Words: Martin Trahan
Photos: Paul Villecourt

Martin Trahan

Martin is an adventurer, ultra-long distance canoeist from Montreal, Canada, and Banff Mountain Film Festival ambassador/Quebec Tour. Catch up with him on Instagram: @martin_trahan_canoeist

France by canoe

In May and June 2023, I along with my French teammate Joris Leclercq, crossed France by canoe from the Swiss border in Geneva to the Atlantic Ocean near St-Nazaire. It was an adventure inspired by our two French adventurer friends, Paul Villecourt and Philippe Bouvat, who did pretty much the same route in 2017.

I’m used to long country crossings of several months in America, but it was my first long expedition on European soil. It was a journey steeped in history, covering 1,500 km over 40 days, to discover a country of incredible beauty and meet its people. I’ve found meaning, answers, a quest, a dream along the water, a journey to the heart of France, but above all, a journey of self-discovery. On each of my expeditions, my favourite day is the first one.

It’s the culmination of many hours of preparation, sacrifice, and confirmation that the dream has come true. Finding an available teammate for such a long period was no easy task. I decided to pay for Joris’ expedition expenses, allowing him to be by my side. I feel privileged to have had the support of Esquif/Canoë Diffusion, who arranged the transportation of my canoe and equipment by container/boat to France.

Day one: Disaster averted
The first day of the expedition was drawing to a close, and we were tired. We took the opportunity to stop on the shore to check out a potential camping site. When leaving a canoe unattended, two rules always apply: tie it up or secure it by mounting it on the bank, and ensure you don’t leave anything lying on the spray deck. Rather than listening to my little inner voice, I trusted my teammate, who had just said confidently that the canoe was well-supported on the rocks.

What we had forgotten was that we were between two hydroelectric dams and that the water level was subject to rapid rise. What had to happen finally happened. The strong current swept away our canoe, our gear, my wallet and my passport. We stood on the shore, wet, almost naked and unable to believe what had happened. With over 20,000 km of canoeing experience, this mistake should never have happened.

Fortunately, we were able to borrow a canoe from a nearby club. We set off searching for our boat with another two hours of sunshine ahead of us. We were relieved to find it drifting 6 km further. That’s how we named our canoe Le Solitaire (The Loner). When I’m asked if I lost any equipment during this misadventure, I reply that I only lost part of my ego and pride.

The Rhône River
The adventure began on the Rhone River at the border between Switzerland and France. Its powerful current carried us on its back for over 400 km but was unfortunately too often slowed by the reinforced concrete of the many hydroelectric dams we had to portage to continue our progress. However, we were quickly reconciled by the wilder sections that followed, by our passage past picturesque medieval villages whose charms we fell under, and by the vineyards for which the region is famous. France’s rich heritage kept us dreaming half-awake, seduced by its architectural beauty.

Ardèche and Chassezac Rivers
The journey continued with the mythical 70 km ascent (going upstream) of the Ardèche and Chassezac rivers in chestnut country. The Ardèche River is lovely and certainly one to capture the imagination. Its crystal-clear water, pebble beaches, erosion-sculpted caves and gigantic cliffs dazzled us with their uniqueness. It was soothing to paddle in such magnificent surroundings. The scenery passed by slowly, meditatively.

Nevertheless, our second day on the river was gruelling, as we constantly had to battle violent, face-whipping winds gusting to over 100km/h at times. I’ve never paddled in such difficult conditions in my life. At times, the canoe would pitch and become almost impossible to control. We paddled upstream, and when the current was too strong, we pulled and lined the canoe. Frequently, our feet slipped on the soapy rocks, which made it impossible to get a good foothold. The laughter grew louder as the gruelling day came to an end.

Over the past few years, France has been plagued by episodes of severe drought affecting the entire country, with a considerable impact on water levels. Water tables empty, rivers dry up, and sometimes all that’s left is the remnants of a once vibrant body of water. When we reached the Chassezac River, our fears were confirmed – the river was dry in places.

