How did I find myself here?
Over the long, quiet hours of the pandemic lockdown era in 2020 and 2021, I spent most of my time stuck at a desk working freelance and trying to wrap up my master’s thesis. Lucky for me, people like my friend Becca took a completely different approach. She used those long months to convert an old Mercedes Sprinter van into a mobile base-camp for adventure. By May of 2022, the weather was getting warmer (by Canadian standards), society was opening up, and she was itching to take her van out on a maiden voyage. Naturally, I was first in line to volunteer my co-piloting services. Soon enough, we were crossing the bridge from Ottawa to test out the vanlife in Québec, a province that both of us were eager to explore.
Into the ZEC on Dark Forest Roads
We started our journey heading north along the Gatineau river, with only the thought of leaving civilization behind. Of course, we made a few pit stops along the way, like checking out the old covered bridge at Wakefield and indulging in an obligatory poutine at a roadside casse-croûte (the Québecois term for a fried snack bar). Without a real plan, we worked on gut feelings and a few glances at the map. As the daylight started to wane, we decided to make our way into the Bras-Coupé-Désert (lit. severed arm desert) wilderness management area (ZEC) that looked promising, despite its horror-movie name.
By the time twilight settled in, we were bumping our way down a remote dirt road through a thick forest. An owl silently escorted us as we bumped our way down remote dirt tracks. Under a starry night sky, we eventually parked beside a serene lake and decided to call it home for the night.
Morning brought sunlight and a much- needed coffee on the lake shore. It also brought a surprise visit from two ZEC rangers, who politely but firmly informed us we weren’t really allowed to be there. “No worries,” we told them. “We were just catching the sunrise.” We lingered a bit longer over our mugs, but we took the hint and were soon back on the road.
Crag Hunting and Cold Plunges
With no real plan for where to go next, we headed towards the Mont Tremblant region, thinking that almost everywhere people go skiing, there are rock climbing areas as well. Soon enough, we found Montagne d’Argent, a local crag perched above the village of Brébeuf. We arrived cold and tired, but still had enough energy to strap on headlamps and explore the a few hiking trails. In an illustration of how a disconnected lifestyle makes the simple things more enjoyable, finding a porcupine clinging to a tree offered enough entertainment for the evening.
Before settling in, we stopped at a nearby river beach for a brutally cold swim to wash off the day’s dust. With the rush of two people risking hypothermia, we dried off and charged back into the van, happy to retreat to a secluded parking lot to get some sleep.
Laying awake in my sleeping bag on the floor of the van, I took a moment to appreciate the rhythm of vanlife in Québec. Between packing, unpacking, cooking on the go, and discovering new places, the pace of life no longer felt overwhelming. It’s the kind of slow travel that makes room for genuine wonder, deep conversation, and long silences filled with contentment.
Following the Devil’s River
We started the next day more slowly, taking time for an extra dose of coffee. Following the Rivière du Diable (Devil’s River) took us deeper into Mont Tremblant National Park until we reached Lac Monroe. After a vigorous hike through the snow to the lookout at La Corniche, we were rewarded with sweeping views of the park.
Of course, all that exercise called for another refreshing dip, even though the water here was borderline freezing. It was almost as though the Devil himself had reached in to add an extra chill (to be dramatic).
Unfortunately, we didn’t have the option to stick around and warm up. A downside of the vanlife in Québec is that there’s no freedom to park overnight in official parks! After scouting around for a good option, we decided to backtrack and sleep at our trusted spot from the night before.
Unexpected Wonders on the Back Roads
Sheltered from the morning chill, we had a hearty breakfast in the van. Properly fueled up, we headed to the crag for a full day of climbing. The cold granite offered a real challenge, and the rock only started to warm up after our grip strength had completely failed us.
With jellied arms, we decided to meander southward alongside the Rivière Rouge. On this random road in the middle of nowhere, we discovered one of the most unexpected sights of the trip: the Đại Tòng Lâm Tam Bảo Sơn, an enormous Buddhist temple complex nestled on the hillside.
These are the kinds of moments that made the vanlife in Québec so memorable. No schedules. No crowds. Just a random temple in the woods, with two slightly grungy travelers parked in front thinking about why it was there.
The Slow Lane to Civilization
That night, we took a break from vagrant life and stayed at Plaisance Provincial Park along the Ottawa river. The mosquitoes were relentless but we fought back with a roaring campfire that kept us chatting long into the night.
The next day marked the end of our adventure, and we wanted to cap it off properly. We searched for a quiet lake to unwind beside before returning to the city, but were stunned at how hard it was to find a place by the water. Québec, it turns out, lacks public access on over 98% of its lakes and rivers. After three failed attempts, we finally landed at a modest public beach on Lac Saint-Pierre. We swam, we sunbathed, and we sulked about the end of our vanlife in Québec.
Epilogue: A Taste for the Open Road
Reluctantly, the van rolled us back into Ottawa. The trip had been short, for just a week, but it was enough time for me to really taste something different. I’m not referring to the granola bars and campground coffee, but to the simple pleasures of this 4-wheeled form of slow travel.
Our time living the vanlife in Québec was a novelty in many ways. At the same time, it also offered a different lens through which to see some of my favourite experiences. With Becca at the wheel and no real destination in mind, it somehow all made perfect sense.
“if you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there”
Lewis carrol