It's early morning, dawn, the sun will soon be up. Outside, from the woods, I can hear an animal approaching quite fast. The sound is heavy, four feet? It stops. It has seen our tent. It emits a sound, a puzzled exclamation. When I try to recreate it later, when telling this story, it sounds like the noise Scooby Doo makes when he's questioning something. But this is no animation. This is real. My heart starts to beat faster but I don't dare move. What is it??? And then it retreats, back the way it came, into the forest.
I don't want to cook breakfast there, ostensibly because we are close to a house, but with the knowledge that something is in the woods. So we pack up and stop down the road on a side track. It starts to rain. Great. Gayle is cheery and indefatigable all day but my morning's moment of fear is weighing heavily. The road from Forestville unsurprisingly continues through the forest. It is, as always, dense and dark. It feels claustrophobic, pressing in on us from the sides. It seems every day is like this - the forest pressing in, getting closer, the darkness, the horror. The horror.
At Baie Comeau, a small town split in half by a headland, we stay with Ken and Marie-Elaine and their children. I am drawn out from my melodramatic foreboding as they stuff us full of wonderful food and a copious amount of beverages, some of them alcoholic. Marie-Elaine's sister calls in and then one of her best friends from school, up from the Big Smoke (Montreal) with her policeman boyfriend. Everyone is francophone but speaks English for our benefit - for which we are most grateful. Ken is a paramedic and Marie-Elaine a dietician, working in a nearby Innu community. She tells us the problems that we might already have guessed. Obesity and related health issues such as diabetes and heart conditions are prevalent due to a taste for sugary drinks and a western diet that does no good. But, quite frankly, this is not just a problem for the Innu community - it applies to the whole of Canada from what we have seen so far. There is definitely an awareness of the need to exercise, judging from all those cyclists we saw around Quebec City and Montreal, but awareness doesn't always lead to action, I suppose.
We have a fun evening with our hosts. I ask about bears along the route and they all agree - at this time of year with the blueberries ripening, the bears won't pay us much attention. But what about keeping food in our tent? Oh no, we should never do that. I recount the noises I heard this morning and ask what they think I might have heard. "Rabbit?" Marie-Elaine suggests. A bloody big one, I think. She then recalls seeing bears along the road near Forestville. I wonder, do bears make Scooby Doo noises?
In the morning we say our adieus to our lovely hosts and head off along the coast. The day is sunny and hot but there are now coastal views as we climb over and around headlands. It's really stunning and dramatic and a reward from some boring days among the trees. In the afternoon we find a place where we can get water and then head back inland. The road skirts a few tucked away lakes and then suddenly climbs steeply. I get ahead of Gayle and then pause where the road eventually flattens out to get my breath and wait for her to catch up. There's no traffic at all. Not a sound. After a long wait I finally hear Gayle. But she's whispering and shouting my name at the same time. "John! John! Look! A bear!" As I turn around I see a young black bear ambling out onto the road between us. I quickly turn my bike around to face it. In that time the bear has heard Gayle and is also turning around. It bounds back into the forest from whence it came. Gayle is enraptured. I am mortified. We ride on through the hills.
A while later we stop for a break where there's a clearing beside the road. Gayle suggests we stop and camp. I ask her what bears eat. "Um, berries mostly." And what are these all around us? "Um, berries, I suppose." I refuse to stay. We push on and finaly re-emerge back at the coast in the village of Baie Trinite. After cooking our tea by the salmon river, we look about for a spot to camp. There's a fish processing plant by the beach, and it looks like there's cover behind it, within hearing of the waves. A sign says "Prive" We roll beyond it and quickly push into the grass and dunes to find a nice spot, miles from any bears. As we nod off, Gayle is still enthralled by the beautiful beast she has finally caught sight of.
Why didn't you get a photo of it, I ask her. "It was either warn you or take a photo", she replies, not hiding the hint of regret in her voice.
 |
| uh-huh? |
At Baie Comeau, a small town split in half by a headland, we stay with Ken and Marie-Elaine and their children. I am drawn out from my melodramatic foreboding as they stuff us full of wonderful food and a copious amount of beverages, some of them alcoholic. Marie-Elaine's sister calls in and then one of her best friends from school, up from the Big Smoke (Montreal) with her policeman boyfriend. Everyone is francophone but speaks English for our benefit - for which we are most grateful. Ken is a paramedic and Marie-Elaine a dietician, working in a nearby Innu community. She tells us the problems that we might already have guessed. Obesity and related health issues such as diabetes and heart conditions are prevalent due to a taste for sugary drinks and a western diet that does no good. But, quite frankly, this is not just a problem for the Innu community - it applies to the whole of Canada from what we have seen so far. There is definitely an awareness of the need to exercise, judging from all those cyclists we saw around Quebec City and Montreal, but awareness doesn't always lead to action, I suppose.
 |
| Ken and Marie-Elaine with their young daughter |
We have a fun evening with our hosts. I ask about bears along the route and they all agree - at this time of year with the blueberries ripening, the bears won't pay us much attention. But what about keeping food in our tent? Oh no, we should never do that. I recount the noises I heard this morning and ask what they think I might have heard. "Rabbit?" Marie-Elaine suggests. A bloody big one, I think. She then recalls seeing bears along the road near Forestville. I wonder, do bears make Scooby Doo noises?
In the morning we say our adieus to our lovely hosts and head off along the coast. The day is sunny and hot but there are now coastal views as we climb over and around headlands. It's really stunning and dramatic and a reward from some boring days among the trees. In the afternoon we find a place where we can get water and then head back inland. The road skirts a few tucked away lakes and then suddenly climbs steeply. I get ahead of Gayle and then pause where the road eventually flattens out to get my breath and wait for her to catch up. There's no traffic at all. Not a sound. After a long wait I finally hear Gayle. But she's whispering and shouting my name at the same time. "John! John! Look! A bear!" As I turn around I see a young black bear ambling out onto the road between us. I quickly turn my bike around to face it. In that time the bear has heard Gayle and is also turning around. It bounds back into the forest from whence it came. Gayle is enraptured. I am mortified. We ride on through the hills.
A while later we stop for a break where there's a clearing beside the road. Gayle suggests we stop and camp. I ask her what bears eat. "Um, berries mostly." And what are these all around us? "Um, berries, I suppose." I refuse to stay. We push on and finaly re-emerge back at the coast in the village of Baie Trinite. After cooking our tea by the salmon river, we look about for a spot to camp. There's a fish processing plant by the beach, and it looks like there's cover behind it, within hearing of the waves. A sign says "Prive" We roll beyond it and quickly push into the grass and dunes to find a nice spot, miles from any bears. As we nod off, Gayle is still enthralled by the beautiful beast she has finally caught sight of.
 |
| at least, I think we were miles from any bears... |
Why didn't you get a photo of it, I ask her. "It was either warn you or take a photo", she replies, not hiding the hint of regret in her voice.
