The red river

That subject heading doesn't refer to Winnipeg's river but to ours, the Rideau! We have just got back from a walk to the Rideau Falls, compelled to go out by a glimpse through our kitchen windows of the extraordinary sky. The Ottawa Citizen has already called it "a sunset to remember."

Here is a photo taken by my husband Chris from the Minto Bridges, looking towards the northwest:

To cycle beside the Ottawa

Doesn't that look appealing? (The trail, I mean, not the rattly old bike.) I had just freewheeled down to the river's edge from the Rockcliffe Parkway and had stopped to look at the views up and downstream. It was a perfect day for a bike ride.

No swimming in green slime

It has not been a good summer for Ottawa's river beaches and now they are closed for the season.

The Rideau River near our house looks unattractive for swimming at present, with the usual late summer green slime spreading across its surface. According to the biologists we shouldn't complain about this, because the visible presence of algae indicates a healthy river. Or does it? Parks Canada set up a Green Slime Monitoring Partnership (seriously!) for the Rideau River last year––here's the link to their preliminary results.

Glowing in the dark

The Lumière Festival went according to schedule in New Edinburgh last Saturday; Chris and I walked back and forth through Stanley Park for about an hour after dark, seeing the Marimba band perform, with the little girls dressed as fairies dancing to its rhythm, and the Propellor Dance by people in wheel chairs (coloured lights on their wheels) as well as able-bodied dancers. A maze of paper bag lanterns had been laid out on the baseball court. It was good, simple fun. At one point we caught sight of lights rising in the sky; a flight of balloon-lanterns had been released, a lovely and novel idea. On the river bank the usual home-made paper, glass or tin lanterns decorated trees and bushes and the tennis court fence, and floating in the river itself were strange, luminous figures.

Lumière Festival light sculptures

Swan lanterns, and their reflections

We timed our walk home to coincide with the finale of the fireworks competition that made for more colour in the dark sky. The rain did more or less hold off, that evening.

More fireworks beyond the Minto Bridges

Lumière lanterns coming soon

Dark cloud over the Minto Bridges

I have just found out that this year's Lumière Festival will culminate with an Evening of Light in the New Edinburgh Park next Saturday. The event begins at 5 p.m. but it's best to arrive after dark; it goes on until 10 p.m., the park being lit with homemade lanterns hanging in the trees. Ghostly free standing creations will be visible too and even some floating ones, tethered carefully on the Rideau River.

On previous years this has been quite magical, very atmospheric and cleverly put together; the children in particular love this occasion. However, last year's lantern festival, sad to say, was a wash out, the delicate lanterns lashed with rain in a cold wind. It is raining heavily as I write this and dark clouds have been hanging around in the afternoons and evenings, but let's hope for better luck with the weather this time round. A large number of local artists and performers have been engaged to entertain the crowds in the dark next Saturday. Good luck to them all!

Lighting up the sky

Walking home from New Edinburgh across the Minto Bridges last night, we had the Saturday night fireworks on our right, cloud-to-cloud sheet lightning in the distance on our left (and in the sky behind us), and the full moon above, reflected in the river. Visual overload! We didn't know which way to look.

Clouds over the two rivers

Getting a flight briefing

I'd like to add a note about our flight home from Montmagny on August 2nd and record how the cloudscape changed as we followed the rivers west to Ottawa.

Rising cloud seen from Montmagny

The journey began with a weather briefing at Montmagny airport by the St. Lawrence, where the crews responsible for Air Montmagny flights were sitting round in the office, waiting for the ceiling to lift before they could get airborne. Normally this 5-aircraft company (run by a father and son team––we met owner Jean Gosselin) does as many as twenty flights a day from Montmagny, among which are flights during term time to get eight school children from the Isle aux Grues to school on the mainland and back. I think that's a marvellous service. The children concerned think so too, as flying to school does have a certain glamour about it. As it says in the Wikipedia:

Durant l'hiver, l'île est uniquement accessible par avion. Information amusante : les enfants de l'île aux Grues doivent se rendre à l'école à Montmagny par avion car le traversier ne peut opérer qu'à certaines heures à cause des marées et cette restriction ne permet pas de synchroniser le traversier avec les heures de classe!

