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To the End of the World - Bout du Monde A Bicycle Tour of Quebec and the Gaspé August 2nd - 18th, 2023 |
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[Click on any photo to get a higher resolution. The night before starting this trip I pulled out my journal from my 1981 bike trip to Quebec and read part of it. It is funny to listen to the voice of that 20 year old. My spelling was atrocious, the handwriting was scrappy, and the sentences were written too fast - with words often getting lost.
Back then I rode 110+ miles a day and counted my pennies very carefully. But the main thing about that journal is that it is full of a lot of stories. One story was mine; a bike trip from Brockport, New York, my hometown to Montreal and Quebec City. Riding into a French speaking part of the world, camping and staying in youth hostels. But also that journal is full of a lot of other people's stories. The World War II veteran in the diner, the poetry student from Paris, the journalist from Greece, the lumber jack from British Columbia. One of my hopes for this trip is to hear a few more stories. This is a long trip. In the end I cycled for 17 days. In all my journals there are only two trips which were longer in time, and both of those had multi-day stops at the home of friends. On this trip I peddled nearly a thousand miles. Forty years ago I cycled further, but I was younger and rode much faster, so did them in less time. When I use the term Adventure I mean something which is exciting. But more importantly it is something with a lot of unknowns, with both the possibility of disaster and delight. To me, the greatest unknown on this trip was whether I could get back on the bike seat the second day. And the third day. And all the days that followed. Since May I have been making a long ride every Friday. That first ride was 12 miles. The second ride was 20 miles. The third ride was a disaster with my rear derailleur disintegrating, leaving me to take the bus home. But eventually I was riding 60 or more miles at a time and so started planning a trip, designed around 50 miles a day, with 4 days on and 1 day off. Will was in Hanover in July and pushed my training over a few Vermont mountains. Then, three days before the Quebec trip, we finally did a two day ride. A 130+ mile, very hilly ride through the Berkshires of Massachusetts. Still, just like I have recorded in my journals at the beginning of every major bike trip since 1980, the night before starting I am full of trepidation. What if . . . Day 1 - Wednesday, August 2, 2023
My first night is at Lake Willoughby, about 85 to 90 miles from Hanover. I have not ridden that far this summer. I think I could, but then suspect that I would be paying for it the next day. So Will is going to drive me up to Bradford. In my training I've cycled this section a number of times, so even though it is 25 miles, I still consider it in the neighborhood. I am itching to get started, but I am also happy to linger. I enjoy Will's company, and they are leaving to return to California after setting me on my way. And the Fairlee Diner is a pretty good spot to linger over coffee and a late Breakfast. There is a little park and gazebo just north of downtown Bradford Vermont, where I assembled my gear. Then it was time for hugs and farewells. Sixth gear, eighth gear, and the trip has begun. Newbury is a pretty town that I like walking around, but my wheels are barely warm and so I keep rolling. The day is perfect, barely in the 70's. Sunny, blue skies, and a few wispy clouds for decoration. At Wells River I consider Claudia's recommended route. It takes me back into New Hampshire, adds a few miles, but avoids St. Johnsbury. So North through Woodsville, New Hampshire, on the east side of the Connecticut River. Up past Monroe and onto roads I've never seen. Then into Vermont near the Moore Dam, and one longlong hill to East St. Johnsbury. Maybe it is time for a break, but I've been invited to dinner at Lake Willoughby, and I have no idea what time other people think dinner should be, so I press on. Lyndon, West Burke and finally Lake Willoughby. After a swim in a cold lake, dinner was great with eleven of us around the table. This was an easy start to a long ride. A lot of miles, and a lot of hills. But I knew most of the roads, and I knew where I was going to lay down my head that night. Day 2 - Thursday, August 3, 2023 The day opened very gray, with wind and whitecaps on the lake. It is an easy ride north to Derby and the boarder with Canada, maybe even with a slight tailwind.
