Day 66: St. Andre to Notre-Dame-Du-Lac (T.D.: 108.8km; S.T.: 6h23min)

A chilly morning reminded us that we were past the point of having to worry about summer heat slowing us down. We layered up and hit the road towards Riviere-du-Loup, on the 132 or, as it is alternatively known, la Route de la Montagne (the mountain road). This designation was another reminder, namely that we would be leaving the lovely flatlands of middle Quebec and entering the northern Appalachian region. Out of Riviere-du-Loup, we would climb about 500 metres, which is nothing on the Rocky Mountains, but would be the most substantial hill this side of Western Ontario for sure. 

 

        To navigate the climb, we located the Petit Temis, an “interprovincial linear park” that would take us all the way to NB. In other words: a walking trail. The trail was nice, and it was there that I invented the “PB and C” sandwich, I suppose any culinary invention of ours could bear that seal (Pat Brennan and Caroline – ha!) but in this case, those initials stood for, you guessed it, PEANUT BUTTER and CHEESE. Delicious. Just delicious. If only I’d had a fine wine to go with it. We also tried a Nutella and Cheese combo for dessert. Also delicious.

        Anyway, we ended up abandoning the gravel trail for the paved shoulder of Highway 185, despite the traffic barreling past us. The 185 was riddled with construction, and the climbs were more highly graded than the trail, but I think we made better time regardless. And, as we learned in BC, the bigger the climb, the more thrilling the descent, and there were plenty of thrilling descents on this road.

        We stopped in Notre-Dame-sur-Lac, a few kilometres passed the hilariously named St. Louis-de-Ha!-Ha! (no joke!), and after falling off my bicycle on the driveway to the campground, settled in on the banks of Lake Temiscouata and pondered what we might do for dinner. 

Amazingly, a retired professor named Dean who was the only other camper around, offered to take us out for dinner at the local restaurant. He’d been told that there would be a great seafood chowder on special tonight and was eager to have some company to share it with. We happily obliged. What a treat! Dean was a super nice fellow – an American sociologist who specialized in diasporic French cultures (from Louisiania to l’Acadie!). After an enjoyable meal and some delightful conversation, we bid each other good night and hit the hay.

Av. Spd.: 17.2km/h

Mx. Spd.: 58.9km/h

Odometer milestones hit: The 6000 km mark! Woot!

More evidence of human kindness: Yes!

Day 65: Berthier-Sur-Mer to St. Andre-de-Kamouraska (T.D.: 118.8km; S.T.: 5h02min)

After a delightful sleep in a big blue bed in a warm and dry room, we were fed an amazing breakfast by our B&B host, Marc – a man who knows his way around the kitchen, let me tell you! He’s a keeper, that’s for sure. Well-sated, we were on the road by 9:20 under sunny skies with a cool, early-Autumn breeze at our backs. This part of the province is truly beautiful, and we enjoyed the scenery immensely. The river and mountains to our left was an unchanging backdrop as the unique landscape of the Kamouraska region on our left morphed from rolling farmland to Canadian Shield rocky outcroppings with dramatic peaks and valleys and back again. 

The small town of Kamouraska itself was a highlight, perched as it is on one of these little Shield mountains overlooking the river. The brightly coloured houses and eel-fishing traps in the water below made it familiarly “east coast” while still feeling quite exotic. We camped for the night at a rock-climbing park in St. Andre called SEBKA, setting up our tent and making dinner like the well-oiled machine that we now are, and enjoyed a very crisp and cool night, dreaming of home.

Av. Spd.: 19.6 km/h

Mx. Spd.: 38.8 km/h

Nicest tourism official: The lady outside of St. Andre who said we spoke very good French!

Day 64: Neuville to Berthier-Sur-Mer (T.D.: 83.7km; S.T.: 4h26min)

More overcast skies greeted us on Day 64 as we prepared to ride into Quebec City and beyond. We had a quick breakfast at the campsite and walked our bikes up the steep gravel driveway to the Chemin du Roi. The Route Verte system detoured from the 138 as we approached the “nation’s capital,” and took us on some nice residential roads into the city before releasing us onto beautiful Boulevard Champlain along the edge of the St. Lawrence river and below Vieux Quebec. Here we realized we’d need to really push it if we were going to make the noon ferry to Levis, so we push it we did. No time for sight-seeing, we raced to the terminal and hopped aboard just in time. From the ferry, we had a beautiful view of Hotel Champlain and Old Quebec as we chugged along to the south shore. 

