Spring retreat -- day two

I slept restlessly my first night, bundled against the cold in two sleeping bags, long underwear and a hoodie.  I woke at 6 AM with a kink in my neck and assorted aches and pains, especially in my casting arm.  Slowly I worked my way out of the tent into the frosty morning.  The lake still lay in shadow, with dawn slowly creeping from behind the pines on the far shore.  After half an hour watching the sunrise over the lake, I fired up my backpack stove, brewed some instant Starbucks coffee (what an improvement that has made to camping) and prepared some instant oatmeal with dried cranberries.  I ate breakfast on my stool at the lakeshore.  Birds sang about me in the trees.  A beaver slapped the water along the far shore.  The sun finally climbed high enough to embrace the shoreline.  I began to feel warm and well.

After washing my breakfast dishes, I drove 15 minutes to the property of Howard Clifford -- "Cliffland", as he calls it.  Howard owns 800 acres of forest in Lanark County, on which he has granted a 999 year easement over 500 acres to the Madawaska Land Trust.  Howard generously showed me around the property, in the company of his two dogs, Pepe and Sable.  Together we set out for Blueberry Mountain and Pike's Peak -- two high points on the ridgeline that dominates the property.  Along the way, Howard took me on a detour past a waterfall and then a small cedar swamp, which miraculously seemed to have escaped past logging.  Here he showed me the largest Eastern White Cedar that I've ever seen.  A fantastic specimen, probably 300 - 500 years old.

The views from Blueberry Mountain and Pike's Peak made the climb worthwhile.  Heath-like areas of rock outcrops, blueberry bushes, juniper and serviceberry covered large areas of slope, particularly along the southwest side, while a pretty woodland of pine and red oak (with some white oak mixed in) trailed along the ridge.  Howard believes that Pike's Peak is the highest point in Lanark County, although my topographic maps appear to show differently.  Nonetheless, from our vantage we could look out past the chain of beaver ponds along the foot of the ridge, across Flower Lake, over several hundred square kilometres of the Madawaska Highlands.  Unfortunately, our time at the top seemed too short, as Howard had errands to run with his wife in the afternoon.  We had enough time enough for quick drink, but not enough time to appreciate fully the delicate shades of the forest:  the dark greens and dusty blues of the evergreens, the greys and nascent yellow-greens of the newly-leafed maples, poplars and birch.  On the way back down, however, we did have time to pause at a beaverpond to eat our lunch and watch turtles.

On the drive back to camp, the clouds began to move in and I felt a chill in the air.  The kink in my neck, combined with a sudden resurgence in my hay fever, had worked itself into a blinding headache.  I took a decongestant, an antihistamine and two ibuprofen and retreated to my tent for a nap, where I slept until 4:15 PM.  Feeling much better, I got up and made some supper.  Then I went out into the canoe and fished until after dark.

A light drizzle began to fall soon after I began fishing:  not enough to drive me back to shore, but enough to chill me insidiously, without my notice until I'd started to shiver.  I paddled back to shore, made some hot chocolate, and sipped it in the car, with the engine and heater running.  I ate cookies and listened to the radio until I felt warm enough to move into my tent for the night.