I crossed at Beebe Plains. One might not recognize the boarder in the middle of this cross-roads village except for the massive retractable iron crash barrier on the US side. I think it would stop a tank, but a cycler could easily lift their bike over it. I waited a few moments, they lowered it, and I rode into Canada. The Canadian customs officer check my passport and then told me I was looking for the second bike path and not the first. Soon I was on the "Tomifobia Nature Trail/Cycling Route". It is an old rail bed, now topped with a fine gravel and hard pack clay, which makes a nice cycling surface. The path is about a dozen miles long and near the end it started to rain. So three of us waited under a bridge during the worst of the downpour. Ayer's Cliff is a village at the south end of Lake Massawippi. It is still raining and too early to stop, so I circle the lake to the east. By the time I reach North Hatley at the north end of the lake, the weather has cleared and it is time to look for lunch. North Hatley is a picturesque little village on a lake, between some hills. It is a vacation town, which means it has at least one good lunch place. I stopped at "Auberge la Chocolatiere", how could one resist the Inn of the Chocolateer? For déjeuner (lunch) I had "Sandwich Grillé Aux Pommes" ("Grilled sandwich with apple"), cheese, ham and apple. As well as a really good carrot soup! I left North Hatley on "La Route Verte #1", ("The Green Route"). The Route Verte is a network of bike paths which run all through Quebec. At this point the path is on an old rail bed. Out at the tip of the Gaspé it is only the shoulder of the highway. I didn't know it at the time, but in the end I would ride most of my miles in Quebec on Route Verte #1. The sun came out and I had a few pleasant miles into Lennoxville, a very industrial mill town, but with a nice bike path (now paved) into Sherbrooke. In Sherbrooke I left the path and found my air B&B on the outskirts of town. My landlady is a bit curious, reminding me not to put my bike bags on the bedspread, or lean up against the decorative pillows. I think being curious is what happens when you live with two tiny, yipping dogs. Dinner at Leanardo's. Afterwards my waiter came out with me and sat on the curb and we had a long talk about bicycles and bicycle tours. That was fun! Day 3 - Friday, August 4, 2023 I was on the road by 6:30. Cities are a lot more bike-friendly when the streets are empty of cars and trucks.
Actually I was only on major roads for a short stretch, while searching for a Tim Horton's for coffee, and then I found a network of bike trails. I have a choice of a longer route, or a hillier route. I'm taking the long way to my next stop. First along the Riviere Mogag and then the Riviere Saint-François. Through the city of Sherbrooke the Route Verte is a nice paved path, often through linear parks. But after leaving Sherbrooke it became a patchwork of bits of trails, local roads and dead end dirt roads with connector trails. The Route Verte website warns the rider that this section doesn't meet Route Vert standards, but it still worked well. All the time I am following the river downstream. I stopped at a picnic area by the path and fired up my tiny backpacking stove and brewed a cup of tea. It seemed like a most civilized way to travel. In Richmond my path left the river valley and returned to a rail bed which heads straight, for over 100 kilometers, towards Quebec City. I noticed that I am also riding on the "Sentier Tran Canada", the Trans-Canada Path. It is really nice. A surface of hard-pack which is well maintained! Every half hour I pass a picnic table. Often with a flower bed, outhouse and rain shelter! In Danville, the Information booth and the Bike Center are in the old train station, right next to the rail trail. They directed me to "La Binnerie du Carré" where I had a ham & egg sandwich. And my bike was treated to new chain oil - all the rain has been rough on it. Tonight I am at "Casa Linda", a B&B in Princeville. As I got back on Route Verte it started raining, and so I hung out under a bridge for a while, and then realized that Linda had been trying to contact me. But to get the message I had to install the Facebook Messenger app so she can send me instructions on how to get into the house, in case I got there first. I installed the app, then rode on, checking for instructions ever hour or so. Or when I found a picnic shelter in which I could get out of the rain. The picnic shelters between Warwick and Victoriaville were beautiful! All painted Brenton Blue and one of them cantilevered out over a river! Eventually Linda sent me a video that I think she had worked hard