travels with janne

Because it is fall, there are mushrooms here, there and everywhere. Not only are they fascinating to look at; they also have a wonderfully earthy, mushroom-y smell. Unfortunately, I don’t recognise any of the them, because they are different from the ones in Denmark, with which I am more familiar. So it is look but don’t eat!

The autumn hues are a combination of red, orange, yellow, russet and green. The most startling red and orange hues are from the maple trees – mostly sugar maple, I think, which also gift us with tasty maple syrup in the spring. Is it any wonder that the Canadians have chosen to have a maple leaf in their flag?

I am pleased to have been chosen as the babysitter of Ziggy, my friends’ cat, while they are away for a few days. Ziggy and I chill out together, enjoying the sunsets.

Naturally, I also enjoy visiting my friends at their beautiful place while they are at home. My visits include swimming in the lake, which is much deeper and larger than Tupper Lake. It is quite brisk to be swimming in the fall!

Every time I come to Nova Scotia, I visit Kejimkujik National Park and National Historic Site, which is a mere 20-minute drive from my cottage. This year, I have put it off as long as possible to make sure I catch the blaze of autumn colours.

In the park’s 404 km2, nature reigns supreme. The hiking paths are cleared and the camping and picnic sites maintained, of course, but otherwise Mother Nature takes care of itself. This results in a dynamic landscape which may change over time, as nature sees fit. Fallen trees provide nutrients for mushrooms, insects and bacteria.

There are forests, lakes, rivers, bogs, marshes, and meadows. Meadows may grow into forests, forests may become open meadows, e.g. due to fire or hurricanes, and beaver activity may flood areas and make them boggy and marshy.

Underneath it all is rocky, boulder-strewn land with just a thin layer of soil – the result of glaciation. The fir trees grow best on the thin layer of soil. Here a boulder and a tree cosy up to each other.
Glaciers left behind mounds of soil, so-called drumlins, where the fertile layer was a bit deeper. This is why you often see farms located on hilltops. In Kejimkujik there used to be a farm, but it was taken over by the national park and allowed to revert to its natural state. Now it is beautiful woodland and home to many wild animals.

The Mersey River is beautiful at all times of year. I am happy to experience the autumn palette for the first time.

I have previously canoed and camped in the backcountry. Today I just go for walks on the park’s various short hiking routes. In this way, I take in a variety of landscape types and tot up about 10 km of walking. Next year, I hope to try out some of the longer hiking paths that would each take more or less a full day to walk.

There are many different animal species here, including mink, flying squirrel, beaver, black bear, bald eagle and loon. The park also has Atlantic Canada’s greatest diversity of reptiles and amphibians. I like the idea that instead of removing unpleasant things, such as poisonous plants or dangerous animals, a sign is put up to warn visitors.

Although I am perfectly satisfied to stay at Nature’s Nest, enjoying the tranquil atmosphere, watching the beaver swimming in the lake in the dusk, and following the gradually changing autumn foliage, I also go for occasional forays into the outside world. Even just driving from A to B, such as packing out the garbage or going shopping for groceries, offers pleasing views.

One day, my neighbours drop by and we take a walk on their lovely piece of land, which is across the road from mine. We have given each other permission to “trespass” on each other’s properties for the purposes of picking cranberries, taking pictures, walking, swimming, etc. It is so nice to have neighbours that are willing to share. Here are some views from their land.

Another day I go for a longer drive that takes me through the fertile Annapolis Valley. On the highway it dawns on me that it is the Thanksgiving holiday long weekend, so there are more cars and people than I had anticipated. Thanksgiving is not a tradition in Denmark, so I had completely forgotten about it. It is still a bit early in this area for stupendous fall colours, but I find a lookout point that offers amazing views of the landscape.

One of the reasons that the land is fertile is that the world’s highest tides rush in over the land twice a day from the Bay of Fundy bringing nutritious fine and silty soil. The video was taken when the tide was sloshing in. In the background you can see Cape Blomidon, or Cap Baptiste, as the Acadians called it before the English usurped them. This area is the setting for the book I am struggling to write.

