There is a Tintin album about a mystery island [ L’Île Mystérieuse]. It is called “The Shooting Star” in English.. That’s where we’ll spend the night. Yesterday, we told you about the many legends surrounding this island that are repeated by the regular visitors to the Poisson-Blanc Reservoir. Yet, everything seems normal. There is a wonderful beach where we elected to set up camp, a huge forest of white and red pines, aspen trees, and birch trees, and a rocky shore that has been polished by centuries or exposure to the outdoors.
We set up the dome on the beach, a huge tent, accommodating as many as fifteen people, which is used on the Himalaya. Before setting it up, we had to level the beach to form a small platform. Further off is Mario and Charlie’s restaurant: 4 burners and two tables under a green and white canvas, where our cooks operate their thousand-star eatery (with a direct view of the Milky Way), surrounded by their pots and pans, utensils, supply of pasta, bags of apples, water melons and coolers… At noon, their supply boat was so heavily loaded it barely could move!
And guess what’s all around the island? You’ll never guess: water! Bleu, clear and cold water; yet, today at noon, some braves went swimming (the two Marc-André’s). And on this water swam two loons and two voyageur canoe. Yes, two, with the northern wind, the waves and twelve adults, it would be a bit risky to load a single boat, not to mention how we’d all be thoroughly sprayed. So, we took two voyageur canoe and we paddled side-by-side between Île Perdue [Lost Island], Île aux Patates [Potato Island] and Île Verte [Green Island]. Two voyageur canoe, singing together like true Voyageurs headed for the Great Lakes. And two voyageur canoe, halting in a bay protected from the winds for an apple break complete with ukulele music.
We had a full day paddling, but much more than that. Before leaving, we had to complete our packing, organize the equipment under Catherine’s expert guiding, that after some warming up exercises, we had to portage our red skiffs and get on board. What time was it? Hard to tell, as to ensure we made a full break, we left our cell phones and watches behind, trusting the sun and our stomachs.
The latter were not neglected. A noontime, Mario was expecting us on the shore, watching for as like a mother waiting for her son away at sea. On a rocky outcrop, he had laid out a table with a gingham tablecloth and was ready for us with his pasta soup, his pita, his couscous and his date squares.
And there we go, fully installed. The fire is flaming, the pots are heating, there’s laughter everywhere among the trees. Mario announces the soup is now ready. There is magic at Poisson-Blanc. Why? Because it takes magic to bring a group together in a few hours, create what seems like natural life long relationships as is these people had been living together in the woods for all eternity. Magic is in the details, in those conversations around a bowl of soup on a rocky platform, side-by-side on the seats of a voyageur canoe, or later, around a bonfire. This is a true adventure; this is where we take a deep breath and take a break.