on, which explained all about the place. The laundry, the breakfast, how to make yourself at home and how to use the keypad to get in. "But you must call me when you arrive for the number!" Or at least I think that is what she said. The video was in French. I thought she spoke English, based on the text messages I had received, but apparently Messenger automatically translates text. In the end I had waited out enough down pours so I was a hour later then I expected, and Linda preceded me and I never learn the secret key code. When I finally met Linda she went off to find Google Translate, and came back with her neighbor. I told them I plan on showering, and then riding into town, about two kilometers, to look for dinner. Linda asked me (her English is better than she thinks), "Do you like Poutine?" "I have been waiting for the right Poutine", I replied. "Oh, then you must go to `La P'tite Vache' . . . the little, oh, oh something . . ." "Cow?" I suggested. I surprised myself that I knew this. But I had hiked around a rock formation in Switzerland called `Roc Vache' - Cow Rock. So after a shower I biked into town and found the `La P'tite Vache' food truck and had a petite Poutine. Poutine is cheese curd and french fries covered with brown gravy. It is be compared with hamburgers, hot dogs, tacos and fish 'n chips. It is the Quebec street-food or fast-food. Linda had assured me that `La P'tite Vache' was well know to be the best, and people drove for many miles to eat here. Linda is enthusiastic about many things. I also enjoyed just sitting at a picnic table with a dozen other poutine eaters and soaking in the last golden hour of the day. Day 4 - Saturday, August 5, 2023
Linda has filled the refrigerator with my continental breakfast, so I graze on fruit, cheese, ham and yogurt while packing. The remains I stow in my panniers for a second breakfast. I'm on the path a bit before 7:00. At this hour, on a Saturday morning, Princeville and Plessville are empty. In Sainte-Julie-Station I stopped at a way-side area, pulled out my stove, brewed coffee and finished my breakfast. After all the rain of yesterday, this morning's sun is golden, and the leaves and grass are festooned with diamond-dew! The trail continues flat, smooth and straight; Lyster, Dosquet and then, about 50km from my start and 50 km from Quebec City, the path is paved. And all of a sudden it is busy. Yesterday I saw a total of a dozen people on the path. Today I am meeting a someone every minute, and even more as I get closer to the city. Is it the pavement? Or Saturday morning? Or just being closer to the city? If you started in the city at 8:00 or 9:00 you would be getting to me at this point. Saint-Agapit and the Gran Trunk Terminal. This is the end of the rail-trail, and I am dumped into a maze of city bike paths and lanes. A very impressive network! Clearly a community which support two-wheeled, human powered transportation. Eventually I found myself zooming through a linear park which followed the St. Lawrence River. I suddenly realized that this was where the train from Lévis would have been. When I left Quebec City in 1981 it was on a train right here, headed in the opposite direction. Coffee and a chocolate croissant before boarding the ferry and crossing the river. On the ferry, the forward third of the vehicle deck is set aside for bikes! And it is well filled. I got off the ferry in the "Lower Town" of Old Quebec City. There are a number of buildings here which are a few hundred years old, and those that aren't try to look that way. Today the streets are shoulder-to-shoulder with tourist. There is a very steep cobbled street to the Upper Town which is so packed with foot traffic that I have to push my bike up. I soon found the Youth Hostel, checked in, stowed my bike in the storage room and showered. And then it was time to explore this city. Another cafe and then a chance reacquaint myself with the city. I ambled along the La Promenade des Gouverneurs (Governors Promenade) which is a boardwalk above the cliff face, overlooking the lower town and the river. Then on through the Plains of Abraham. Eventually I found dinner outside the city wall. Then wandered streets in the soft blues of an August evening and found my way back to the Hostel. I was sitting in the commons room in the hostel writing in my journal when I struck up a conversation with a young couple from India. She is a designer and he is an artist. They told me that they had lived in various cities through out the world but had settled in Montreal. They found it to be the most friendly place they had lived and saw no reason to move from there. Although a weekend's visit to Quebec was nice too.
