Speleology
Once upon a time, there was a group of friends who enjoyed hiking through the vast forests of the Gaspésie. As they were familiar with the region, they made a regular appointment to snowmobile up to a deserted camp, far from the village, women and daily hassles. Once there, they would seek out the great moose and play a few drunken hands of cards, all the while telling stories that would no doubt offend female sensibilities.
One day while on one of their wild journeys, they made an unexpected discovery. Indeed, while the men were setting traps for small game, one of them noticed a cloud of vapour coming, it seemed, from nowhere. After a few vigorous strides, he reached the point where the steam rose and found himself in front of what he later learned to be the oldest cave in the region. Experts have estimated it to be approximately 500,000 years old.
As I step down the ladder leading underground, I keep thinking about that story, especially since some of the men who made the discovery are here with us. We feel the humidity level rise as we go deeper underground. One of the guides explains that the cave's temperature is always above freezing. That's why vapour rises from it in the winter, and also why this cloud is particularly easy to see when it's very cold.
Even though the cave is only about 15-feet deep, walking through it makes you feel like you've wandered into a different world, that of the very depths of the Earth's. When they're in the cavern, the members of our group speak more softly, as if we knew we were standing on strange ground, one not meant for our feet. We are only visitors passing through this prehistoric mini-cathedral.
The access to the cave is vertical; in other words, it's a hole. Hats off to the person who installed the ladder, by the way. To get to the cave, you have to go through 17 kilometres of thick GaspÈsie jungle, either on a snowmobile during the winter, or a sports utility vehicule when summer rolls around. One bonus: This trek through the forest allows you to observe the region's fauna and flora. The guide begins his presentation on the cave's formation and geological composition. He explains, in simple terms, about the network of underground rivers and water infiltration that created the cavern. If the cave is for us the opening to a strange new world, others saw their world come to an end right here. Indeed, aside from bats, no mammal can survive here: those animals who came here also died here, having fallen through the opening and never having been able to get out again. In a way, the cave's vertical opening became like a natural trap, which explains the animal bones scattered on the cave floor. It's easy to imagine the panic of the poor creatures, looking, till the last moment, for an exit, but never finding one.
Hibernating since the beginning of winter, some bats linger upside down on a cave wall. Because of our equipment and our 1000-watt lamps, some of the bats think that summer has begun and start to move around. We rush to turn off all the lights and machines. The feeling of being an intruding stranger invades us once more. The guide also shuts off the small lamps that line the passageway and encourages us to remain silent and let the spirit of the cave penetrate us. Total darkness surrounds us. Rubbing our eyes won't help, we have to start using our other senses. Water trickling through the cracks in the walls produces a sweet music. As for the humidity, we can feel it against our skin and in the air we breathe.
Then we climb out of the cave. The spring sun is reflected on the lingering snow. We squint at one another, bothered by so much sudden light. When you change your perspective, those things that are familiar to you always look a little different than they did before. On this Saturday, the sun is very bright and gives the snow a particularly beautiful glow.
