d e s t i n at i o n s
pourquoi le québec? It was the usual ski-lift question. “Where are you from?” my seatmate asked, his Québécois r’s rolling through the freezing mist. “Park City,” I said. He stared at me blankly, puzzled to find me skiing the slick slopes of Mont Tremblant, 90 minutes from Montréal, in the dead of winter. “So, why are you here,” he asked, laughing at the ridiculousness of it, “when you have blue skies and deep powder out there?” Good question, and one I had asked myself earlier that morning. It had been frigid, with the kind of high humidity that burrows right into your bones, and I found myself chilled and hungry after only a few runs. But then I ducked into a rustic log cabin — “Le Refuge du Trappeur” — tucked among pines, where some skis lying on the snow, bindings open, suggested a warming hut. Inside, a roaring wood stove, a cheery “bonjour,” a hot cocoa, and a maple muffin warmed body and heart. I had come to venerable Tremblant, deep in Québec’s Laurentian Mountains, because it had been my favorite East Coast resort years earlier. It was a friendly, oldfashioned ski hill perched on the skirts of Mont Tremblant, which at a lofty 2,871 feet is the second tallest peak in the region. Founded in 1939, the resort crept along
By Roger Toll 64
courtesy tremblant resort association
What does it take to lure a Rockies powderhound East? It takes a Mont Tremblant.
as a family-run business until Intrawest, the sharpest ski-resort company in the business, bought it in 1991 and launched a massive reinvention. Within a few years it rose to the top of skier ratings for East Coast resorts, where it has pretty much stayed ever since. My last visit had culminated in an end-of-season staff party in a tuckedaway barn, dancing arm-in-arm with about 20 well-lubricated Tremblant employees on top of a sturdy wooden bar, a Québécois tradition that captures the zesty spirit and lust for life of this French-speaking province. It was one of those nights of crazy, contagious fun and friendship that I would never forget. Now, 15 years later, I was curious to see if this raw joie de vivre still existed, or if its rough edges had been polished away under the new corporate culture. In fact, Intrawest’s financial largesse, coupled with its hospitality know-how, has built an excellent infrastructure all over the mountain, with high-speed quads and a gondola that whisks you 2,100 vertical feet to the top of the mountain. Old — and many new — trails drop off in all directions, and a welcome expansion has opened up more challenging terrain. In classic Eastern style, most are fun, flowing pistes that follow the natural contours of the land. Moreover, Tremblant, which suffers the rigors of any East Coast resort when it 66
comes to making and grooming snow, has spared neither funds nor effort to improve what nature provides. Nevertheless, it is not the Rockies, and negotiating occasionally long lift lines and crowded trails, iced-up bump runs and less-than-light snow, much of it machine made, is often a reality, especially on weekends. While it’s easy to encounter the spirit of Québec while chatting with locals on lift rides to the summit, it is in the lively village at the foot of the slopes where visitors truly experience the color and verve of the region, as well as bonhomie at its best. For Americans, Tremblant’s foreign charm and unique sense of place are magnetic, yet there is no sacrifice of comfort nor any jet lag involved in getting here, and English is so common that you don’t need to practice your high-school French. The village, faux though it may be, can still serve up magical moments: Late one night, with frost sparkling in the cold air, I watched couples amble home from dinner quietly talking, while on the old pond skaters carved sinuous figures under the soft light of street lamps. “Guests love the village,” said Bryce Fraser, Tremblant’s vice president and general manager. “People are happy, it’s snowing, they sit by a fire pit, kids are running around.” The village flows down cobblestone streets from the large
Place Saint-Bernard, at the base of the main lifts, like branches of a stream. Colorful, Old World-style signs hang from the shops and restaurants, charming buildings that echo the historic center of Québec City and the architectural styles French settlers brought to Canada several centuries ago. “The village is very respectful of our local heritage,” Fraser noted. “Both the architecture and the village’s lively streets give Tremblant its authentic Québec style.” Boasting some of the best aprèsski and dining options among North American resorts, the bars and cafés on Place Saint-Bernard resonate with music and laughter well into the evening. After 11, one of the ski world’s most popular late-night clubs, Le P’tit Caribou, is the place to dance the night away, literally — it closes after 4 a.m. In between, restaurants serving everything from take-home fare to inspired gastronomic adventures offer quality that does justice to the Gallic reputation for culinary perfection. One of these restaurants, Crêperie Catherine, is in one of the original small chalets in Vieux-Tremblant, where I used to stay. I discovered it early in my stay and returned often to sample some of the 60 varieties of crêpes — both sweet and savory — prepared here by principal owner Catherine Schmuck. “People love Continued on page 124
courtesy tremblant resort association (2)
Previous page: The base of Mont Tremblant; this page: Though the snow is rarely ideal, the faux village teems with real life.