[Bill Menke’s Journal for July 15-22, 2006] Saguenay River Kayak Trip. Eight of us participated in this kayak camping trip, which Lee Reiser organized: David, Jason, Kaare, Lee, Matt, Mo, Robin and me.

Saturday, July 15. Mo and I spent most of the day driving up to Tadoussac, Quebec. We left Monroe, New York in Mo’s car at about 7:30 AM, after and abortive start in mine, which developed transmission problems. We reached the ferry that crosses the Saguenay River at about 4:30 PM. We were impressed by our first sight of the fjord, as we drove down to the ferry terminal. It is more than a mile wide, with tall hills on both sides. These are mostly forested, especially at their summits, but with a rocky shoreline and some sheer cliffs. We stood on the front deck of the ferry as we crossed. Here I had my first sight of whales. They were grey and had a small dorsal fin. They surfaced briefly, displaying a smooth arc of their back, and sometimes a hint of a fluke, and then disappeared.

We checked into Camping Tadoussac, a site operated by the Espirit Tribe on a hill overlooking the town. Our site commanded a beautiful view of the town with its houses, churches and marina, the ferry and its two terminals, the mouth of the Fjord and the St. Laurence River and the shallows of the Baie St. Catherine beyond it. I spotted, for the first time, beluga whales. These appeared as small white specks that appeared briefly amid the whitecaps on the fjord.

We ate dinner at a buffet in Tadoussac, and then slept in our tents.

Sunday, July 16, 2006. We spent the morning making arrangements for our main trip, which starts tomorrow. We have contracted with a local outfitter to transport one of our cars, for a fee of about $100 CA, from the launch point in St. Rose to Tadoussac. We then took a day paddle on the St. Laurence, launching from a ramp operated by Mer et Mond at Grandes-Bergeronnes, which is about 20 km north of Tadoussac. This area has a rock coast, thinly forested with short, thin conifer trees and low flowering bushes that are reminiscent of mountain laurel but not as tall. I donned my dry suit, as we waited for a kayak tour to disembark. I then launched into a shallow stream that flowed past the base of the ramp, and waded with my kayak, Hraun, into the St. Laurence.

The St Laurence here is quite wide. I can only barely see the other side. The sky is a beautiful blue today. The water temperature is 52 deg F, warmer than I had expected. We soon spot several dolphins, playing between our boats. These are somewhat smaller than the bottlenose porpoises that I have seen in Florida, and darker in color. We paddle offshore about a mile. We, a whale-watching zodiac and a kayak tour all watch a pod of large whales that suddenly appear. Like those that I saw yesterday in the fjord, these are grey and have small dorsal fins. They appear quite large, and yet, because both they and we are low in the water, and because we are perhaps a quarter mile from them, their true size is not so apparent. Three in a row swim by. We are told by one of the outfitters that they are Blue Whales. I am impressed by the loudness of their exhalations, which I can hear from animals that must be at least a half mile away. Their vapor puffs are also surprisingly high. Kayaking etiquette, enforced by the coast guard, requires that we remain motionless in the water as the whales swim by. So we drift on the waves until the whales are past. We then head back to shore. Jason and I sprint for a bit. He wins. The Greenland paddle that I have used today has put me at a disadvantage. But then again, he is a strong paddler. We eat lunch while floating in our kayaks off a tall rocky bluff on which many people are sunbathing - and whale-watching, I guess. Mo and I eat bread, cheese and sausage. The bays here are walled off from the main part of the St. Laurence by “bars” of boulders. These are not so regularly placed as to be obviously anthropogenic. Perhaps they are natural, some vestige of ice-age lateral moraine. Or perhaps they are an ancient and crudely made jetty.

Fog banks are building up as we paddle back to Mer at Mond. Streamers rise up from the warm waters of the bays. We pass granite outcrops creased with deep glacial scratches. We spot cormorants, gulls and ducks. Today’s was a relaxing paddle: 6.02 miles in 3:19.