At times, we had to move stones to divert a thin stream of water to slide the canoe into it, which was getting considerably damaged with each rubbing. We could feel our backs weakening from pulling our heavy canoe loaded with food and equipment. We wondered whether we could continue our journey in such difficult conditions the next day. That evening, I was looking up at the stars before the sky became covered with grey clouds heralding more gloomy weather and spotted a few shooting stars in the distance. I found myself making a wish, “God, please make the water level rise during the night. Lord, have mercy.”

Believe it or not, a miracle happened. At sunrise, as I approached the river to wash my face, I felt a great sense of relief at the sight of the water, which had risen by 60 cm, making the last day of the ascent possible. During the night, the dam located several km upstream had opened its gates to release the excess water.

The Massif Central: mountains
One of the main challenges of our trip was hiking some 150 km across the Massif Central to change watersheds. On May 24th, we reached Langogne after a gruelling but spectacular 75 km hike. During our four-day hike, we marvelled at the majestic landscapes and enchanting setting presented by this mountain range. We passed from summit to summit with satisfaction.

Hundreds of years ago, men and women took these paths, sometimes just to deliver a message to a neighbouring village. A few pretty stone-built houses still stand and have been converted into gîtes for hikers.

Then came the sentence that paralysed me for a few seconds. Joris said, “Martin, I can’t keep going with this hike; my calves are killing me.” For a brief moment, I was plunged into a parallel world, and everything began to move in slow motion. I could hardly process what I had just heard.

Although my dream of crossing France had just come crashing down, my decision was made: I would accompany my teammate by bus to Langeac, the village where our canoe and equipment were waiting. I’m not an experienced hiker, and I hate going solo in the great outdoors – it bores me. I reminded myself that I came to France to have fun, to recharge my batteries, not to feed my ego.

The Allier River
At Langeac, we climbed back into our canoe and explored some 300 km of the magnificent Allier River. On our second day on this river, at the end of the day, lightning ripped the sky, thunder rumbled, and dark clouds advanced towards us to the rhythm of our paddle strokes. Then, in the evening, the clouds emptied, the rain poured down, and the drumming on the tent soothed us.

The temperature dropped drastically; the air was frigid and damp. I boiled myself some water, and the warmth was comforting. I quickly swallowed my Peak Refuel freeze-dried meal before gently stretching out in my still-dry sleeping bag. Finally, the following day, the sun rose in the east behind the still-sleeping peaks and shone on the scenery masked by all that darkness the day before. As the wildlife slowly awoke, our canoe cut through the mirrored waters to the gentle melody of our paddle strokes.

The Loire River
We ended our adventure by canoeing the mythical Loire River, also known as the Royal River, for almost 540 km, with the benefit of the current pushing us to the Atlantic Ocean. The stone bridges, castles and medieval villages were spectacular, majestic works of art that were impossible to tire of. The Loire’s sumptuous castles are emblematic of the region’s renown and represent part of France’s history. The imposing ancient fortresses surrounded by prestigious gardens delight all who visit. We could also admire the traditional boats, tours, fûtreaux and gables that graced our long 75 km days on the water.

We sometimes had to be wary of the moody skies, but the many sandy beaches made it easy to find shelter. The forest was inhabited by birds numbering in the thousands, and their harmonious song accompanied us day and night. Without fanfare, driven by the ebbing tide, we reached the sea. There could be no more heavenly place to celebrate the end of our adventure.

Post expedition blues
After a few days of rest, abundance and daily abuse of the finest wines, pastis, world-famous cheeses and delicious charcuterie, I returned to Canada, and Joris returned home to Orléans (France). The return home will give way to a lengthy recovery period. A considerable exercise in readjusting to a more routine life awaits me, while my thoughts will always be tinged with those memorable weeks spent on the old continent.

