Mont-Tremblant | Edge of Grip

Time to get the blood pumping!

Mont-Tremblant is our favourite destination for rock climbing, zip lining and all things adrenaline.

Not to mention the corkscrewed roads that the Laurentians have to offer.

The Route

Download GPS file - Mont-Tremblant Motorcycle Trip

The Ride

You know that feeling? When gravity empties the stomach and mind. When spinning wheels spool up your senses. When the greyscale between good and bad becomes black as a cliff face and white as an empty void.

I’ve been missing that feeling.

It has been a particularly unsatisfying week in the office, pushing paper from the comfort of my desk. Now I’m daydreaming about pushing myself beyond the comfort zone. And I know exactly where to do it. I have a V-Strom 1000, a weekend off and a two-hour drive to Mont-Tremblant.

The Mecca for adrenaline seekers.

I suit up early on Saturday morning and head for the hills. The first 45 minutes are a timewarp on the big slab of HWY 15. After that the ride turns into a choose-your-own-adventure novel. Tremblant is accessible via efficient highways, curvy backroads and gnarly off-roads. You could make this trip all week and never repeat your route.

I’m plotting a scenic return trip, so I stick with the mainstream this morning. It’s a good choice too, because this highway is surprisingly fun once it enters the Laurentian foothills. There are enough gentle curves and inclines to tip the 15 ahead of Quebec’s other major routes. As a bonus, I can feel the alpine chill piercing my riding jacket and the stuffy Montreal air escaping out the exhaust vents.

Mont-Tremblant is a bit like Jesus. You can easily get to him, but you’ll have to go through a bunch of Saints first.

Saint-Jérôme, Saint-Sauveur, Sainte-Adèle, Sainte-Agathe-des-Monts, Saint-Faustin-Lac-Carré, Saint-Jovite...

To a rushed rider, Mont-Tremblant’s apostles are nothing more than repetitive exit signs. What you don’t see from the highway, however, are the gorgeous little towns behind the saintly names. If you’re one of those motorcyclists that can’t resist a quaint coffee shop or beer stop, you’ll be jittery or drunk by the time you reach Tremblant. I stick to the coffee because it’s 7am and I’m not a rock star.

I’ve ridden through a few ski villages before; Tremblant doesn’t rank too well. Even from the saddle of my bike at 50km/h, there’s something phony about the alpine Swiss architecture. Perhaps it’s the fact that this village was built in 1997 in North America. Oh snap.

My main problem with Tremblant’s village is the busyness. Most ski resorts are deserted during the summer months. This offers a rare opportunity to rip through urban areas without mowing down pedestrians. Unfortunately, Tremblant is so well-developed that it attracts massive crowds year-round. Even worse, I’m stopped by a “walking traffic only” sign whenever I get close to main street.

I wedge my motorcycle between two parked cars and “lock” my helmet to the luggage rack. After saying a prayer to ward off thieves, I reluctantly walk towards the village centre.

It seems that this place has nothing to do if you don’t want to pay for it, and loads if you do. The street-side vendors offer passes for hiking, biking, helicopter tours, zip lining, whitewater rafting and wakeboarding. I have more adrenaline-pumping options than I have cash.

Planning a day on the fly can be difficult. The nice thing about touristy places is that they simplify the process. I pop into the activity centre and have a readymade adventure booked within minutes. Mountain climbing in the morning and zip lining over lunch. Perfect.

I have an hour to kill before the first activity, so I hop into the lineup for something called “Skyline Luge.” The name is cute, but it’s much closer to go-karting than luging. The only thing this sport borrows from the mountain is the use of gravity rather than gasoline.

They start us off in 10-second increments, so I nod at the cameraman to signal the universally-accepted “I’ll wait 10 seconds so we can bash into each other” rule. As I roll off the start line, my adrenaline-filled hopes sink. The luge rolls gently down the paved track and my eyes wander to the lakeside village below. The alpine architecture looks more convincing from up here and the hordes of tourists might as well be bustling townspeople. From atop the mountain, Mont-Tremblant’s village finally makes sense to me.

Whish! The cameraman flies past at warp speed. I guess the 10-second wait is over.

I throw my torso into a full tuck and scrape an elbow into the next corner. My foe might have 20lbs of camera equipment on me, but I have years of motorcycle know-how. Good technique gets me caught up by the halfway point. Then it’s down to pure aggression.

We trade paint and position a dozen times, culminating in a daring takeover that throws the cameraman onto the curb and my cart onto two wheels. Crossing the finish line first, I recant my presumption that this would be a mellow ride. Don’t let the 5-year-olds in the lineup fool you: a decent pilot can get this thing moving wildly fast.

One of the luge attendants catches a glimpse of our camera on the way out. It’s big and fancy and not an iPhone, so he immediately assumes that we’re making a movie. The attendant is happy to be right about that and even happier to learn that the film is about motorcycling.

Then he says something that makes my fingers tingle.

I’ve been riding dirt bikes since I was a little kid. There are so many trails around here that I wasn’t really bothered about the street. But then they paved this road a few years ago – it follows right along the edge of Devil’s Canyon. It’s insane. I started my license exam the next week [laughs].

Wow. One road inspired this guy to go through the two-year-torture-test of getting his motorcycle license? I’m ready to beat it out of him. Where is it!?

