Judy P's Tickle Trunk

   Why does it always take me so long to get around to everything? By the time I get in the habit of using my bicycle every year it is almost time for snowplows. My procrastination in starting anything is evident in my cupboards and boxes full of yarn and fabric; some of it in colours which haven’t seen the light of day since the early eighties (dusty rose flannelette anyone? – I’ve got some you can have) Sure it took til the age of thirty for me to get around to university.  And every spring I start assembling boating and camping gear in anticipation of adventure but never seem to get around to it. Here it is, almost Thanksgiving and I only just did my first kayak trip that required carrying it somewhere on the car-top. Yesterday I made it as far as Kejimkujik National Park (affectionately known to Nova Scotians as Keji). This year I chose not to do my usual  day or two over-nighter. This time of year it gets dark early evening  and in the morning it takes a long time for the air to warm . That adds up to a lot of hours sitting around listening to myself think. The fun of a campfire only goes so far; I recall a couple of years ago a night I spent in the backcountry; I found an old typed movie script in the woodpile and I read it by firelight until I decided it was so bad it didn’t deserve to be rescued and once it was burned I lay in my tent waiting for the time to go to sleep. I digress.

For my day trip I chose my route with the weather in mind. The wind was supposed to come up out of the northwest in the afternoon so picked a familiar route in which I knew the wind would blow me back to my starting point when I was tired. It was also a familiar route; I had travelled this section of the park a few years ago by kayak. The water levels are high this year so I knew the route I planned was accessable and though it wasn’t a very long trip, it would suit my current level of  fitness – which on a scale of couch potato to Olympic athlete, I would rate myself as less than a weekend warrior. Here’s a section of the park map with my route outlined in green:

This is back country Keji where you quickly move away from the road and all of the campsites, which are a good distance apart,  can only be reached by boat or on foot. The red dotted trail from the Eel Weir is where I went in the Blog “Biking Keji”. You usually only run into the serious travellers down at this end of the park. It is a twenty-five minute drive on a dirt road and I feel pretty safe leaving my car there for hours or days.

On any given day of adventure I try to read the signs; get a feel for how big the struggles will be. I like a little trouble early in the game; it keeps me on my toes, prevents me from becoming complacent, and gives me that nervous edge which I always thought essential when going on stage. Not too much to sharpen my senses this morning though, leaving the shower curtain outside the bathtub hardly qualifies as a catastrophe and as for the solitary crow (one for sorrow) that went over on the way up; it didn’t really fly over me, I drove in under it, so that doesn’t count, does it? Later while on the water two crows flew over then a few seconds later another pair. I pondered at the time whether that meant double the effect of two crows (two for joy) or did I have to add them up to four (four a boy or a baby). I am just a little superstitious. As I prepared to launch on the bank of the Mersey River by the Eel Weir bridge I made sure I had brought all the essentials for my marriage to mother nature:

Something old; that would be me…

Something New: neoprene sneakers from Mountain Equipment Coop purchased with my retirement gift card, thank you again, my esteemed colleagues.

Something Borrowed: Lance’s Pokeboat kayak

Something Blue: I repeat, can no one design a comfortable life vest for the buxom ladies in the crowd? It’s not like the sisters help with flotation!

When you travel in the woods alone you haves to take it all in stride; the good with the bad. There’s no one to complain to about the cold or the wet, no one to bounce an idea off. Now that I think of it, that is not entirely true, there is someone to talk to: yourself! So let me tell you first about the bad: The wind was strong, almost as much as I could handle, especially when it gusted and it blew down the lake, which wasn’t so bad on George Lake where I buckled down and paddled hard and rested as soon as I could in the lee of the little island with the beaver dam. After I completed the western run and was at the bottom of Lake Kejimkujik there were actually swells and a couple of times I was saved from swamping only by the couple of inches of black combing around the big open cockpit. The swells were close together and I learned to angle the bow to minimize the digging in but some of them were breaking and I knew I should get out of the rough stuff and rest my arms so I made for one of the small islands. This is when I could be heard talking to myself, whispering words of encouragement, “come on girl, hold your heading, pull, pull”. It was about this time that I realized that I had forgotten to pack the bailer. Or the sponges I use to mop the bottom of the boat. This just reinforced my knowledge that I shouldn’t go any further up the lake. Other anxieties of the day were less acute: earlier I had gotten stuck trying to turn around in the long grass of a beaver passage in a flooded marsh. I forgot to freshen my camera batteries before I left the house and after three snaps I got a battery warning. The brand new neoprene sneakers were wonderfully comfortable in the boat but terrible on rough ground where I could feel the shape of every pebble I stepped on and they were stretchy and inclined to pull off if the lace got hooked. Best saved for sandy beaches and sidewalks. No wildlife to admire other than a squirrel.

The two trees are growing like antennae right out of the top of this beaver lodge.

And the good: no wildlife other than a squirrel. I am always ready to encounter a bear or coyote but hope never have to. Should I see the bear I will do like the old feller on the radio recommended the other day – I will bark like a dog. I wonder which works better, arf or woof? Also good: the beauty. What is more perfect than an acorn or a dragonfly? Being on the water in Keji is like paddling through a Tom Thomson painting.The pines are exquisite. They are not your showy Christmas tree type pines; they are rugged and look like they have had a life full of adventure.  I would stand and look up the trunk of a tall straight pine and wonder how long a straight knot-free board could be cut from it. However did they cut and haul wood this size years ago when they only used hand tools and horses?  More good: when I sat down to a lunch of meatballs and smoked sausages I realized that the Tupperware container they were in could be used as a bailer in a pinch. For a second I thought it would be bad news when I changed the camera batteries only to find that the replacements were already discharged but then it was good news again when I put the old ones back and they worked until I was finished my day.

Not the best of the pines but my favourite, shortened since my last visit.

Taking a rest in the lee of a Group of Seven painting.

Keji is big enough of a park to make you feel that you’ve really gone into the wilderness but I felt safe in the knowledge that should I swamp and have to walk out I would meet a trail or road of some kind in any direction I should go (though I wouldn’t want to have to walk it in those neoprene sneakers.)  Although I was away from civilization it was not quiet. The waves were somewhere between lapping and crashing on the shore of the lake, there were ripples and riffles of water, chickadees, and at one point I was startled by what thought was a huge school of fish jumping but it turned out to be a shower of acorns from an overhanging oak tree. The wind in the pines was not the gentle “wind in pines” sound of the kettle in a Japanese tea ceremony but a deep steady whistle which was haunting at times. Speaking of spooky, the woods were dark and dappled and full of things which looked like they grew out of the underworld:

Mushrooms growing in the cavity of an uprooted tree.

I thought this looked like an Orc rising from the slimes of Middle Earth.

‘Tis a wonderful time of year for colours. They haven’t quite peaked but made for some every pretty rest stops:

Lunch break away from the whitecaps on the lee side of an island at the bottom of Kejimkujik lake.

A fallen log blocked the passage between two islands in the Eastern Run.

Made a great rest-stop for afternoon coffee and a Clif bar.

A prize of a bling engagement ring goes out to whomever can tell me what is floating in my coffee.

In my mind, it doesn’t get much prettier than this.

Looking down the Eastern Run between Kejimkujik Lake and George Lake

All done.

So it wasn’t a long day, I didn’t travel very far in miles, but it was certainly time well spent. Hope I can get in one more trip before we have to stow the boats for the season.

Click on any photo for a larger view.

(c) Judy Parsons 2013