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- 30°C at Havre-Saint-Pierre | |
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It is the far end of the road 138 which goes along the northen coast of Saint-Laurent. In Havre-Saint-Pierre starts the kingdom of wildlife.
Only skis, snowmobiles or planes able to reach in wintertime those vast spaces.
The estuary of Saint-Laurent is large of more than 200 km.
You think you watch the sea, but it is still the river.
The giant has also its tides and a salty taste.
Originate from the ice age, great magician, the Saint-Laurent knows being lacustrian and fluvial as much as maritime.
Just like Jacques Cartier who rowed up the river in1535, some ships still follows the same way in order to reach "Sept-Iles" (Montreal). |
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Changed with the cold into Sleeping Beauty, it lays down on square miles its white splendor, primitive, inviolable.
As far as the eye can see, th waves with thousand shapes are spread out, insolently frozen in their moves.
Some fisherboats trapped in the silver flood like hibernating, are getting impatient, immobile for months.
We can hear some crackings : some say it is the moaning of the river's spirit.
Also prisoner until springtime, It looks forward freeing itself of the ice.
Everything looks like waiting therefor life goes on.
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Today, it is – 30 °C and the sky has a deep blue.
People are muffled up but the dry cold is bearable.
Covered with 50 cm of ice, the streets are like an ice rink.
The gulls are perched on snowy rocks.
We can hear the roaring noise of the snowmobiles followed by the ones of wooden sleds so particular.
Some lumbermen with "small square pattern" shirt, are working in the forest with their axes and electric saw. |
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Soon, in the harbor are the first signs of thaw of Saint-Laurent.
Along the shores, the soften ice moves with the waves, making a weird sensation.
In th middle of the river, the first grey and white blocks drift quickly to the golf.
Further in the west, the maples will soon offer their sweet exquisite sap.
Springtime, so expected, is finally coming back.
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