I bet you haven't been to Chibougamau

[RooFlyer]

.... and with good reason. I promise that I'm not going to recount my entire life on these pages, but again, having had some 1990s 35mm slides scanned, I thought these worthy of sharing (but it'll be the last, I think).

It all started in 1991 when I was finishing a Masters degree at Queens University in Ontario, Canada, sponsored by the mining company I was working for. Towards the end, I was talking to my manager, discussing where they would send me to exploit my new level of mineral exploration expertise (?) . Perth? Denver? Townsville? Toronto? Exciting opportunities, I thought.

"Do you speak French?" he asked.
"No; well, only some schoolboy stuff."
"No worries - we're going to send you to Chibougamau. You'll pick it up fast."

Now, I knew it was pronounced shi-boo-ga-moo and that it was where the company owned a mine and was doing mineral exploration in northern Quebec, but not much more. Having spent a year in Canada, I knew that being an 'Anglo' in Quebec was problematical, due to the on-going separatist tensions, but the country folks would be laid back, right?

Not so much, it turned out.




Anyway, I found it on a map and yes, it is quite a way north (50 degrees):




And courtesy of the last glaciation, there was quite a few lakes about. Fishing should be good!!



From the air, at the onset of winter, the lay-out becomes more obvious. Lakes and forests.




So I armed myself with some reading. The first was essential! The second I never got through. Even when I got my head around the language (and they don't speak French - a visiting Frenchman told me its seemed like some 17th Century dialect) 'The Call of Chibougamau' was boring.

 

[RooFlyer]

I had bought a car while I was at Uni (a 4WD Subaru sedan, fortunately), so when it was time, I hit the road. It was a 9 hour drive from Montreal via Quebec City and Lac St Jean, all highway, but it was winter! I had a reasonable amount of experience driving in snowy conditions after a year in Ontario, but this was going pretty remote. I took the advised precautions of taking a stock of food and drink, candles, blankets etc in case of breakdown and an unplanned overnight stop.

After Quebec City there was still 5 hours of driving in the sparsely populated north. To Lac St Jean it was OK:



But after that, a bit more precarious. I don't remember seeing many people on this road.




But I made it, and the next day revealed Chibougamau. A town of about 10,000 people servicing the lumber, mining and native peoples. 'Chibougamau' means 'gathering place' in Cree.





Daily life in the north:

 

[RooFlyer]

Now to try to get you into the frame of mind of your average Quebecker (as I saw it); 'the North' is sort of like 'the Outback' to Aussies. A film theme song by Gilles Vigneault, adopted as a Québécois anthem is 'Mon Pays' (My country). It would equate nicely to our own Mackellar's My Country. Here is a couple of verses, with an English translation.

Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver
Mon jardin ce n'est pas un jardin, c'est la plaine
Mon chemin ce n'est pas un chemin, c'est la neige
Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver

My country is not a country, it's the winter
My garden is not a garden, it's the plains
My path is not a path, it's the snow
My country is not a country, it's the winter

Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver
Mon refrain ce n'est pas un refrain, c'est rafale
Ma maison ce n'est pas ma maison, c'est froidure
Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver

My country is not a country, it's the winter
My chorus is not a chorus, it's a gust of wind
My house is not my house, it's the cold
My country is not a country, it's the winter

 

[kermatu]

I'm already fascinated. Hope it's not the last of your slideshows!

 

[TomVexille]

You bet correctly.

And the fishing would have been good

 

[love_the_life]

You'd be right on the money to say I haven't been to Chibougamau. Not only that, have never heard of the place but it sounds like it will be an entertaining TR as usual.

 

[RooFlyer]

Life in a Northern Town....

First thing to remember was to plug in the car at night. A heater in the engine block kept the oil runny enough to allow the engine to turn over in the morning, after a -40 deg C night. (Today's trivia: -40 degrees is the same in Fahrenheit as well as Celsius :idea: ).

Morning ritual was to get out of bed, shower etc, get rugged up, go downstairs from my apartment, scrape the snow off the car, squirt alcohol into the door lock if it was iced over to get the key in, start the car and leave it running to warm up while I went back and had breakfast etc. More expensive cars had remote start!

Freezing rain was interesting. If the air crept above zero degrees overnight, it would rain rather than snow. But the ground and everything on it was well below zero, so the rain froze when it hit the ground. I once found my car encased in a solid sheath of ice. No-one told you how to deal with that!!



