Park National de la Mauricie

The drive across New Brunswick from Kouchibouguac was long. It was a dark and rainy day. There were few people on the highway, which was pretty nice. The road was pretty rough, but I can’t imagine the resources it must take to maintain them with such brutal winters. The villages few and far between are sparsely populated. This probably accounts for the serene beauty of the drive. No commerce. No advertisements. It wasn’t easy finding food and a camping store to replace my crushed canopy was out of the question. I stopped at Andrew’s Fish and Chips somewhere. I’d been hoping for greens, but that wasn’t to be. Not even Cole slaw. They did offer outline though. Yep, gravy and cheese on the fries. A local delicacy.  When in Rome… 

As I said, the day was dark and there was a moment when I rounded the bend in the woods that I slammed on the brake, but wasn’t sure if that was the right reaction. A black monster was standing there waiting for me at the edge of the road. It was two stories high. A moose! I had no idea they were so huge and ominous. Hitting a moose would surely mean death to the driver and passengers. 

Lac Bouchard, a lovely clear lake for swimming near my campground at Rivier-a-la-Peche. You can take a crazy long hike to get there or a shorter walk, maybe around 2.8 km along a portion of the longer trails, or you can drive. It's about 6 km driving. The Lac-du-Pimbina trail, a loop from the Riveire-a-la-Peche pavilion is 14.2 miles and the Ruisseau Bouchard, which I took, 9.1 km. It took longer than I anticipated though. It's got some steep and rocky climbs, up and down, up and down and pretty views of lakes below. 

The second time I visited Lac Bouchard, try as I might, I didn’t make it there until dinnertime. That turned out to be kind of nice as the crowd had thinned. I had been there the day before to swim. It was hot and the park is within two hours of Montreal, so the sane thing to do was bolt from all that concrete and traffic and head for the tall, cool pine forest to splash in a lake. Kayaking is popular here, as is sitting on a paddle board next to your buddies eating. Everyone speaks French and it has a little bit of that Parisian feel, where people talk easily and food is prioritized. There was a fair number of people. 

The people were pleasant, but it's easier to find a rock to sit on and wiggle in to the water from, when it's not crowded. And I was kind of tired. How many kilometers can one walk taking in wonders that slay the senses?

I literally ran most of the trail back over many tree roots, past cascading waters and through fragrant forest. At one point, I realized that I should make noise so as not to startle a bear as of course I was running with the speed and grace of a gazelle. Imagine that, at 68 and having not run as a sport for years. Why did I think that my pounding feet and heavy breathing were not enough advance warning? Well, because there was high undergrowth which I imagined had luscious berries and the wind may have been blowing my panting and thumping into oblivion.

For whatever reason, my imaginary crises was averted and I made it back before the sun sank behind the hill.

It's almost crazy how nice the facilities are here. When is the last time you had to turn down the heat of a campground shower? The pavilion in my loop is constructed of fragrant cedar and a place you'd want to warm yourself in front of the wood burning stove in winter. I did see a couple signs on the trail yesterday warning hikers not to go out on the ice as it may be thin, so I guess people do. I'll have to ask. The trail I took would be pretty hard to navigate in snowshoes and impossible on cross-country skis. The bathroom and cleaning sink counters are granite. What? The shower rooms are spacious and have enough room for actually hanging your clothes where they won't get drenched and a place to sit while you try to get your pants on without dragging the cuffs in the cesspool water and hair of fifty people ahead of you. The cleaning crew here keeps things sparkling. When is the last time you looked forward into entering the shower at a campground? 

It's mid-week toward the very end of June and I am one of the few people on my campground loop of fifty or so sites, so I feel like they are my personal maids. Is there a male name for them? "Cleaners" sounds bland. 

There's electricity all over the place where the Parc doesn't mind at all if you charge your gadgets in the communal room for your loop, pictured below. (Cf: the signs in park bathrooms that say No Electricity for Personal Use and someone's always surreptitiously plugged in, while its owner hovers anxiously about as no one wants to stay in one of those bathrooms for long.)

The fresh hewn wood was still fragrant. And it proved a wonderfully sane place to take shelter from the cold driving rain.

Too, there was this shelter along one of the trails for just getting out of the weather, maybe taking a photograph without water on your lens. 

I extended my stay from two to four days, and if the weather forecast has changed and is not expected to rain tomorrow, I'll extend it another night, prioritizing nature over cities. I do want to travel along the Saint Lawrence River and really immerse myself in its feel, and I will, but I think I'll put off visiting Montreal and Toronto to another time when I just take the Amtrak up. Maybe wait until Fall when it's cooler and the theater, symphony and opera seasons have resumed... and I have clean, smart clothes to enjoy them in.

I have a hotel reservation in Detroit near the airport next week, where I can leave my car for the duration of my trip to Austin. So there's that deadline to meet. Austin, do you feel me coming home? I really liked living there.

Here are my new digs... as a work in progress. It's not yet imbued with that homey feel, but I'm not fully acclimated to the mosquitoes and horseflies and still feel a bit edgy, not knowing what it will take to best to reconcile our existence together. It'll come together. It's the smallest relatively sturdy one that will fit in my car that I could procure! I jimmy-rigged the ol' tarp over it as it felt like a mighty storm was rolling in. I'm not sure if that's a good idea or counter-productive. The storm passed by, so as they say, time will tell. I imagine another opportunity will come by soon.

There are cascading waterfalls all over the place. Just keep your ears tuned. This was taken along the Ruisseau-Bouchard Trail.

There's another one you might not otherwise know about just across the small wooden bridge at Lac Bouchard where you can hang out, letting the the water pull at your feet as you lounge there in the shade between swims in the clear lake.