18 Ways to Enjoy Ice and Snow (With a Side of Maple Syrup) in Quebec
It was snowing when I arrived in Vieux-Montréal. With narrow streets (originally travelled by foot or horse) lined with romantic stone buildings and lit up by seasonal lights, the historic neighbourhood felt hushed and inviting. A walk would make for a peaceful start to an upcoming week of outdoor adventure; but first, I needed warmer clothes. As a Vancouverite, I’m used to a more temperate version of winter—and my gear reflects that. Luckily, our host from Bonjour Quebec arranged for cold-weather clothing rental from Tuque & Bicycle Expériences. So, dressed snuggly, I stepped out into the snowy street. Standing under a lantern, I held out my mittened hand and caught a snowflake. I marveled when it didn’t melt.
Quebec, with its charming villages, eclectic festivals and vast tracts of wilderness, has always been a favorite summer destination of mine. But as we drove north across the frozen countryside of the Lanaudière region (with a stop in Saint-Alexis-des-Mont, where I learned ice fishing is actually a real thing), I got the sense that Quebec might be more than a fair-weather destination. Leaving the main roads, we headed through a snowy forest to the Hôtel Sacacomie—a rustic, sprawling lodge on the edge of a frozen lake. Greeted with maple whiskey shots in ice glasses and blocks of ice that we had to shatter for the room keys hidden inside, I started to think winter is a season the Québécois don’tjust endure but actively revel in.
Diane Selkirk
Hôtel Sacacomie in winter is the chilly version of a holiday resort. Rather than swimming, hiking or canoeing, there is ice skating, dogsledding, snowmobiling and snowshoeing—activities that are deeply connected to Quebec tradition. Dogsledding and snowshoeing were both developed by Indigenous cultures, while snowmobiling, which was invented by Québec’s own Joseph-Armand Bombardier, is used throughout the region’s frozen landscape as an alternative to driving on roads.
Diane Selkirk
Zipping around the snow-covered lake by snowmobile was fun, though I think I’ll like it more when noisy combustion engines give way to electric options. Dogsledding, meanwhile, was downright exhilarating. Unlike some tourist operations, where you’re a passenger on a guided ride, each pair of us had our own team. After a few lessons on how to drive the sleds, we were set loose. We plunged into the forest, pulled along by hilariously happy dogs. After traversing hills and winding through a narrow trail, I was almost ready to declare myself an expert, but then I took a corner too quickly and launched us into a snow bank.
The highlight of this second full day came after we’d buckled into snowshoes, when an old-timer named Gaspard led into a thick forest of maple and pine. Trudging through the snow dressed in furs, he brought us to a rustic trapper’s cabin where I learned the history of the coureurs des bois—the fur traders who helped build Quebec. As I listened to him sing old songs and speak about his love for the forest, it didn’t seem the day could get better. Then, just as the sun dipped behind the trees, Gaspard told us the maple syrup was ready, and showed us how to pour boiled syrup over fresh snow for a taffy-like treat of tire sur la neige.
Diane Selkirk
Maple syrup turned out to be almost as common a trip theme as the snow and ice. When we reached Quebec City (a winter visit to Quebec isn’t complete without a hug from Bonhomme and a chance to explore Carnaval), a heated cup of caribou (red wine, rye whiskey, and maple syrup) kept me warm as I watched snow bathers test their stamina in an icy drift. Walking through the busy streets to a soundtrack of mixed music and happy laughter, I stopped to watch kids and adults alike take on the giant toboggan slide at Dufferin Terrace; meanwhile, down on the frozen floes of the St Lawrence River, a few members of my group had gotten sore muscles developing a new appreciation for the unique Québécoise sport of ice canoeing.
Mossberg, Adventure Travel Trade Association
When we reached Parc national de la Jacques-Cartier, a gorgeous 670-sq-km wilderness just 50 kilometres outside Quebec City, I started to wonder just how many different ways the Québécoise had for experiencing the winter months. Jumping on a fat bike, I started to tally them up as I pedaled along a snowy trail further into the park. Did catching a snowflake count? Tobogganing, skating, dogsledding, snowmobiling and making maple taffy certainly did. As I strapped on a pair of Hok Skis (a kind of ski-snowshoe developed by a Quebecker that allowed us to get off the main trails and into the forest), I decided to be lenient. If it was active, it counted—even if I was just a spectator. So our afternoon exploring the Hôtel de Glace, a frozen edifice, complete with a chapel, grand hall, and ice beds, became number 15. Visiting the ice-bar for a cocktail didn’t make the list… even though the drinks came in an ice tumbler.
Jacob Hoxie, Adventure Travel Trade Association
When we reached the Saguenay-Lac-Saint-Jean region and skied out to the ice fishing village on the Saguenay Fjord, I debated counting fishing twice—the first outing we’d used a hands-free pendulum called a tip-up, whereas this time my hook was deep in the ocean. But sitting inside the cozy cabin, with my line cast into the fjord’s depths, I was leaning towards no. I flipped my decision when I felt a bite at the end of my line. Carefully playing the fish, I landed the biggest catch of the day. Catching a fish, rather than fishing itself, earned spot number 16.
Despite temperatures that dropped below -20 C, I never felt cold. Partly it was the good clothing. Partly it was the vigorous activity. But it was while snowshoeing to the Vallée des Fantômes in Parc national des Monts-Valin that I realized the main source of warmth comes from the Quebec people, themselves. Everyone I met seemed to love the winter—and their joy was infectious. Even when I struggled to snowshoe up a steep hill, or to get deep snow, the jokes and laughter continued to fly. It was always enough to simply try. Falling, I was told as I lay sprawled in a snow bank, was part of the fun. Snow is soft for a reason.
Tyler Brower, Adventure Travel Trade Association
The final night, the snow changed to rain. Sitting in the steamy outdoor hot pools of L’Éternal Spa, we each came up with our favorite moments. I thought mine might be my fish, or maybe Gaspard, or perhaps the wonder of skiing out across a fjord. I mentioned my tally—16 spectacular ways to enjoy the snow and ice—but realized I’d missed a snow tubing run at the Sacacomie Hotel, so the final total was 17. Though our day of snowshoeing was special, it didn’t count because we’d snowshoed twice before. Then I realized the rain had turned to ice, and everything around me looked wrapped in glass. Looking up at the trees—that sparkled as though imbued with magic—I decided they counted. Eighteen was a good number.
Disclaimer: The author was hosted by Bonjour Quebec and the Adventure Travel Trade Association.