Chemin Duplessis

To humanity’s credit, my helmet is still attached to the luggage rack when I leap onto the motorcycle. Chemin Duplessis is only a few minutes from the village and I’m dying to try it. The road will take me on a circuitous route to the adventure park, however, so I need to be fast.

As soon as I exit the roundabout onto Chemin Duplessis, I realize that speed won’t be a problem.

If Devil’s Canyon is a craggy scar of rapids and rocks, Chemin Duplessis is its linen bandage. For every sharp jaunt in the river, the road makes an arcing curve. For every sheer waterfall, the pavement dips and soars.

Chemin Duplessis makes me feel like a better rider. The turns are so consistent that I focus solely on decreasing my lean angle. The ascents are so smooth that I’m not afraid to grab a handful and descend on one wheel. It’s a blissful riding experience, occasionally fractured by the tar snakes that twitch my tires and nerves.

I quickly arrive in Sainte-Agathe-des-Monts and the adventure park outside of it. The digital clock on my dash indicates that I’m ahead of time. Fancy that.

After a 30-minute safety briefing, I glean two pieces of information:

• We’re going to climb the cliff before zip lining back down.
• If my carabiner is attached at all times, I won’t fall and die.

So I start to ascend the 17-storey Cap Beausejour. There’s a via ferrata anchored into the cliff (“iron road” in Italian), which makes climbing a breeze. I have the time and courage to lean off the rock face and savour my surroundings.

The view is decent from 150 feet up. But getting close and personal with a cliff face is the real treat. The Laurentians are some of the oldest mountains in the world, dating to about 540 million years ago. These are crumbling rock formations and I can really feel that. The aging cliff is wrinkled with caves, cracks and ledges. Each is a microecosystem unto itself, supporting plants and animals high above the forest floor. This cliffside viewpoint is one that I’ve never experienced before!

The climb ends atop a rocky promontory. A meaty steel cable is attached to the top, stretching into a tiny thread 650 metres away. I clip on and kick off.

Zipping across a gorge at 60km/h gets my blood pumping. But if I’m being honest, this isn’t the rush that I came looking for. The danger zone is only as wide as my carabiner. In the few centimeters between “open” and “closed,” I go from certain safety to certain death. From cargo to crazy.

My carabiner might be living on the edge, but there’s no room for me to explore that space. If the danger has no depth, my adrenaline doesn’t either. It isn't until I leave the adventure park that I come face-to-face with the adventure I’ve been seeking.

Riding offers a fluid spectrum between safety and peril – controllable with a flick of the wrist. On the way home I play through these layers. HWY 329 offers plenty of twisties for pushing rubber to the edge of grip. The 364 and 327 are more leisurely as I cruise east towards the off-road terrain near Rivière Rouge. Riding down Chemin de la Rouge is pure exploration. I’ve heard about this place but never pictured what it would be like. The road grows dustier as the dust in my mind starts to clear.

I ride past some of the best beaches I’ve ever seen – long and soft – all within minutes of Montréal. The waterfront is undeveloped, which is rare. And most extraordinarily, I happen upon the polychrome statues and manicured lawns of a Buddhist Temple. My GPS says I’m in rural Quebec, but this feels like Vietnam.

When I reach the end of the dirt road, I have two options for getting back to the 50. There’s a rutted track called Scotch Road, or the lower (and more spectacular) section of HWY 327. Having ridden both routes before – and with the light fading – I opt for the speedier 327.

On the final stretch I realize that there’s a subtle and colossal difference between "ride" and "riding." Most of Mont-Tremblant’s activities fall into the former category. It wasn’t luging – it was a luge ride . It wasn’t zip lining – it was a zip line ride . Engineers and safety boards did all the hard work; I merely experienced the end result.

In contrast, motorcycle riding is all about the journey to adrenaline. Getting to the danger zone is more satisfying than simply being there. In the same way, I appreciated the journey to Mont-Tremblant more than the destination.

Most are led blindfolded to the edge. They visit that space.

Few find their own way there. To live in that space.

Such is the measure between adventure,

And adventurous.

Tips for Motorcycling Mont-Tremblant

• Grab a beer at La Diable - This microbrewery runs its brew from the vats downstairs to the taps upstairs. You won't find it anywhere else in the world, so might as well grab a pint while you're in Tremblant. Pro tip: the brewery is hidden near the men's washroom, and the brewer can be talked into giving impromptu tours.

• Bring long sleeves - The alpine air can be chilly and the Tam Bao Son Buddhist Monastery bans T-shirts and shorts.

• Be careful near Rivière-Rouge - The sandy beaches are gorgeous, but the silt and water currents can also be treacherous.

• Ride Chemin Duplessis - This is my favourite paved road near Mont-Tremblant, shortly followed by HWY 327 south of Huberdeau.

• Ride Chemin Scotch - This is my favourite dirt road (or path?) en route to Mont-Tremblant. In the springtime it's especially gnarly. Bolder ADV riders will appreciate the wealth of trail-side sand pits.

• Avoid rush hour - HWY 15 between Montréal and Saint-Jérôme is the worst place in the world on Friday afternoon.

• Check your trail permit - Much of the ADV terrain in the Laurentians is managed by the ATV and snowmobile societies. We wandered into club territory at one point, and found out how unwelcome two-wheeled vehicles can be.