Day 13 – Stephens Mills, VT, to Mansonville, QUE

F-2016-9-2

Start: Stealth site ~4 mi before US/Canada border

End: Mansonville,Quebec! 

On the Way: Missiquoi River, North Branch Missisquoi River, Mansonville

Miles: ~18 (Milepost: 249)

Map: 5

Weather: Mostly clear, starting to feel like Fall

I have a bad tendency, when I find a real nice campsite, to get too comfy and oversleep.  Such was the case hanging in my cornfield last night in a newly warm, dry sleeping bag.  I slept in until the luxurious hour of 0900 before embarking on an altogether relaxed day.  (The water was so low and the opportunity to walk so frequent, there was no other way to take it besides “relaxed.”)

On the other side of that bridge: CANADA!

Today has also officially made this a trip abroad!  I passed into Canada at about noon.  For the sake of international brotherhood and cosmopolitan impartiality, I should say that the river on one side of the border is just as pleasant as the other, but in the case of the Missiquoi, it was like hitting a switch.  The river went from shallow and rocky and full of rapids and stupid little islands to wide and deep and predictable, through lots of cute farmlands.  And lots of paddlers: I must have seen five little groups of people out having a float and speaking French.  I only know of two outfitters around here, so going out for a paddle must be the thing to do here on a Friday night.

A French sign!  And a good example of the bilingual double-speak that is prevalent along this border.

Mansonville is quaint and timeless, as per most of these Trail towns.  I stopped by the famous Owl’s Head Boulangerie, the bakery whose wares are touted in every bit of NFCT literature I’ve come across, and got an absolutely divine cream-puff filled with Hazelnut ricotta and topped with honey and toasted almond slices.  The lady was just about to box it up for me when I told her no matter: it was not long for this world. She was happy to take US cash (with no exchange rate—I think that was her tax for taking the foreign currency…) and spoke completely natural English.  Then, two gents came in and she fluidly launched into a conversation in French!  It made my head spin and made me feel like a stupid tourist.  Ah, well, I’ll only be here two days, so I shouldn’t be too ashamed of my minimal international prep work.

Unnnng pastry.

[EDIT: From here on in, since the Canadian border was never far away, people were usually happy to accept US or Canadian cash.  Cards, not so much: If I were to repeat the journey, I’d definitely make sure to have an abundance of cash and some blank checks safely tucked away.]

My campsite tonight is a little back-path picnic table from the park where I put in in the AM.  I found a lovely hammock hang under some massive hemlocks (no need for the tarp!) overlooking a pool where some beavers have been splashing around…or maybe they were mink.  They sound remarkable, like a kid hurling a rock they can hardly lift into a still pond with a PLONK!  Here’s to hoping their Friday night party doesn’t go on until dawn…

My luxurious site, hidden away off the path with some falls and beaver pools right beyond that bank.

Put-in for the morning!

Things Learned:

+ The Canadian Border Patrol officer was CUUUUTE.  Maybe it was the all-back and Kevlar, or the slight accent, or the crisp black beard, or maybe just how little male company I’ve had lately.  But damn.

+ Today the boatsnacks plan backfired: the bags I had stowed behind my seat leaked.  The GORP was saved, but I need to devise a new method. [I ended up just sticking to a bar or two in my lifejacket vest, and saving the bagged snacks for when I had time to stop and unpack and take a lunch.]

+ For some parts of this bony Trail, using skirt and rudder are just hubris.  The rudder’s sure to drag and get damaged, while putting on the skirt is a waste of energy since I’m bound to soon just hop up again.  Instead I just have to sit in the cockpit, legs frying in the sun, with the bow painter draped back between my legs for easy grabbing.  Here’s hoping these hubris sections come and go quickly.

Trail Magic:

+ Beaver splashing, meeting a fat little Canadian groundhog along the road into Mansonville, and ample recycling and composting in this tiny little town.  A municipal wonder!

+ Saw the famous round barn in town, built by the Shakers so that the devil couldn’t hide in the corners.  Also had the clever design of a central grain chute, so all the cows in the bottom could face heads-in and warm up the upper floor with their body heat!