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Jason built the foundations using oversized foam tubes in order to better attach the existing cabin to the addition, and above all, to ensure its weather resistance. We had to remind ourselves not to lose sight of our original intentions. I have to admit that surfing and days on the beach with friends were something of a distraction. We assessed our needs, then drew the plans on the ground: an entry hall big enough for two drenched surfers, an adjoining bathroom, a large cupboard to hold the surfboards, wetsuits, and tools, a pantry that would also serve as a closet, and a workspace built into the hallway.īy the second summer, in spite of a number of trips back and forth to Québec, the work still wasn’t as far along as we hoped. When spring came, after we amended the soil so we could lay a long-awaited bed of greenery, it was time to think about the extension plan. This was huge progress, even if we couldn’t always count on having a shower to warm up after surfing in -4 ☌ weather. Drinking water was finally connected, outside. On the frozen ground, the aggregate layer stayed firm. In the winter of 2019, Jason finished building the path. We finally said, “Fuck it, let’s spend the last week of our vacation in Salvador!” Forty-eight hours later we were surfing in warm waters. Still neither path nor drinking water, and no good surf days either. On October 19th, Gabriel’s birthday, it was hailing. Weeks of mud and bad weather is hard on morale. A third of our reno budget had just been swallowed up by a pile of rocks. Beneath an tempestuous sky, the aggregate layer disappeared into the mud like it was butter.
![death road to canada fishing cabins death road to canada fishing cabins](https://www.canadianfishing.com/cabins/inside/8-patio.jpg)
What should have taken a week ended up taking three. Our pretty, grassy path lined with wild blackberries had been transformed into a massive muddy gulch! Gabriel was standing in the trench unrolling a length of pipe, while Jason, our excavator, followed behind backfilling the ditch. When I arrived, I hit a wall - or rather, an excavator and a 10-wheel truck. First we had to widen and consolidate the access road and bring drinking water to the cabin. That fall, Gabriel headed to the land ahead of me to begin work. We never suspected that the construction would take another two years.
DEATH ROAD TO CANADA FISHING CABINS MANUAL
It seemed feasible: Gabriel has experience in construction, and I have an eye for design and enjoy manual labour. Transporting a sofa bed by wheelbarrow down a 1,000-foot slope, carrying luggage by hand after nine hours on the road, relieving ourselves in the woods, waiting for rain to wash the dishes, scrubbing ourselves with a face cloth? No problem! The nearness of the ocean and the fires on the shore in good company more than made up for the inconveniences.Īt the end of the summer in 2019, we started dreaming of a small extension. Hello, self-sufficiency! We were about to get a crash course. Standing a few metres from the shore, it seemed the perfect spot to make our nest (even if the access road was impassable for cars and there was no drinking water, electricity, or septic system). Gabriel and I decided to simplify our way of life and transform the fishing cabin into a tiny house. We can always count on them, and vice versa. Ben and Lis, our tenants, live in the house that looks out over Chezzetcook Inlet and the Atlantic Ocean. Since we weren’t from the area, we decided to inhabit our new land slowly, and to share it. It was our dream, seven acres on the ocean. In 2018 Gabriel and I dropped anchor - we bought a property near Halifax without an inkling that one day we would be in lockdown there. When I arrived in Nova Scotia, I imagined living to the rhythm of the tides like Pépé, my great-grandfather, who spent most of his life on the water. My father was 16 when he left the “end of the cape” where he grew up. I should say that I am descended from a long line of “edge of the world” people from Gaspé, who, in 1970, were forced to leave their land, their way of life, and their community, evicted to make way for the creation of Forillon National Park. This Gaspésienne had finally found the ocean again.
![death road to canada fishing cabins death road to canada fishing cabins](https://fishingmanitoba.com/wp-content/uploads/Canada-fishing-cabin-remote.jpg)
While in the process of changing careers, I visited a friend in Nova Scotia and decided that it was time to relocate. All our trips turn into a quest for waves and unique encounters, far from the daily grind.
![death road to canada fishing cabins death road to canada fishing cabins](http://www.loonhaunt.com/news/20dockover.jpg)
Gabriel, my partner, introduced me to his passion for surfing, which has become a shared obsession. As a young adult, I left my home county to live in Québec City, where I got my university degree, took my first career steps, fell in love, and forged deep friendships. The river witnessed my growing up - we shared our many changes. I come from La Mitis, at the juncture of the Bas-Saint-Laurent and Gaspésie.