It all started with a simple question: “Are you in? Should we sign up?” I agreed without hesitation, not realizing the scale of the challenge ahead. As the days went by, excitement kept building with the approaching start of the 4th edition of the closed-course event, Cross-Country Motoneige Québec. Nervousness also crept in, creating a mix of adrenaline, doubt, and impatience… But backing out was no longer an option. I dove headfirst into the adventure.
My goal was simple: to finish the race without getting injured and without mechanical failure. I just wanted to fully experience it and have fun. In my mind, I pictured the course like a snowmobile trail at the end of the day—completely destroyed, with endless bumps. A terrain most riders dread… but exactly the kind I enjoy.
I asked myself countless questions: what would the level of the other female racers be? Would I feel intimidated? Did I really belong in this race? I love pushing my limits and taking on challenges that test my strength and determination. But was I ready? Would I be able to rise to the occasion? Deep down, a small voice reassured me. I’m competitive. I love challenges. No matter what awaited me, I was going for it.
Race Day: Immersion in a Cross-Country Snowmobile Event
Race day finally arrived! The atmosphere at the Cross-Country Motoneige Québec site was electric. Everyone was preparing and making final adjustments before the start. I met the other women who were just as nervous and excited as I was. We shared a few laughs and reassured each other. There was something unique about the atmosphere—a mix of camaraderie and competition.
We then attended the pit meeting. The announcer explained the safety rules and the course layout. All the participants listened attentively; the excitement was palpable. Once the instructions were given, it was finally time: we headed out for the practice laps.
From the first corner, I realized this race would be very different from what I had imagined. The snow was soft and deep, making the riding far more demanding. Maxime had described this race to me as an extreme version of a traditional trail—a one-way track filled with bumps. In reality, it was nothing like groomed trail riding.
I eventually finished my practice laps and realized how hot I was. It already felt as if I had just completed a serious workout… and the actual race hadn’t even started yet!
I mentally prepared as we lined up on the starting line. I turned on my phone to play music in my helmet and activated “Do Not Disturb” mode. At that exact moment, a message appeared. It was very bad news about a loved one who was not doing well at all. My heart sank… My body was there, but my mind was elsewhere. I knew that, in challenges like this, you have to stay focused. Letting your mind wander can lead to mistakes—and injuries. Then, the race start was announced.
A Promising First Lap
The start of my first race was given. I focused as much as I could. My first lap went well, and I held my position in the standings. I had started third on the line following a random draw. One rider ahead of me went off the track, which moved me into second place.
Things were going well… my adrenaline was through the roof! I told myself I could push even harder. With a long straight ahead of me, I accelerated quickly, trying to catch the rider in first place. But I hadn’t memorized the track. I came into the corner far too fast and went straight off the line. There was a lot of fresh snow and no solid base, and I got stuck.
I called Maxime, who then called for help to get me out. While waiting, I tried to free myself. I cleared the skis first, then the track. I packed down a path and managed to move about 10 feet forward. But there was so much snow that I got stuck again.
At that moment, I could hear Maxime’s voice in my head saying, “Full throttle—it’ll come out!” I gave it everything I had. The result: I was even more buried… Another racer stopped, ready to help me. I thanked her but told her to keep going and enjoy her race. I was already too far behind anyway.
A quad eventually pulled me out once the race was over. I had missed my race—what a disappointment. Still, I told myself I would make up for it in the second heat.
Second Heat: When Snowmobile Racing Becomes Too Risky
The second heat was a completely different story. The track was unrecognizable, destroyed by the previous riders. I could see massive bumps and exposed rock caps. The track conditions had clearly deteriorated, which was to be expected after all the racers had gone through.
Throughout the race, every bump was a fight to avoid being thrown off my snowmobile. It hit hard. My mind started to wander as I tried to navigate around obstacles. I thought about my family and my brand-new snowmobile that I didn’t want to break. I asked myself: should I keep going at all costs and risk getting thrown or damaging my Ski-Doo, or should I stop?
One voice inside me told me to keep going, not to quit. But another reminded me that I had nothing to prove. Then I realized the fun was gone. I completed my second lap and made the decision to withdraw from the race. My objective had been clear from the beginning: have fun, avoid injury, and protect my machine. Those three criteria were enough to convince me I had made the right call.
Cross-Country Snowmobiling: A Memorable but Demanding Experience
This was the story of my first cross-country snowmobile experience. I dared to try. In the end, I learned to respect my limits and set my pride aside. I would do it again if I had a snowmobile dedicated specifically to this type of riding—a machine I could break without worry. With such short seasons, there’s no time to lose dealing with repairs.
Maxime and I have set ourselves the challenge of trying at least one new experience every year. I can now add cross-country snowmobiling to my list. I also met incredible, talented, and courageous women. There’s no denying that this sport requires tremendous physical and mental strength.
I’m proud that I tried, even if it didn’t go the way I had hoped. And now… what will my next challenge be?