I reach a Mi’kmaq town, Bear River, at around suppertime. By now, the tide has turned and you can see the river bottom as well as the stilts that the houses are built on.
On the way home, dusk begins to fall giving everything a warm glow.

Finally, after a two-year absence, I am back in my magical place “Nature’s Nest” on Tupper Lake in Nova Scotia. Due to covid, Canada did not allow entry to foreigners until September 7, so I was forced to take an autumn holiday. No worries – autumn is a stunning time of year in eastern Canada.

When I arrive, the leaves have just started to turn. Day by day, the colours everywhere become more intense and widespread. Three weeks later, the landscape is aflame with red, yellow and orange from the deciduous trees interspersed with dark green from the fir trees.

A tranquil treasure
The colours on my own property are also pretty stupendous, whether in sunshine or fog.

I spend my time slowly. In the mornings, the water is completely still. The rising mist adds a sense of mystery. Don’t forget to turn on the sound if you want to hear what I am saying.

The quiet mornings are a good time for canoeing. I feel as if I have the whole world to myself. Sometimes I just let the canoe glide along slowly, without paddling.

From the canoe I can view my house from a distance. I can also visit the neighbouring beaver lodge.

The first few days are warm enough for sitting outdoors or swimming. Later, I move indoors to do some writing. The lovely, peaceful view is very inspirational.

Sometimes, when my father was sitting gazing into the middle distance, I would ask him what he was doing. He would say, “Sometimes I sit and think and sometimes I just sit.” Well, that is also how I spend a lot of my time here. Just sitting. Looking at the same view but in different kinds of light.

The nights here are pitch black, so it is great for viewing the moon and stars. Note the sliver of moon in the top of the photo. It looks like a nail clipping.

Sometimes I go for walks on my property, either along the rocky shore or in the wild, untamed wood.

It gives me great pleasure to have Danish friends withme to Nature’s Nest and to show them the wonderful country I come from. Thisyear, two friends visit with me for two weeks. Apart from enjoying life at the
cabin, we go on excursions.

One of the places we visit is the tiny coastal village Blue Rocks, not far from Lunenburg. I keep coming back to Blue Rocks because it isso picturesque, no matter what kind of weather, and the rocks are fascinating.

We also go to Digby, one of the towns along the coast of the Bay of Fundy, where you can see the highest tides in the world.

We hike through a forest in the fog towards a natural attraction called Balancing Rock. It appears as if the nine metres high column of basalt rock is balancing on one toe like a ballerina and you wonder why it does not tip over. However, on closer examination, you can see that it was once one large piece of rock but that much of it has eroded away.

We drove out to the western tip of Nova Scotia to go whale watching from Brier Island. I have been on several whale watching tours before, but never one as exciting as this one. After hours and hours of sailing and not really seeing anything other than the occasional dolphin and the usual seabirds, we ended up in the middle of a feeding frenzy. How lucky can you get?

We arrive at a spot where humpback whales have gathered to feed on herring. The huge animals collaborate in a technique called bubble net fishing. They circle around their hapless prey, blowing bubbles to confuse the fish and concentrate them in a tight ball. The humpbacks then open
their enormous mouths, lunge upwards out of the water, grabbing a huge portion of fish and water on the way up. Their baleen bristles filter the fish from the seawater. It is amazing to see this in real life, quite close up and with so many whales involved.

My friends and I also go backcountry canoeing in Kejimkujik National Park for a couple of days. We see snapping turtles and what I think might be the protected Blanding’s turtle. We see a loon family with mom, dad and downy brown youngsters. We set up camp on Frozen Ocean Lake. The Peace and quiet are total. We swim, hike, make a campfire, eat and sleep. Life is reduced to the simple things.

At Nature’s Nest, my cottage on Tupper Lake in Nova
Scotia, my closest neighbour is a beaver.
The two of us enjoy the quiet evenings on the lake. I
sit in my newly acquired Adirondack chair, gazing out on the still water and
the ever-changing light. The beaver enjoys her evening meal.She is not alone in her beaver lodge, though. During
the first days of my stay at Tupper Lake, at the end of July, there are three
beavers. Every dusk, almost like clockwork, their dark shapes glide through the
water, leaving a characteristic watery V in their wake. The beavers meander from lily pad to lily pad,
munching on the greenery as they go. I believe it is a mother beaver with two
progeny. Twice I hear them communicating with each other with a sound like
suckling puppies.

