Québec - Sharing nature and culture

Quebec, a country that merges with winter A "Belle Province" set against a backdrop of immaculate expanses, where the imagination conjures up images of coureurs des bois (runners of the woods), in the manner of the first Amerindians, plunging with snowshoes into the icy silence of the boreal forests.

This morning, the mercury is minus two degrees. Around here, between Montreal and Quebec City, at the end of the off-season, we're talking about a "mild snap" and Mikel's dogs are too hot. "They're going to run anyway, explains the young musher, because that's their job. But what they like is when it's nice and cool.". Very cold indeed. And the ideal for them is minus fifteen. The pack is made up of Alaskans, the result of crosses between European hunting dogs and Nordic breeds. Some look like wolves and others like brave mongrels, but make no mistake, they're all bundles of raw energy. Excited howls accompany the harnessing time, with six animals per sled. Mikel gives his advice to the business tourists who, for the more daring, will drive standing up at the back, while the others will take their place wisely in the passenger compartment, warmly wrapped in a blanket.

The start is lightning fast and the dogs immediately fall silent, concentrating on their race. Under a steel-blue sky, the teams race at breakneck speed across the immaculate plain before slaloming along a narrow track cut through the boreal forest. The terrain is rugged, but the valiant Alaskans have a knack for tackling the hills without slackening. And if, by chance, one of the day's mushers misses his turn and is forced to make a short stop, the impetuous mushers bark their impatience. "Junior can't get enough"says his master tenderly. Then it's off down the slide towards the Rivière du Loup, its frozen ribbon glistening below. "Fasten your hat!"warns Pierre, who is driving the lead sled. In Quebecois, a tuque is a woollen cap, and the expression means that it's likely to be hair-raising. In fact, the descent is steep and exhilarating. In winter, Mikel sets up an annex to his kennel at Le Baluchon, an eco-villégiature on the edge of the forest in the Mauricie region.

The site is splendid. It's hard to imagine today what this wonderfully bucolic spot looked like when it was home to a sawmill, the Damphousse, whose activities had polluted the river and deforested the land. In the early 1980s, a group of idealistic students rolled up their sleeves to breathe new life into the site, with the idea of creating an outdoor centre based on the principles of sustainable development. Among them was Louis Lessard, the current CEO of Le Baluchon, who trained as a biologist and has a passion for history. "The nearby post office at Hunterstown was the cradle of industrialisation in the Mauricie region."he recalls. The first American started logging here in the early 19th century, and later his wealthy compatriots set up the very first private hunting and fishing clubs in Quebec. They were the pride and joy of the grand Saint Léon Springs hotel, renowned for its sulphurous waters. Although the hotel has disappeared, the buildings of the Shawinigan club have survived, and Louis Lessard has plans to restore them and offer 'great nature' holidays rooted in the region's lost memory. See you at the end of 2016.

Off-piste on sealskin

For the moment, the man is delighted to present his new range of 'hok' skis. Short, supple and equipped with a removable sealskin, they are perfect for off-piste skiing, even if you have little practice and even less technique. So let's head off into the wide open spaces, following in the footsteps of the coureurs des bois of yesteryear! The snow is powdery, the sun is shining and, as the skis are really easy to handle, the feeling of freedom is fantastic. "It's interesting to note that the latest gliding fashions in vogue are inspired by the ancestral practices of the peoples of the Far North, who used a simple plank of carved wood lined with sealskin to get around."says Louis Lessard. With a corporate group, a meeting with this ecology enthusiast adds to the pleasure of the stopover.

Louis - we're all on a first-name basis here, and on first-name terms too - explains that the thermotherapy that Quebecers have fallen in love with is of Scandinavian origin, before inviting us to visit the Nordic spa for a proper initiation. A sweat in the sauna, a dip in the icy pool and a dip in the hot whirlpool bath - a radical ritual that needs to be repeated three times. They say it's the ultimate stress buster. Of course, some people skip the polar bath, preferring to bask in the turquoise water with its big bubbles, as the contrast with the outside temperature is already a terribly exotic experience. And in the evening, these free-riders don't look any more tense than the others around the happy table...

