Head for the Hills! (Better late than never, I guess)

It's been a long time...I know, but with the pandemic and all, there really hasn't been a lot to report. Happily, as restrictions loosen and the two of us are fully vaccinated, we were ready to head off on another adventure.

We've long talked about the Mount Carleton region of New Brunswick, at least amongst ourselves, as it has some true mountains to hike, a couple of really quaint towns and, of course, ridiculously charming little villages in between. That you can follow the Acadian peninsula and enjoy water views, as well, only added to the appeal.

 

With all that temptation, we rented a car, packed our bags and took our out of shape hiking legs north to the very edge of the New Brunswick/Quebec border.

Mount Carleton is a national park, situated in the middle of the northern part of the province. It's remote enough that you can only pay your park entry fee in cash and cell service is definitely spotty. (Consider that a warning, especially if you're planning on hiking around the mountains.) This area is where the Appalachian mountains start (or end, depending on your perspective) and is fairly remote, despite the little towns scattered around the coast and inland. 

 

The park, itself, offers camping, lakes, hiking and biking trails. We opted for a self-catered B&B 22kms from the park entrance, called Bed and Breakfast Du Repos . It was the perfect little hideaway for us to recoup after a days hiking, as it had a small kitchenette, comfy bed and all the fixings for breakfast (and trail snacks) that we needed. 

We were careful about selecting our first mountain trail, as we'd been out of the game for a while. We tackled Mount Bailey first. At 564m (1850ft) it boasted great views and moderately challenging climbs. The weather wasn't ideal, in that it had rained a good part of the day before and through the night, so the trees were wet and the wind blew, cascading down drops despite the tree cover. The views weren't disappointing, the forest soothing and our legs, not so out of shape that we wanted to quit half way up, so it was a win-win.

A bucolic flat stretch

The clouds won't keep us down

The following day, we decided to summit the highest peak in the Maritimes and the namesake of the Park, Mount Carleton. (It's 820m (2,690ft) at it's peak, and also is home to an old forest fire watch tower. On a clear day, you can see over 10,000,000 trees, according to the park's literature. The weather was more favourable on the hike up and we were lulled into a bout of confidence, as the trail was fairly easy to negotiate, with only a bit of hard boulder scrambling at the last stretch. As we neared the peak, the wind came up and blew in a rather haunting cloud cover and we quickly lost sight of the vast expanse of forest that surrounds the mountain. The tower loomed up out of the mist and provided a haven from the wind, where we sat down to enjoy a brief lunch, before heading back down the other side of the hiking loop. The trail had lovely little creeks at the beginning with heaps of moss covered stones, fallen trees, draping over the waterways and other enjoyable nature-y scenes that would please most any outdoors person. There was some scree on the back side of the mountain, heading back down, making me feel like I was walking under the influence, but it was definitely an enjoyable hike all-round. At the end of the day, we took ourselves off to Edmundston for dinner out and to check out the town. It has quite a pretty downtown, but when the paper mill is in operation, the noise can be off putting. It didn't disrupt our dinner and we enjoyed a nice drive through the rolling foothills on the way back.

Easy entry to the trail

10,000,000 Trees

Getting close to the summit

 

Our final day, we broached the hardest climb on our agenda - Mount Sagamook. While it isn't quite as high as Mount Carleton, the hike up was steep, technical and occasionally, daunting. There is a lookout, 300m before the summit (again, depending on how you hike the loop) which wasn't terribly well marked and required a bit of bush whacking through the forest to get to the rock outcrop that over looks the park, with it's lake and a charming little heart shaped island. The pinnacle was underwhelming after the great views of the lookout, but provided a spot in the sun for a well deserved drink of water and snack. The descent was more challenging than anticipated, but we were glad we took the park attendant's advice and hiked up the short (harder) path and then down the longer, less steep path. At the very end (or start) depending on which way you choose to go, there is a lovely mossy little brook that provided us with a magical little pause at the end of all our hard work. 

Hard scrabble up boulders

Happy to reach the look out

Enjoying the view

 

The next day we packed up and took a scenic drive to Campbellton and along the Acadian peninsula. We stopped for lunch in Mirimichi, at an Irish pub. (Mirimichi is the Irish capitol of New Brunswick, so says their welcome sign.) The weather turned once again and we found ourselves driving with the windshield wipers slapping frantically to clear the rain. We settled back home and tried to decide what to do with ourselves the next day. Ron had finally worn out his hiking boots (the sole separated from the upper) so we planned to search for a new pair. Once obtained (a pair of Merills), we decided to try them out in Fundy National Park. We just couldn't let the opportunity pass us by.

