Dear readers, I meet you again for Day 3 of the Double Défi des 2 Mario crossing. The day rises one last time over the camp. Upon waking, the night was described as “crispy”; indeed, we came close to -30°C and even heard the ice crack. The sound is truly impressive, but let me reassure you, there is no risk of it giving way. I’m told there are at least 30 inches (76 cm) of ice beneath our feet: cars could drive here without any problem. Le jour se lève une dernière fois sur le campement.
This morning, it’s hard to get out of the sleeping bag: it’s relatively warm inside, but outside everything is damp, cold, and covered with a thin layer of ice.
This is the moment when you have to show courage, talk to your mind and your body, and tell it that it is capable.
It’s going to be uncomfortable, but it won’t last long, and afterward I will be proud of myself.
Always the same mechanism repeating itself, pushing us to come back and relive adventures like this one.
Like a gift to thank us, the sun finally appears on the horizon, while on the other side, the full moon is setting.
A pink, blue, mauve, and orange spectacle that convinces everyone to take a moment to admire it.
I step away for a few moments and look at the camp. Like a village temporarily set up with everything it needs to live: food, water, stoves, a few tents for shelter, but above all the determination and the big hearts of the people gathered there.
42 participants, 33 volunteers, people from all walks of life, some of whom have never camped in their lives, and yet here they are, fully immersed in this polar environment.
When you sign up for this crossing, there is a form of commitment, a giving of oneself, a complete letting go of everything you knew until now, and an openness to being surprised by yourself.
I sincerely believe this is the best way to approach it.
When you head home tonight, you will be the same person, but your perception of life and what your body is capable of accomplishing will likely have changed.
The kitchen bell pulls me out of my thoughts; this morning we’re being served the sublime breakfast POUTINE.
A sumptuous mix of potatoes, sweet potatoes, bacon, sausages, topped with a ladle of hollandaise sauce.
We hear “oh my god,” “wow,” “insane,” “I was so excited to eat poutine on the lake again.” It seems that over the years, it has gained quite a following.
With our faces turned toward the sun, bowls in hand, it’s incredible to realize that eating standing outside at -20°C has become something completely normal.
Breakfast devoured in a flash before it gets cold, we’re now called for souvenir photos.
The landscape is stunning, the sky is blue, the sun warms our cheeks, everyone is happy.
Is it because it’s the last day, or because we’re starting to genuinely enjoy what we’re doing here? Of course no one enjoys freezing their ears off out here; everyone has said at some point, “what am I doing here?”—and in the end, your body showed you that you could do it.
The bags are finally ready and loaded onto the sleds, the logistics team dismantles the tents one by one, hot drinks are served in the kitchen, and the snowmobilers finish transporting the heavy equipment.
Impeccable organization, leaving no trace of our passage on the ice.
It’s the last time we hook up our skis/snowshoes and our sled.
These are our final kilometers before the finish line.
In just a few hours, we’ll be home, and what you’ve lived will become just a memory.
We begin our final day under clear skies and can already see the opposite shore.
Physical and mental fatigue is very present, but in our hearts, a deep sense of accomplishment takes over.
We leave with inner peace, plans, dreams, and initiatives to come.
This is the case for Marine and Éric, both from Abitibi, now on their 5th crossing. Since their most recent participation in the Double Défi, they felt the need to pass on what they experienced and help the foundation shine.
That’s why they organized a crossing in their own region, along the Harricana River—a pilot project with youth from an outdoor program and a few adults.
It’s also the case for Maëva, who came from Switzerland (this crossing is her very first time in Québec—what a baptism!).
Maëva works for the Léman Hope Foundation in Switzerland and offers sailing adventures to young people in remission from cancer.
These initiatives touch me deeply.
We are just a few hundred meters from the finish line, and we can already see families and friends gathered to welcome us.
Some people even venture onto the ice on foot and with strollers. Nothing stops us when we want to celebrate someone.
Before the finish line, we line up two by two.
I finish my journey with Sylvain, whom I crossed paths with several times and with whom I had the pleasure of talking. I can feel how proud he is of himself, of his first time—and he should be.
I invite him to savor his achievement and to think often about what he has accomplished for himself and for the young people.
As for me, I cross the finish banner, hug the two Marios, and we exchange quiet thank-yous and gentle compliments.
I realize that in three years, this is the first time I’ve had the chance to cross the finish line like everyone else (having previously taken on the role of photographer).
My legs finally stop, emotion washes over me, and I let myself be carried away.
Before leaving, don’t forget to thank your body for where it takes you.
Take good care of it.
Thank you to the Sur la Pointe des Pieds Foundation for once again allowing me this year to let you experience this crossing through my words.
See you very soon!
Blogger: Marine Diez
Photographer: Simon Faucher
In pictures
