Back to basics
Walking this salt-tinged trail. A path of desire, leading straight towards the water. Where the grass smells of salt. Where seagulls and seaweed live on the tide lines, a reminder that the moon rises and pulls objects toward it. Bodies of water… Our St. Lawrence.
Go Charlevoix Magazine #6
Back to basics
Walking this salt-tinged trail. A path of desire, leading straight towards the water. Where the grass smells of salt. Where seagulls and seaweed live on the tide lines, a reminder that the moon rises and pulls objects toward it. Bodies of water… Our St. Lawrence.
That of our ancestors, mariners, fishermen. An age-old song that pulses through our veins, through our blood: the water within us, seeking to return to the sea, to its curative presence, to its mysteries… Riverside evidence corroborated by science and many studies: The closer they live to the water’s edge, the happier human beings are. It’s about wellbeing, too, reduced here to its most essential: going back home, getting back to basics. Standing at water’s edge, whatever mood it’s in because, as Jacques Michel sings, « N'oublie pas que ce sont les gouttes d'eau; Qui alimentent le creux des ruisseaux; Si les ruisseaux savent trouver la mer; Peut-être trouverons-nous la lumière... » [Remember, it’s drops of water that fill the creeks; If the creeks run towards the ocean; we may find the light…]
In this 6th issue, Go Charlevoix invites you to drink from the pure wellspring running down from the peaks. To follow creek channels, to find lively waterfalls in the heart of the forest. To inhale the scent of the soil after rainfall, the fragrant botanical oils of petrichor. To collect round pebbles and river stones. To watch herons in flight. To savour lakeside pleasures: diving, fishing, paddling between throngs of blue dragonflies and golden water lilies. Playing in the water, keeping an ear open for music, letting your gaze float…
Diving into renewal and revitalization. The ability to embrace beauty, the quiet, as well as activity, and the cycle of the seasons. In this spring, we heal, we quench our thirst. And in the steamy waters of a Nordic spa, scented with eucalyptus, we relax and soak.
Within these pages, you’ll discover a collection of lakeside treasures, a taste for getting back to basics, as well as an invitation to practise self-care using our new Rejuvenation section, and, suffused with authenticity, the profile of Gabrielle Coulombe, floriculturalist.
Light
Editor' Letter by Patrice Gagnon, Creative director
Back to basics — I asked myself: Well, what does "Back to basics" really mean? At a time when we're invited to experience that feeling on our own, at yoga retreats, Nordic spas, and gourmet restaurants, “back to basics” seems self-evident, today. It speaks to slowing down, breathing, and taking a minute for oneself. But, in the end, what are the "basics" we're talking about?
In 2026, we seem to have developed a genuine expertise for creating space to breathe. As a manager, I'm literally bombarded with notices asking me to arrange breaks, enjoy immersive experiences, or make time for wellness, whether personally or with my team in tow. These occasions create space, maybe even awareness. But how do they affect us?
After all, is something "basic" a place we can go back to… or something that flows through us?
Perhaps, sometimes, we also look outside for something that might be available by other means. Not in opposition, but in response. As if some moments…a treatment, a meal, an immersion, could wake something deeper in us, something already there, intrinsic to us. So: Are these experiences destinations, or are they gateways?
And, what if "getting back to basics" was attention paid to the things within us that react, resonate, open us up.
Does everybody have their own wellspring? Or does it all come from the same place, perceived differently according to one's background, one's sensibilities, the life events one experiences? And how do we know it when we have it—in silence, in action, or in the pace of daily life?
Exploring what, through our choices, our rhythms, and our impulses, seems to connect us to something larger—or more vital.
What if, in the end, to get back to basics was to learn to recognize—without ever completely defining it—that quiet presence already innate within us? Our light.
- Patrice Gagnon, Creative director
Freeze Frame
The Language Spoken by Trees
“Our ancestors walked for generations,” said Innu poet Joséphine Bacon. Their steps hit the ground, like the palm of a hand against the tanned hide of a drum. A rhythm resonating in the earth, a human pulse, the echoes of which bounce off of sensitive forest roots… What story do our steps tell the trees? And what have they to tell us, to teach us: patience, the value of slowing down, the interconnectedness of all things, the nature of life cycles? To slow down for a moment to feel the seasons change, to bend our heads down toward the mycelial network - the harmony between roots and mushrooms propagating a language unique to the trees, through an organic internet. One hand on a tree trunk, eyes lost in the forest canopy, we have time enough in this place to ask ourselves (and even to stop a moment), to take time to absorb some of that wisdom of nature, and of the ancients. Time to learn the language spoken by trees.
