Snowmobile Raid
There isn't a speck of snow left on the sidewalks of Montreal. In the Upper Mauricie, it's a different story. The region just received 12 inches or so of the powdery stuff, creating unbelievably high snow banks. And today is March 18th!
It's in these conditions that we arrive in Weymontachie after travelling for several kilometres down a road so deserted, only two trucks crossed our path. We finally get there a few minutes late and see the members of the La Tuque Snowmobile Club waiting outside. They inform us that we have to get going immediately, while it's still light out.
We each put on strange-looking thermal outerwear. Mine is very colourful and makes me look like a Formula One pilot. Others look more like "snow bikers". Photographer Denis Bouchard seems perfectly at ease, like a fish in water. As for Chuck and Daniel, both members of the snowmobile club, they've seen worse conditions than these. They mount their machines with a confidence reminiscent of John Wayne, except that, in this case, they have to lead a group of city slickers through uncharted territory.
With just a slight pressure on the accelerator, the 380cc motors roar and away we go, one after the other. We're all surprised by the instantaneous power of the motor. Cameraman Yannick Rose and I share a snowmobile and we drive ahead of the others so that he'll be able to get a few good shots in. "Drive this way," he says, pointing to a field of virgin snow by the side of the trail. "This would make a great shot!"
Only our snowmobile isn't meant for off-trail terrain, and we soon sink deep enough to come to a complete stop. A classic beginner's mistake! Benoît Laporte and Denis soon come to our rescue. Our VIA representative is familiar enough with the sport to know that we have to dig under the snowmobile in order to set the machine free. Nonetheless, we sink to our chest as we rummage throught the snow. Real city slickers, I tell you!
"Snowmobiling is a group thing," explains Chuck. "You have to feel confident that there's another rider following behind. When there's a problem, we stop and help each other. The snowmobile may still be working, but if it's stuck, you can't get it out by yourself."
It doesn't take long before we're back on the trail, but not before darkness has had a chance to set in. Yanick is now the one driving, and he does it with passion and fervour, not surprising when you know that, at 21, he travelled across the Americas on a motorcycle, going from Montreal to Ushuaia, Argentina. It's only natural that the smell of diesel turns his head. Plus, we still have more than 100 kilometres to go, so I don't mind being the passenger.
Even if I can't see his face, I can feel, by the way that he anticipates each curve and shifts his weight slightly, that he's loving the ride. Now and again, his old motorcycle reflexes resurface and he unwittingly turns the left handle, trying to change gears. It's no use though; snowmobiles only have one gear: full speed ahead!
We close the line of travelling snowmobiles. We can see the breaklights of the other three vehicules ahead of us, which gives us an idea about which path to take and where the road is. From time to time, we sneak a peek behind us, but we can't see anything but total darkness. Our machine is advancing steadily at 60 kilometres per hour and leaves a thin trace in the midst of these wild spaces, illuminated only by our headlight for a few seconds before going pitch black once again. On either side, we can see the dark, looming forest.
Tonight, some of us slept in the dorm room of a game preserve, others in an igloo, but all were rocked to sleep by the movement of an imaginary snowmobile accompanying us through the night.