That night, the blizzard blew hard, and the next day, the previous day's "gentle rush" was just a memory. Minus sixteen! Mikel's dogs must be wriggling with joy. As for the humans, they dress in onion skins, layering their clothes before venturing out of their cosy bedroom. Then it's off to the stables on the Baluchon estate. While the horses are used to herd cattle from the surrounding farms, they are also very happy to take passing tourists for a ride. In winter too? Winter too! The sturdy mounts are fitted with studded shoes, giving them a very sure footing. So they venture safely over the icy bridges that lead to the Sabot de la Vierge archipelago and its forest of aspen, birch and spruce, the local name for spruce.

At the turn of a snowy path, a windmill and a wooden church frame the landscape. It's magical, almost too good to be true, which is immediately confirmed. "These are elements of the set for the television series Marguerite Volant, which was filmed here."explains guide Laurent. Improvising as a storyteller, he sets the scene for this historical fiction and transports his listeners back to 1763. That was the year in which the Treaty of Paris was signed, ending the Seven Years' War and confirming the cession of New France to the British. The life of the young Marguerite, daughter of a local seigneur, was turned upside down by this change of regime. Condemned to exile, she escaped thanks to an English captain who was secretly in love with her... Set in the midst of history, the romance still moves travellers.

History is magnified a little further up the map of Canada, in Quebec City. Like Jacques Cartier before him, Samuel de Champlain hoped that the St. Lawrence River would take him as far as China. In 1608, on his third voyage, he built his home at the foot of Cap Diamant, on the very spot where the Saint-Malo navigator had wintered years earlier. It was the very first permanent settlement of French colonists in America, numbering barely thirty men. Arriving at the start of a torrid summer, they were hardly prepared for the rigours of winter. For, as is still the case today, the river was ice-bound at the time and temperatures were usually freezing.

And then there was scurvy, dysentery... But the settlers were stubborn and other adventurers joined them. And so, despite epidemics and Franco-English rivalries, the small trading post with its muddy streets and foul-mouthed trappers was gradually transformed into a city.

From the Dufferin Terrace, set up in front of the Château Frontenac, business tourists can gaze at the panorama, all wrapped up warm. Quebec City - "where the river narrows" in the Algonquin language - is indeed the sentinel of the St Lawrence that its founder dreamed of. The "Gibraltar of America", to borrow a phrase inspired by Charles Dickens. As an art historian, David Mendel has no equal when it comes to making the old stones of the political capital of the eponymous region speak for themselves. Let's follow him. From the elegant Place Royale in the Lower Town, a reflection of 17th-century French classical architecture, to the ramparts of the Upper Town, pierced by gates in the style of Viollet-le-Duc, via Parliament Hill, whose layout is inspired by the Edinburgh of the Enlightenment, to the Victorian houses of the Grande-Allée, Outside the walls, the exceptional architectural heritage of North America's most European city tells a story full of sound and fury, but also of resilience and successful cross-fertilisation.

An unknown aspect of one's own identity

Suddenly, snowflakes swirl in the bluish light. The atmosphere becomes wadded up, and there is silence. As it always does when the snow settles in our cities. Full of erudition, the walk is formidably enriching, far beyond the monuments admired and the dates revisited. "When we talk about the history of New France, the issues at stake at the time, the colonies... Visitors discover at the same time, and often speechless, an unknown aspect of their own identity..."says David Mendel.

