I have been fortunate to have been part of TD Canadian Children's Bookweek twice. In 2004, I toured the communities around Lake Ontario, and in 2009, I toured the Lower North Shore of Quebec. As I prepare to apply for 2014, I came upon my final report for my Quebec tour, and I was instantly reminded what a wonderful experience that was and how fortunate I had been to go there.

Thanks so much, CCBC and all the sponsors and organizers of this fabulous annual event. There's nothing better than bringing readers and creators together.

Canadian Children's Book Week

The Lower North Shore of Quebec

When I found out I had been chosen to participate in Book Week 2009, I was thrilled, and when I discovered I would be touring the Lower North Shore of Quebec, I knew I was in for a great adventure. I surfed the Internet, searching for information about the region. The first photograph I saw was the tip of a whale's tail in front of an iceberg. (Note to self: Pack mitts, parka and boots.)

Considering I live as far west as you can go in Canada and I was visiting an area that is as far east as you can get, it's a bit of a haul, and the first two days were devoted to travel—the third day too as it turned out, though that wasn't part of the plan. The first leg of the trip went smoothly. It was raining in Montreal when I arrived, so I ordered in dinner (no restaurant in the hotel) and made it an early night. Since I had to be at the airport very early the next morning, I was up before 6 am.

The Provincial Airlines flight was late boarding. I don't know why. Then, when the pilot started up the engines, he discovered a computer malfunction, and after trying unsuccessfully to correct the problem, he called in technicians to fix it. Could be an hour, we were told. Ooh—that would make it touch and go to make my connecting flight. So I relayed the news to Carol-Ann Hoyt (my tour coordinator), and she called Labrador Air in Sept Iles so that they wouldn't leave without me. Turns out we were three hours late leaving Montreal. This was not good.

At the Sept Iles airport I made a bee-line for the Labrador Air counter. Had my flight left? No, it hadn't. Weather was going to keep it on the ground until the next day. Not that it mattered, because when I didn't arrive, they gave my seat away. So I asked when the next flight was. Tuesday. Tuesday!?

But I had to be in Blanc Sablon for two presentations on Monday!

And this is when the magic of the Lower North Shore took possession of me. Instead of panicking, I accepted the fact that the situation was out of my control, and what was going to be was going to be. So I again let Carol-Ann know what was happening, got myself a hotel room and a good night's sleep, and returned to the airport at 7:30 the next morning in the hope that someone would give up their seat on the Air Labrador flight and I could make it to Blanc Sablon for my author talks.

The flight was scheduled for a 9:30 departure, but didn't actually get away until noon. They put me on the flight ten minutes before it left, so I didn't even have a chance to update Carol-Ann until we touched down in Natashquan, where we were informed we might not be going any farther because of bad weather ahead. Oh, joy. Time to call Carol-Ann again. A half hour later we were back in the air and a little while after that we touched down at Chevery airport. My heart did a somersault. I wasn't at my destination, but I was on the Lower North Shore. Twenty minutes later I was in Blanc Sablon. And thanks to Carol-Ann, my ride was even there to pick me up.

Whew! I was exhausted, and I hadn't even given a talk yet!

I was too late to make my school presentation, but there was still the Canada Council reading that night. The audience was initially supposed to be adults, but because I'd missed the school visit, a lot of the kids showed up too. Therefore, I had no choice but to scratch my planned talk and wing it. My talk was kind of a dog's breakfast (make that potpourri—it sounds better). I talked about all sorts of aspects of writing, but included the embalming component for the kids. The students had been studying Egypt and had done computer-research projects. There was Walk Like an Egyptian music to usher in the audience, as well as homemade sistrums (Egyptian musical instrument), and Egyptian food for refreshment afterwards. The adults asked as many questions as the kids.

Tuesday was busy—four presentations at two schools. In the morning I made two Embalming a Mummy presentations at Mountain Ridge School in Old Fort Bay, after which I was chauffeured by the custodian to St Paul High School in St. Paul's River and talked to two groups of secondary students about Return to Bone Tree Hill. (Three different custodians were my taxi drivers during the tour. People in the area all wear many hats.) I was greeted with a hot lunch and pulled right into the staff room conversation. The only glitch was that the cheques for my talks weren't prepared and the principal wasn't there to sign them. So I had to give the schools my home address and trust that they would mail me the money. (Fingers are crossed.)