Back at the campground, Mo and I cook a rice dish for dinner. Rain falls during the night, but the tents keep us dry.

Monday, July 17, 2006. We wake to fog in the valley of the Saguenay. The hills of the town below are islands in it. Our hill is in the sun, though, so we set the tents out on the lawn to dry. After breakfast, we drive to St. Rose du Nord, a town about 80 km east of Tadoussac. We drive through a beautiful forested valley, just north of the fjord. It also shows clear signs of having been glaciated. Many of the hills are truncated buy steep cliffs – sheared off by glacial action.

After a brief stop at an information office, we arrive at the boat launch of the village of St. Rose. The launch dips steeply down into the Saguenay. We pat our $2 CA launch fee, set our kayaks out on the ramp, and start the long process of stuffing all our gear into them. I have practiced once while at home, and so have a plan for where each dry bag goes. Even so, I need to find a nook for a few last minute items. Some of the others need quite a bit of on-site improvisation before their boats are ready. While waiting, I stand on the nearby quay, chatting with some tourists who are waiting for a cruise liner to take them on board. Apparently it makes regular stops up and down the fjord. After a little while it pulls up, and the tourists depart on it. Finally, at about 10:30 AM, all is ready and we set off. The tide is going out and the current is with us. The view of the fjord is impressive. The section right upstream from St. Rose has steep (but not vertical) rocky walls that slope right down to the water (and plunge to great depths below, I guess).

We follow the northern side of the fjord. All our campsites are on this side. Most of the rock appears to be granite, faulted in places and cut by occasional dikes. Many of these zones of weakness bear springs. Some support lush vegetation. We are not alone on the river: Sailboats, jet skis and a tour boat pass us.

We stop for lunch just east of Cap Rouge. The little beach there has sand and rocks, marsh grass and a low waterfall. Mo and I eat bread, cheese and sausages. I then sit on a driftwood log, enjoying the sunshine.

We set off again, and soon pass a beautiful waterfall. Rounding a bend, we then come upon the small village of St. Basile de Tableau. We ask directions of a man standing at the shore. Our campground is still ahead.

A tailwind is picking up, and the chop is rising. The tide has changed, and the current is now against us and is slowing our progress. We sight an orange marker on the shoreline way ahead. Does it mark our campground? After a discussion with Lee, I paddle ahead to check, while Kaare paddles over to a beach that is closer. My paddle to the marker is quite long, but exhilarating. I love the waves, especially when they are behind me and I can surf. But when I arrive at the marker, I find only steep, rocky cliffs and no campground. I make radio contact with Kaare and three others who are on the beach. They have found the flag that marks the campground there. It’s blue and bears the Quebec motif and is much less conspicuous than the orange marker (which I suppose is for navigation). So I turn about and head back, meeting up with Jason, Lee and Mo remaining on the way.

The camp site, Pointe Trinite, has a group of tent platforms set amid trees above a sandy beach. Fresh water is supplied by a stream at the east end of the beach, which unfortunately is on the other side of a pile of boulders from us. I take the now-unloaded Hraun out to the stream’s mouth, and collect a dry bag full of fresh water. Back at the beach, we take turns purifying it with a filter pump.

Mo and I cook a dinner of spaghetti and crab sauce. Rain begins to fall as dinner is cooking. Fortunately, Mo has brought a tarp and aluminum poles, which we set up over out cooking area to keep us dry. Lee and Jason have set up another tarp further along the beach and have built a bon fire. We join them and sing songs, competing to remember ones that include women’s names. But we turn in pretty early, for our first day of paddling with full gear has tired us.

