Did some social distancing by heading out in the wilderness of Quebec to find a crystal mine. The Hound and I got they key to a hunting preserve from the (now unemployed) hunting and fishing guide. (thread)

So I unlocked the gate on the bush road into this place and went in to look for these:

I locked the gate behind me. The hound and I had to endure black flies, but I grew up in the bush and spend three summers north of Lake Superior, so these local bugs could be dealt with. Deep woods off is good for people, but dogs do not like it.

It took some time to find the first site. There were quite a few pits dug by mineral collectors. Some were quite deep and one had a huge lump of ice. I found some crystals. I don't normally hunt them, but I have always wanted to see this site, which is several old mica mines.

The hound and I stayed for a while. Black flies were crawling on the inside of my glasses. Eventually, we walked back to the car and were satisfied to find a few dozen dead black flies on the dashboard.

So we started exploring the bush roads, trying to find the four other mine sites. I realized we had missed them, but I kept looking around. We were now about thirty kilometres from the locked gate. We stopped at various creeks but the hound jumped into them before I could fish.

Eventually, the road got rather frighteningly narrow, and I decided to go back. But when I turned around, I got stuck. Front (drive) wheels were on the track, but the rear wheels slipped into soft ground. the car was on its belly. This was Zero Bar country. Off the grid.

The nutritional contents of the car consisted of one 40-ouncer of gin, a bottle of red wine, a litre of cream. The only food available to the dog was, well, me. And I don't drink, so, really, all I had was the cream. And cream of dog wasn't going to happen. We weren't THAT lost.

So I had three choices: a very long walk out, and the embarrassment and expense of getting someone in to pull the car out. I could stay in the car and hope some off-roaders came along. I could get to work. (The "Lassie Scenario" was not in play.)

The hound found a cool spot under a tree. It was so incredibly quiet. It seemed like a great place to panic. That almost happened, but instead, I fished out the jack and began trying to get the back end of the car up, and get some air under the car.

It took an hour of work, with some scary moments as the car slipped back a bit. But I got rocks and sticks under the back wheels. I used a system that was a cross between an old Roman road and a pioneer corduroy road. This was strange work for me, but I am stubborn.

And it worked. I got the back high enough that it was no longer bellying on the edge of the road. So we got out, bug-bitten and feeling an awful lot of relief. We headed back and found an ice-cold creek that was probably full of trout until the hound lay in it.

After 26 years of living in a city, the experience was strangely fulfilling. Despite Covid and all the craziness, my anxiety was controllable. There was satisfaction in getting something done. And I loved the incredible quiet. No sound but the birds, which seemed to be laughing.