To understand: that is my main motivation. This fundamental need has guided my academic and career path. I’ve always wanted to get to the bottom of things, and go beyond books and theory. I’m naturally curious and drawn by discovery and adventure.

Like my father and grandfather, I started by studying engineering—I wanted to know “how things worked”! I always wear my engineer’s ring proudly.

Next I studied astrophysics to understand the universe: Where do we come from? What lies deep in the night sky?

After about 10 years of study and working abroad, my interests had evolved and I wanted to return to Quebec to play a more direct social role. I took up medicine in order to better understand the human being.

I was a family physician at the Inuulitsivik health centre in Puvirnituq, an Inuit community on the shores of Hudson Bay. I was also a clinical lecturer for McGill University and supervised student and resident interns in Nunavik.

Before becoming a physician, I worked as an astrophysicist in Cambridge, United Kingdom; in Tokyo, Japan; at the Mauna Kea Observatory in Hawaii; and with the astrophysics group at the University of Montreal.

Before becoming an astrophysicist, while working as an engineer for a small business in Quebec, I was involved in designing radiology equipment for angiography at the Lariboisière hospital in Paris, France

Each in their own way, the professions I have practised have prepared me well to go into space.

Practising medicine in isolated regions is a team affair, where you have to solve complex problems with limited resources. As in the field of space exploration, everyone is enthusiastically dedicated to their work: first responders, doctors, nurses, air ambulance pilots. You learn to work together and trust each other, to the point that you have no hesitation about putting your life in your colleagues’ hands.

My years as an astrophysicist taught me the discipline of research and the joy of scientific discovery as I worked in observatories the world over, part of international teams determined to push the boundaries of knowledge.

As an engineer, I especially enjoy the creativity and the satisfaction of finding a solution to a practical problem that is so elegant, so reliable and so ergonomic that in the end you take it for granted. When an engineer has done their job well, it works, and that’s all there is to it!

Finally, whether in Nunavik, Japan, England or France, I have lived in communities where the culture was different from mine. This has taught me to step back, to observe, to question myself and to become more adaptable.

Raising my three children, and succeeding in being a good husband and good father despite the elevated demands of my work and the compromises and sacrifices it involves. This requires real teamwork with my wife. Like me, she juggles child care and a demanding career, all while living as an expatriate. This balancing act is made possible thanks to her energy, her creativity and her sense of humour. I am nourished by my family life – it keeps my feet on the ground!

I must admit I’ve never been a big fan of science fiction, possibly because I find reality interesting enough on its own! On the theme of space, I prefer documentaries, especially those that deal with the human aspect of space exploration. I particularly like Al Reinert’s For All Mankind, which is visually mind-boggling. The director plunges us into the Apollo program, without making it a history lesson and without focusing on names, dates or technical details, but rather on the meaning, the rationale, the emotions.

Terre des hommes [translated into English as Wind, Sand and Stars] by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. I read it very young—my mother gave it to me, knowing my interests full well—and I have reread it a few times since. The images the author evokes of adventure and exploration, his love for our beautiful planet and its inhabitants, and his philosophical reflections on life, friendship and death have stayed with me to this day.

The area around Round Top Mountain, in Sutton. My father took me there backcountry skiing, when I must have been about 10 years old. It was my first excursion off the beaten path: trees heavy with snow, the muffled silence of the forest, the trail you had to make for yourself—they made a lasting impression on me. The boldness, the freedom, the unknown. I discovered the adventurer, the explorer in me. I go back there whenever I can. I can still feel the sense of wonder, of mystery, even though I now know every corner of the Sutton forest by heart.

When I was a teenager my bicycle was stolen—the bike I had outfitted, adjusted, repaired over the years, the bike that had gone with me on my adventures. I was devastated; I went through a kind of mourning. That was the end of treasures for me. During my studies abroad (10 years of my life), all my possessions could fit into a single suitcase. I attribute far more value to my relationships with others, to experiences and to education. I’m wary of possessions and of the comfort they give us—there’s too much risk of becoming complacent!