Red Torch Parade

I'm not a skater. I'm not a skier. I don't even like ice and snow nor anything that is in its natural state at zero degrees or less. I inherited this trait from Clarice, my mother. How I survived forty years living in frozen Ottawa and walking on ice and snow for half of each and every year is beyond me. During the 2012 New Year's celebrations with my family, however, I was surprised and delighted to see something so spectacular that it helped turn my head around. It was the Red Torch Parade at Mont St. Marie, Quebec. Now, I see things in a different light.

The ninety minute drive from Ottawa to my daughter and son-in-law's cottage next to the ski-hill at Mont St. Marie is quite beautiful. The hills and lakes and rivers were mostly snow covered but the roads were clear. We stopped briefly to load up on groceries; soft drinks; and of course, beer and wine at a general store just outside Wakefield. One of the perks of being in Quebec is that beer and spirits are sold in grocery stores and at far cheaper prices than in most other provinces. The remainder of the drive was incident free apart from seeing the odd deer strolling proudly down country roads.

When we arrived at the cottage things happened with speed and military efficiency. Three adults and two kids each had our assigned duties. The van was unloaded in no time flat. Groceries were put away in the fridge. Skis, boots, helmets, warm clothing, poles and other equipment were put in their respective storage places and I made a blazing log-fire in the fireplace. Before long, plates of food and cups of hot chocolate were being served.

On New Year's eve morning we hit the ski-hills. All family members rushed to the ski-lifts except me. I found a cosy little spot by the huge window in the ski-lodge restaurant overlooking the hill. I was amazed at how proficient my two grandchildren had become since the last skiing season. Towards noon, the kids came to join me with bright red faces and gleaming white smiles. “Can we have some Poutine Papa?” When in Quebec you must gorge on their Poutine. Its steaming hot french-fries covered in globs of melted cheese and gravy. Many Quebeckers call it their national dish. Its out of this world!

I was getting ready for bed late that night when my family asked me to go and see the Red Torch Parade at midnight. It was the first I'd heard of it and I was torn between crawling under the covers and going to sleep or going with them. I'm glad I chose the latter. Just before midnight a bright red light appeared in the black sky. I knew it wasn't a plane or a helicopter. It took a while before I realized that it was not in the sky at all. It was fixed at the very top of the tallest ski-hill. Other red lights, much smaller and not as bright, appeared haphazardly until one of them began its descent down the hill. It was followed by another...and another...and another.. in single file until sixty-four expert skiers were descending slowly carrying a red torch. Each skier was separated from the other at equal distances. They slowly descended the hill weaving in a serpentine pattern. They wore red ski suits. Their torches collectively illuminated the snow on the ground and the underbelly of the low-lying clouds above creating a red “glow” all over the mountain. It was well choreographed. The overall effect was striking.

My only regret was not having my camera with me but I doubt it would have captured the magic of the moment adequately.

What a splendid way to ring in 2012!