But our luck seemed to change suddenly when the observing officer pulled up beside us he seemed to simply admire our magnificent tank before speeding off himself. The truck evidently was a head turner, particularly by les Sûreté du Québec after Craig blew past the provincial po-po at a speed I can’t tell you. We were riding in style, “army style,” in his rare Land Rover Defender on this epic boys’ road trip. How does that saying go, bad luck comes in threes? Between shorting out the Land Rover’s electrical system, losing the gas cap only to find it wedged into the roof rack 100 km later, and overheating in a remote part of Quebec with the sun setting and zero cell phone signal, we faced our share of challenges along the way.Ĭraig had volunteered his utilitarian vehicle for our road trip to the Chic-Chocs, the northernmost point of the Appalachian Mountain range. It’s miraculous that Craig, Dustin and I even made it to our destination on this road trip. And thus the reason we drove almost 15 hours and 1,300 km from Toronto. The region is home to a raw alpine environment still little discovered by most Canadians but fabled by backcountry skiers.Īlthough the Gaspésie is home to seven local ski areas ( Pin Rouge being the biggest with a vertical of 450 metres), its treasure trove of natural snow is also home to the only commercial cat-skiing east of the Rockies. Lawrence River on Quebec’s Gaspé Peninsula. But we were nearly on the opposite coast, in les Chic-Chocs, a mountain range parallel to and about 30 km south of the St. Surrounded by exposed, wind-blown rocky chutes, and above tree line, we three boys from Ontario agreed repeatedly that our wintry alpine environment felt more like Western Canada. Dustin tickling his belly button in some Chic-Chocs fluff in another bowl all to ourselves I was wishing I had been up there about to grab first tracks but it was all picture perfect and I also didn’t want to miss the shot.
#Chic chac quebec skin#
He was about to rip some turns down a couloir called Legends after a long, deep and exposed skin up. I found myself in this difficult situation by stepping off a packed-out snow shelf while searching for a better place to take photos of buddy number two, Dustin. “We just measured 230 cm in the next chute over.” “These are typical depths for this area,” our mountain guide Charles told us matter-of-factly.
When we tested the snow depth later, my 2.5m avalanche probe didn’t reach bottom. “Hey! Need some help here!” Craig proved to be better at observing than physically helping, but it was a relief knowing that at least someone knew where I was…clawing my way out of the quicksand-like bottomless snow. Acquiescent and exhausted, I admitted defeat and yelled to my ski-buddy Craig who was still in his skis. STORY AND PHOTOS BY ADAM BUITENHUISĬhest-deep in powder and struggling to pull myself to the surface, frustration hadn’t quite morphed into panic. Alpine touring in the Gaspé’s Chic-Choc Mountains left three boys from Ontario in awe of Eastern powder.
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