The platform tilts into the sky like a launchpad, and the wind has opinions. It brushes your cheek, tugs at the helmet strap, and seems to whisper go. Somewhere below, the Laurentians roll away in a deep-green corduroy of spruce and maple, stitched together by blue lakes and the silver thread of old logging roads. A guide clips you in—two redundant tethers, one thick trolley—and the steel cable hums its low promise. One step, then another, and gravity takes the mic. The earth falls away, the forest lifts to meet you, and the line begins to sing. Mont-Catherine doesn’t so much stand in the landscape as lean forward, eager to look. This ridge above Sainte-Agathe-des-Monts is the spine of a mountain adventure park where four mega-ziplines—some of Canada’s longest—leap from summit to summit. Over the next 2.5 to 3 hours, you’ll cross the air multiple times, riding cables that stretch 1,800 to 3,200 feet at a go. It’s a clean, swift arc across the Canadian Shield, where billion-year-old rock shoulders your flight and glacial valleys catch your breath. Each platform is a pause button: lake-dotted panoramas, birds knifing the thermals, the forest speaking in a thousand green dialects. Between lines, short, rolling walks keep the pulse steady. Trails thread along bedrock and lichen, and the guides—part coach, part raconteur—point out what the mountain is saying. In summer, the balsam firs release a citrus-resin scent that rides the warm air. In winter, the cables sing a sharper note and snow softens the world, and you glide through a stillness that dares you not to grin. The Laurentians are old travelers. This corner of Quebec is geology in the slow present tense: we’re moving over some of the oldest exposed rock on the planet, the Canadian Shield, weathered down from Himalayan heights to this library of rounded hills. Water does the punctuation here—Lac des Sables, Lac Manitou, Lac à la Truite—and the valleys read like a history of ice. Human history rides close behind. The P’tit Train du Nord, now a beloved multi-use rail trail, once ferried skiers and cottagers into the hills, helping ignite Quebec’s winter culture. Today, that legacy has a harness and a helmet. Ziplines give the mountains a new grammar, letting you trace the contours of the terrain in a line rather than a loop. For families, first-timers, and adrenaline collectors alike, Mont-Catherine is a friendly proving ground. One of the things you learn quickly: the wind is not a bystander. It nudges, it gusts, it presses a hand to your back. Your job is to lean into what the day brings. The guides cover everything—how to hold your body for speed or stability, what to do at the landing, when to admire the view and when to commit. It’s straightforward, not technical, and age five and up are welcome. Weight limits apply (confirm at booking), but the flow is designed to be inclusive; the thrill is in the glide, not the grind. That said, the landscape around Sainte-Agathe encourages lingering. Pre- or post-zip, wander the waterfront of Lac des Sables or pedal a stretch of the P’tit Train du Nord for a quieter, ground-level read of the same hills you just crossed by wire. Nearby Val-David–Val-Morin Regional Park shows off the Laurentians’ granite bones, with hiking and climbing among airy cliff-top pines. This is cottage country, yes, but it’s also a culture of casse-croûte windows and maple-laced menus, of après as a verb that applies year-round. After flying, refuel like a local: classic poutine at a roadside stand on Rue Principale, maple pie from a bakery in Val-David, or a tasting flight at Microbrasserie Saint-Arnould in Mont-Tremblant. Logistics are simple. The base lodge at Mont-Catherine becomes your home field: gear up, safety brief, a short shuttle or hike, then up the platforms and into the air. Each line escalates the perspective, opening up more horizon with every glide. The longest spans make you feel the land’s long, glacial reach—forests unspooling, lakes slipping past like bright commas. On cold days the air snaps and the cables carry a crisp note; on hot days the forest exhales a sweet breath that follows you, a traveling companion. Photographers, take note: most operators allow secured action cameras and lanyarded phones; the platforms are your best chance at composition, while mid-flight is for wide-angle simplicity and clean lines. Practical considerations keep the day smooth. Wear closed-toe shoes with solid tread—think trail runners over sandals. Dress in layers; even in July, a breeze at altitude can nip. In spring and summer, bug spray is your friend on the short forest connectors. Hydration is key; bring a small bottle that fits a zippered pocket, or hydrate before and after. Morning runs often mean calmer air and fewer crowds; late afternoon flights can nab that golden light slanting through the canopy. The Mont-Catherine Ziplines tour is as much about perspective as it is about speed. The Laurentians are generous: they push you forward, then hold you in view, then push again. The cables tie it together, a simple, elegant route over old bones and new stories. If you’ve ever wanted to hear a mountain hum, this is your front-row seat. You step off, and the day—this place—makes its case in one clean line.