Tuesday, July 16, 2006. Rain fell throughout the night, and the morning is damp and windy. Lee’s bedding has gotten particularly soggy. We dry our gear by letting it flap in the breeze. I cook oatmeal, hash browns and coffee under Mo’s tarp. Some of the group are worried about the chop on the river, which is higher than yesterday’s. It looks fine to me, so after discussion with Lee I launch Hraun for to reconnoiter. I paddle several wide circles, bouncing up and down on the rollers, which are perhaps three feet high. With my encouragement, the others join me and we head down river. Robin, David and I paddle together, talking and singing songs. The trailing seas are pushing us along nicely. We are going 4.5 miles per hour without really trying. The chop at the headlands is the worst. It’s more chaotic and somewhat higher – perhaps 4 feet. I suppose that the shoreline’s shape has some sort of focusing effect. We see in the distance the tall towers where electrical cables cross the fjord. The tower on the south sore is visible even from the beach.

At about mile six, we pull ashore on a beach that is west of Cap Egalite and across from Cap Eternite. This area has a park flag. Mo and I make ourselves a lunch of tuna salad on wraps, flavored with little packets of mayo, relish and onions. Our lunch stop is short, owing to our desire to reach our campground without paddling against the tide.

The day has been clearing, and the chop is a little less. I help Lee deploy his sail, a six-foot yellow triangle that attaches to the deck at one, lower vertex, with two lines running from the upper vertices to the paddle, which is held horizontally above the water. Lee moves at a good pace, but is still a little slower than us paddlers. Jason paddles with him, and I paddle ahead with the main group. We spot several seals, first a group of two, and then five. They are sunning themselves on rocky shelves along the shore. They are beige in color and seem to have a short but fuzzy pelt. They move around a bit as we approach, but don’t leave their resting places. Finally, we pass under the electrical cable. A little later spot the park flag in a cove. This is the camp site, Portage.

The beach has rock walls on either side, with springs supporting many small flowers. The main stream is right in the middle of the beach. Lee and Matt work to build a little tub at its mouth, using stones and mud. I rest on the rocks. The day has cleared, and the sky is bright with a few puffy clouds. Across from us is a small town in a largish cove with an island at its mouth. I can see several houses, a marina and a church. Jason and Matt decide to investigate, and paddle over to it. I spread out my gear, which has gotten a bit damp, and let it dry in the sun.

Mo and I cook dinner of mash potatoes, green beans, corn beef and tuna steak. The green beans came dehydrated, but once soaked in water and heated are really quite good. As the evening deepens, David and I stand by the river’s edge, watching the wildlife. A mother duck with four ducklings paddle by. They all take turns diving for food. Several largish fish jump. And a seal swims by. Overall, wildlife here seems rather sparse. We have seen almost no land animals and just a few shore birds.

Jason and Matt return from their trip to town. They have landed at a kayak outfitter, Kayak en Fjord, and gotten directions to a store from its proprietor. They then hitched a ride, both to an overlook on the southern cliffs of the fjord and into the main part of town. They have brought back some beer,

We again sing songs around a bonfire, this time competing to remember songs with men’s names, and later, songs with colors. The sky has completely cleared, and as there is no moon, the stars are very bright. I can see a planet in the southern sky, and the Milky Way.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006. The morning is clear and cool. David has discovered that one of his dry bags is missing. We presume that it has rolled down the beach and been swept away by the tide. We search for it, but to no avail. I eat a breakfast of oatmeal and hot chocolate, and then pack my boat. We launch at the turn of the tide, about 10 AM.

Robin uses David’s spare paddle today. It is lighter than hers, and shorter, and seems to suit her better. We pass lots of sheer cliffs today. Several have polished sides marked by deep glacial scratches. We pass two islands on our side of the river, both high rocky loaves with steep sides and wooded tops: Ile St. Louis and Ile St. Barthelemy. Just past the straight made by the second island, we pull into a cove, Anse Gagnon. We paddle up to a tidal river that is surrounded by mud flats and salt marsh. The breeze makes waves in the grass. We paddle up the tidal river partway, and pull up to a small beach. It’s a pleasant spot, yet we have some concerns about the slipperiness of the ground, and the possibility of becoming stuck as the tide gets lower. I wade out into the middle of the stream, both to cool off and to check its depth. The middle is well above my head, which I judge is enough for a lunch stop. The tidal range on the Saguenay is fifteen feet or more, so even six feet of water will not last long. Mo and I eat a lunch of bread, cheese and sausage. As we leave, I paddle up the stream, perhaps quarter mile, to the point where it transitions from a meandering tidal channel to a cascading mountain stream.

