It can get cosy with five people perched on gear and boats in the back of a one-ton truck, hanging on for dear life in the snow-drifts headed up to the put-in point. This is my bow-man Donna and I.
Jonas and Rosalie
The road was packed by drifts of ice for several kilometres.
It's hard to hold the camera steady when the truck is bucking and fish-tailing.
Snow and ice on the road into the river as far as the eye can see looking back, and ahead there are several stretches each three or four kilometres long worse than this.
The boys gather intelligence about the road and the water before we get into the big snow drifts.
The stream splits around islands constantly. We decided to always head down the side where we could see further down the stream. Several times we were forced to head to shore and muscle our craft around fallen trees blocking the river. We always had time, as long as we didn't wait to head for shore at first sight of a jam. Some appeared only a few feet away, it seemed, around a turn.
The last outpost of civilization, the ATVers and truckers are barbecuing at the last dry edge of the trail in, before the deepest and longest ice drifts.
Sophie enjoys the ride in the most of us all.
Smiles got us through the deepest spots.
Jonas
Rosalie
Donna
The snow and ice are getting deeper, we are bucking and fish-tailing, trying to not to whoop and holler so we don't distract the driver. He's got the truck barreling straight ahead, don't spare the horses!
We're all smiles now that we've gotten through that last patch and the road is dry for a bit.
Our driver Mark knows the younger participants are not yet wise to the ways of the river, and have never sat in a canoe. He gives them a crash course in missing the rocks and trees, and puts the living fear into us with his tales of trips past.
Sherry and Donna share a moment.
The next series of shots shows aspects of the butterfly that kept us company at a rest stop by the abandoned village of Barton.
who's our butterfly expert? Can you identify this lepidopter?
morning cloak Nymphalis antiopa. Status in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick: Common. Flight Period: Late March to late June, few sightings in summer, and then late July to early October. Habitat: Gardens, parks, woodland clearings. Larval Foodplants: Willows, elms, poplars, birches. Thank you, joshcatnb!
The narrow trail speeds by as we buck the snow.
There were no washouts and the shoulder was good, but we're losing speed and starting to spin in the ruts.
Oh, goodness me, we're stuck. Everybody out!
Good thing Mark brought shovels. There was a hard layer of ice under the snow, so once we dug the tires out and were able to back up five feet, Marc put a plank under the power wheels, floored her again and we picked up enough momentum to make her all the way to the put-in without further mishap.
That's enough, let's hit her!
Mark says, push her, but stay away from the wheels!
All right boys everybody push and we'll get her underway. Stay away from the wheels and we'll be all right!!!!
I'm in, says Sophie, don't be shy, let's get going!
There's no stopping us now! This is Sophie.
It got pretty warm at the put-in, and everybody peeled off layers as we loaded our boats and tied in our gear.
Looking upstream at the put-in
looking downstream at the put-in
Last year, we stopped here on a beach and enjoyed the sunshine and good cheer. This year, the beach is five feet under water.
Our usual beaches where we would sit and party were deep under water this day.
Swift water awaits us downstream.
We stopped at the foot of the rapid to pick up the boat and the people who swamped and went for a swim down the wave trains. Some folks lost paddles and got their stuff wet. I was on the other side of the river, and we couldn't do much to help.
Bogan
We sat and waited downstream for the gang to change into dry clothes and have a bite to eat. We were lucky to find a sheltered bogan to relax as we waited.
Still waiting for the other three boats. They came one minute after we decided to head downstream.
Big waves danced over the rocks on the sharp turns. We stayed in the inner turn and avoided the highest wave-trains. The water was cold, see all the snow still in the woods.
Donna, Mark, me, Rosalee, Mike, and Jonas. Pic by Sherry
Don't make us laugh when we pose!
That's better.
So this is what happened to the dragons.
The last stretch from the old covered bridge piers to the Burtts Corner bridge are wide and meandering. You still have to watch for sweepers, though.
The lower stream winds by farmers' fields alternating with deep woods.
A glimpse around the bend.
Aw man, just a hair out of focus. I still like this shot.
I actually bought this hat in Montana once upon a time.
Then I lost the hat on the Bartholomew on a "swim."
This is Donna strolling on the gravel bar.
It seemed this tree was alive, straining to force its way up the stream for some reason.
Get out of my way, nothing will stop me from going upstream. I'm poised to take another step.
There be dragons
Seven out of eight of us at the takeout in Burtt's Corner. I had the camera sitting on the truck with a 10-second countdown, and just barely got into the shot. What a good time we had! Sorry Mike, where were you?