After a quick lunch at the terminal, we set out again, though not before posing in front of some French graffiti that aptly summarized our feelings for Alex Hall.

 

        The St. Lawrence Seaway is perhaps even more splendid when viewed from the south side, as the Laurentian Mountains are in plain sight, making for a dramatic land-and-sea-scape. We enjoyed the ride in perfect weather as we passed through the towns of St. Michel-de-Bellechasse and Saint-Vallier, before settling on Berthier-Sur-Mer as our destination for the day. We had decided earlier to treat ourselves to a night in a Bed and Breakfast (or “Gite” as they say in Quebec), seeing how we had made it the whole trip without doing so (the hotel in Sault-Ste-Marie doesn’t count because Mother Nature forced us into it). Moreover, we were close enough to home that we wouldn’t have many more such opportunities. In any case, tonight seemed like a good night, so we found a room at La Gite de la Bastide, and settled in. We had arrived in good time, so we strolled around the town a bit on foot, read about the history of nearby Grosse Ile, where Irish immigrants were quarantined during the potato famine, and then enjoyed some delicious Italian food at La Restaurant de la Plage. Walked back to our Gite, and hunkered down in “la curacao de meringuac” – the name of our room, though the link between France and the Caribbean was not totally clear to us.

Av. Spd.: 18.8km/h

Mx. Spd.: 52.3km/h

Best way to commemorate the Irish potato famine: By gorging ourselves on ITALIAN FOOD!

 

Funniest photos of the trip: These ones – from outside Quebec City, where the bike routes are VERY well marked.

Day 63: Louisville to Neuville (T.D. 142.7km; S.T.: 7h19min)

We decided to get an early start to the day, in part to avoid any awkward encounter with the campground management, whom we didn’t feel like paying, as they hadn’t really provided us with anything but a wet piece of ground (not exactly a commodity in these parts). We were met with a not-so-awkward encounter with a kindly older French lady in a camper nearby, who offered us coffee (which we politely refused), brought us orange juice (which we happily drank), and lent us her keys to the main building washrooms (which we eagerly used). She was lovely.

The rain was on and off when we got back on the road, and we made good time to the Trois-Rivieres sprawl that has brought the city closer to the highway (and traveler’s dollars). Here, we picked up some groceries, and had a quick breakfast – practicing our French with some of the store workers. Somewhere near the big bridge across the St. Laurence, we ran into a Korean cyclist who was on his way to Newfoundland all the way from Prince George, and looked extremely ill-prepared for the weather we were currently enduring, much less Newfoundland weather in October.

We started feeling a strong tailwind around this time, which pushed us swiftly to St. Anne-de-Perade, where we had a picnic lunch on the water, beneath heavenly skies.

 Made goodtime through Portneuf (which was supposed to have been our destination for the day) and kept on rocking to Donnacona. Here we had a donut at Timmy’s and saw a beautiful rainbow over the River – both of which lifted our spirits and re-energized us as our odometer clicked ever higher.

It was getting quite late, so not far from Donnaconna, we turned off the Chemin du Roi to find a campground for the night on the 365 North. Maybe it was just the effect of traveling in a direction other than east, but our spider senses were tingling as the sun fell lower in the sky. We decided to give our destination campground a phone call just to make sure we were headed in the right direction. Good thing, as it turned out the facilities were closed for the season! We headed back to the 138, and continued into Neuville, where we hoped we might find a cheap motel or something. As luck would have it, there was a quaint little campground at the bottom of an incredibly steep highway, where a hospitable lady welcomed us.  We set up our tent and made dinner as night (and rain) fell.

Av. Spd.: 19.4km/h

Mx. Spd.: 46km/h

Alternate reason for tingling spider sense: This guy – or girl, as she seemed to have laid an egg sac on my rain pants! Gross!

