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Kate
McCann and her family wanted a white Christmas, a taste of old Europe - and the
chance to hit the slopes. So they left their US home and headed to Canada.
Three days beforeChristmas, we loaded the roof box of our Toyota 4x4 with the
makings of an entire Christmas dinner. In went a frozen turkey (to defrost
slowly during the journey), potatoes, sprouts and all the trimmings. We quietly
packed the children's presents in the boot - then set off on the 750-mile
journey from our home in Connecticut to Quebec.
At the Canadian border, a solitary guard asked: "Anything to declare? Any
fruits, vegetables or meats?" |
"No, nothing," we replied automatically, and didn't think, until
we were 10 miles down the road, about the turkey. Not unreasonably, our friends
and family in Britain wanted to know why we were transporting a traditional
British Christmas due north for two days. We were impatient for snow, we told
them, and if we wanted to guarantee a white Christmas, the best way to go was
up. Also, after four years of living in the United States, we were feeling
starved of European culture. Quebec seemed the perfect answer.
Our destination was Beaupré, a little town north of Quebec City, where
we had booked accommodation at Les Chalets Bô-Sô-Met. The chalets
were perched on a hill overlooking the mighty estuary of the St Lawrence River,
a stone's throw from the ski resort of Mont-Sainte-Anne. Ours was not much more
than a little wooden hut, painted slate grey with a roof that looked like an
over-large wig. The interior was of Lilliputian proportions, but the kitchen
was well enough equipped for us to produce a full Christmas meal. Very early on
Christmas morning there was a frenzy of present-opening and then we were back
in the car, heading north along the banks of the St Lawrence to the ski resort
of Le Massif, yet another reason for this Canadian pilgrimage. Le Massif de
Charlevoix is remote, beautiful and surprising. It's an upside-down resort
where you arrive at the summit and ski down to the St Lawrence (there is access
to the base of the mountain, but it is not connected to a main road). The
summit car park and lodge are reached by a long ice road that curls through a
forest. The road is gritted and graded into neat corduroy, but would be lethal
without snow tyres, which are mandatory in the winter for vehicles registered
in Quebec. |
On Christmas Day, the temperature was 12F (-11C).
From the summit of Le Massif, the sky, the river and its far banks (15 miles
away) appeared to have merged into one, creating an enormous panorama of
Wedgwood blue, shining white and shades of grey. The ice floes on the water
were like giant, twinkling lily pads. Back on the slopes, if you skied fast
towards the brow of a hill, it felt as if you could leap into the cold air and
dive towards the river far below.
As Christmas Days go, this one was going to be hard to beat. Our ski guide,
Vincent, traced his finger across the landscape, showing us where a giant
meteor had landed, carving out the Charlevoix valley and sculpting Le Massif
into the highest |
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| vertical east of the Rockies. Vincent
remembered the days when the locals from the riverside settlements below the
mountain would be carried to the top in school buses, to career down the five
ungroomed tracks. Today there are 53 trails and glades and of the six lifts,
three are high-speed quads. A new gondola was being tested when we visited; it
is now open |
| . More than half the runs are classed advanced or expert and
the adjacent Mont à Liguori sector offers dozens of acres of off-piste
skiing. It got a lot colder on day three of the holiday. Winter temperatures
here can range from 14F (-10C) to -13F (-25C), and the combination of dangerous
cold plus wind chill meant skiing was not an option for the children. We headed
to Quebec City for warmth and civilisation. Quebec City's Old Town is perched
atop Cape Diamond (Cap Diamant) overlooking the St Lawrence, which was a moody
charcoal sketch of grey skies, dirty ice and black water. The Upper Town is
dominated by the Château Frontenac, built in 1892. With its copper
turrets and forbidding façades, this resembled a castle rather than a
hotel and held prime position on the cliff top. |
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We
trudged down several sludge-slippery flights of steps below the chateau,
emerging at river level into a Santa's grotto of chocolateries, bistros and
woodcarving shops. In the cobblestone streets were three drummers (on stilts)
drumming, two buskers busking and fairy lights twinkling in a Christmas tree.
The labyrinthine Lower Town (Basse Ville) was Christmassy, vibrant, colourful
and filled with French voices. It was so European, with its narrow streets and
17th and 18th-century buildings, that we had to pinch ourselves to remember we
were in Canada. In fact, the Old Town is one of the oldest European settlements
in North America. |
| We wandered through the little streets happily and bought maple-syrup
lollies for the children. (These are made by spreading a layer of syrup on to a
tray of snow. The syrup solidifies in the cold and can then be wrapped around a
lolly stick.) Then, as the winter sky turned a peachy pink, we climbed to the
top of Cape Diamond, until we were standing on the ramparts of La Citadelle, a
massive star-shaped fort. From there we watched the lights come on across the
city, casting a warm glow up into the darkening sky. The icy wind whipped the
children's cheeks until they were red as apples; even in snow boots, our toes
were frozen. The following morning the children and I reported to the ski
school at Mont-Sainte-Anne, where a smiling instructor named Suzy was to give
us a "family experience lesson", which included some light tutelage
and a guided tour of the two sides of the mountain. |
Mont-Sainte-Anne, Stoneham and Mont Tremblant form a trio of popular family ski
resorts in the province and today Mont-Sainte-Anne felt big and bustling after
the serene beauty of Le Massif. Two thirds of the mountain's 66 runs are
suitable for beginners and intermediate skiers, but there are more challenging
slopes too. Our vote for the best glade went to the family-friendly Enchanted
Forest and our favourite run was the long, graceful La Familiale. And there
were charming little touches that added to the fun, such as the horse-drawn
sleigh that carried skiers to the gondola.
On our final morning we visited the Montmorency Falls, just outside Quebec
City. |
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If you ever want to feel small and inconsequential in the face of Mother
Nature's overwhelming might, this is the place to visit. The falls were
massive; 100ft higher than Niagara Falls and 150ft wide. We walked across the
suspension bridge high above the water, looking down at the curious, puffy pain
de sucre (sugar loaf patterns the cascading water had created in the snow. Tiny
stick people walked up and down the steps beside the falls.
We left the falls behind us and drove south, heading for the US. "Any
fruit to declare?" asked the American border guard, several hours later.
He was staring at the blackened banana sitting on the car dashboard. "Oh,
that's not Canadian," said my quick-witted husband. "That's an
American banana. And it's been in the car all week." We drove hurriedly
away. |
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