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And so it goes that a small group of adventurous Vermonters (and one Ohian) showed me my remote backyard in the Chic Chocs of Quebec. They showed me what I didn’t know. That I didn’t know what Sépaq* meant (the name for Quebec’s extensive provincial park system) and they shared so much more than that.
It was mid-February 2026. My gear was prepared and packed. I knew what I was about to experience. I had ski toured into Skoki Lodge in the Rockies the prior season. I now had shiny, new backcountry skis with fish scales and full-length skins, T4 Scarpa tele boots just sized up a half size to accommodate my blackened toenails. Don’t ask. I had my telescopic poles and a 35L knapsack full of foul weather layers. I was prepared for this Mad River Path trip with Misha Golfman and Lynne Boudreau and a half a dozen other participants. Or so I thought. I was not prepared for the incredible, warm, intelligent leadership of our guides. I was not prepared for the camaraderie and friendships that would develop as we read poetry, sang songs, shared stories, played games, shared home-cooked delectable meals, and skied and skied and skied. I was not prepared for the warmth that would radiate from the woodstove throughout the remote cabins – Le Pluvier and La Mésange where we hunkered down for two nights each. I would learn the meaning of a ‘pee-tree’ and how to prepare the cabin and surrounding area before entering. I would learn map reading, compass skills, weather instincts, and how to melt snow for survival. I was not prepared for the winter beauty of the Chic Chocs even though I have been there hiking several times. I wasn’t prepared for the stretches of untracked snow across untouched lakes, billowing pillows of snow drooping from trees like giant mushrooms. The beauty of champagne powder heaped upon a precarious roof of our high-altitude cabin where the only footprints were those of a moose or several moose. I wasn’t prepared for dodging moose scat to avoid damaging my ski skins.
I wasn’t prepared for sharing a remote experience that I really can’t describe. All I can do is warn anyone reading this piece to prepare themselves for an indescribable adventure and only if they are lucky enough to follow Misha and Lynne into the remote, endless snw expanses of my backyard in the Chic Chocs. |
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A Week in the Chic-Chocs with the Mad River Path
