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A Little Bit of Europe
By Dan Gould
February 2009
Like most of us, I’ve ridden all over New England. I’ve also carved a few trails in New York, New Brunswick and even tried some mountain riding out west in the Yellowstone area. As much as we enjoy the convenience of riding at home, traveling to new places can be an adventure. I’ve been invited to ride with friends in Quebec several times in the past but the timing was never right. A few years ago, a trip was totally planned then fell apart only days before lift-off. Someone, somewhere must have translated my screaming into French, as I finally got the opportunity to go. The trip was presidential, as in the presidents from the snowmobile association of New Hampshire, Maine and Massachusetts being the guest of Richard Moreau and Laurent Caouette of Chaudière-Appalaches Tourism in Quebec.
We landed at the Appalaches Lodge-Spa-Villégiature and found a modern resort of log chalets on the side of a mountain, over-looking the base lodge and its steaming outdoor mineral baths. We were about an hour south of Quebec, in a region that simply caters to snowmobilers all winter long. With 12 inches of fresh snow on the ground, we fell in line behind Laurent, a quiet gentleman with a degree of riding skills rivaling that of an F-1 driver in the wet. Keeping up was not easy at times! The views were nothing short of breathtaking as we ascended the mountains behind the lodge that connected with the wide and flat main corridor trails. I had high expectations, but this was nothing short of spectacular! We rode all day, through farms fields, winding wooded trails, fast rail beds and small picturesque towns, reminiscent of tranquil oil paintings in a children’s novel. Every few hours we would stop at a local clubhouse and grab a hot drink or a quick bite. We were happy to rest, but impatient to get back out again.
The sights and experiences were all new: trail signs that resembled those on the highways, Hell’s Doors cave at St-Philémon (a 20 ft high gorge with walls adorned by ice), and a gorge where the snow was five feet above the handrails of the footbridge! We climbed a lookout tower atop St. Magloire Mount, (3,000 ft) where the infinite view of the evergreens gently disappeared into the light, falling snow. We were told that the state of Maine would be visible on a clear day, but the flurries looked pretty good at the time. On the way up the mountain I had noticed small pieces of metal sticking out of the edge of the trail. We later learned that those were actually street signs, buried about 12-15 feet under! Yes it was deep, and yes, a few of us got stuck… Big Time! That’s what happens when a flatlander goes off trail in a short-tracked sled. Once in deep-snow mode, a few of us ventured off the trail with moderate success... sometimes intentionally, other times not. It really helped to stay in the path cut by Laurent’s long-track. It was even smarter to simply stay on the meticulously groomed trail! In the hundreds of miles that we traveled in our two and a half day visit, I don’t believe we saw more than a dozen other sleds.
Although only hours away, Quebec had me feeling as if I was on a different continent. The language, the food, the traditions, even the architecture all seemed so European. Just about all the natives spoke, or at least understood, enough English for us to communicate. Good thing, as my French is limited to about 5 words and I’m not sure if those are even real words! It was fun interacting with the locals and Richard was a walking-talking Wikipedia, sharing all sorts of cultural stories as we ate dinner together every night. Ah yes, the food… much of it with names I couldn’t pronounce but enjoyed, nonetheless. My favorite? A roasted lamb dish!
Staying a full week would have been even better, but I don’t think my wife would have let me. After all, she was not exactly happy about my riding without her! The drive home went quick, as we talked about the trip the whole way back. Turning on my point & shoot camera, I relived a few moments through the tiny screen and then remembered the shot I missed, a visual snapshot burnt into my memory like a digital image. As we came out of a stand of woods into a small village one morning, a group of elementary school students were in the playground, all wrapped-up in colorful mittens and scarves, romping in the single-digit temperatures as if it were mid-July. As soon as the children spotted us they turned and waved, even the teachers. They didn’t stop until we were completely out of sight. The sincerity of that moment was a reflection of the warmth we experienced throughout our stay…. I’ll never forget it.
Dan Gould
President
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