Orographic cloud north of the St. Lawrence

Chris filed IFR to Gatineau as the clouds began to lift over the river; after the previous day's storms there was a lot of moisture about. On the climb out he reported a cloud base at 500 feet and flew through that thin layer, through which we could still see some of the landscape below us. On the north shore of the St. Lawrence the mountains (Mont Sainte-Anne, etc.) were capped with orographic cloud. We were on course for the VOR at Quebec climbing to 8000 ft, but during that climb ATC reported a heavy build up of cloud (detected by their radar) on our route, a remnant of the occluded front now moving east of this area. Other pilots were reporting lightning flashes from the cloud and we could see that threatening part of the sky as well, so made a slight detour to the north to avoid it. The weather en route was reportedly better towards the west and beyond Quebec as we approached Trois-Rivières that was indeed the case, no more than summer cumulus ahead; although some of these clouds were beginning to tower it would be much later in the day before they'd cause much trouble.

Layers of cloud above the St. Lawrence, east of Quebec City

Edge of the storm near Quebec

Better weather ahead

Approaching Rockland over the Ottawa River

Flying in straight lines from VOR to VOR along the Victor Airways meant that we didn't overfly the confluence of the Ottawa River with the St. Lawrence at Montreal. As soon as we came beyond the higher ground of the Laurentians, around the Mirabel VOR, we could see a long way into the distance over the nose of our aircraft, the course of the Ottawa River leading us home. By that time it was a sunny, carefree day.

The Maritime Museum at L'Islet-sur-mer

Distant thunderstorm over the St. Lawrence

A week ago, we were on the south shore of the St. Lawrence seaway where, hampered from returning to Ottawa by the likelihood of severe thunderstorms, we rented a car at Montmagny to drive along the Route des Navigateurs (Rte. 132) as far as L'Islet-sur-mer. Our purpose was two-fold. First we needed to find somewhere to spend the night, and second, we wanted to visit the Musée Maritime du Québec.

Chris going into the museum

The wonderful life story of Captain Joseph Elzéar Bernier, who had spent much of his life here, at L'Islet-sur-mer, was featured in a special exhibition at the museum. Born into the merchant navy in 1852, thrilled by his first sight of flying fish at the age of four, Bernier grew up to become a great and famous mariner, having been promoted to officer status (on his father's ship) at a very young age. By the time he was 17 he was already master of his own ship, the youngest captain in the British empire. He decided who should be his wife at a very young age as well (he and Rose, a local farmer's daughter, were 10 and 8 year olds when they met, and were married 8 years after that).

The ship that Bernier eventually acquired from Germany, originally named the Gauss, renamed L'Arctic, was his vessel of choice and he manned it with a crew of sailors who were nearly all from L'Islet-sur-mer themselves––what loyalty they must have felt for one another! His ambition was to reach the North Pole; though he never made it quite to the Pole, he was honoured for his accomplishments, having led 11 expeditions to the far north where the Inuit still remember and respect him. He died at the age of 82 at L'Islet, having made a journey to Rome the previous year, to visit the Pope.

More about Bernier and his Arctic expeditions here.

There were several other exhibitions at the museum, including one about Sea Monsters, and I toured the Chalouperie on the ground floor, learning some French and English vocabulary which I note here for future reference:

chaloupe = beach boat

On the deck of the Ernest Lapointe

chaloupe à rame = row(ing) boat
chaloupe à glace = ice boat (for the seal hunt)
voilier = sloop (although perhaps they meant skiff)
drosseuse = duck boat (used locally for hunting snow geese during the migration season)

Outside the museum our admission tickets allowed us to board the icebreaker Ernest Lapointe, a steam ship used by the Canadian Coast Guard between 1940 and 1978. We thoroughly enjoyed peering into the cabins etc and imagining life on this stylish vessel which sometimes used to accommodate VIP land-lubbers, as well as its regular crew. Had we wished, we could also have had a guided tour (in French) on board the HMCS Bras d'Or 400 hydrofoil that's kept high and dry in the museum park, but we'll leave that until another occasion. At one time this was the fastest unarmed warship in the world, but for political reasons she never came into service. The Canadian hydrofoil project was cancelled in the 1970s.

