The Matriarch Has Passed

TC and I wrote this blog together:

I don’t know how many of you folks know what a matriarch does in the animal kingdom. The definition in human form is: a woman who is the head of a family. When I reflect on this definition, I immediately think of a person who, for so many years was a big part of my life. A person who thought so much of her family and enjoyed them all every day. A person who marveled over her many grandchildren.

The bible eloquently says: To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

On Thanksgiving Day of this year, the Cyr family, and my wife Therese, TC, lost their matriarch and mother, Annette Cyr.

Now, Annette helped to raise ten children. TC was number six. Annette was proud of them all and I recall a number of times when this very soft spoken person, who could be very tough as well, would tell me so.

After the days of the loss, I reflected back upon my time with Annette from when I first met her until the Sunday before her passing, when I visited her for the last time. She was always very protective of her family, and I would see that at the onset of my relationship with her daughter. She really was not that pleased with a long haired young man driving a pickup truck coming to call on number six. Eventually, I won her over and was accepted into their home, albeit under her watchful eye. While TC’s Dad was working, or fishing or hunting, she would be home tending to the things that needed mending. See, she was very good with her hands and could fix just about anything. She was also very creative and artistic. She designed many beautiful mangers using paper mache and cedar. They came in many different shapes and sizes.  But her forte was oil painting magnificent sceneries, and her favorite scene was winter. I recall the last couple of years when she was living at home, where she undertook a project to paint a scene for each of her 16 grandchildren.

Annette was also a spiritual person, and a person that gave of her time to the church. For a period of time she helped to decorate the church with her own decorative banners. She was also a talented singer, and sang in the church choir and at many funerals.

I also recall, when she finally went into the assisted living home, where she would enjoy our visits with her. Later on, when I sported a full beard, she would walk up to me, grab onto the beard, and pull it a bit and then laugh. She also had a competitive streak in her. I recall a number of times when we would walk down the hall of the home she was in, and walking behind me with her walker. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, she would speed up and pass me and look back with a smile only she had.

Annette was bilingual, but her first language was French.  She would usually speak English when I or the grandchildren were around. But over the last several years she reverted back to full French. I remember one time when one of my sons was visiting her in the home, where out of the blue, she spoke English to him. We were so surprised by that.

Annette was also very particular with the clothes she wore. They had to be to her liking or they did not get worn. They also had to be a certain style and color. On one of our last visits with her, she was complaining about the pants she had on and at one point, I thought she was going to take them off right then and there. TC managed to comfort her and calm her down.

Another thing that comes to mind is that Annette was a master cook in the kitchen. Her meals were so delicious. The only problem was that most of her recipes were all in her head. She knew just how much to add and when to add it. Later on in life, she made it known that she was tired of cooking, one can only agree with her based upon ten mouths to feed at once. But even as she got older she would always have some food on the table whenever we stopped in. And whenever friends or family walked in unannounced, everyone was welcomed and she always greeted everyone with a warm heart, and a warm meal, and even a warm bed for those that came from afar.

Finally, I will always remember her for the person who would not really stick up for herself, except for this one time. She always loved to stop at our home and on a few occasions, let Rosaire, TC’s father know that she wanted to stay the night. This particular time, they were both sitting in the living room and true to form, Rosaire said something that she did not like. All of a sudden, she stood up in front of him and let him have it. I still hear the chorus of “You Shut up”. “You shut up, you! It was priceless. Rosaire just sat there and did not know what had hit him. I had to hold back the smile. I mastered that, and from time to time, in fun, would remind TC of that day using the same tone and words that she spoke on that day.

As we move on, and she would want that to happen, I will always remember her smile, open arms and love for all of us. She taught me and my sons a lot in her own quiet way.                

Mom, our wonderful memories of you will never fade. You were a loving, respectful, comforting and consoling woman. I am forever grateful for all that you have done. Your quiet nature and random acts of giving and sharing will always be cherished. Your duties as a wife, mother and friend were special indeed. But the one thing that I took notice of, was your faith and how it gave you the courage and strength to move on, especially during the difficult times. It was the same way with Dad. I realize now that my faith has grown from your seed, and it’s my hope that one-day people from everywhere can pass that on.   May the choirs of angels meet you at heaven’s gate and bring you in to where you belong.  Thank you and God Bless.

