THE EQUITY sat down with two MRC Pontiac employees who spend a great deal of time thinking about and caring for the vast territory, known as the TNO Lac-Nilgaut, that stretches hundreds of kilometers north of this county’s main population centres.
Jason Durand, the MRC’s director of land use planning, and Richard Marenger, one of two regional inspectors, both know the territory like the back of their hand, because their jobs demand it, but also because for decades, they have spent much of their free time on one of its lakes or somewhere in its forests. Here is a condensed version of what they shared.
The TNO Lac-Nilgaut is an 8,646-square-kilometre expanse of wilderness within the borders of MRC Pontiac that stretches from the northern edges of the county’s municipalities all the way up to include a portion of La Vérendrye Wildlife Reserve, north of Maniwaki.
All in, this territory makes up over 70 per cent of the MRC’s land mass, with the remaining land split between the county’s 18 municipalities. It hosts a sprawling network of bush roads, some only fit for a four-wheeler, as well as a few main arteries that are maintained by the MRC.
About half of the territory is crown land, meaning it’s open to public use. About a dozen outfitters and three ZECs cover another third or so of the territory, and the rest of the land belongs to the wildlife reserve, one of the largest in Quebec.
This massive expanse of wilderness is a paradise for hunting, fishing, and outdoor adventure. Anybody can camp on the crown land for free in a tent, or for a small fee (payable to the MRC) if setting up an RV or camper van. In the latter scenario, a permit is also required.
While the TNO (territoire non-organisé) has few permanent residents, it is home to over 1,200 off-grid hunt camps and cottages, some over 100 years old, that have been erected on land leased from the province.
Since 2014, MRCs have been responsible for administering these leases through an agreement with the provincial government that sees the MRC collect 50 per cent of the income collected from lease fees.
This work involves performing property evaluations for taxation purposes, and also tracking down and flagging illegal camps on the territory, set up without a proper lease. This task falls largely to Marenger.
Sometimes he spots one on Google Maps, and will have to venture hours into the TNO to track it down using GPS coordinates. Other times, if he’s lucky, he’ll catch a glimpse of one while he’s already out there on another job.
Once he’s flagged a camp with a special notice, its owner has seven months to remove it from the land without leaving a trace. If this doesn’t happen, the Ministry of Natural Resources adds the camp to the list it plans to burn to the ground come winter.
“There’s a place not far from Danford Lake that has been burned five times, and each time its owner starts to rebuild it,” he laughed.
The MRC also collects a road tax, paid by every lease holder in the TNO as a contribution to the cost of maintaining essential access roads.
Jason Durand, the MRC’s director of land use planning, emphasized the MRC’s budget for the TNO is very limited, especially given how many kilometres of roads would ideally get maintenance.
“There’s thousands and thousands of kilometres of roads,” he said. “So we only focus on the strategic routes, of which there’s about 375 kilometres, so that’s where we invest most of our money.”
Between the revenue from the lease fees, and the property and road taxes paid by lease holders, the MRC collects about $500,000 it puts back into maintaining the roads every year through grading and culvert repair. An additional $250,000 or so a year in provincial grants help with larger projects. This funding can cover basic repairs and upgrades, but when faced with massive washouts like those seen on Jim’s Lake Road this spring, the MRC needs more provincial support.
At war with the beavers
Working with a limited budget, the MRC’s TNO team takes great care to prevent washouts when it can. What this means, in reality, is going to war with the beavers, of which there are many.
Marenger spends at least 60 per cent of his time driving the key roadways to set traps and check whether beavers have built any new obstructions in culverts, and often they have.
If he keeps up with clearing them by hand, he can avoid needing to bring up heavier machinery, which can be costly.
For over a decade, the beaver population has been growing in the region because the price trappers can get for them plummeted. The TNO is divided into 164 traplines – pieces of land, about 40 square kilometres each, where one person, by way of a special lease, has exclusive trapping rights. To maintain a trapline with the government, that person has to catch at least 15 animals a year, and at least five different species.
“Marten and fisher cats, they pay way more and are easier and quicker to skin,” Durand said, as to why beavers have become less popular. “So the beavers, they’re heavy and they don’t pay that much.”
“A few years ago a big beaver cost $20,” Marenger added. “Maybe 60 years ago, you could sell a beaver for $100.”
Both Marenger and Durand have seen their fair share of chaos in the TNO – a car abandoned for years after hitting a moose; lost adventurers staying the night in a parked grader after they failed to find their way home.
“We have so many things to say about the TNO, and we don’t know where to start,” Durand said.
“There’s a lot of honey holes where people will try to keep that to themselves. So that’s part of the culture as well. [ . . . ] We’re just so lucky to have such a big territory that everybody can find their own little fish hole and think they’re the only ones that know about it.”