Day 62: Montreal to Louiseville (T.D.: 125.44km; S.T.: 6h32min)

We had dreaded the ride out of Montreal, but with all the work the city (and the province) have done to create bike-friendly networks (separated lanes, paved paths, well-marked routes) we had no trouble in the end. Today, the city was also hosting a Lance Armstrong bike race, so the streets were doubly-clear of traffic – two wheels were clearly the way to go. The weather today was overcast, threatening rain, but overall cool and dry – lovely conditions in which to bike. We would be taking the Route Verte along the north side of the St. Lawrence River to Quebec City over the course of the next three days. This route follows roughly the historical Chemin Du Roi (The King’s Path) between Quebec’s two biggest cities. The way would be dotted with small towns, the first of which was Charlemagne – home of none other than Celine Dion. \

 

At times the Route Verte seemed to meander needlessly, but it did get us up close and personal with places like Repentigny and L’Assomption before sticking pretty faithfully to Hwy 138 along the water.

A late start to the day and a couple of wrong turns later on cost us a bit of time and it was getting dark by the time we arrived in Louiseville, our destination for the day. We didn’t have much in the way of supper food, so we stopped at a restaurant, hoping for a quick bite to eat. Instead, we waited as a party of 40-some people were served and eyed their meals hungrily. I also made the mistake of ordering the “Special” spaghetti, which turned out to be a Frankenstein of meats and cheeses mixed together and stuck to a skillet. Caroline just laughed. 

By the time we made it out, it was getting past twilight and into the dark zone, and we still had a little ways to go to get to our campsite. The ride was a bit eerie, but kind of neat, all rural and moonlit, as we followed a small tributary down to the big river, on the banks of which sat our campground. We made it and found the place all but deserted. No lights on in any campers, and the doors all locked to the bathrooms and main office. We set up a campground in the dark, peed in some bushes, and hastily got our pjs on as the skies opened up with rain. Not a minute too soon.

Av. Spd.: 18.6km/h

Mx. Spd.: 37.3km/h

Temptation to break into a deserted RV: Strong; resisted.

Day 61: Rest Day in Montreal

Our rest day in Montreal was spent hanging out with chums, eating some delicious Thai food, picking up a few supplies, and generally wandering around the city. It only took one walk up the mountain to give us the sorest calf muscles we’ve had on the whole trip. What cruel irony!

Day 60: Les Coteaux to Montreal (T.D.: 81.5km; S.T.: 4h52min)

Today was a relatively short day into Montreal. It was also quite beautiful, as we made our way along La Route Verte, which is Quebec’s impressive network of cycling paths and designated bike routes. These routes make bicycle touring very easy, like riding around Stanley Park or something, and are a far cry from our experience of torn shoulders on the TCH in Manitoba and Western Ontario. We let our minds wander as we skirted along canals and through wooded groves, finding strategically-placed port-a-potties whenever we needed to pee. It was all quite lovely. 

Our first challenge came during a construction zone, where we had to push our bikes up a very long and steep gravel pathway. A new champion for steepest hill of the trip.

We had lunch in picturesque St. Anne-de-Bellevue, followed by a delicious ice cream by the water. Here we met a funny fellow named Dinsmore, an avid cyclist who was enjoying a day trip from Montreal. He wore spandex and spoke with a lisping British accent as he congratulated us on our accomplishments and told us of his. We bid him adieu and carried on towards our destination. As we approached Montreal, we stopped at a tourist map to figure out how best to get into the city. As we mulled it over, who should appear behind us but Dinsmore.

“Lost already?” he said.

“No no…just seeing how best to get up to Cote-des-Neiges, where our friends live”.

“Cotes-des-Neiges, you say? Why, that’s where I’m headed! I’ll lead you there!”

“Okay strange man! We’ll follow you!”

And so we followed Dinsmore into the city, his short little legs a-whirring as he kept a swift pace through the busy streets of Montreal’s metropolis. And lead us he did, through the crazy city traffic, fighting crazy Quebec drivers, right up Mont Royal to Bernie and John’s doorstep, where we greeted warmly by our chums, rested our weary legs and enjoyed a hearty, home-cooked meal.

Av. Spd.: 16.7km/h

Mx. Spd.: 34.5km/h

Biggest mix-up: Going the wrong way on a shoulder (against traffic) for a few hundred yards after following some faded signs and a trip itinerary I’d found on the internet, only to find that we’d made it to the wrong side of a bridge, and had to turn around and redo the whole thing. The highway/bike lanes had been redone. Our bad.