After a week, there are only two animals in the
evenings and then, after four to five weeks, only one. I suppose the young ones
have gone to find their fortunes somewhere else on Tupper Lake. By the end of
August, I can hear that the remaining (adult?) beaver is active on land. During
the day, I can see the results of her nocturnal labours. She has been busy
gathering branches and twigs from the woods, piling them on top of her beaver
lodge in preparation for winter.
I like the idea of sharing my wood with a beaver and
other animals. One day, as I am sitting quietly on the veranda, reading a book,
a large creature of some sort comes barreling by. Branches break, leaves rustle
noisily. It is as if the creature was suddenly startled and took flight. All I
see is something kind of round and fuzzy – definitely not a deer. I think maybe
a raccoon but they are normally nocturnal so what’s up? I peer through the trees (on the right in the photo above) and spot what looks like two thick,
black, furry front legs and a furry black chest. “Jeez it’s a bear,” I say aloud
to myself. I gather up my lunch things and go inside, then go outside again.
The creature, whatever it was, is long gone. I am sorry to have frightened it.

I enjoy the biodiversity at Nature’s Nest and this
area in general. I have seen beavers, loons, deer, eagles, an osprey, ducks,
hummingbirds, chipmunks, squirrels, frogs, toads and, maybe, a bear. At night,
I have heard two kinds of owl, raccoons and bullfrogs. Driving at dusk, on my way
home from visiting friends, I have seen raccoon, porcupine and deer. A lynx and
her cub have been caught on a webcam on that very same road. I am aware that coyotes
can be in the area.
Wild asters, sundew, cranberries, blueberries, Virginia
meadow beauty, lily pads, maple, hemlock, spruce, shockingly orange mushrooms
and various greenery I have not yet learned to identify are part and parcel of
Nature’s Nest.

I have a
house in the woods of Canada. I go there to pull the plug on the jangle of
everyday life. I go there to find peace but not silence, solitude but not
loneliness.

The house
is on Tupper Lake in Nova Scotia, Canada. I call it Nature’s Nest. The house
has all the amenities of modern life and is tastefully built with lots of wood,
space and light.

Although
Nature’s Nest is serene it is not necessarily quiet. At night I hear the
explorative rustling and eerie moan of a raccoon and the busy bustling of a
beaver bumbling about in my woods, munching on trees and branches. I hear the
crazy, mournful call of a loon and then another loon, answering it. I hear the
hoot of an owl and the croak of a frog.

Unfortunately,
I also hear mice scamper about inside the house, but I guess if you want
biodiversity you have to accept the whole package. During the day, the mice
still hang around in full view of me. They seem more curious than frightened of
me.

Hummingbirds
hover by the feeders and slurp up sugary water with their long tongues. As if
there was not enough nourishment to go around (there’s plenty!), they dive bomb
each other like little Red Barons with ruby red throats and sparkling green
backs.
I train a chipmunk to come closer and closer to me until finally, after
a couple of weeks, it clambers up on my outstretched legs and down to my foot
while I am sitting on the veranda with my feet up.

On my first
day at Nature’s Nest I see an osprey gliding over the water, on the lookout for
fish. A day later, while clearing branches from the driveway, I see it perched
in a tree. We make eye contact.
Another day I spot a couple of deer by the edge
of the lake. They wade out to the beaver den and peek in, then wade out further
into the water and start swimming towards me. What a sight! A few days later
one of the deer comes right up to my veranda.

In the
evening, as I wash the dishes, I peer out on the lake and see the beaver
swimming by. It zigzags here and there, seemingly aimlessly, but on a route
that takes it past yummy aquatic plants. It makes a grand circle in front of my
house before returning to the area of its den and then going up on land for
more munchies.