We drove the 1.5 hours to Alma, a cute little sea town that borders the park and enjoyed lunch at Tipsy Tails (I didn't make up the name, I swear!) and then headed into the park to do a 3-4 hour hike to the largest waterfalls in the area. The trail was mostly down hill and not terribly difficult until the end, where we had to wade along the stream to reach the beach below the falls. It was well worth the effort and Ron's new boots proved a good choice. We were surprised to find ourselves back at the car just 2 hours later. Our Mount Carleton experiences must have put some pep in our step. 

Going down just mean climbing up

It was a delightful distraction and slight return to normalcy after a very strange year and a half. Who knows what we'll get ourselves up to next time? (Maybe nowhere, if the international community doesn't figure out all this vaccine stuff.)

The Sounds of Nature

While city life can be noisy and messy, the quickest solution is to head out on the bus to the final stop and wander out into the countryside.

We went on a most memorable hike on the outskirts of the city. It wasn't long before we left behind the sound of grinding motors, honking cars and the ever present song "Quiero Cuenca" that comes from the many gas trucks plying their trade. 

With only the birds and distant river in our ears, we ascended a long trail that ends in a set of cascades and then loops back from whence we came. With only a shallow river in our way, we sloshed through happily and wandered back down the hill on the opposite side of the river. 

Does this look like a folk album cover?

With rain comes this amazing green

 

Sure, it was muddy and slippery, but the surrounding trees, babbling water and blue sky were like a spa experience. 

We finished off at Le Petit Jardin, a restaurant on the outskirts of Cuenca. When you've had such an amazing day, being able to finish it off with a top notch meal makes the day as close to perfect as you can get here.

Salmon in herb sauce

Pulpo al carbon

Beef Wellington

Wine poached pair in chocolate

Sometimes all you need is amazing company, a good dash of nature and delicious French sustenance at the end of it all. 

Our Crazy Adventure in Patul

There is a certain amount of truth in the fact that Ron and I were never really "budget" travelers, no. We like to have our own bathroom, ideally a king-sized bed and if breakfast is included, well, that's pretty perfect. We aren't Waldorf Astoria kind of folks either, but swing closer to that side of the scale than the other. 

Then we decided to discover South America and, as neither of us is working, this requires certain...accommodations...to the budget. We've camped, rented RVs, hosteled it. (Okay, in a private room, but it was still a hostel.)  Now, we decided to go off and see this tiny little pueblecito called Patul. It's due north of Cajas National Park. There are no roads to get to it, just horse trails and it's high up in the Andes where they actually get frost and snow. (Did I mention it's still officially winter here?)  The good news is that we got to stay indoors, which actually has four walls, but we're still in Ecuador, so there is no central heating. Ah, we're on the equator, how bad can it be?

Why this craziness, you might ask? One of our friends has always wanted to go there and arranged a trip for us. Us being 10 brave souls ready to roll the dice on a new experience.

Start of the hike with Indy leading the way

Wet! That's what you get for hiking at cloud level

Our overnight stay was in a village that has a population of 43 (give or take). They (happily) got electricity a few years ago, but there's no internet, no municipal services or other niceties. (Yup, that means no toilets ergo no bathrooms with nice things like sinks and tap water to wash.) The hike into the village was going to take approximately 6 hours, so we were quite pleased to do it in 5.5. The weather was not cooperative. The rain started on the bus ride up and continued to dog us through most of the trek. When the wind joined it, it made the going pretty unpleasant. The walk is about 11 kilometres (a little under 7 miles), but you have to pass through a summit in the mountains that takes you up to almost 4200 metres (13,812 feet). Okay, so you start at around 3700 metres, but still, it's a steep slog up that hill over a very short span of time, especially in crappy weather.

While the wind and rain were pretty unrelenting, we were happy to be heading down hill. In a small village called Baute, a lady was kind enough to let us shelter in her house, to warm up and have something to eat. She and our guide exchanged pleasantries (and money changed hands, I'm sure). She told us that she gets visitors maybe 5 times a year, and most are couples who are lost in the wilds of the Cajas. Let that be a cautionary tale for you, should you decide to visit.

Baute in better weather (on the return trip)

Taking off the chill in a local homestead

Photo by Bob Itami

Photo by Bob Itami

The cloud finally started lifting as we arrived at our destination. The laguna was beautiful and the valley was spotted with buildings with grass covered rooves. We could finally make out the soaring arcs of the surrounding mountains and the sun made an appearance.

