We wake up on a bed of ice after a windy night. We spend the day snowshoeing through frozen rivers and birch forests to reach Lake Cardinal, with nature providing the setting for our conversations.
The lake
We arrive at Lake Cardinal in the early afternoon after crossing the frozen Portage River. Carefully, we follow one another in a disciplined line, planting the crampons of our snowshoes and our poles into the bluish ice. We climb one last hill and then, little by little, the azure lake appears, carved into its rocky cirque and surrounded by ice and stone. Before seeing the lake, we hear it, or rather we hear the exclamations of those who spot it first.
It is the highlight of our day. We stop for quite a while to admire the view. A group photo session follows, along with a series of individual photos. The foundation is celebrating its 30th anniversary this year, and we struggle to hold up a flag that seems ready to fly away in the wind.
Following the weather
The wind seems as joyful as we are, blowing in icy gusts from the mountain tops. We arrived just in time, within minutes the landscape disappeared behind a thick white curtain and the snow began to fall in large flakes. The temperature is not freezing, but all day the moisture in the air had been announcing the coming snowfall.
It has only been a day and a half since we began living outdoors in winter, and already we realize how much we depend on even the smallest change in the weather. Last night we went to bed under the stars in soft, sticky snow, and this morning we woke up on a bed of ice. The crampons under our boots have become essential allies for moving around camp.
Silences and laughter
This first night in the tent was not entirely restful. The wind blew against the tents and, even though we had nothing to fear, it is hard not to feel very small in the middle of the immense forest. Of course, some seasoned outdoor enthusiasts like Ian or Kiran slept like babies, while others discovered the joys of nighttime trips to the bathroom in the open air.
These past few days have allowed us to get to know one another, but it is truly the forest, the cold, and the stars that have woven the bonds between us all.
The observer blogger that I am now unintentionally overhears touching conversations about each person’s experience with cancer. They are sometimes punctuated by long silences, but also by bursts of laughter. Stories are shared, some of the most improbable anecdotes about hospitals, side effects, and doctors. And I, who have never experienced any of this, can only marvel at the beauty of this improvised space for sharing in the heart of nature.
Valérian
Presented by
In pictures