Another year in the books #85

It’s hard to believe that I began to write these blogs back in 2012. December 2, 2012 to be exact. The blog has grown to over eighty four in number and I have tried to cover as much ground as I could. It seems as though time passes all too fast and as I look back on 2012, I remember not really knowing where I would go with the blogs I wrote , but I only knew that I wanted to showcase the beauty of our Northern Maine lands and the enjoyment you could get from taking time to take it all in. I have the perfect backdrop here in the North Maine Woods and know that they are only a few miles away from my home. TC and I have come to know many of the people that work here and have spent many a night at some of the sporting camps within the NMW boundaries. When many were traveling outside our state for vacation or just some R&R, TC and I were making our way into the many ponds to fish or the many roads that held some of the best grouse hunting in the world. We often made day trips, leaving early in the morning and coming home late at night. Then, when we felt like really getting away, we would book a night or two at two of our favorite camps. Red River Camps on Deboulie or Chandler Camps on Chandler Lake. The hospitality and the food at both were world class and had us coming back as often as we could. Over the 2016 fishing season, we spent more time in the Deboulie region, which had us staying at Red River Camps. Jen and Gloria were great hosts, and we always found it exciting when we arrived, and saddening when we left.  

We experienced some good fishing in 2016 and also made some memories. As an example, we fished a pond in Deboulie that TC’s dad and I went to many years ago. Crater was once a good pond for trout, I saw it decline over the years due to the water levels. This year, it was back in a big way and we caught some very nice trout there. We hiked into the Blacks and gave it a go. Yes, the Blacks. We tried our hand at North Little Black and although we did not catch anything, we could say we had been there. We fished Upper where on a good evening, just before dark, the water would boil with fish rising to the surface. We spent time on Island pond in the evening. Island is the pond where Red River Camps operates from. But I think the best memory I have of 2016, is when TC caught her first fish on a fly she had tied herself. Take it from me, there is nothing greater or more satisfying than that.

My final remembrance of the 2016 fishing season is called “Cast and Blast”. That, my friends is when you fish on the last day of fishing season, wake up the next day which is now hunting season and you go hunting. TC and I experienced that time of year for the first time together and it was fun.

So, 2016 is in the books, fishing season came to a close. But I will have a lot of fond memories of our journeys. It’s not often that you can say that your fishing partner is your wife and that she has as much passion for the outdoors as I do, so I consider myself very lucky. Thanks for a great year TC and I look forward to loading the canoe with you in 2017.

The Land of Giants and Dwarfs the Final Chapter #84

We awoke Saturday morning, knowing that today was the day we would be leaving this great land. Months ago, it seemed like a long way off and that it would never come. Now, it flew by far too fast. One look out the camp window and I knew we had a problem. The lake was not visible at all. Yes the fog was as thick as pea soup. We all knew that it was not a great recipe for an airplane, as they could not fly. That meant that we may not see our chariot for some time. The plane base had told Keith that they would pick us up at 9:30 that morning, so, hoping that the fog would lift quickly, we got our stuff packed and carted it out to the dock where the plane would pick us up. Keith winterized the camp and we took the paper garbage down to the area where we burnt it. The rest had to come out with us in the plane.

At about 8:30, the fog slowly began to lift and we thought that maybe they would be on time. We had a long trip back to the ferry in Godbout and needed to be there for 5 pm. We had talked the night before about going all the way back to Fort Kent, Maine and then Keith and Chris continuing on home after that. It would all hinge on when the plane would arrive. 9:30 came and the fog was gone, but no plane. 10:30 came and still no plane. Cell phones do have their advantages in some situations. It would have been nice to pick up the phone and call the base for an update. However, that was not going to happen. So, remember my little In Reach? I fired it up and sent a text to Paul’s wife asking her to contact the base for an update. After about 15 minutes, I got a return text telling us that the fog was really bad at the plane base and they would not be flying out until at least 1:30 or so. The text also notified us that she had cancelled our ferry and rebooked it for the following day. We would now have to drive two more hours to Baie- Comeau to take the ferry, as it did not run on Sunday from Godbout. Our reservation time was now noon. So then the cribbage board came out and the final tournament took place.

