I'm. . .back? (Day 1)

IS anyone out there?  Anyone at all?  That is a big gap . . .  although fairly common for me this time of year I guess, still a big gap.  So things have changed as they tend to do in fiv
e months.  I am single again.  I was in a relationship that was litterally shutting my life down one day at a time.  I won't bore you with the details but anger, blame, and lack of freedom are not the kind of dictatorship you want to live under with someone, especially when you're taking heat for a person's dark history.  That's over now, and I was cured of my ailment by a summer on the river. . . the cure for what ails you.  This blog is one of the things that suffered but I'm going to try to keep abreast of it now, especially since a bit of travelling should be in the works for me.  So without further ado, updates on what has been happening.  I went to spring camp after which I promptly left for the Moisie river.  One of the most visually appealing rivers I've ever had the pleasure of paddling  Let the trip log begin here.  I guess for the next little while I'll write in here like it's a diary until someone pokes their head out of the cyberbushes and Fred Penners their way back into my digital life.  Here's hoping!

The Moisie is a river that runs south from Labrador city 426 km through Quebec to the Gulf of the St Lawrence into the

 settlement of Moisie, which is about 30 km up the coast of the Gulf from Sept Iles.  We drove there over 2.5 days and 2 days back.  The river flows through the Laurentians and is known as the Nahanni of the East.  The trip took a total of 26 days.

D1

Stan has eyebrows that arch critically over his staring deep set eyes like Dirty Harry’s.  His walrus moustache completes the look who is the cowboy of his own school bus.  His lanky, capable frame ambles along with a confident poise that says he will, without a doubt, drive you to Labrador in a shaky 

school bus over three days of skittering, rattling fury – regardless of washboard gravel roads 

and frequent three point turns with a loaded canoe trailer.  Stan is a pro, believe that or he’ll kill you.

                Quebec City suburb Lévis is an unusual place to end up touring on an explorer trip, especially at your co-tripper’s house.  Murielle takes us around the lesser known but no less interesting parts of Lévis, showing us a beautiful night scape of sparkling lights against a foreground of twinkling water and a background of Chateau Frontenac.  All night people barely believe us.  We stop in at a local Ashton’s for poutine.  We are dressed like wild people, and when the girl at the counter recites our order of “Dix Poutines Regulaire” into the mic, the girl just behind her freezes in mid counter-wipe and asks “Serieux?”.  One of the other guys remarks that he’s going to frame our 

receipt and hang it on the wall.  No one has ever ordered ten of these  before.

                We step into an ice cream shop/chocolate factory to get some dipped cones.  A former senior girl camper is serving us and doesn’t believe Murielle is working at camp at the moment.  The girl could have been on the other side of the counter had she signed up for camp that year.  Life is just too weird. 

Stan opts not to sleep at Murielle’s house though her parents offer him a room.  Cowboys don’t accept charity.