Thus the
days pass at Nature’s Nest. I do some writing. I paint the veranda. I read
voraciously. I hang up pictures, and cook dinner for guests.
But I am constantly drawn to the veranda, where I stand and look out on the lake, if not at some animals, then the stunning sunrise or the reflection of a full moon shimmering on the water, or the morning mist rising mystically from the calm morning waters.

I also go
exploring in my little wood (the property is 2.85 acres) and along the
shoreline. I pass close by the beaver den and hear her (him?) chirp a warning
at me. He (it?) has a whole pile of branches gathered on land adjacent to its
home. I bet most of them came from trees that used to grow on my property until
the beaver felled them.
Wanting to
explore the island across from my house I follow in the footsteps of the deer on
what is now an isthmus leading to a peninsula due to drought. I get seriously
stuck in some very aggressive mud that seems to want to suck me into the lake’s
nether regions. After a somewhat scary tug-of-war between me and the sticky
soil, I escape, covered in muck up to my knees and elbows. Much later on I get
to thinking that this mud would be ideal for clay. It is very elastic and
sticky. Investigating that will be a project for next year.

Safely back
on land, I wander up and down the shore, studying the plants. There are loads
of cranberries and sundew. In the water there are arrowroots and lily pads.
That’s about as far as it goes with regard to my being able to name the plants.
So another project for next year will be to botanise properly.
In the calm
of the mornings I go canoeing. Later on, when the days get hot, I go swimming.

In between it all I go for walks further down the road. I am told I should
carry a stick or something similar in case I meet a bear (!). As I walk I say
out loud, “Hello bear! I am here!” to warn of my presence.

Nature’s
Nest clears my head of everyday nonsense and small-time worries and fills it
with a sense of peace and serenity and big-time thoughts about Nature and Man
and the meaning of it all.

Our visit
to Telegraph Cove in September coincides with the tail end of the salmon run.
This is the period during which the grizzlies gorge themselves on salmon big
time in preparation for winter hibernation. Eat and sleep. I can get into that.

We set out
on a full day excursion to Knight Inlet to see if we can spot some bears. On
the way out we see humpback whales, hundreds of acrobatic Pacific white-sided
dolphins, and rhinoceros auklets. We start out in a regular motorised boat then
switch to a special flat-bottomed boat that is capable of making its way through
an estuary of the inlet at low tide. We potter about and see black bears and
grizzly bears alike.

The fish
are indolent or dead after their long and tiring journey that ends when they have
done their reproductive duties and laid the ground for the next generation. No
wonder they are pooped, with all that travelling and mating. The totally worn
out salmon float listlessly with the current and are easy pickings for the
bears. All the bears have to do is reach out and grab a meal at their leisure.

The bears
have been feasting and they are full, fat and satisfied. Some of them have such
a surplus of energy that they spend time playing – adults, subadults and cubs
alike. We see a black bear and her cubs frolicking and cavorting in the shallow
water, raising big and noisy splashes, seemingly just for the fun of it. We see
grizzly sows munching on salmon while their cubs play at wrestling. We spot two
grizzly sows with four (!) cubs each and others with two or three cubs. Their
fecundity is a sure sign that there have been fish aplenty.

We move
upwards into the estuary. The passage is like gliding through a mangrove. It is
very still except for the caw-caw of crows and the occasional screech of an
eagle. We see more grizzlies and their cubs. An adult lies on her back in the
shallow water, all four paws up in the air, holding onto a fish and chomping
her way through it with half-closed eyes. We can almost hear her smacking her
lips. We imagine her pleasure.

Altogether
we see 31 grizzly bears of various ages, a black bear with cubs, bald eagles,
Canada geese, crows, gulls, thousands of dead and half-dead salmon and a wolf
footprint. Our funny, friendly and knowledgable guides from Tide Rip Tours point out interesting
plants such as the anti-coagulant flower yarrow and the wispy Methuselah’s Beard
– the longest lichen in the world.

This lichen
thrives best in old growth forests with lots of clean, fresh air, so it is
threatened by logging. Logging does takes place here, but the logs are sent all the way to China where they are
treated in Chinese factories – with Canadian equipment. And then, I suppose,
imported back to Canada. How crazy is that?