Tales From The Anti-Adventurist: Vanessa Rides A Chair Lift

In Mont-Orford, Quebec, my eyes were amazed but my stomach was queasy. This is what it was like riding a chair lift for the very first time!

My trip to Quebec was part of a press trip.  This post may contain affiliate links, which means that if you make a purchase, we may get a small commission.

When I travel, I like to explore twists and turns: A windy road, a crooked bookstore, the cozy nooks in tiny coffee shops. What I don't like, and generally avoid at all costs, are ups and downs. I avoid mountains, caves, ledges, edges, ladders, crevices, tunnels, and trenches. I am not a gal designed for adventure and I'm rather proud of the fact that I've proved that you can travel around the world without the need to parachute, paraglide, or procure a pair of trekking poles. 

But every now and then, there's a chink in my armour. I ignore decades of ironclad evidence that I don't have daring bone in my body and I do something rash, something utterly beyond my bravery. And that, precisely, is what I found myself doing at the Mont-Orford Ski Resort in Quebec's Eastern Townships.

This is what happens when an anti-adventurist rides the world's tallest*, steepest*, most terrifying chair lift.

*Technically*, Mont-Orford's chair lift is not world's tallest. That honour is reserved for Sugarbush, Vermont's chair lift, which rises 11,012 feet. Nor does it appear on Ski magazine's list of the scariest chair lifts, but I'm sure that's just because the writers were far too terrified to think about it. Let me assure you that Mont-Orford is tall, steep, and totally scary! But that didn't really matter to me, at least not at first, as I had zero intention of riding any chair lift whatsoever. I was there for a sensible, sedate gondola ride. 

I visited in Mont-Orford for my gondola ride in September, eagerly looking forward to a genteel ride among the cheery red, orange, and yellow trees. It was a perfect autumn day when Ryan and I drove to Mont-Orford, with crisp air, bright, sunny skies, and vibrant trees that looked like something from a movie set. I couldn't imagine a more perfect way to appreciate the changing colours of the countryside. 

As Clover was with us, we planned to take turns with dog care, with one person walking Clover and the other exploring Mont-Orford, with a switch after lunch.  We weren't the only ones eager to enjoy the scenery. The annual Flambée des Couleurs (Flare of Colours) festival was in full swing and the property was filled with happy hikers and excited families. 

Looking pretty relaxed to start my adventure!

Feeling confident and relaxed, I made my way to the gondola and chair lift zone. When I saddled up to the ride area, I wasn't thinking about heights, steepness, or the world's scariest chair lift. In fact, the whole experience felt rather cozy.

I was the only person on my gondola so I was free to move and look around as I liked (I wasn't actually gonna move around in that thing but I COULD have, if I wanted to, and that's the same thing, right?) The ride was smooth and the happy sounds of the festive atmosphere quickly faded. Before long, I was surrounded by the peaceful, quiet hum of nature and the sight of happy families enjoy a seasonal hill walk as we gently glided up.

Soon that glide turned into a climb. And then it kept going, and going, and going some more. Those happy people enjoying a moderate walk soon turned into tiny specks far below, making their way up a craggy cliff. What the heck? Was this Mont-Orford or Mount Everest? Where was the path? What were they doing? Wait! Are those... CHILDREN??? And DOGS? And why am I not at the top yet? 

I had neglected to study the fine print. My gondola was travelling a whopping 850 meters up the mountain. Hmmm... that sounds rather high, doesn't it?  Yep, it felt that way too!

I felt a wave of relief when my gondola crested the top of the hill and I was weak with relief when I finally alighted from my big ride. However, no one else looked jittery. As I looked at all the smiling hikers making their way up over the top, I noticed they looked downright jubilant. All the children seemed alive and well. Several people were even wearing toddler-carrying backpacks! And the dogs! There were so many hiking dogs! How on earth had those plump, not-exactly-athletic looking canines made it up what I thought was a terrifying raw cliff?

Nobody looked scared at all. They were casually setting up picnics, checking out the little kiosk selling coffee and chips, and venturing forth to marvel at the look outs. Could it be that I was wrong? Perhaps things weren't that high and steep after all?

Certainly no one around me looked concerned about heights as they made their way towards the chairlift and gondola to go back down the mountain. I noticed that very few people opted for the gondola - the chair lift was definitely the most popular option. Perhaps I was too tense, too worked up. I mean, people just WALKED up this mountain, with babies strapped to their back and pugs prancing by their side. Had I over reacted? This was a relaxed, festive occasion, not a scary ski hill. What if I did it? What if I bypassed the gondola and RODE THE CHAIR LIFT back down the mountain. What if there really was a secret fearless adventure queen deep within my soul and today was the day to release her warrior spirit?