After enjoying this museum very much we meandered back towards Montmagny through the riverside villages and found Bed and Breakfast at a gîte on the Route du Souvenir in Cap St. Ignace, a place I thoroughly recommend for its cleanliness, for its attractiveness inside and out and for its value for money, not to mention the superb breakfast we were served next morning. It's called the Chocoporto, a restored farmhouse dating back to the 17th century. Incidentally the family to whom this old house had belonged were also called Bernier.

The Sunday cycle track

If we want to go to the Rockcliffe Flying Club on Sunday mornings in the summer we are stopped at a barrier where the Rockcliffe Parkway is closed to normal traffic. Chris winds down his window to say to the people manning the barrier, "To the flying club, very slowly, with both lights flashing?" and they smile and let us through.

The reason for this slight inconvenience is a very good one: the city allows cyclists and inline skaters dedicated access to the smooth surface of the scenic parkways for this four-hour period once a week (until September 4th, this year) so that they can enjoy speeding along without the need to worry about oncoming motor vehicles. Alcatel-Lucent have sponsored the initiative; good for them!

Ottawa apparently has the highest per capita population of cyclists in Canada.

Personally, when we're using our bikes, we prefer the route that takes us down to the unsurfaced trail right beside the Ottawa River, rather than along the top of the bluffs. The views up, down and across the river are exhilarating, the trail is nearly always in the shade and it continues from the old boathouse (belonging to the Ottawa New Edinburgh Club) all the way to Orleans.

The Ottawa River Pathway on the western side of the city is worth exploring too, whatever your self-propelled means of transport.

Cycle paths in Ottawa-Gatineau

Fireworks reflected in the Rideau

Photo by Kathryn Buchan

Every August there is an international Fireworks competition (Spectacles Pyromusicaux), a series of shows held on Wednesdays and Saturdays at Lac Leamy, an inlet on the Quebec side of the Ottawa River. This year the English name for the series is Sound of Light. Because they shoot up into the sky, we can also get a fairly good view of the fireworks from the Ontario side, e.g. from the Rideau Falls bridge or the Minto Bridges; the music from that distance is not so clearly audible and you miss the low-level fireworks, but you don't need to pay your $10 for admission.

Tonight Carol and Kathryn called us to say they'd be watching the Chinese show from Bordeleau Park, and did we want to come out and join them?

On the banks of the Rideau River, it's easy to find look-out spots not obscured by trees. Why hadn't we though of this ourselves? We sat down near the water ready for the 9:30 p.m. start and saw all the highlights (literally) of the display created by the Hunan Jing Tai Fireworks Co.––like fountains, like flowers, like multicoloured giant caterpillars, like flying saucers and stars, all reflected in the water. Splendid! The title of tonight's contribution was Riverside Scene at Qingming Festival, a lively rather than peaceful scene, its explosions echoing off the tall buildings on Porter Island.

The conclusion of the fireworks competition is scheduled for August 20th, the Chinese, Italian, German and Canadian teams all taking part in this Grand Finale. (Last year, Germany won.)

Summer weekend on a river island

Euronav tanker moored at Lévis, seen from the air

Rimbaud, Le Bateau Ivre:

Les Fleuves m'ont laissé descendre où je voulais.

