Upper-Gatineau Whitewater Festival

August 24th & 25th, 2002
By Don Karn

At one of the early editions of the Upper-Gatineau Whitewater Festival, Jasmin Lefevre, co-founder of the festival, stood admiring the crowds of paddlers at the Bonnet Rouge Rapids pull-out. He was heard to mutter, in an odd mixture of awe and exasperation that he found it inconceivable that anyone, who had ever paddled the Festival section of the Gatineau between the towns of Maniwaki and Bouchette, could ever let anything happen to it. The awe came from the magnificence of the river, the exasperation from its vulnerability.

Of course what Jasmin was talking about was proprietorship and if putting people on the River gives them a stake in its future, then the Festival has to be considered an unmitigated success. Every year there have been increasing numbers of paddlers on the Gatineau. From a modest beginning five years ago, the 2001 edition saw over 1000 kayakers, canoeists and rafters take to the water during the last weekend of August.

For close to 180 years, proprietorship of the Gatineau was in the hands of a succession of lumber barons and pulp and paper companies. They used the river to drive raw materials from the region's forests to manufacturing markets. Finally during the early 1990's the log drive ground to a sluggish but inexorable halt. For the first time the river became accessible to the local community. Judging by many of the local newspaper reports of the time, the initial reaction was to return control to outside, allowing exportation of local raw materials, this time electricity. As with the lumber trade of the past, the region itself would lose the benefit of the full potential of its own resources. There was some mention of development of ecotourism, but there seemed little understanding that once given over to hydro development, the unique attraction of the river for ecotourists would be compromised.

It is not surprising that the local community was slow to realize the true value of the River. It is bounded by private property, no public roads run parallel to the rapids section of the river, and the Kitigan Zibi Algonquin Indian Reserve lies along five miles of it's west bank. As Mayor Robert Coulombe of Maniwaki observed with some irony in his welcoming speech at this year's Festival, it took a canoe club from Montreal to help the local population discover its own river and appreciate its potential.

In the summer of 1996, the Portageurs Canoe Club of Montreal organized an exploratory canoe trip. Aware that the log drive had recently been terminated on the Gatineau, they decided to explore the Maniwaki Bouchette section of the river. To their surprise and delight they stumbled upon a rare treasure. They also learned that this newfound treasure was threatened with hydro development. Jasmin Lefebvre and club president Alain Bonin decided to organize a canoe festival. From the start, the objectives of the Festival were clearly spelt out: to make people aware of the natural splendor of the Gatineau, to lobby to preserve the Gatineau in its natural state and to work for the preservation of all threatened Quebec rivers by donating Festival proceeds to the Committee for the Preservation of Quebec Rivers.

The Festival started quietly in late August of 1997. 150 paddlers gathered in Maniwaki to experience the thrill of the Gatineau. By pure accident, I happened to be present. During a short break in the frivolity of that first Festival Saturday night, I listened with interest as president Bonin spoke of the importance of remembering the objectives, one of the most important being to make the local community aware of its own river. I was intrigued, and shortly after, I introduced myself to him as a local who wanted to check out the river. I wondered if he had a spot for me in a canoe the next day. He hesitated a moment, asked me if I knew how to swim and if I had any whitewater experience. "Lots" I lied, and that's how I discovered the Gatineau. The next morning I jumped into Alain's canoe. I've been there ever since. But my experience is far from unique. One ride is all it takes and lots of others have clambered on board. There is now a dedicated group of local preservationists that helps with the logistics and operation of the Festival site.

If it's the vulnerability of the Gatineau that lends a sense of urgency to the organization of the Festival, and in a perverse sort of way, leads to it's success, the river itself cannot be ignored as a drawing card. There are several park and paddle rapids in the vicinity of Maniwaki, among them La Gueule du Lion, (Lion's Mug) and La Bouche du Chaton, (Kitty's Mouth), but the main Festival run is a surprising compact stretch of 8 km. (5 mi). There are 8 separate rapids packed into the run with minimal flatwater between the breaks. Names such as Haute Tension, (High Tension), Le Mur (The Wall) and l'Anus de Lucifer, (no translation necessary), give an idea of the types of waves and holes on the river. But even at festival time, with Hydro Quebec co-operating with a release from the Baskatong Reservoir, the river can be paddled by a wide range of skill levels. There are several lines available on all rapids, from the cowboy-rodeo route of the RIV/V (Class IV/V) to sneaky RII (Class II) lines following the inside turns of the river, to the sure-footed path of the well-marked portages, all this running through pristine wilderness less than 90 miles north of the nation's capital.