Day 5 - Sunday, August 6, 2023 The men's bunk room in the hostel has 14 beds and when I slip out at 6:30 most everyone else is still asleep. I can hear early morning sounds from the street, below the window, but only snoring from within. François also slips out and we are downstairs and ready by the time the kitchen opens for breakfast at 7:00. François is from France and is on an open-ended trip. He wrote travel articles when he was in the Caribbean, was part of a 5-person sailboat crew and worked as a wwoof'er (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) in the Carolines. Now he is off to meet a friend he biked with in Spain. She lives off the grid someplace in the north woods of Quebec.
I found his story adventurous and he found the magnitude of my ride impressive. While doing laundry I was talking with Catherine. She is a high school history teacher from Montreal who is in Quebec City for the weekend for the "Les Fêtes del la Nouvelle France" (The Festival of New France.) This explains why the city is filled with people dressed in 17th century costumes. She has been there for a few days, but is leaving before it is over and so gave me her "ticket", a wooden disk you wear on a thong around your neck. The festival also explains the dinner with the "giants" I saw last night. With my ticket I wandered through the Festival where people were demonstrating traditional skills and selling food and crafts. There were also a few choral groups singing traditional songs of New France. Almost all in costume. Coffee and croissant at 11:00 and then a long walk on the city's wall and across the Planes of Abraham. Quebec City is the only walled city north of Mexico. It is full of stone buildings with a strong French influence and narrow cobbled streets. It has a citadel, a cathedral, a monastery and a convent. And dozens of cafes and creperies. There is an artist alley and a few pedestrian only street. And on the streets open to traffic - far too many cars (in this biker's opinion). It feels like a medieval European city. This city has been a magnet for conflict since before the French arrived. With the arrival of Europeans it was recognized that who ever controlled Quebec City controlled the St. Lawrence. I know New York claims that with the Erie canal, they were the Gateway to an Empire. This river dwarfs that canal. This is clearly the natural gateway to the Great Lakes and all the land around them. And thus the Beaver Wars and the French and Indian Wars. General Wolf and the British took the city in 1759 in the Battle of the Plains of Abraham. Then in 1775 the American colonist almost took the city from the British. So in the time around the War of 1812 the city became heavily fortified. Which now means there is a charming wall you can walk on around the city, and the plains of Abraham is an expansive park just north of the old city. After walking through the park and flower gardens I ended at "Billig" for lunch. All of the crepes I encountered on this trip are "galettes", which mean buckwheat based. I'm told in France the galettes are for savory crepes (crêpes salées) (entrees - meat, cheese vegetables), where as the sweet, dessert crepes (crêpes sucrées) is made of a white wheat flour. Billing was mobbed last night, but this afternoon, in the late lunch hour, I had a sausage crepe at a table on the side walk. Back into the old city I visited the cathedral. Great, massive stone cathedrals are always an oasis of peace in the middle of a busy city. Later I walked the La Promenade des Gouverneurs again to watch the evening lights on the river. Then to the Casa Crepes Brenton for one last crepe. This is a small shop in the middle of the city with a staff all under the age of 25. It was fun to watch them dance around each other - a well oiled machine. And I could watch the woman who made the crepes for hours. She pour the batter in the middle of the hot grill, and then chase the batter around and around in widening circles with her spreader until it was thin and perfect.
Day 6 - Monday, August 7th, 2023 I had visions of being on the road at the crack of dawn, but it was almost 7:00 by the time I pass through the city gates - chased by a street sweeper. It took a while to find Le Route Verte #5, and then I peddled off in the wrong direction! Finally, I'm heading northeast out of the city. The bike path follows a four-lane express way for a dozen miles and the landscape is industrial and automotive. The sky is gray and the forecast says rain is in the offering for the end of the day. I am fighting a head wind, the trucks are loud and I haven't had my breakfast! A dozen miles out the highway downsizes to a simple four-lane an I find a Tim Horton's. Coffee, apple fritter and a bagel with cream cheese. By the time I'm back on the saddle (you can not really get in a bike saddle) the sun is starting to break through the clouds and the day feels a lot more promising. Boischatel, L'Ange-Gardien, Château-Richer, Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré and Beaupré.
