I was reluctant for a long time to return to the James Bay Eeyou-Istchee territory this winter. Not because of last year's journey, as described in my book Taïga, but mainly because I felt that the images obtained during the trip would be difficult to top. How could I experience more emotions than a full afternoon photographing a family of Canada lynx? Or when 20 caribou rush straight towards me? The distance between Rimouski and the Transtaiga road is also considerable. Over 20 hours by car and almost 2000 km, some of it on very isolated roads. Nevertheless, a species that is rarely, if ever, seen in this region convinced me to get behind the wheel and set off on my adventure.
The next few days were going to be cold, very cold. The average temperature is already approaching minus 25 degrees Celsius and I'm only in Chibougamau, still several hundred kilometers south of my objective. Of course, it's now impossible for me to have a clear conscience about the reliability of my van. I know that extreme temperatures are hard on its mechanics, but I'm taking the risk... again. Don't worry, I won't talk any more about this love-hate relationship with my expedition vehicle. At my destination, I do a quick spot check. The red foxes are more present than ever, and still as friendly as I remember. You have to understand that most of the workers here feed these adorable mammals. Without being in favor of this practice, I understand the temptation. How can you resist this endearing gaze? I take advantage of the proximity to capture several photos.
The first 4 days are rich in encounters, but poor in photos. Willow ptarmigan were present in hundreds and spruce grouse in dozens. Red foxes are a daily sight. I cross paths with not one, but five different lynxes in the space of a few dozen kilometers. Unlike my usual encounters, these are extremely shy and, despite my best efforts, don't give me any photographic opportunities. Nature is like that, and I'd rather see it wild than tamed. Despite all these encounters, there's still no sign of the sought-after animal. Have they all returned further North? Have they all been trapped or hunted in just a few weeks? My motivation is slowly wearing off and I'm already thinking of returning home.
The long northern nights offer me their most beautiful display: aurora borealis in colors so vivid you can see green and pink with the naked eye. A relief for my long hours of hopeless searching. My heated socks and mittens can no longer compensate for the -41 degrees Celsius felt throughout my body. I can't leave to warm up, everything is so beautiful. Walking along the edge of a completely frozen lake in search of the best possible composition, I notice a canid have passed over it. Footprints too small for a wolf, too secluded for a dog, and maybe even too small for a red fox. Could this be a sign to stay a few more days?
In the evening of the following day, I took the same route as every day, heading for my spot to sleep. A parking lot overlooking one of the region's many hydroelectric dams. Not exactly natural, but very quiet and safe, just what I need. It's already almost completely dark when I spot a small animal on the side of the road in the distance. I clumsily reach for my binoculars to identify it, but I'm not quick enough. I wait a few minutes. Then again. It's now almost completely dark. Just as I'm about to leave, there it is one more time, even closer. This time, I have no hesitation. I'm looking at my first ever Arctic fox.
Its orange eyes appear deeply black to me. It's an unsettling, hypnotic look. It seems equally surprised to see me, but not yet frightened. Its winter coat is absolutely magnificent. A creamy white, “puffed up” to face the polar cold. Shorter-legged than his red coated cousin, it seems perfectly adapted to this harsh northern environment. - I wish I could say the same for myself. - Only a faint glimmer of light remains on the horizon, but it's enough to illuminate the outline of this incredibly beautiful animal. A car races past and the fox disappears. A moment that seemed eternal, but only lasted a few dozen seconds.
Continued in part 2...
Jean-Christophe
Quelles incroyables moments en magnifiques prises de vue de cette récente expédition
Jean-Christophe tu es tellement généreux à nous transmettre ta passion et ton admiration de ces êtres que cela a un effet contagieux à rehausser l’écoute et le grand respect des animaux
Tellement surprenant de les voir si beaux à traverser notre hiver à eux seul !
Ta grande passion et ton ultime patience-persévérance nous fait vivre des moments inouïs !
Merci d’être dans nos vies !🫶
Merci pour ce partage. Ca doit être incroyable comme expérience.
P.S. avant de lire l’histoire de la voiture, je le suis dit en commençant à lire – espérons que ça voiture tienne par ce froid 😆😆
Merci d’avoir partagé cette première partie, j’ai hâte de lire la suite!
Merci beaucoup pour ce partage! Très apprécié! Hâte à la partie 2!! :)
C’est tout à fait… Hallucinant !
Tes récits sont superbes, c’est comme si on y était 👌👏👌👏
C’est tout à fait… Hallucinant !
Tes récits sont superbes, c’est comme si on y était 👌👏👌👏
Merci ❣️
J’ai déjà hâte de lire la partie 2.
Merci pour ces magnifiques photos. tellement magnifiées par vos commentaires.
Merci pour cette belle première partie qui nous plonge avec toi dans ton aventure !
Envie de travailler dans une petite boutique artistique au centre-ville de Rimouski? Je suis présentement à la recherche d’une personne dynamique et motivée pour conseiller les précieux clients de la galerie-boutique et du commerce en ligne!
Year 2023 is already coming to an end, and what an intense 12 months it's been! Without a doubt, one of the best years of my life, both personally and entrepreneurially.
Jean-Christophe Lemay
Author
Photographe de nature professionnel basé à Rimouski, au Québec.