But the Gatineau experience is more than the river. As Karl Gesslein, a kayaker from Ithaca, New York, wrote on his web site after the 1998 Festival, "...the Gatineau Festival was by far the best paddling weekend all summer. I was skeptical about the 6 hr. drive but... I can safely say that it was worth it. I have never met any culture that is as hospitable as the French-Canadians. They fed us, shuttled us, let us camp and gave us hot showers and kept up a nice fire that burned all night long. Never once was I made to feel as stupid as I felt for not being able to speak French..."

Two of those hospitable French-Canadians "bookend" the main festival route. Access to the river is provided by Margueritte Lafrance, (the name Margueritte is also French for daisy, hence the flower logo on the access signs), while Isabelle Gagnon is owner-operator of the enchanting and spectacular Bonnet Rouge take-out and camp-site. Nicer people you would be hard-pressed to find and they are precious collaborators. They share the paddlers' vision of sustainable tourist development of the river with scrupulous respect for the natural setting. But on the Gatineau, collaboration can never be taken for granted. In at least two instances, under pressure from private hydro developers, co-operative landowners have changed their minds and now deny river access to paddlers, and the Festival.

From the put-in campsite at Margueritte's to the take-out at Isabaelle's, the river drops 55 feet. Talk to a whitewater paddler and a hydroelectric engineer about drop and we all know that they see two different things. The paddler sees eddy lines, souse holes and haystacks, the engineer sees megawatts. The curious thing about the Gatineau, is that Hydro Quebec doesn't see enough megawatts to find development profitable.

But Hydro Quebec, a provincial crown corporation isn't the villain in this story. For several years the provincial government has been talking of stimulating regional economies by allowing private enterprise to enter the ring. In May of this year the talk became a real threat as the Quebec government announced that it would proceed with its privatization program for small scale hydro projects where local and native communities agreed. The Gatineau was on the list of 24 rivers, with two of the 36 proposed sites. Hydro development at either of the Gatineau sites, the Corbeau or Cèdres Rapids, would drive a stake through the heart of the festival.

There are many arguments against the government privatization program. Ironically, Quebec Natural Resources Minister Jacques Brassard, father of the program, acknowledges one of the most compelling. If all 36 sites on the privatization list were to be developed, their combined production would be 425 megawatts. According to Brassard's own figures, 425 megawatts represents only one year of what he projects to be Quebec's annual increase in energy needs. Admittedly, as we go forward in the new century, energy needs will increase but one has to wonder if sacrificing 24 rivers to produce a paltry 425 megawatts is a reasonable trade-off. Instead, preservationists encourage investing in research and alternative sources of production including wind, solar and energy efficiency. All of these endeavors produce more power and create infinitely more permanent jobs. By sparing the sites, Brassard would leave intact Quebec's image as an attractive adventure-tourism destination and allow the regions' to control the sustainable development and exploitation of this exponentially expanding sector of the economy. Indeed, the success of the Whitewater Festival attests to the vitality and growth potential of adventure tourism.

And what about the Upper-Gatineau Whitewater Festival, do participants get their money's worth? You be the judge. At this year's Festival for a $30.00 Am. pre-registration fee, you got shuttle service to the Festival rivers, two breakfasts, a supper, camp grounds, hot showers, indoor washrooms, campfire, marquee tent, and a Saturday night Festival party complete with entertainment, auction, music, laughter and camaraderie. But you also got something incalculably more important. You had the satisfaction of knowing that your presence on one of Quebec's threatened rivers will help shape local and native decision makers' choices. Your continued presence, as a valued, visible visitor, will reaffirm their choice. Finally, as Jasmin Lefebvre would muse, you got to buy into a piece of a river. One ride, that's all it takes and it becomes yours, yours to enjoy and yours to look after. Any other conclusion is inconceivable.