Bearbells by Leslie Noonan
September 28/24
For years I have been promising my son a backcountry trip, except that I have knee injuries and a back that hurts unless sleeping on a soft and thick mattress like the princess I have become. However the beautiful fall weather had me ordering a new tent for two, a new sleeping bag for my son, and a memory foam mattress for me. It was only a few days for our gear to arrive, and then a day packing and we were off. I am not going to say where we went, in order to keep out the hordes of people, just that we went north.
The backcountry sites here are first come basis, and even though it was late September, I was worried that the site I wanted would be taken. I gave my son my old Osprey 65 liter pack, filled to the brim, while I used a smaller pack. Only 15 minutes in my son turns to me and asked if this was the pack I used on my multiday hikes? Yes, yes it is. And was it as full then as it was with him carrying it now? Yes. And I would strap this on for 12 hours at a time? Yes and yes. My son stopped, looked at me, and said “so much respect mom, I am already tired of carrying this thing”. Well that must be the best compliment any parent can get, getting respect from your teen. Already this is a great trip!
We continued on toward the site I wanted, through typical Canadian Shield. The trees were a mixture of oak, pines and maples, with scrub and exposed granite rocks. The trail was not always well marked, and we did veer off course a few times, but only briefly as I had been out here many times before. As we got closer to the site we could hear voices, and the disappointment hit hard when the site we wanted was taken by a group of people. There was another site nearby, that was lovely but lacked the open view of the night sky that we wanted. However, we could just take our camp chairs a short distance to an area of exposed rock. My son and I got down to the business of setting up camp, and just as we put our gear in the tent, the group of people traipsed past, heading out and leaving the primo camp site free. I yelled at my son to grab one side of the tent, and I grabbed the other, as we ran/hobbled our way through the scrub to the other campsite, only getting caught in the branches a few times. We could hear another group of people heading our way, and wanted to make sure we got there first. Success! We now had the perfect backcountry site, with soft pine needles under our tent and a long spit of rock protruding into the lake, perfect to watch the sun set and the stars appear.
We watched the sun set behind the trees, leaving a colorful reflection in the still waters. To our left a trio of beavers swam near the shore, and one would head out to do some fishing for his family. A perfect experience for my son’s first backcountry trip, until I heard him yelling when I was back by the tent and he was still by the lake. Turns out the as the last of the daylight disappeared, the one beaver took umbrage to our proximity, swimming at my son while loudly chittering. This happened several times, so we left the rock and sat at our campsite by the fire, giving our large rodent friend some space. Apparently the beaver did not think this was far enough, and through the orange flames of our fire, a large wet head poked out of the rushes and unleashed more verbal abuse at us. This led to another series of questions from my son, such as is this normal beaver behavior? Does the beaver hate us? Do beaver’s bite? Yes and no and yes. It has never happened to me before but they do chitter if they think someone is taking their food. My son’s last question, will it attack us in our sleep? Hmmm, killer beavers. That would make some interesting headlines, but I was relatively sure that this beaver would not be slicing open our tent with his yellow incisors and committing some heinous deed on our sleeping bodies. We slept well and woke to a glorious fall day, and not a beaver in sight, at least, not one we could see, though the beaver might be sharpening those incisors somewhere nearby.