The village is picturesque and even houses a small cemetery dating back to the late 1800s. There is a school that the children from Baute also attend. The school has 11 students.

Half-century old homestead in Patul

Life in the village is quite humbling. The farm animals are abundant and the chickens love to wander through the houses at will. They're often chased back outside with a broom or swift foot in their direction, but seem undeterred about finding a cozy roost somewhere inside. The house that we stayed in was made from adobe and cinder block and lacked doors or glass in the windows.(Like most of the houses in the area.) 

The openings are covered with whatever scraps can be found, like old plastic feed bags, tarps and the occasional animal skin. The interior flooring of the home we stayed in was a combination of dirt, concrete and wood. The kitchen seems to be the heart of the home, which is pretty universal, but not all homes sport a very pregnant guinea pig, tucked in a warm corner. The entire family gathers in the one room, cooking over an open fire and nestling up on benches against the walls to stave off the cold.

The family was incredibly gracious and somehow managed to feed the 11 of us from the tiny kitchen, not just once but three times. 

The cooking fire, no stove, just open flame.
Photo by Bob Itami

Meals have no definition here, there is no cereal for breakfast or sandwiches for lunch. All meals come with rice, potatoes and some form of protein. The vegetables that we ate were brought in, except for the broad beans, which I believe probably are their main source of vitamins. The trout must be running as we had beautiful little fish for both lunch and breakfast the next day. Our dinner consisted of freshly butchered chicken. I'm pretty sure that one of the photos I took is of our dinner. The children were tasked with catching the birds and putting them in a bag, presumably to calm the fowl before their imminent demise. This is life on a farm and gave me a clear understanding that if it were up to me to dispatch the meat, I'd probably be vegetarian or pescatarian. 

Delicious or darling, you decide

Somehow, more palatable

Dinner, anyone?

The temperature never hit double digits the day we arrived and dropped to below zero in the night. You could actually feel it as we sat in a small circle huddled under the only light bulb in the main living area enjoying the fruits of the family farm. We called it a day before 8pm, seeking to get away from the cold, by curling up in our sleeping bags and finding oblivion. It was then that the family gathered and ate their own meal. 

Abuelita y nieta (grandma and granddaughter), staying warm
Photo by Bob Itami

There is no early to bed, even for a farming family. It wasn't a restful night, between the cold, the noise of the family and the farm animals outside, the dogs running amok in the middle of the night and sharing a room with almost the whole group made for a challenged sleep. I rather hate how much of a slave I am to my little routines and luxurious comforts.  

Our neighbours for the night

One of the boys took a chair and turned it into a motorcycle with a few sticks and an amazing imagination, he played on that with his siblings and cousins for the rest of the night. If that isn't a life lesson, I don't know what is.

We were up at daylight, around 6 am and on the road before 9am.   Before leaving, I had an unfortunate interaction with a thistle plant while using the outdoor "facilities". Mental note, don't do that...even if the plant looks innocuous it can still git ya. I had welts the size of quarters for most of the day and a prickling sensation that I cannot recommend.

The return journey was grueling. We all knew it would be challenging, having walked down the track to get to Patul, but little did we know it would be a 3 hour+ ascension, with unrelenting hills and only the smallest respites of level ground. There were a few times when my legs were burning and begging me to rest, but the cold wouldn't allow it. Once at the summit, we still had another couple of hours down to get to the parking area where our transportation would be waiting. Despite the physical demands of the hike back out, the weather was much more cooperative, offering sunshine and blue skies (with a cold wind), with the clouds still threatening to gather, causing us to keep a brisk pace. It was one of the hardest hikes I've done so far, but none of us gave up and we made it back to the parking lot in a respectable 5 and a half hours. The whole group deserves a good round of applause for taking on such a demanding trek and making it without incident.

Ever upward

Trail Warriors

The road travelled, looking back to the valley

It was an eye opening experience, one that I'll remember for a long time and one that will make me more grateful for the life I have, and appreciative of how well other people manage, no not just manage, but thrive and enjoy, a life with so much less comfort than I have. If you ever have the opportunity to experience something like this, take it, embrace it and appreciate how privileged we actually are to have doors and internet and a ready supply of water coming out of our taps, not to mention the other trappings of "civilised" life. We don't need more, in truth, we could probably do with a whole lot less and, for me, that's comforting in its own way. I can survive with less, I can be happy with less and the world would continue to turn.