"There is not a city in the world that is better placed, better prepared and that presents itself so well to host the Olympic Winter Games," boasted Québec premier Jean Charest as he sought to build support for Québec City's bid for the 2022 games. Charest was almost right.

The city does have a lot going for it. It's got a sleek and sophisticated European look that would play well on TV. There's a wealth of 17th century architecture, solid public transportation and an average annual snowfall of 14 feet—more in the nearby Laurentian Mountains. It would be a perfect Olympic host, were it not for one problem. There's no ready-made location for a men's downhill course.

Founded in 1608, Québec City's old city is the North America's only walled city north of Mexico. And it was the first urban place on the continent to be named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. [Photo] Landers2006

With political will and unlimited funds, the problem could be easily resolved. The terrain exists to pull it off, though massive investment would be needed to develop new resorts and the infrastructure to access them easily. Not surprisingly, the terrain in question is some of Québec's best-loved (and finest) backcountry terrain: Mont à Liguori in the nearby Laurentians, and the alpine summits of the distant Chic-Chocs range.

In its bid for the 2002 Olympics, Québec City proposed building onto Le Massif de Charlevoix, a local mountain with a 2,465-foot vertical drop; the highest among Québec's existing resorts. Still, it falls far short of the FIS's 2,624-foot minimum for a men's downhill.

Strange as it may sound, adding vert to meet the height requirement isn't unheard of. In Sarajevo in 1984, the men's downhill course at Bjelasnica started on the rooftop terrace of a summit restaurant. But Québec's Le Massif is 150 vertical feet shy of the height requirement, and such development didn't sit well with the IOC. The idea of building a course finish onto barges in the St. Lawrence River at the foot of the mountain similarly failed to gain traction. So for the 2002 games, Québec City was eliminated early on in voting.

The rounded peaks of Laurentian Mountains just to the north of Québec City. [Photo] Josyan Pierson

With the existing resort at Le Massif looking unlikely, Québec City began exploring other options. The first, and most obvious, was the development of the adjacent Mont à Liguori, probably Québec's most popular backcountry skiing destination.

Unusually, Le Massif's summit can be accessed by car, and the (usually) deep powder of à Liguori is reached by a short skin or hike along the ridgeline from the parking lot. Part of the area was officially incorporated into the resort as off-piste terrain in 2008, but skiers had long been slipping away from the lifts into spacious evergreens and mature hardwoods that are largely free of the undergrowth that plagues most eastern glades.

Even as the coveted backcountry terrain of à Liguori was being evaluated by the FIS, opposition to its development never really mobilized. The Olympic bid is widely supported in Québec, in part because of the prestige that an Olympic host gains. But also, in Canada, international events are a key way for provinces to obtain federal funding for facilities. And in Québec, government investment in Olympic venues is largely seen as means to bring the National Hockey League back to the city. After all, hockey is still king in Canada, and since 1996, Québec has been without a home team.

Mont à Liguori could be built up to the necessary height without much effort; it stand only 40 vertical feet short of the requirement. But the proposed course didn't have the required degree of difficulty.

In addition to an extended flat section with a slight rise about midway down the mountain, Mont à Liguori simply isn't steep enough for Olympic-level racing. Speaking to Montréal's La Presse newspaper from Kitzbuehel, FIS expert Bernard Russi noted, "At Mont à Liguori, the steep stretches just don't exist. It's uniform, all over the mountain. You just can't find it. Quebec City has to accept the fact that a men's downhill just isn't possible there at the highest level."

Looking out from an alpine plateau in the Chic-Chocs in summer. [Photo] Jean-Philippe Caron

The idea of staging the downhill at Lake Placid, N.Y., a five-hour drive away, has been floated. But the IOC doesn't allow international bids, so it's a moot point.

A last gasp attempt was to look to the Chic-Chocs mountains, where a wealth of alpine terrain and heavy snowfall have made the area into Québec's premier backcountry touring destination. 300 miles downriver on the Gaspé Peninsula, the Chic-Chocs top out at the unimpressive height of 4,160 feet, but they rise steeply to that altitude from sea level and the transition to alpine terrain begins at just 3,200 feet.

From a technical standpoint, it's hard to imagine the Chic-Chocs Mont Nicol-Albert not getting the FIS stamp of approval. It's higher, steeper and less uniform than Mont à Liguori. But the Chic-Chocs are remote not only from Québec City, but from anywhere.

That remoteness would likely preclude the private investment necessary to pull off development on the scale needed to host an Olympic games. Even if a resort were developed, it's unclear who would ski there once the games left town, which makes it a risky business venture. Québec City is the closest major center, and it already has numerous resorts operating nearby. And Boston, the nearest major city to the south, is a 15-hour drive.

Gaspé is one of the poorest parts of Québec, with its fishing-dependent economy recently crippled. So local politicians predictably jumped at the potential public investment that the Olympics would bring. "We need to re-evaluate the potential of the Chic-Chocs," said provincial legislator Pascal Bérubé, speaking to Québec City newspaper Le Soleil. "A 1994 study showed that the Chic-Chocs were the best site. It wasn't chosen, but then the chosen site lost to Salt Lake City."

In winter, storms rolling off the open water of the St. Lawrence virtually guarantee a deep snowpack in the Chic-Chocs. [Photo] Samuel Bouchard

There's little doubt that he's right about the Chic-Chocs suitability, but serious public and private investment would be necessary to make it happen. Today, the range is crisscrossed by dirt roads and there's no international airport. The few hotels in the area are small and rustic—places with hallway vending machines that sell beer and a hotel bar that doubles as the local strip joint. They're reasonable for staging a backcountry trip, but aren't likely to satisfy the whims of the billionaires and aristocrats who flock to the Games.

The odds of salvaging a bid are stacked tall, but Team Québec, the body responsible for developing the bid, hasn't thrown in the towel just yet. It has decided against recommending any development plan for the men's downhill at this time, but has suggested a women's downhill course on existing terrain at Le Massif to host future international events such as the World Cup.

For any Québec City bid—now or in the future—the men's downhill is a serious Achilles heel. But for backcountry skiers, it is a blessing. Between Mont à Liguori's lack of pitch and the Chic-Chocs remoteness, the bid process isn't likely to meet much success. It effectively kills the city's Olympic dreams—and deflates its ego a bit. However, it also spares some of Québec's best backcountry terrain from development for mass tourism for the foreseeable future.

Sources: cyberpresse.ca, nationalpost.com