Road Trip to Coaticook - day two

It wasn't cold last night, but the dampness that seeped in after the rainstorm soaked right into my body, and I awoke with a chill that I wasn't prepared for. The hot summer nights of sleeping outdoors at home, though only 2 hours away, seem sweltering in comparison, and I really should've packed more layers. I rolled myself up tighter in the blankets and eventually managed to fall back asleep.

Morning came in, sunbeams filtering into the tent through the trees, blue jays cackling up above . It is a big coffee kind of morning, especially after our late night of hiking through glowing forests, and as Mario slowly stirs the scrambled eggs, I pull together the making of baguette sandwiches and potato salad for lunch. Our plan for the day, given that the weather gods are stilling smiling down on us, is to hike the trails of the Parc de la Gorge de Coaticook. It is centered around the glacier-made gorges and river valley system of the area, and crossed by the longest suspension foot bridge in the world(at least when it was built in 1988). The park contains a campground, old round barns, lookout belvederes, and a whole mess of hiking trails of varying degrees of difficulty.

We boot along the rolling hills between farms, windows rolled down, the week's URU Karaoke music blaring from the car's speakers. Normally, I don't like the abundance of country music, but in this context, along these roads, the songs really add to the feeling of the moment. We check in at the park and begin our trek along the longest, most challenging trail. Black diamond and all - for a total of 10 km - lay ahead, waiting for us. We make our way through the campground area, through the grassy field and its playground, past the rows of fifth wheels and camper vans. We climb up a gravel slope to where the trails split. one for mountain bikes and one for boots, and make our way to the mountains.

This trail we are on, the Tillotson trail, weaves its way in and out of several river valleys and gorges, while also crossing through old growth forests and long-overgrown fields, glowing yellow in the sun from the goldenrod. It dips in and out of several different ecosystems, giving us something new to discover at every turn, be it a mountainside of giant ferns, a corridor of blackberry brambles, an elusive deer on the trail, or tiny rainette frogs crossing our path. I try to catch them. 

One thing I really like about these trails is how well they are maintained. Field trails are mown short and wide. Forest sections are marked with signs, as well as splashes of blue paint on the nearby trees. Ravines sport lovely little footbridges to make for easy crossings, and nice view points often sport benched or seats carved into over-sized logs. We snack on apples next to a small waterfall, cooling ourselves with a bandanna dunked in the fresh water.

Around lunch, we hit 6.5 km and the wildlife pond area, where ducks hid in the reeds while we ate our ham & cheese baguettes, and stretch our bare feet in the grass. There is even a picnic table and garbage can, so no need to hike out our trash. Bonus! As we leave, the frogs croak their goodbyes at us.

After much climbing and descending, climbing and more descending, we take one last steep slope back into the campground. Arriving at the car, we decide 2 things: one, that we want to continue on to the gorge, to see the suspended bridge in the daylight, and two, that all this hiking deserves the reward of more ice cream. There are certainly no arguments to that second point!

The bridge hovers in the middle of a hazy canyon, made that way by far-off wild fires. The crossing is good, but not as atmospheric or special as in the dark of last night's Foresta Lumina experience. At this point, we also decide that three, we are tired from all of this hiking, and take the short cut back to the car, resulting in getting ice cream faster. And in cups this time, because who has time for ice cream in a cone anymore, really?

The rest of the evening plays out in a very chill mood. We bounce along the same country roads to the tune of more country Karaoke music. Upon arriving back at the campground, cool and refreshing showers are in order, and we hang out on the campground's private "beach" for a quiet 5-à-7 with a lukewarm Coaticook beer and huge bag of cheddar popcorn. The "beach" is really just a grassy spot with water access, a small pier crowded with boats, and a rocky shore glazed with fuel spillage of a couple hundred motorboats. Not pleasant. 

What is pleasant is the refreshing feel of being in the forest, on our site, enjoying the sounds of the birds and nothing else. I write down my thoughts while Mario reads. We chop veggies for dinner - a Moroccan couscous that is too big for our pan - and attempt to make blueberry cheese pies in our newly-acquired pie irons. I wouldn't call our attempt a completely failure, especially if you like your pastries on the dark side. Things to remember for next time? Cook the pies less close to the flames, add sugar to the cream cheese, and use homemade dough of any kind. Pillsbury crescent roll dough is not as tasty as I remember. 

And after all that physical activity, sleep came really fast.