The best way to continue this discovery is to head for Wendake, a small town on the outskirts of Quebec City that, on the face of it, has nothing to distinguish it from its neighbours. It is, however, an Amerindian 'reserve', a term scorned by the natives, who prefer the term 'community'. This is the home of the Huron-Wendat. "Do you know that it's because of the French that we call ourselves that?"says Jason Picard-Binet during a tour of the old village. At the time of New France, the Wendat, a powerful confederation of tribes from the Great Lakes region, allied themselves with the French against the Iroquois, who were allied with the English. The Wendat men's hairstyle reminded them of the boar's head, so the "cursed French" - as they are fondly called here - found it witty to rename them Hurons... Defeated and decimated by smallpox, the Huron-Wendat dispersed at the end of the seventeenth century, a few clans taking refuge near Quebec with the help of the Jesuits.

Their descendants are highly mixed-race - the current Grand Chief is red-haired and blue-eyed - and particularly dynamic, with flagship products such as Bastien moccasins, which fit every Canadian foot, and GV - an acronym for Gros-Louis et Vincent - which exports its snowshoes all over the world. The region is also experiencing a veritable cultural renaissance thanks to the Hôtel-Musée Premières Nations, a design interpretation of a traditional longhouse, and the Ethnographic Museum, which is reminiscent of an XXL version of a smokehouse. "Smokehouses were used to preserve food. This one perpetuates our memory"says Jason Picard-Binet. With the advice of an archaeologist, young people from the community have also reconstructed a "real" longhouse that adjoins the museum, protected as it should be by a black spruce baffle.

Travellers sit around a log fire and are lulled to sleep by the legends of a people whose language, dormant for over a century, is now being studied again. Their creation myth has biblical overtones: a story of a pregnant woman who fell from the sky, was saved from drowning by wild geese, and was helped back to earth by all the aquatic animals, in particular by a great turtle full of wisdom and by an old toad who brought back a few grains of earth from the bottom of the ocean, which were transformed into a verdant island called Wendake. It was there that the young woman gave birth to her child... That sums up the philosophy of a matrilineal society that worships nature and all its creatures. This is also why the village, formerly known as Lorette, was renamed after this original island.

The First Nations had many survival techniques that have become popular sports in contemporary society. The hotel-museum's programme of activities focuses on these techniques. So it's off early in the morning to follow in the footsteps of the caribou, duly equipped with old-fashioned snowshoes.as our ancestors did for centuries"says Jason Picard-Binet. Getting your bearings in the forest, identifying animal tracks... the walk is an initiation, a gentle moment imbued with magic. Then, on a snowmobile, it's off to a nearby lake to take part in another custom inherited from the Amerindians, ice fishing. You dig a hole in the ice, bait the fish and wait. "With a bit of luck, there will be trout for dinner"says the guide. Of course, this is just a joke, as the last meal this evening will be a gala menu. Here's a selection: the "three sisters" soup, made with corn, squash and beans, snails with cattail cream and garlic flowers, wild salmon with pumpkin sauce... A new-wave Nordic delight!

A winter trip to Quebec is a dazzling natural experience, a lesson in life and ecology set against a backdrop of frosty nature. The fact that Montreal is now a vibrant metropolis doesn't change a thing. What's more, we don't ring our bells every time it faces a formidable snowstorm out of season. So, for the umpteenth time this season, without grumbling, Montrealers take to their shovels to clear the snow from their front doorsteps while they wait for the 'snowblower', the snowplough, to pass by, the phenomenal power of the elements shaking up everyday life being an integral part of local life.

And if that unexpectedly late storm has the good sense to arrive on a Saturday morning, we'll be putting on our skis or snowshoes and heading off to Mount Royal Park, where the fresh snow has transformed it into a huge playground. Montreal's emblematic 'mountain', actually a large hill, was transformed into a park by Frederick Law Olmsted - the landscape architect who designed Central Park - at a time when the city was facing galloping urbanisation. The idea was to give residents easy access to nature. More than a century later, it still gives the region's economic capital an attractive 'green' character.

If they're there when the weather turns to harsh snow, business tourists also want to make the most of the occasion, and straightaway swap a visit suddenly deemed incidental for a short stroll along its paths, a final nod to urbanity in its great white before heading back to the airport. The airport, too, is in white...