Around noon time, I was standing on the dock when I heard a plane motor in the distance. It came into sight and I yelled to the group that the plane was here. We made our way to the dock, only to see the plane pass by and continue on. We went back to sitting and waiting. It was becoming apparent that we would not make the ferry at Godbout today.

At 12:30, I again heard a plane’s engine and looking to the north, saw a plane come into view. The plane was heading in our direction. I watched as it began its descent and then landed on the water and glided to the dock. It was the big Otter plane this time which meant that we were all going in one group. The plane came to a halt at the dock and the pilot jumped out. He opened the back doors and began off-loading 55 gallon drums. He told us, in French, that he was supposed to take them back to the plane base and then come back and pick us up, but he decided to leave them at the camp, take us out and come back later on and retrieve them. That was music to our ears and we all loaded up for the ride back to the base.

At 1:30, we landed at the plane base, loaded our stuff into the trucks and headed out. 

Knowing that our ferry ride was tomorrow, we headed for Sept-Îles. Once there, Phil talked us into spending the night, so we all went back to the Comfort Inn and got our rooms. Just before that, Chris wanted to check in with his wife as he had not talked with her since he left. You will never guess how he called her. I had seen one of these when we had stayed in Sept-Îles the Saturday before, but did not give it much thought. Anyway, it was just like we had gone back in time. Yes, they have phone booths there and that is how he called home.

Dinner time came and we put our heads together as to where we would eat. Across the road sat a St. Hubert restaurant. If you have never eaten at one, try it. They are famous for their chicken and their sauces. We found our way there and had a good dinner, and then returned to our hotel for the night.

Sunday morning came and we got up, had breakfast at the hotel and headed to Baie-Comeau which was about four hours away. We arrived without incident and lined up awaiting the ferry. Soon it came into view and docked, and the vehicles that had made the crossing, departed. 

Then it was our turn to load, which we anxiously did. We made the two hour cross to Matane and headed back down the Saint Lawrence bound for Fort Kent. I recall arriving in Clair, NB, which is across the river from Fort Kent around 5 pm. We stopped at the U.S. Customs and without incident, made our way through and headed to Raymond’s home where family was waiting. When we got there, we found some of our wives waiting for us, and two unsuspected visitors. Paul’s daughter Olivia and her husband Bill were in the crowd. They had come to visit from Los Angeles, California. We unpacked and showed them the fish we had, and at one point knowing that Olivia and Bill would like to try some, and knowing that Paul had not brought any back, I pulled out two trout and gave it to them. Keith and Chris said their good byes and headed home. TC and I had a little supper and then pointed the Toyota homeward.

There was a sense of emptiness when I saw Chris and Keith leave and then an even greater one when TC and I pulled out. The trip was over. It had come to an end. We had put our heads together and had determined that we had caught over five hundred brook trout during our time there. They ranged from 13 to 24 inches with some weighing over four pounds. Most of them lived for another day, as for the most part, we practiced catch and release. . The only thing left were the memories we had of the trip along with the photos and my Go-Pro video. It will help remind me of the great time and the great company I had. Time did not stand still, but for six days we went back in time to a place that defied change. A place where everything was still pristine and the trees looked like dwarfs and the fish looked like giants. A place that does not readily exist too much anymore.

I hope to go back some day and am very thankful to Keith that he brought us there and allowed us to use his camp. To the other four and Keith, thank you for such an enjoyable trip. You all made it fun!

So, this adventure has now come to an end. I hope you enjoyed the blogs, and the videos with the details. Thank you for the many comments as well. Great to hear from many of you.