The extreme cold here meant that petrol could freeze in the fuel lines (or at least the water in the fuel) and the vinyl seat covers might rip like paper when you sat down. Driving along, your breath froze on the inside of the windscreen. It took for ever for warmth to flow out of the inside air vents, so the first part of any drive meant scraping the inside of the screen with one hand, with the other on the steering wheel.

Skidoos were a normal way of getting about; this was cute:




Having snow on the balcony had the advantage that you had a very effective beer cooler right there; no need to interrupt TV viewing to get a coldie.




Of course if you were silly enough to park your bike outside ...




Turns out that this was a popular place in the evening. Yes, I went in, but "didn't inhale" - I just went there for the beer (Molsons Black IIRC).

 

[BettyB]

Definitely haven't been. Almost 100% sure that I'll never go there.

 

[stoneman]

Wow! I would love to visit somewhere like that, soo interesting, thanks for sharing!

 

[tgh]

more more more..please….

Arriving in Quebec , we took a horse carriage ride around the local area.
It was 20 below and we nearly died.
The cart driver covered us in everything he had, but eventually took pity on the shivering heap of humanity hiding under a pile of rugs and took us back to the hotel.( Chateau Frontignac .. memories………)

 

[stoneman]

Yes more please !!!

 

[wandering_fred]

Given the amount of water and the propensity for mosquito breeding, I think I would vote for winter visits.
Hopefully the "tour" will continue into the more temperate months...

Happy wandering

Fred

PS I went to uni about 220 km south of Montreal... So appreciate the -35degF the last winter I was there.

 

[RooFlyer]

I was in Quebec to do mineral exploration, and most of this happens in the winter, when the ground and lakes freeze, allowing you to drive and skidoo or walk over the lakes and bogs.


All rugged up for the day ahead




Doing a geophysical survey - dead easy!



On the skidoos with my field assistant - note the snow shoes. Bloody hard work if you have to get them out and go cross country!




Still learning to drive in icy conditions




Cutting lines.

 

[AnnaB]

Life in a Northern Town....

First thing to remember was to plug in the car at night. A heater in the engine block kept the oil runny enough to allow the engine to turn over in the morning, after a -40 deg C night. (Today's trivia: -40 degrees is the same in Fahrenheit as well as Celsius :idea: ).

Morning ritual was to get out of bed, shower etc, get rugged up, go downstairs from my apartment, scrape the snow off the car, squirt alcohol into the door lock if it was iced over to get the key in, start the car and leave it running to warm up while I went back and had breakfast etc. More expensive cars had remote start!

Freezing rain was interesting. If the air crept above zero degrees overnight, it would rain rather than snow. But the ground and everything on it was well below zero, so the rain froze when it hit the ground. I once found my car encased in a solid sheath of ice. No-one told you how to deal with that!!

Sounds kind of like a normal morning where I originally come from :mrgreen: Dig out the car from under the snow, pry open the door, pray to God it would start, pat it nicely, put it on full fan heat mode then go out and scrape the windows. Drive to work with just a small peep-hole through the window *lol* By the time you get there the car is nice and warm and its time to get out

I do not miss it at all!!

Thank you for the lovely walk down memory lane RooFlyer

 

[TomVexille]

Sounds kind of like a normal morning where I originally come from :mrgreen: Dig out the car from under the snow, pry open the door, pray to God it would start, pat it nicely, put it on full fan heat mode then go out and scrape the windows. Drive to work with just a small peep-hole through the window *lol* By the time you get there the car is nice and warm and its time to get out

I do not miss it at all!!

Thank you for the lovely walk down memory lane RooFlyer

Yes, and as kids we were sent outside to start the car and scrape the windows so mum didn't have to

 

[RooFlyer]

I must say I got to love the skidoo; outside work it was great fanging around the forests on the weekends.



One weekend was one of the big events on the Chibougamau calendar - the annual skidoo race. A long course - ?50km from failing memory, several laps out in the countryside and passing through town.













Next, one of the other main events on the calendar: Le concours de panache. Truly a Quebec cultural highlight.

 

[RooFlyer]

Warning - some hunting gross-ness to follow.

Chibougamau lies within a very large wilderness forest - the perfect habitat for moose. Once a year, the authorities raffle off 100 or so licences to be able to hunt (AKA shooting) a moose. If you 'win', that enables you, and 5 others in your party the opportunity within a two week period, to shoot ONE moose (its the time of the year where we are not snow bound).

And wouldn't you know it. The Chief Geologist in my office won! It was like he won an actual lottery, such was the jubilation. And so he, and a bunch of mates went forth and hunted! Unfortunately, no cigar for them that year.

