Kejimkujik, NS – Summer 2009

So I finally managed to get out to Nova Scotia to see my family there. My brother and sister in law run a really fine establishment out in Smiths Cove, just outside of Digby, the Basinview Motel. (And I just want to interject, if you’re wondering where to go for a vacation, Nova Scotia is spectacular.)

I’ve heard about Kejimkujik National Park for a long time, and I really wanted to go and check it out. Glad I did.

My intent was to do a circumnavigation of the park. I asked at the visitors centre how many people did this trip each year.
“One year two people did it, on average about 18 to 24 people a year do it.”
Wow, is that all.
“It’s a pretty rough hike. Most of the trails here are great, but the Liberty Lake Loop is to be honest, brutal. But you won’t see a soul.”
Okay then.

As it turned out geographic and weather conditions thwarted my plan. Didn’t mind at all though, since I had a fantastic time regardless.

 

The visitor centre has a beautiful reproduction of a traditional Mi'kmaq birchbark canoe. It’s long been a dream of mine to build one, and just getting to inspect one is a treat in and of itself.

I wish I’d spent more time getting photos of it, but I needed to get moving.

The Mersey River.

Shroom with a view.

The first part of the hike is through some absolutely gorgeous old growth forest. Nova Scotia has been logged extensively and repeatedly. By the time of the Napoleonic Wars that province had been cleared at least once, probably twice already. Why this area hadn’t been is beyond me. Not that I mind.

400 year old hemlock forest is a truly awe inspiring thing to behold, and very rare as well. Old growth forest on one side, beautiful lake on the other - creamy!

Hemlock forest are climax forests, having outlived and outgrown everything else. The shade tolerant moss that grows on the floor beneath them is its symbiotic partner. Seedlings dropped by the hemlocks can survive for a long time in that moss, and when one finally dies, the seedlings that have waited patiently immediately go into action, in an effort to thwart any other species from gaining a foothold.

Torment Brook. One of many I was to pass in the days to come. Accessing water was to be no issue at all on this trip.

Another thing I would see lots of on this trip was mushrooms. Dozens of different ones.

Thomas Meadow Brook. Virtually all the water in the park is stained by tannin, a result of all the streams having run through bogs first. Even the biggest lakes have water that is brown. Tastes fine though.

Frozen Ocean Lake at night. Where I stayed the first night.

The second day however, a reasonably maintained trail gave way to what could be described at best as a rudimentary track. It's here you realize that very few people ever walk this way. Much of the area is very low lying, swampy at best, and due to very heavy rains in the preceding weeks, even more so. But what really made it hard was the eskers. Eskers are areas of glacial deposition. Glaciers leave behind rocks, some the size of a potato, some the size of cars or houses. Covered in moss, walking over kilometer after kilometer of esker is less walking than it is acrobatics. Step to one, balance, step to another, balance, and on and on. After a dozen slow, exhausting kilometers of this, my knees were really feeling it. I do a lot of walking, and a lot of walking with a pack on, but this kicked my ass. Just not used to that sort of terrain.

The above picture gives a little sense of what the terrain was like. This was one of the many spots that had a stream running towards the brooks and on to the lakes. 

Whhoooo....arrre....youuuu? The only thing he needed was a hookah.

I had been told by a park ranger that in all likelihood, due to the heavy and sustained rain, the West River, which is generally impassible in the spring, would likely be washed out again at this time. I figured I would at least go and see for my self. And he was right. In places wide areas were flooded, and the river was a raging mass. To try and find a better spot to cross would have entailed wading through some really shitty terrain. And by what I could see, it didn’t seem all that likely. With a group of people, with ropes, it would have been hairy to try and cross this. Being by myself, I decided the prudent course of action would be to wuss out.

So at about the half way point, I went back the way I came. I decided to stay at Liberty Lake again for a couple of nights. Totally secluded lake, with not a sound to be heard save for the lapping of the waves against the shore, the wind in the pines, the loons calling to one another from lake to lake, and the whirring of dragonflies buzzing around my head. It simply doesn’t get any better.

Mosquito’s final moments.

I swam out to some rocks out in the lake, my camera, clothes, prepared dinner, and after dinner aperitifs in a dry bag. Great spot to enjoy the sunset. The mosquitos were a nuisance, but the (way bigger than I’m used to here) dragonflies came to my aid. I sat there one night and snapped about a 150 pictures in the hopes of catching some images of them flitting about. This was one of those happy accident occurrences. The flash caught not only the dragonfly, but also the mosquito. Awesome.

Hillock Hammock. One of the places I hung out at. 

I have to say the camp sites in this park (the first National Park I’ve ever been in) are pretty slick. There is a little covered shelter stocked with wood. You’re asked not to pick up any sticks or bark off the forest floor or to take any dead branches off of any trees. Instead you’re asked to use only the wood provided. While the wood shelter looks a bit odd on the landscape, it does mean that the surroundings are more “natural” looking. Unlike a place like Algonquin where every last scrap of burnable wood in a 20 meter radius has been taken. There’s also a full on outhouse, not just a kaibo. Tent pads and a picnic table are also provided. The last two I could live without, although the picnic table is admittedly pretty handy. Two features I really liked though were the fire box and the bear bag hanging system. The fire box is maybe 20by30by50 centimeters, has a grate across the front which can be flipped up and a flat bar across the back to put pots on. The great feature of the fire box though is that it can be swivelled 360°. There is also a cable strung between two trees, at least 10 meters up, with two looped cables leading up to it, each with two clasps. Unhook one clasp, pull the top clasp down, hook on your bear bag, pull it back up and reconnect it to the ring in the tree. The last two are features I would love to see in the provincial parks in Ontario I go to.

Part of the fun of being out in another part of the continent is that lots of the flora and fauna is similar, but lots of it is different. Like this. Never seen this before in Ontario.

Here’s another example. I’ve never seen one of these little critters in Ontario.

Scova Notia is a mycophiles paradise.

Here’s a scene that repeated itself many times over the course of the trip.

Channel Lake.

Big Dam Lake.

Just as there were lots of fungal specimens, there were also many amphibian specimens.

First person I saw in 6 days.

 

Mills Falls.

Great trip. Got to walk with a pack on, test out some new gear I designed and made, try out a new stove I built, hammock in truly awe inspiring surroundings, be totally alone in a magical setting, take lots of pictures (1900 in 2 weeks), all in all – fantastic!

I’ll be back. But I really want to see the place from a canoe at some point.