LODGES

Rioux’s learning curve was successful, and the lodge opened in late 2005. He rejected one promising site because a distant communications antenna spoiled the wilderness view. The lodge sits near the summit of a conical hill, in the middle of a 60-square-kilometre reserve. The giant picture windows in the dining and meeting rooms frame the wild panorama of the Chic-Chocs. The perfect dome of 980-metre Mont Coleman, which Rioux was the first to ski some 30 years ago, dominates the scene. The second descent of Mont Coleman was completed only recently, by snowboarders. These are wild mountains, rarely tackled.

After unpacking, we meet in the dining-room-cum-sitting room, in front of a glassed-in fireplace. The lodge holds 36, but in late January, when days are short and sometimes bitterly cold, there are only a dozen other visitors, all from Quebec. I can speak French, but to Alexandra’s relief, guests and staff also speak English. Gagnon and I discuss wine. He trained as a sommelier in Switzerland and is keen to see whether one of the lodge’s fine reserve wines can replace my favourite white, a particular Malvasia Bianca that is no longer on the market.

Apart from its spectacular view, the common room has rich detailing. Stand lamps of twined birch branches shed reading light on the leather armchairs. Custom ironwork decorates the banisters and bar counters. Cut-crystal decanters of dark spirits sit beside the wine cooler. There is even an espresso machine.

The regular chef is on paternity leave, but Johanne Vigneault, who runs a haute cuisine restaurant on Îles-de-la-Madeleine, is doing a guest locum. Although dinner is served family-style, in large communal dishes from which you help yourself, the goatcheese soufflé, chocolate madeleine and beer ice cream are light-years beyond what our moms used to make.

Rags of fog slither through the birch tops the following morning as we follow guide Jacques Bouffard up a nearby knob called 780, after its height in metres. Bouffard and Rioux are old high school friends and adventure partners. In 1974, they pioneered the first ski traverse through the heart of the Chic-Chocs.

Near timberline, 780 tops out. We strip off the climbing skins on our skis and lock down the heels on our alpine touring bindings. Alexandra and I negotiate the open glades adequately, but we descend through the trees using long traverses and half turns that work out well half the time.

After a quick lunch at the lodge, we head toward the best viewpoint in the area: l’Épaule, the Shoulder. North of the Shoulder, the Chic-Chocs fall away abruptly to the dark green plain leading to the frozen St. Lawrence River. They rose 600 million years ago and are now part of the Monts Notre- Dame, a northern continuation of the Appalachians. Sixteen peaks exceed 1,000 metres, including nearby Mont Logan, named for Sir William E. Logan, who explored the Chic-Chocs in 1844 while prospecting for coal.