We then continue down the Saguenay. We spot a cove with a blue park flag. I go ashore to read the sign, de l’Anse des Ilets Rouges. We have a long discussion about whether this beach is really our campsite. The name on the sign matches the name on our permit, but it’s not on our map, and the map shows another cove with a similar sounding name a mile or so downriver. Eventually we decide we are in the right place, and unload our gear.

Mo and I then paddle a little further downriver, to Baie Ste. Marguerite, a wide bay with some houses. I spot some beluga whales in the area, and paddle back to tell the others, while Mo investigates the stream at the head of the bay. I paddle back as far as the headland, and then allow my kayak to drift with the tide. Several of the belugas swim by me. One actually swims right under my boat, which I find more than a little disconcerting. The belugas’ breathing is very loud. I can hear them, even when I cannot always see them, for they surface only for an instant. Several of them swim close enough to me that I can make out the entire animal. Its shape does indeed match those in the Coney Island Aquarium, back in New York. The belugas seem to move around in groups of three or four, within the overall group of twenty or thirty. Yet I find making out their exact numbers and movements very difficult. Being among them is both confusing and scary. By this time Kaare and Robin have arrived, and they, Mo and I spend another half-hour watching the whales, mostly from a greater distance than our first encounter, which suits me fine.

This campsite is quite rocky, and has many springs and small pools in low places in the rocks. Unfortunately, it also has rather too may mosquitoes. The stream is in the middle of the campsite. Once again, Lee and Matt build a small basin to catch the water. It’s big enough for washing up. I cook up a bowl of rice for a snack. Later, Mo and I heat up some canned beef stew. We have a quiet evening around a bonfire on the beach. We’re all pretty tired. Belugas play off our cove, too, at times. I sleep out under the stars on our tent platform. I wear mosquito armor: fleece jacket, fleece gloves, and head netting. The sky is full of cirrus clouds at sunset. But I wake in the middle of the night to clear sky with stars, and later, a rising moon.

Thursday, July 20, 2006. I have pancakes and spam for breakfast, washed down with hot chocolate and coffee. Lee, Matt, Jason and I review the charts, spreading them out on the rocks in a sunny spot. Lee discovers that his eggs, which he had left in a case in his basin, are gone. We suspect that a raccoon has carried them away during the night, yet a search of the area reveals to clues or remnants. We hang around until late morning, and then slowly paddle across Baie Ste. Marguerite, again seeing belugas. But we are advised by park rangers in a zodiac that we are too close both to the whales and to the head of the bay, which they say is interdicted (yet no mention of this is on our charts). So we hurry on. A little later, David and I spot two seals, swimming. Shortly thereafter, a small pod of belugas, maybe three or four, swim by us, heading upriver. Chagrinned by the criticism that we received from the rangers, we pull over to the rock wall and hold our position until they are well past. The whales are hard to distinguish from the whitecaps on the river, at least from a distance.

Rounding a bend in the Saguenay, we spot a small town, Anse de Roche, on our side of the fjord. A little before it we pass some people sitting on a rock outcrop on the shore. They recommend to us the town’s restaurant, which is by the marina, so we decide to stop there for lunch. We pull into the town’s cove, which is upriver from the marina’s quay. I have a hard time pulling my boat onto the shore, which is very rocky. It begins to drift away, but Jason helps me retrieve it.

I eat a snack of soup, soda, and ice cream at the restaurant. Some of the others have more substantial meals. The quay, which has a gazebo, commands a gorgeous view of the fjord, so we take some photographs.

