapids. I could attached a rope or two, toss them in the water and have the water do the work.
The water battered the packs against the rocks. Sometimes the rocks stopped the packs and I had to jerk the lines around to free the pack. It was during this process I noticed the very first sign that someone else had traversed this river. A smudge of bright red on the tallest boulder. I believe this might be recped who descended this river earlier in spring when ice blocked their voyage. At the bottom, the blue pack suffered by losing a strap and the orange pack get a little water inside the pack, but not inside the liner. I called it a success.
Recped?
Going up and down this stretch of river gave me plenty of opportunities to examine the rocks. Here wer have agood example of what, in. Deeper water, could easily catch a foot and hold an unfortunate paddler under water.
The map showed yet another stretch of narrow water, which probably meant more rapids. I had spent the day so
far struggling with the portage and thought to my self if there was another portage, I would never make it. This is the negative voice which pops up whenever I am tired. I've learned to ignore it. And to my great surprise the river became something totally unexpected.
Without transition, it changed character. The banks turned to dry stone revetement. The riverbed was eased into wide S-shaped curves. The water was deep and fast. I had never seen anything like it. It stopped looking like a river and started looking like a Disney ride. The sky even cleared. I was in for more surprises when I reached Lac du Poét.