We took the opportunity last weekend to follow the Ottawa River and then the St. Lawrence River downstream until we reached Montmagny, 60km east of Quebec City. Flying a Piper Cherokee (CF-YSZ) the journey from Ottawa took us just over two hours. On the way we passed the last (or first) two bridges across the St. Lawrence between Lévis and Québec and caught sight of a few of the freighter ships that ply this great waterway.

The Isle aux Grues ferry, about to dock at Montmagny

Opposite Montmagny, in mid river (already very wide at that point and strongly affected by tides), lies the Isle-aux-Grues and its surrounding islands. Admittedly there is a runway on the island, but it is only half the length of the one at Montmagny, and Chris didn't want to take the risk of finding it too short for his unfamiliar aircraft (our usual one had an electrical fault). Therefore we decided to land on the mainland ("le continent," the locals call it) and catch the evening ferry to the island where the owners of the Auberge des Dunes had promised to pick us up. We were to stay there for two nights.

The Auberge has an extraordinary attraction: its dining room and bar is on an old ship, a tug boat named Le Bateau Ivre after Rimbaud's poem quoted above, only unfortunately they have misspelled his name on the hull (see picture). The ship, bought from Cuba, was beached in the St. Lawrence in 1967 and has been serving its present purpose ever since. At low tide she appears to be sailing in a field of grass, but at high tide, looking out from the windows at the stern, you get the illusion that she's still floating through the ripples and waves*. We had tasty suppers there, watching the sun set behind the mountains to the northwest.

Sugar shack at the Pointe aux Pins

The Auberge also supplies bikes for use on the island at no extra charge. Their crossbar was too high for me, so we didn't take advantage of them on Sunday. We walked 12 km instead, exploring the island and getting sunburnt. At the Pointe aux Pins, the southwestern tip, is a trail through the woods that takes an hour to walk if you stop to read all the panneaux and admire the views of the other islands in the archipeligo. A few of the trees are rare white pines, but most are deciduous. In early spring the southern side becomes a maple sugar bush with an old and attractive sugar shack. Some of the information on the boards relates to the birds that live there, sa majesté le grand-duc d'Amerique for example (I love the way the Quebeckers make everything sound poetic!), aka bubo virginianus, and his lesser cousin le hibou moyen-duc (asio otus). We spotted birds we don't normally see, a brown thrush and some kind of little warbler with a yellow head. Sorry not to be more precise. There are also 185 different kinds of fish in these waters, apparently, not to mention the large variety of wild ducks. It is prime hunting and fishing territory, especially during the seasons for migration. At supper on Saturday I enjoyed a tender cuisse de canard from the chef at the Auberge and on Sunday a fillet of sturgeon.

There are more flower strewn woods to the northeast of the jetty and we walked through them too. The central part of the island is mostly farmland, clover fields giving off a marvellous fragrance and fields of mixed oats and barley, not yet ripe, with blueish stalks. Hay used to be dried on domed frames and shipped across the water that way too, but nowadays a baler rolls it into tight cylinders. We saw and smelled the haymaking as we walked the island's country roads.

The Isle aux Grues is famous for a Fromagerie (Le Riopelle) and for one of its late inhabitants, Jean-Paul Riopelle, a painter born (in Montreal) in 1923 who died in his island home near the Fromagerie in 2002 and whose abstract paintings in Ottawa's National Art Gallery I've often admired. In the island's museum, housed in an old barn (le grenier de l'île) is a small exhibition about Riopelle and his art, including some video footage of him as an old man pottering around his studio here.

Aerial view of the Isle aux Grues at low tide.
At high tide, the grass on the left disappears and it looks more like an S!

- - - - -

*  The difference between the shores at high and low tides is phenomenal. On the weekend when we were there the high tides coincided with supper time and after eating, we sat for a while watching the light fade as the water began to ebb again, the grass, flowers, rippled mud and rocks reappearing as sturgeons (possibly) leapt and twisted in the shallows and swifts flung themselves through the sky to catch the pesky mosquitoes.

Walking on the riverbed at low tide

Sunset view from the Auberge, high tide