On the other side of the coin, consider this. I'm a geologist who goes about his business walking about the forest. For those two weeks, I stayed in the office, not waning to be a victim, like so many are every year, of a hunter than can't tell a 90 kg person (those were the days!) from a 400kg moose.

At th end of the moose hunting season, we have the big day - Le concours de panache. If you googled that you probably didn't get it . Colloquially translated, its the "Antler (or Rack) competition".

On a Saturday afternoon, the town celebrated its moose hunting heritage by a parade celebrating everything hunting in the area. If you are one of the proud few who bagged a moose, the thing to do is to display its head on the bonnet of your pick-up. A dozen or more were sporting them.




Of course some-one always misses the memo...




Celebrating the hunting way of life ...




The parade was interesting, but what was a bit weird was that the moose-laden pickups continued to be driven around town for a couple of weeks. If you've got it, flaunt it, right? Unfortunately, in a few days the birds started picking at them ...

 

[RooFlyer]

Last of the winter....




...that's a fishing hut on the ice between the trees. Didn't see so much of that, though.




And into Summer! (Many of these are actually in autumn, but who's counting ...)





The next one isn't in the district, but is one of my favourite images from Quebec - cut lumber being send down stream to the mills:

 

[RooFlyer]

Summer also means no more gadding about on skidoos. So there were two ways to go out to work.

First, heading across the lakes via motorised canoe ....



(and I apologise for another mug of myself ... but its the only shot I had of out on the lake ) ... and then walking cross country. This sounds OK, but the walking usually meant traversing boggy country and going across streams (sometimes swimming across ).

I learned to hate beavers. You see, beavers dam up little streams and turn a big area of formerly dry country into a bog or a pond. More bloody getting wet!

On the upside, the country in Quebec was native country for blueberries. They were everywhere; thick on the ground. You could pick a kilo in about 5 minutes; native raspberries about too.




The other way of getting to work involved everyone riding their 4 Trax into a base camp, where a couple of field assistants and I would camp for a week or so. Of course the ground was still boggy ...




Our base camp. Check out the structure on top of the wood trash pile behind the tents. What do you think it is?




Yes, its the dunny. Why up there, I never fathomed (one of many mysterious things in Quebec). Plastic on 3 sides to keep out the wind but sitting down and looking out, I guess you kept the view.

The worst thing about the Quebec 'bush' (and across much of Canada) are the 'mouche noir', or blackflies. Really nasty guys, about the size of our houseflies but they swarm, land one you, and then crawl through any clothing aperture (ie shirt cuff, collar or bottom of trousers), keep walking inside until they find a nice soft spot ... then .... BITE .... and then you really knew it! The swarms were really bad - most times you'd have to wear netting across your face, eating a lunch sandwich in snatches as you tried not to let the flies in. They were attracted by artificial scents, like soap and deodorant, so the field assistants instructed me not to wash while we were camping :shock: . I lasted a couple of days then just jumped in the lake that was by the camp. As long as I was in the water, the flies couldn't bite ...

Then there were les gaipe - wasps. Of the type that build football sized nests hanging down off branches. Of course, being a geo I had my eyes on the ground, not where I was going, so after I brushed one with my head, the first thing I knew was that the field assistant who was a few paces behind me started shouting (Quebequois stuff I had learned were the swear words ...) then he ran past me, still shouting. I didn't stop to think, but just ran after him. When he ran straight into a pond (yes, exactly like in the cartoons) I stopped, but then heard " $# &**%$ gaipe!" so I dived in after him. Got stung a few times, but could have been a lot worse!

Swearing in Quebec was interesting. In English, we swear mainly by words to do with reproduction or excrement, right? In Quebec, they use words to do with the Catholic Church. Think of the Tabernacle, the Host, the Sacrament and so on. Those interested can check it out on Wikipedia here. When in polite company, ladies there especially might use an English swear word. Just like me using one of the Quebec words here - I get the satisfaction of swearing, but don't offend anyone. It was a bit alarming in the office, where our nice petite, charming secretary would be working away and then would come a string of F words. She hardly knew what she was doing until she realised there was an Anglo within earshot.s

Back to camp. The fieldies bush cooking was an experience. Ever seen an egg cooked by cracking it into a billy of boiling water? Of course it fragments instantly and cooks in a few seconds; you then strain the bits and have it on toast. One thing the French did not leave behind in Quebec was their cuisine. More on this later.

I know people here like a good sunset ...

 

[Major]

You have certainly chosen an interesting career.

Great photos