How I went from helicopter evacuations to operating commercial river raids on the Jacques-Cartier River

It was in September 2011, a year before I started my training as a rafting guide.

There were four of us: Two of my best friends (William and Andy), my father (Francis) and me (Alex).

Andy and I had started river kayaking during the summer. We bought some used equipment on Lespac and went to the Hêtres rapids (our local training rapid) a few times. Andy was lucky enough to have taken an introductory course with a well-known instructor, with whom he paddled the Pont-Rouge-Donnacona section at a low water level. My father had gone on canoe trips in his youth. William was my daredevil friend who was always up for anything.

On a beautiful Monday in September, the stars aligned (or misaligned…) and we decided it would be a damn good trip to paddle down the Pont-Rouge section, the four of us together. I had an old Wave Sport XXX, Andy had just bought a beautiful, brand-new Wave Sport Diesel, Will had rented a kayak, and for my dad, we found a beat-up kayak in a friend's backyard (the fins were broken, so I remade them out of modeling clay and then covered them with fiberglass…). To complete the dream setup, a beautiful nylon spray skirt that had been given to me by an adventurer I admired (Fred Dion).

It had been raining for a week. The flow rate had risen considerably in the last few days (350m3). At this level, some rapids become difficult for beginners (R3+). But Andy had done the section a few weeks earlier (with an experienced instructor), so we were going to be fine. Anyway, none of us knew anything about the difficulty levels, and no one had checked the flow rate before the descent…what was the point?

First rapid: The Cheese Grater. The four of us capsize and swim. I quickly reach the shore in my kayak, but I spot my father working hard (his boat weighs a ton and barely floats), so I swim back into the water to help him pull his kayak back while he swims to shore. When I finally manage to pull his kayak to shore, my two friends and I reunite, but are separated from my father (and my kayak) by a cliff.

Andy and I then set out to find my father, unaware that he had decided to return to the parking lot (with my kayak). He assumed we would go back to the parking lot as well. Anyway, when we arrived, he was gone. Suspecting his strategy, we also returned to the parking lot to find him, but without success (he had taken a detour via one of the many trails). We decided to return to the river to find William and continue our descent; we found him later (we knew he wasn't in the water).

Since our kayaks were waiting for us further downstream, we figured it would be quicker to swim back. First rapid (for the second time): The Cheese Grater. The rapid lives up to its name. Both times, we really hurt ourselves. I ripped my wetsuit and hit something hard. We still managed to find William. At this point, I no longer had my kayak or my paddle (my dad's). So I was left with the old kayak—no seat, no float, and no paddle.

At this crucial moment, we encountered three kayakers who advised us to stop, saying the worst was yet to come. Ironically, one of them, Scro, would become my rafting instructor the following year. It wasn't until several years later that we made the connection.

It doesn't matter…we're not scared. We built a raft with me in the middle, which we tied to the other two (I didn't have a paddle). We somehow managed to make it halfway (Grape Island). When we reached the rapid, swimming (I capsized), my kayak simply disappeared underwater. I fought it, but I had to give up; it weighed two tons and didn't float. So there we were, the three of us at Grape Island, before the most difficult part of the section, with two kayaks and three kayakers who didn't know how to roll (the technique for righting yourself after a capsize without getting out of the kayak), in 350 cubic meters of water (a difficult level for beginners).

Never mind…we're going down! The guys head into the rapids and I follow them…swimming. Of course, they both capsize and end up swimming too. Andy and I find ourselves at the end of the rapids, on the bank. More of a scare than anything else, his kayak got stuck in the eddies and he's out of sight (we'll never see him again). William, on the other hand, is ahead of us and also out of sight. Andy and I collect our thoughts for a few minutes and then get back in the water to continue swimming down.

It was only several kilometers downstream that we finally found William on an island with his kayak! He had fought to keep it from slipping away, swimming for several kilometers. This island is near the first houses we saw along the route (Rue des Goéland). By the time we arrived, William, exhausted and without news, had signaled for help to the houses on the opposite bank. A local woman had spotted him and called for help.

When Andy and I arrived on the island, happy to see William again, several firefighters had already reached the shore and were trying to communicate, without success (heavy rain). William wasn't about to go back in the water immediately, but we needed to contact the firefighters to tell them everything was under control…

So I swam to shore to find the firefighters (I left the kayak in case he wanted to cross before I came back) to tell them everything was okay, but the firefighters didn't see it that way. They put me in a truck; there was no way I was going back in the water to convince my friends to cross. They told the guys (over the megaphone) not to move.

After several dozen minutes during which I heard various scenarios, including calling the Army search and rescue team, it was finally the Sûreté du Québec (SQ) helicopter (equipped with a winch) that was called. The helicopter eventually arrived, winched the men up, and dropped them off in a nearby field. They were taken to the hospital for mild hypothermia.

Meanwhile, a police car had been sent to the boat ramp to pick up my father and bring him back to the scene. Imagine the scene. He had been waiting for hours in the rain (we were the ones with the car keys, of course) to tell him that a helicopter evacuation was underway for my friends and me.

Many media outlets were there and trying to interview us. I called my mother to tell her: "You might hear things on television, but don't worry, everything is fine."

The next day, Denis Lévesque's team tried to reach me for the midday show. I didn't respond, but there was still a segment on the question: "Should the guys pay for the evacuation or not?" Imagine the bill; there were dozens of firefighters, police officers, a helicopter…

On the Kayak Québec forum (which replaced Facebook groups back then), we were torn to shreds, and rightly so. It's terrible publicity for the community. We remained silent. In fact, apart from close friends, this is the first time I've shared this experience publicly, 14 years later.

William's kayak had remained on the island. The next day, we sent a friend to go and get it, but it had disappeared.

The following year, I started my training as a rafting guide. Andy didn't touch a kayak again for another 10 years. William had to pay for the rental kayak, but he still got back into whitewater with a season as a rafting guide. My father went whitewater with me from time to time.

Ten years and as many rafting seasons later, I started Rivière Concept on the Mattawin River in Mauricie. A year after the start of Rivière Concept, we began operating commercial kayak trips (packrafting) on the Jacques-Cartier River before moving there full-time in 2023. Now, two years have passed, and we have enabled hundreds of adventurous souls, like my friends and I in 2011, to discover the Pont-Rouge-Donnacona section, in complete safety.

A whitewater rafting trip is like an avalanche. It doesn't stop when you want it to. That's why a small situation can quickly become complicated.

The river is the most beautiful thing in the world, but it's not something to be taken lightly. Surround yourself with competent people, take courses, and don't skip any steps. It's a slow process, but you won't regret it!

Cheers,

Alex