I have just returned from my seasonal trip to the Grands-Jardins national park. I’ve been going there almost every year for 25 years. We all have our favorite places, those places that become dear to our hearts. You see, like many other creatures, humans are creatures of habit.
You might think that after all this time, I would have grown tired of seeing the same trails, the same mountain, the same campsite. On the contrary, nature has the capacity to amaze us with its beauty and its ability to transform. I always return to the same campsite, that of Étang Malbaie. Wild camping, without amenities, just a dry toilet, the bare minimum: a total change of scenery. What’s better to recharge your batteries?
Sometimes I fish too, but not this year, especially since the quota has decreased and it is forbidden to catch arctic char. We discussed it among campers. We speculated about a decline in reproduction, perhaps due to rising water temperatures.
Without scientific sources or convincing data, we were still able to see visible changes in a few years. Fortunately, I still have this photo of my friend Justin’s magnificent shot at Lac Pointu. An arctic char weighing over two pounds. It was pulling, as they say.
I didn’t climb Mount Swan Lake this year. I wanted to rest. And then, I wanted to revisit a trail I had explored before that I haven’t found for years. I asked the people in charge to find this trail that was nowhere to be found on maps. No one could help me. Fortunately, I also have photos of this trail. I was told that it had probably been closed to allow nature to regenerate.
This reminds me of my first climb of Mont du Lac des Cygnes, in 1999. There was barely a trail in the woods along the stream. In some places, we almost had to practice climbing. Today, a beautiful path that even a five-year-old child can take allows you to climb the 980 meter high mountain. However, for the more adventurous, there is always the loop of the Le Pioui trail, but I tell myself that, sometimes, it is better to keep a little rusticity to preserve the wild character of a place. Otherwise it will lose its full flavor and access to it will inevitably have to be controlled because it will become too popular.
This bit of nostalgia made me realize that I too must adapt and abandon certain habits. I spoke about it recently, adapting to the climate crisis involves giving up practices that we value. This is the hardest thing to do, individually speaking. That’s why we prefer that the State decides for us, even if it means complaining that we didn’t vote for that, before falling into line because the humans that we are always end up get used to everything.
It’s like the blueberries in my vegetable garden. For ten years I have seen them flower and then produce this delicious sweet fruit. Lucky as I am, the squirrels leave me alone with my vegetable garden. It must be one of my privileges as a former borough mayor, I suppose. However this year, these famous urban beasts devoured the ant poison in the traps. A word of advice: don’t cook Montreal squirrel.
So my blueberries ripen earlier and earlier every year. At first it was towards the end of July, but now I have already tasted the first ones. Our ancestors did not swim before Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day, now we eat blueberries on June 24. I forgot that the Montreal hardiness zone had changed, which, naturally, has an impact on the flora. I’m going to check what’s happening in the Grands-Jardins park area, this land of the black bear which is also a protected natural habitat of the woodland caribou. There is also taiga, tundra, alpine and subarctic vegetation. I guess there must be some data on this.
It must be believed that even theIxodes scapularis — the famous tick — is now present there. This shows that even the worst harmful insects, those that we thought we could protect against in certain places further north, are spreading more quickly than we imagine. A bit like this bellicose populism coming from the South which ignores data on the impacts of climate change. All with an air of nostalgia for a bygone era.
It’s like the emerald ash borer, remember? By a strange coincidence, I’m lucky enough to have an American elm on my land that survived Dutch elm disease, while right across the street, an ash tree has been growing naturally for two years, untouched. There must be something special in the soil. Unless it’s another one of those famous privileges of a former borough mayor.
In any case, my street garden is blooming like never before with these torrential rains. No need to water it anymore, unlike my neighbor’s asphalt. Tirelessly, he waters it rain or shine. He hopes it will flower too, I suppose.
At the start of day camps, I am happy to see that the beauty of nature continues to amaze and surprise us. It is a balm for our collective depression fueled by the multiple crises we have to face. Yes, Quebec is dazzling with its biodiversity, and we must take care of it, just as we must take care of our nation which is also embodied in this unique territory. With that, I wish you a happy national holiday, a little late!