My Personal Olympian Experience

Each step takes substantial energy, my legs starting to feel like lead. My stride’s more like a waddle – these snowshoes are men’s size and too big. Without poles (they’d disappeared this morning with my showshoes), I can’t get into my usual rhythm.

There are over 100 of us crossing the snowy, frozen trail single file, like ants. I can see our destination, the small town of Gaspé, inviting me, but the endless whiteness of the bay makes the distance deceiving. Are we getting closer?

I knew when I signed up for this event, the Traversées de la Gaspésie (TDLG), a six-day cross-country ski or snowshoe, it would be hard. I’m a weekend warrior, so not at peak fitness level. The days immediately before my departure had me glued to the Pyeongchang Olympics on TV. This, I thought, will be my personal Olympics.

Six days earlier, I arrived in Matane, known for its northern shrimp and windmill energy, and where the TDLG will begin this year. We would spend two nights here before moving on to Gîte du Mont-Albert in Gaspésie National Park, then a finish in the small town of Gaspé.

It gets so cold here in the winter that even the salty St. Lawrence freezes, waves frozen mid-action, like they are caught off-guard by the temperature. But I’m told there’s no such thing as too cold in the Gaspésie – only improper clothes. I pull the hood of my Helly Hansen parka closer – thankful that I’ve packed good winter gear.

At the Riôtel Hotel, there’s a reunion-camaraderie in the air (many participants are regular attendees; this is the 16th annual TDLG event founded by the sparkly Claudine Roy, a local businesswoman who vowed to build tourism in the region). Most are from Quebec, but some people are from as far away as California. There’s a group of six from Salmon Arm. Amazingly, they’d heard about the TDLG when participating in a multi-day cross-country ski event in Scandinavia.

At 58, I was afraid that most participants would be much younger and fitter, and some are. But many are my age, and some significantly older.

The next morning as we board the bus, Sylvie, a brightly-dressed accordion player, energizes us with lively Québécois folk tunes. Nearby Matane Wildlife Reserve is our destination for the day, where we quickly shoe-up and set-off, raring to go, on our 11.6-kilometre route.

The Reserve boasts the most moose per square kilometre in all of Quebec, and there is regular evidence of where their long, gangly legs have post-holed through the deep snow. With each snowshoe group there are guides and sweeps, so there’s no danger of getting lost, even when we veer off on the International Appalachian Trail.

At Mont-Charles-Édouard Vézina, a 390-metre summit with gorgeous views of the Chic Choc mountain range in the distance, we stop for lunch, ravenously devouring chicken sandwiches made with thick slabs of bread and homemade pastries. After, we retrace our steps to the bus, where volunteers welcome us with friendly smiles and shot glasses filled with hot vodka caesars. I toast myself – I can do this, I think.

I want to learn as much as I can about Gaspésie culture while I’m here, so the next day I veer off program for a dog-sledding adventure at Aventure Pattes Blanches. Under lovely fat, wet snowflakes, we’re greeted by 40 happily yapping dogs and their owner Pascal Paquet, who grew up driving sleds. He deftly harnesses a team and takes us one-by-one for a spin. “Do you want to drive?” he asks. I nod my head, and we trade places, him sitting on the sled while I stand at the back, excited to be in the musher position, in control (hopefully) of such amazing animals.

I’m off program again the following day (can I still say I completed the TDLG?) when I’m invited on a special snowshoe outing with guide Jacques Bouffard, to visit Auberge de Montagne des Chic-Chocs. A 20-minute ride in a tracked van takes us up through mountain wilderness to 615 metres, where this four-star provincial park lodge is nestled. We view a moose along the way, but Bouffard says what’s really special about this area is that it’s home to a herd of at-risk woodland caribou.

Over the days, people often stop to chat with me. When I answer with a poorly accented, “je ne parle pas français,” those not confident in their English smile and continue on their way. Others easily switch to English. Really, this experience transcends the language barrier. The multi-day epic-ness of it all connects us with the common thread of a love for personal challenge and the outdoors.

Day five is my favourite, only partly because that’s when the sun decides to shine. A steady ascent up Mont Pesaq, just outside of Gaspé, takes us through naked deciduous groves, with intermittent views of the valley and river below. Lunch is at a modern alpine warming hut, where two musicians entertain – one on guitar and the other wearing a jaunty French beret and playing harmonica, singing, and tapping his feet, his own percussion for these happy Québécois tunes. The feeling of festivity in the air is palpable, and I start my descent with a spring in my showshoed-step.

The sun also graces us on our final day as we start our long slog up some steep, rocky cliffs at Forillon National Park. It was this morning that my snowshoes and poles had disappeared, and these larger snowshoes are affecting my agility. I’m like a teen boy whose lost body awareness when his feet have grown significantly overnight, and as I climb, my snowshoes ram into trees and get stuck in the brushy undergrowth.

But I persevere and, at the summit, as I gaze out over Gaspé Bay, I’m struck with intense nostalgia. You see, there’s more to this story – my great grandfather and his father both lived in Gaspé before moving further west to Ontario and, at this moment, I feel an intense connection to my roots. Their ship from Scotland would have arrived in Canada through the mouth of this very bay in the 1800s.

Back on my final trudge across the frozen bay, I think of my ancestors often, and I swear they give me strength. At the finish line, enthusiastic locals greet us with high fives and cheers. I take off my snowshoes for the last time and join in the celebration. This is Olympic gold.

For more info:

Traversées de la Gaspésie – http://tdlg.qc.ca/?lang=en

Quebec Maritime – https://www.quebecmaritime.ca/en/

3,238 views