It’s not every day you hear about a teenage girl going on hunting trips with her father. But ever since I was 6 years old, my dad has taken me on numerous adventures through the wilderness. He would make sure I tip-toed through the crunchy leaves so I wouldn’t startle deer feeding on apples during the warm October nights. We’d sit there against a rock wall and watch the animals go about their own natural ways. By the time I was ten-years old, my dad began to take me on hunting trips. We’d go to different towns to hunt during the different seasons, and by the time I’d turned thirteen, I’d shot three deer, a turkey, and a bear.

In Sept. 2002, my dad proposed the idea of a trip to Quebec, Canada in the year 2003 for a Caribou hunt with the family. The name of the outfitters is Club Chambeaux, well known throughout Canada for their guaranteed satisfactory hunts. Of course, I accepted the invitation, excited about visiting a different country and learning about other peoples’ ways of life.

There were twelve of us hunters in all going on the trip together. My father, my two cousins Bryan, Caleb and I, my two uncles Clayte and Herbie, and six of their friends: Lane, Billy, Billy, Steve, Todd, and Dave. We left for New Brunswick, Canada from my Uncle Clayte’s house in Alexander, Maine, on Sept. 9. It took us about an hour and a half to get to Woodstock, where we crossed into the Canadian boarder.

We drove about four and a half hours to get to Rimouski, Quebec, where we crossed the St. Lawrence River to Forestville. We then drove about an hour and a half to Baie-Comeau, Quebec and spent the night there. Most of the time while we were driving, you would see what is called primary succession. The growing season for trees is only about three months out of the year, and they pretty much are growing out of rocks since there isn’t that much soil because of frost wedging, so 100-year old Black Spruce trees were only about eight-inches around. It was amazingly beautiful, though.

The next day we drove from Baie-Comeau to Manic 5, which is the largest hydro- electric dam in Quebec. Some of the New England states get power from it. We then drove about seven hours to Labrador City, Newfoundland, where the time zone changes from Eastern Time to Atlantic time. We spent the night in a bunkhouse, and the next afternoon we flew out to Shefferville, Quebec on two float planes.

There are basically two different kinds of float planes. There is an otter, which is the bigger of the two and holds seven people. The other plane is called a beaver, which holds only five people.

We finally flew out to our camp on Sept. 12. My father and I pretty much got our own plane with the pilot. We got to the camp, met the guides and cooks, then got dressed into our Camos and went on our first caribou hunting trip. There were three master guides and three junior guides, with four people per guide.

Every night the generator would turn off at 9 p.m. and we all would sit outside on the boardwalk and talk about what had happened that day. The Northern Lights were magnificent. Bright colors streaked across the sky, and behind us you could make out Mars quite vividly. It was so beautiful and peaceful.

I didn’t shoot my caribou until Sept. 16. I wasn’t feeling that well, but I decided to get up and go hunting anyway, since we only had two days left before we flew out to go home. I was sitting on the boardwalk waiting for our guide, Bruno, to get the canoe ready, when a caribou walked up onto the beach of our camps. One of the guys with us, Billy, gave me his gun and I ran around the side of the meat-house to shoot the caribou. Everyone gathered around and took a ton of pictures. They’d told me that I was the only teenage girl they’ve seen caribou hunting in the 32 years they’ve been guiding. The next day, I shot my second caribou while it was crossing the river next to our camp, since you’re allowed two per person. We took more pictures, then started packing all of our stuff.

The next morning we got everything ready to leave. The plane got to our camp at about 10 a.m. and we flew out at about 10:30. My heart broke as we took off the lake. Everyone got so attached to one-another because we lived together for about 10 days.

Quebec is truly one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to. I feel especially grateful for having had the chance to travel to a place uncommonly known to the everyday people I see in the small town of Monmouth. Being almost 1,000 miles away from home, I’m glad to be back. But I must say it was an experience I’ll never forget throughout my lifetime. I learned the cultures of different people and some of their customs Americans would never think of doing. It just expands my appreciation for people around the world, and the gorgeous exquisiteness and tranquillity of Club Chambeaux’s Camp 7 site.