Wednesday morning saw me flying to St. Augustine River—late again. Actually, I can honestly say there wasn't a single flight that departed on schedule from anywhere during my whole tour. Transportation schedules on the Lower North Shore are approximate at best; that's part of the charm of the area. Type A people would not do well here.

All the airports in the region are tiny, and this one was no exception. I had no sooner crossed the tarmac and entered the back door of the building, when I saw my luggage walking out the front door with two fellows decked in plaid shirts, ball-caps, and jeans. So, of course, I followed them and watched as my bags were loaded into the back of a van. Up to this point, no one had spoken to me, but I knew I was supposed to go from the airport to a water taxi, which would take me across the river where Hubert (the school custodian) should be waiting, so I figured this must be my ride. Sure enough, an older man opened the side door of the van and—after climbing in—offered me a hand up. Then the fellows who loaded my luggage, hopped in the front, and away we went. (Aside: Though this is an English-speaking area, there is a strong Newfoundland influence, and many of the locals have very pronounced accents, so much so that I often had no idea what they were saying.) Such was the case with these three gentlemen. They started carrying on a conversation among themselves—of which I didn't understand a word, and it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps I was voluntarily being abducted. I almost laughed.

But, of course, I wasn't, and I made it to the school just fine. I spoke to the senior students first, who were familiar with two of my books and contributed to my presentation with readings of their own. In the afternoon I did the Egyptian presentation with the elementary students, and as usual, the teachers were totally grossed out by the removal of the brain through the nose. The kids, on the other hand, loved it. The principal kindly took me under his wing, explaining much about the area, the kids, the education system, and why he hadn't retired though he was well into his sixties. The day also included lunch at the local restaurant, a sight-seeing tour, and a radio interview.

Thursday morning saw me back on the water taxi and then on a plane for Chevery. Both presentations went well, and the school and teachers bought every book I had brought with me. That afternoon I found myself on yet another water taxi to the island of Harrington Harbour, where I was taken on the back of a four-wheeler to another radio interview. (There are no cars, trucks, etc. in Harrington Harbour, because there are no roads—just boardwalks.) After the interview, I hopped back on the ATV and was taken to Amy Evans' Boarding House. (Super accommodation and warm, friendly hostess.)

That evening the second of my Canada Council readings took place at the Community Learning Centre. There was a really good turnout, and because we were all seated around a couple of long tables pushed together, the discussion was brisk. Interested in writing in general, the group was more specifically concerned with safeguarding family and community history, which we discussed at length.

Friday morning I visited Harrington School to make my final two classroom presentations. The secondary teacher was very well-prepared, and her students were familiar with several of my books, including Return to Bone Tree Hill, so I had to change up my presentation a bit to fit the situation. It wasn't a problem, and we had a lovely discussion—even shared a snack together. The elementary students were also familiar with a few of my books and very knowledgeable about ancient Egypt, so the embalming presentation was a great success. The school presented me with a book bag as a thank you.

After lunch it was back to Chevery via water taxi. That evening there was another Canada Council reading in the school library. I believe there was a last minute conflict of community events, so the group was only about 8 strong. Nevertheless we had a good discussion, and everyone shared fascinating stories and insights.

I did my last Canada Council reading on Saturday afternoon. This was a family-oriented writing workshop. After sharing the stories of how I got into writing, I gave the group the basics for story-writing and provided them with a topic—if they couldn't come up with their own. Every one wrote madly for about twenty minutes, at which time parents and kids alike shared what they'd written. It was a lot of fun, and at the end, the group presented me with a school-published story by the kids about Oliver, the tractor—the first vehicle in Chevery.

That evening I was treated to a potluck supper at the community hall, where I got to catch up with the people I had met during my stay.

I truly feel that I may quite possibly have had the best experience of all the authors, illustrators, and storytellers who went on tour. Not only did I get to share my books; I got to experience places and people completely different from any I have every known. The Lower North Shore is a remote area with a rugged, raw landscape. Services are minimal, and the weather is unpredictable. It takes a special kind of person to live there, and I was lucky enough to meet many of them.

Thank you.