Discovering a country and its people through its waterways is full of romance. I planned and dreamed about this expedition for over 12 months, during which time I dwelt on the outline of the project that was so close to my heart. Without my teammate Joris, my sponsors, the ‘River Angels’, and the support of my family, this dream adventure would not have been possible. Too few people allow themselves to go on an adventure. But those who do know how beneficial the experience can be.

The soothing power of nature
Canoeing has become a way of life that allows the expression of my traditions, identity, and values and, above all, an opportunity to contribute to protecting the natural heritage. The experience of being connected to the natural world is how I found to face my fears, heal, and feel more alive than ever.

Developing a unique relationship with nature is beneficial for everyone, including me. It has the power of feeding my mind with positive energy, which changes me for the better. It allows me to find profound satisfaction in my life process.

Everybody has their idea of paradise. Mine is in the wilderness, feeling the magic of a wooden paddle and the canoe’s movement. The paddle seems to be an extension of my body. The calming power of nature is real. The quest for freedom and well-being motivates my desire to be in nature. For me, canoeing provides an incredible feeling of freedom, but it’s also about relaxing, dreaming, discovering, exploring, taking my time and admiring the beautiful flora and fauna.

France has shown itself to be a beautiful country, showing us the best of humanity. It gives me hope for a gentler world filled with kindness and delicacy. All the kindness, generosity and hospitality the French people have shown us has warmed my heart. For France, as for all the other countries where I paddled, I deeply desired discovery and encounters. I’ll never forget these precious river angels. These people treated us like family members, sometimes leaving us the keys to their house or car when, the day before, we were strangers.

Ephemerality: these hundreds of thousands of paddle strokes have become memories I cherish and shape my identity. Everything went by so quickly, a bit like life after 35. There are these wild places, these realms of a million stars, and moments of sweetness and freedom where I wish I could have stayed longer. Time passes silently, but all this helps me to appreciate the opportunities that come my way.

I looked over my shoulder one last time, took a deep breath of satisfaction and said goodbye to my beautiful canoe, which will prolong its life on French soil. I know it’s in good hands, so the parting was less painful.

Toxicity vs an essential tool
The mobile/Cell phone in the great outdoors

The internet is developing extremely rapidly, and it’s now possible to access it even in remote wilderness areas. When I started canoeing in 1999, cell phones didn’t exist. Then, they gradually found their way onto the list of expedition must-haves.

We had daily access to the internet during our crossing of France. On these types of adventures, the phone can come in very handy as a GPS to access maps, understand distances to cover, locate dangers to avoid, find out about the weather, and make phone calls in case of need/emergency. In short, an encyclopedia is just a click away. Moreover, the latest phones are waterproof and much more resistant to shocks. They allow us to take photos, film videos and bring our ‘followers’ with us on expeditions, all live. The ego is very sensitive to success and the number of ‘likes’. Finally, the phone offers the opportunity to keep in touch with family. Phone use can facilitate or complement a canoe camping trip, but most purists would disagree.

Unfortunately, during our long crossing of France, we were completely dependent on and addicted to our cell phones. We were glued to our phones when we woke up in the tent during every break in the day, at every meal and in the evening again in the tent.

Conversations were few and far between. Joris and I often isolated ourselves rather than enjoying one other’s company and the beautiful, soothing nature. We carried power battery packs so we could always recharge our phones and the Garmin InReach (personal locator beacon). In France, monthly plans include 120 GB, so we might as well say that data is unlimited.

Isn’t the whole point of the outdoors to get back to basics, to be fully in touch with nature and take a break from our screens? I’m caught in a paradox. I’m sometimes tech-shaming outdoor enthusiasts, but at the same time, I’m using so many devices during my adventures. The Great Canadian North is calling me. But, even in Canada, with its wide-open spaces where there’s not a soul to be seen, it’s increasingly difficult to find places where you can detox from the technologies that invade us.