Our expedition is coming to an end, and we spend our last day at the foot of the Monts Groulx, under fluffy snow and the northern lights. We return our technical outdoor equipment and enjoy a well-deserved shower. Tomorrow we’re off to Baie-Comeau!
One word
There are a number of traditions that mark the Tip of the Toes expeditions, traditions that have been invented over the years. For example, from Ellesmere Island, in the far north, we brought back a tune that has since been sung by groups on every expedition.
We’ve already talked about the group logbook, to which everyone contributes, either together or in turn. We also carry a ‘high and low’, a surprise package (possibly sweets) wrapped in an impressive amount of duct tape, to be opened in a moment of happiness or when morale is low. On this expedition, for example, it was unwrapped when the road to the north was reopened.
And then, on the last evening, as tradition dictates, we all get together and everyone has to sum up their experience in a single word. One word may not sound like much for a week’s adventure, but what is important is the explanation behind the word. Normally we’d gather around a campfire, but the conditions force us to gather in a small hut around a bedside lamp! It’s very cosy.
Everyone shares their thoughts. Vincent and Mario are full of wonder, Sarah is fulfilled, Aurélie and Marie-Pierre breathe happiness, Ruben suggests ‘discovery’, Chandra ‘gratitude’ and Gabrielle speaks of pride.
Between raindrops
Eve-Marie and Marie-Michelle suggested ‘memory foam’, in reference to the waves or the flow of water and its ability to adapt to its environment. In fact, our whole expedition will have been a journey of water flow and adaptation. First blocked by rain and ice, then panting in the knee-deep snow of the Monts Groulx, then marvelling at the mirror of ice in the Manicouagan Reservoir.
Finally, the rain came during the night. The rain we’d been waiting for and dreading because it would mean the end of our outdoor activities. Ah, the joy of sleeping in the warmth of a tent, listening to the raindrops fall on the canvas. Oh, the sadness of waking up to rain and grey clouds. We quickly retire to the Shaputuan for breakfast, and the conversations stretch on, coffee in hand. Then, miraculously, the rain turned to snow, big white flakes that covered our camp as we dismantled it. The snow buried our waterproof bags, snowshoes, poles, ski-doo, sled and equipment. A final farewell from the Monts Groulx.
The thread
Then it’s off on snowshoes to the Uapishka Station, tickled by the snowflakes. And then, finally, the last ski-hok trek into the forest and the return of the equipment. We had to say goodbye to our Gore-Tex jackets, padded winter pants, snow slippers, camping chairs, inflatable mattresses and -40° sleeping bags. This time, it really feels like the end.
Gathered together for this last evening on the traditional lands of the Pessamit Innu, we sit in a circle around our bedside lamp. We pass around a long coloured thread that we each hold in our hands. We close our eyes and Marie-Michelle recounts all our adventures from the Montréal airport to the snow this morning, not forgetting all the jokes and stories the group had made up along the way. The faces are happy, the eyes sometimes moist, and outside the green and purple northern lights dance in the sky. Thank you, the Monts Groulx…
Valérian Mazataud, volunteer photographer and blogger for the On the Tip of the Toes Foundation
Translated by Lorraine Gagnon
In pictures