Its getting quite late in the day, and both wind and tide are now against us. We slowly but steadily paddle downriver, finally pulling up to the campground, Point a Passe-Pierre at 6 PM. The site includes a peninsula that extends about a quarter-mile into the river. It is covered with low trees and bushes. The campground is set on a hill well above the Saguenay, landward of the peninsula, and is accessed by a steep wooden staircase. I have to make four or five trips up it to get all my gear off the beach. The campsite has both tent platforms and a cooking pavilion.

After setting up camp, I take a walk to the end of the peninsula, and admire the view of the tall hills and cliffs along this section of the Saguenay. Lee has explored inland, and has found a path that leads to a briskly-flowing stream just uphill of a waterfall. Lee and Matt use a few strategically-placed boulders to back up enough water for bathing. I cook pasta, clam sauce and hot chocolate for dinner. Matt also shares with me some of his cheese and pepperoni. This is our last night, and we all have leftover food.

A park ranger pulls up in a zodiac. Lee, David and I meet her and show her our permit. We speak with her for a few minutes about the river and the weather. She advises us to pull our boats further up onto the beach, to be safe from waves at high tide, for the night is predicted to be stormy. So we move them onto a higher area that we suppose, on account of its grassiness, to be well above the high tide level.

David and I sit on the beach, talking and watching the deepening night. The silhouette of the trees on the peninsula is very beautiful. We can see a few stars through a light haze. We see a shooting star, and some flashes of lightning. The ranger’s warning of storm appears well-given.

Friday, July 21, 2006. Rain fell during the night, but with little wind. The morning is cloudy, but with promise of some clearing. I eat a breakfast of oatmeal, spam and hot chocolate, enduring some incredulity from the others about the spam. We are slow to start this morning. I pack Hraun, but then spend a long time sitting on a sheltered, rocky ledge before the others are ready. That’s fine: I am getting tired, and my resting spot commands a fine view of the fjord. Then Lee discovers that he has lost his Swiss Army knife. Robin and I help look for it, but to no avail. Finally, at 11:30 AM, we set out. Today’s paddle is very short. Tadoussac is just six miles away. The river has light chop, with a breeze at our backs. We spot belugas in Anse a la Boule, but paddle right by, giving them wide berth.

We can see the Tadoussac ferries from far off. They are large and fast, and pose a hazard to us kayakers. Several – possibly three – appear to be in operation. We watch their pattern of operation, which is complicated. One reverses direction each time it leaves the terminal, while the other two do not. We suppose this reflects their design, single-ended or double-ended. We try to paddle cautiously, and to stay together, but our slow approach to the terminal is tense and confused. We hang just outside the terminal area, until one ferry arrives and another leaves. Our way is clear and we dash past.

Paddling is easy, once we are past the ferry. The tide pulls us along. We hug the shore and cut across a rip tide to find shelter behind some rocks behind a headland. This area is a park, and numerous people are sitting on the rocks, sightseeing. A zodiac comes out, I guess to check on us. We have a few more tense moments negotiating boat traffic in the marina, but finally arrive at a public beach at the foot of the town. We have come 63.4 miles is about 22 hours of paddling.

Robin and Kaare find their car in the parking lot. It has been properly transported from St. Rose as planned. Matt, Jason, Robin and I wait on the beach while the others retrieve the other vehicles. Many other people are enjoying the beach. Kids are playing in a shallow tidal pool, and adults are reclining on the sand in beach chairs. We chat with the proprietor, Samuel, of a beach-side kayak outfitter. He lets us use his hose to clean up. Jason hikes over to a store, and buys soda and beer. Eventually the others arrive. David has recovered his lost dry bag, which was found by an outfitter in the Saguenay not so far from the beach where it washed away. We load the boats and then set up camp at Camping Tadoussac once again. I take a hot shower – $0.50 CA for five minutes. Mo, David and I eat at a seafood restaurant in town, and then turn in early.

Saturday, July 22, 2006. Mo and I wake at 6:30 AM, pack up our gear and head off. We are lucky to arrive just in time to catch the ferry, but later get stuck for two hours in a long line of cars at US Customs. We arrive back in Monroe at about 7:30 PM.