NATURAL HIGH: The reporter at Arbraska Rigaud

Treetop trekking

>> Walk, climb, zip, crawl and
swing your way through the woods

by LORRAINE CARPENTER,
photos by RACHEL GRANOFSKY

Having covered the disparate outdoor sports of skydiving and mini-golf for the Mirror, this reporter was happy to take on an assignment that offered the best of both worlds: treetop trekking. The activity, comparable to a cross between hiking, tree-climbing, crashing a kids’ playground and appearing on Fear Factor, entails slowly scaling a wooded area via a series of ziplines, ladders, bridges and, at the intermediate level, a large net that you swing into on a rope, each bridge and cable allowing you to move between trees.

It has a smidgeon of skydiving’s adrenaline rush, with a touch of its challenge for those who fear falling to their death, and a pinch of putt-putt’s relaxing allure, with a hefty portion of its (nearly) guaranteed safety—one could always be hit by lightning on a golf course, or injure oneself in the woods.

As with operating a toaster or crossing a road, treetop trekking is absolutely safe as long as you follow simple directions; and yet, unlike jumping out of a plane, the courses are designed with plenty of emergency exits for those who want to chicken out, which I did, avoiding the 350-foot-long and 55-feet-high ziplines. I also managed to get injured (nothing the smallest possible band-aid couldn’t cover) by breaking one of the most important rules outlined in the 10-minute training session: do not grab the zipline. But, before long, and without having to learn any lessons the hard way, almost anyone can master what is quickly becoming Quebec’s favourite pastime.

From Nazi training to family fun

Treetop trekking—aka zip trekking, or canopy tours—is shooting up the list of popular outdoor activities like gravity upside down. It’s particularly big in this province, where Arbraska set up the first trek park in Rawdon only five years ago, then in Rigaud two years later; Arbraska opened its third park in Quebec this year in Mont St-Grégoire, and they’ve even got a foothold in Ontario, with a four-year-old park in Barrie. With four sites up and running—none of them to the detriment of the environment, by the way; if anything, these parks help preserve woods by keeping development at bay—Arbraska is looking to expand its courses, adding new features every year, rather than open more parks. In any case, there are now 21 such sites across Quebec, drawing families, couples, corporate teams and other adventurers for an experience that balances work and ease, thrills and serenity, and fresh air.

Arbraska’s marketing coordinator, Stéphanie Grenier, tells me that treetop trekking may have originated in Nazi Germany, of all places, as a military training exercise. There are also recorded attempts, both successful and unsuccessful, by East Germans to escape over the Berlin Wall on ziplines. Today, there are hundreds of treetop trek parks across Europe, and similar eco-tourist adventure spots and elevated walkways across the world, in exotic locales such as Ghana and Costa Rica’s rainforest. But Quebec’s parks offer a wide range of activities, with multiple courses tailored for kids (over five years of age) and adults (under 250 pounds) with diverse levels of skill and adventurous spirit.

What about the children?

TUBULAR: Tree tunnel

The extreme courses are longer, higher and more complex than the beginners’ or intermediate-level courses, often involving elements of rock-climbing. All the courses are open at night, and during the winter, for those seeking a twist to their trek. At the Rigaud park, there’s a kids’ area and four adult courses, the two most difficult of which are restricted to anyone under 14. But children taller than 1.5 metres are allowed to take on the beginners’ level.

One of my companions at Arbraska Rigaud, nine-year-old Zoe, the sister of Mirror photographer Rachel Granofsky, just met the 1.5-metre mark, but chose to stay on the ground in the end. Not being a huge fan of heights myself, I can’t say I blame her. There were no children at the park that day, or senior citizens for that matter, the overwhelming majority being teenagers (even the staff) who may have otherwise been looking for kicks on rollercoasters, on the street or in their parents’ liquor cabinets—speaking of which, the park reserves the right to eject the drunk and/or high. But Grenier says that the Arbraska parks do attract young and old folks, and that the activities are more appealing to teens (and, undoubtedly, their parents) than anything an amusement park has to offer.

“When you’re young, after you go to La Ronde three, four times, sure the rides are still scary, but they’re just rides, you know? At Arbraska, the sensation is completely different. We have to be responsible, we have to use our whole body, our concentration, our energy. It’s really a way to test yourself.”

Up, up and away

Fortunately, I had tested myself at La Ronde only three days prior to my Rigaud trip, hitting the park’s highest peaks to gauge my fear of heights, not to mention my nerves—a few butterflies, but no panic, no dizziness. But, for the truly fearful, and for all beginners, Arbraska eases you into the activity with a gradual climb.

Training begins with a small ladder, on which you attach your pair of carabiners to colour-coded loops at each step, as you do to each tree—the constant clipping and unclipping may be mundane for the extreme-sports enthusiast, but it’s absolutely crucial that your harness, firmly secured around your waist and between your legs, be attached to each loop with at least one carabiner at all times. This way, if you ever lose your balance, or in the unlikely event that a cable or platform gives way, you’re fine.

Training ends with attaching a pulley to a five-foot-high zipline, attaching both carabiners to the pulley, and zipping across—it’s fast, but not as fast as I’d feared, and there’s virtually no chance of meeting Sonny Bono’s fate (he died skiing into a tree), because the wooden platforms are built at the perfect angle to meet the soles of your feet.

Then it was on to the course, another ladder and series of bridges, the sketchiest of which was made with unconnected logs. Every bridge has a handrail cord that you attach yourself to and grip onto for balance—I noticed that more experienced trekkers than I brought their own gloves, which I highly recommend to prevent raw-palm. Second most sketchy was the pair of rubber tubes we had to crawl through, not because they weren’t solid, but because they were—at least from the POV inside—also not attached to each other, with a gap of a few feet between them to traverse.

But that was no sweat, really, because the 25-foot-high zipline was next. Below, no nets, no cushioning, just a forest floor, and a rocky one at that. Despite having total faith in the equipment, the cable, the trees, and our friendly guide (and Natalie Portman look-alike) Gazelle, I couldn’t help but hesitate to make the leap. When I finally did, I only made it halfway, having left one of my carabiners on the cable instead of on top of the pulley (the other carabiner goes through the pulley’s loop), slowing down the zip considerably. Then I had to turn around and pull myself back to the starting point, which wasn’t that difficult at the time (they teach this move in training) but I really felt it in my pathetic upper abs the next day. And the day after that. And most of that week, actually. My arms were sore too, due to typical female upper-body neglect—I’m half out of shape, and most of these treetop trek courses leave the other half hanging. But I only had to work as hard as I did because I made a mistake, and it wasn’t exactly a biggie. And as I stepped off the beginners’ course exit ladder and ventured over to the intermediate area, populated primarily by 16-year-old girls, I realized that, done right, treetop trekking is child’s play. It’s also a beautiful way to spend an afternoon outside the city, and just rugged enough to qualify as an outdoor sport. As a member of the Jedi Council Forums (an online message board for Star Wars fans) said in her treetop trek report, “I felt like an Ewok.”