Obviously, the first thing this warrior woman had to do was carefully watch people getting on the chair lift for ten minutes to figure out how they did it. The chairs didn't exactly stop as they crested the hill and made their way around the turn before heading back down. I'd have to get into position and sit at precisely the moment the chair came up behind me. Well, I could manage that. I mean, I'm coordinated, right? (Editor's note: No. No she is not.) I'd also have to pull the safety bar down on my own but surely that wouldn't be too hard if children were doing it. This would just be like any other semi-scary thing, where it would be nerve wracking in the lead up but once we set off, it would be smooth sailing, right? RIGHT? Hello, anyone out there?

Have you ever had a moment of regret that was so immediate, so instantaneous that you could still taste the better decision you ought to have made as it lingered in your mouth? That's how I felt as the chair lift glided toward the lip of the mountain and just... went over the side. My stomach swooped and I felt sick as I realized that this was truly a horrible, no good, very bad decision I just made. You've heard of white knuckle rides, right? I'm sure my entire arms were white as I gripped the bar so tightly my hands were tingling for ten minutes once it was done. Given my predicament (imminent death by chair lift fright) and the environment (the chair behind me contained cool teens without a care in the world), I did the only thing reasonable given the circumstances... 

...I screwed my eyes shut tight and willed myself not to cry as I tried to think of something, anything that would take my mind off the chair o'death.

​For reasons I will never understand, the old campfire song, My Paddle's Keen And Bright, came to mind and I sang a few lines over and over again in my head as I waited for my eventual death or - even worse - mocking at the hand of 14 year olds. I couldn't have been in this state for more than a minute, two at most, but it felt like a lifetime and every time I chanced opening my eyes for a second to glimpse the world, the view remained firmly terrifying. 

And then, suddenly, it wasn't. I was still holding on for dear life. I was still far too scared to look around but I could look, straight ahead and then a tiny bit up and down and side to side. I wasn't able to hold up my phone to grab photos, but I eventually could release one hand, for just a second, and offer a timid wave to a family ascending the mountain. ​

This was my face when I was once again back on firm land!

While it was a bustling day at the ski hill, the silence wrapped all around me as I continued gliding down the hill, the autumn colours cloaking the surrounding hills like a bumpy quilt. It was everything I wanted from a fall excursion: Incredible vistas, phenomenal flashy hues, and the promise of poutine in the not-too-distant future. I knew in that moment that the chair lift was the only way I could have truly experienced this. Sure, the gondola would have been good too but this way there was nothing between me and the great outdoors. That was scary - downright stomach churning in fact - but it was also rewarding. Maybe this is what Olympic skiers feel as they race in pursuits of world records, the wind rushing through their hair, their cheeks flushed with excitement, one with the elements, relentless in their pursuit of excellent. 

Then again, it DID take a good ten minutes for my hands to regain full circulation and stop tingling when I finally released my grip when I returned to solid ground, so maybe I'm not queen of the hill quite yet.

Mont-Orford ski resort is a year-round operation. In winter, of course, it's a full service ski centre and, in warmer weather, it's a popular hiking destination. It's busiest during the Flambée des Couleurs festival in the fall, which is usually the last two weekends in September and the first two in October. During this time, onsite parking is $10 but for the rest of the hiking season it is free. Round trip rides up the mountain (regardless of whether it's in a gondola, a chair lift, or a mix) cost about $21. 

Dogs aren't allowed on the gondolas or the chair lift, which is why Clover stayed on the ground. In case you're wondering, the poutine was indeed as restorative and Ryan enjoyed his time up the mountain even more than I did. In fact, he might have enjoyed it a little too much, as he was insufferably smug about how easily he rode the chairlift both up and down Mont-Orford. However, I can't be too upset with him because he declared the gorgeous trip his absolute favourite experience in the Eastern Townships and the number one activity he'd recommend to others visiting the region. 

There's a viewing platform at the top of the mountain that encourages everyone to celebrate little victories. I think it's designed to encourage hikers, regardless of how quickly they made the trip, but I'd like to think it's up there for anti-adventurists just like me. Making it up (and back down again!) is something that should be celebrated, no matter how you achieve it. So, if you're like me, dig deep - really deep - and you might just find yourself in the middle of one of your most challenging and rewarding adventures. And if you're like Ryan, you're going to love every moment. 


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