Through this stretch most of the traffic is on rte.138 (now a two lane). Which means rt.360, Avenue Royale, is left to the bicyclers. And there are a lot of us. Although based on the baggage, I think I am the only one on a multi-day tour. Quebecers embrace the bike! There are more bikes than cars on this road. And it is a beautiful ride where I can peak over fences into flower gardens. The old stone houses look so French you could almost believe your are cycling though that ancient country. Except the river in the distance is bigger than anything in Europe. I thought to myself that two days on a bike trip can be so very, very different. And some times those two days can be separated by a single breakfast break. I took a break at Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré and biked around the grounds of the basilica. To the east of the church was a pull-over for a drive-through blessing. I waved to the priest through the large glass window and he looked startled to see me. I wondered it this practice was left over from the pandemic? Beyond Beaupré the day changed again. The Avenue Royale came to an end and I was forced to join the cars, trucks, RV's, motorcycles and semis on route 138. The next thirty miles to Baie-Saint-Paul (St. Paul's Bay) was hot, noisy and mainly uphill. But I don't know of any other route to get there. And I have now pretty much blocked that section out of my memory. In Baie-Saint-Paul I stopped at the Mousse Café where they served good coffee and a great sandwich. I also decided that I had about a dozen miles left in my legs and so made arrangements to spend the night in the tiny village of Les Eboulements. This region is called Charlevoix and is described as pastoral. But today it seems like it is mainly uphill! Eventually I make it to "Auberge de nos Aïeux", (The Inn of Our Ancestors), and old fashion hotel/motel/hostel and campgrounds. Camping is 29$, whereas a bunk in the bunk room is 39$ a night. And the forecast calls for rain overnight. There is a big common room downstairs and a communal kitchen and at dinner time the place was very much alive. Different families and groups took their turn in the kitchen, some cooking while others have finished and are washing dishes. At one table wine and stemware. At the next table a frozen pizza. After dinner I curled up in an overstuffed chair and read. Once one of my roommates has gone to bed, I try to keep out of the bunk room. Every bed has its own light, but I'll read in the common room for a little while longer. Still, it has been a long day (78 miles!) and I am soon off to bed. Day 7 - Tuesday, August 8th, 2023 I woke at 5:00 and listened to the rain for awhile, but then back to sleep. Today's plan is to cycle to Saint-Siméon, and then take the ferry across the river to Riviere-du-Loup. And maybe a few more miles? I finally got up at 7:00. The kitchen and common room are very quiet as I made my oatmeal and coffee. Outside the weather varies between a hard rain and a solid down pour. It occurs to me that with this rain, hostels may be very full. I had this idea of riding a few miles beyond the ferry, but instead I think I'll just plan on a slightly shorter day. So I make reservation at the hostel in Riviere-du-Loup. I finally got going at 8:00, and plunged into a long uphill and a wall of water. I topped that first hill and caught the full force of the wind. Rain, wind and hills. Which was the worst? I think it was not the rain - most of the time.
I am aiming for the 13:00 ferry, which means I have five hours to ride forty miles - which normally would not be a problem. But today the conditions are hard. Actually there are two later ferries, but that would mean standing around in the rain for a few hours, a prospect I don't look forward to. The coast, which I had hoped to see, is said to be beautiful, rugged and with cliffs. But it was lost in the rain, mist and fog. Most of the morning I would ride 2 or 3 miles of pseudo-flat farmland high above the river. Then the road would come screaming down to a village and cove nestled among the bluffs. And then there would be a long climb back up to the farmlands. One would think the descents would be the easy part. But these are steep, often 10% grades, and with the rain I was nearly blinded. If I had released the brakes I could easily raced down them at 30 mph. However I found the idea of 30 mph, nearly-blind, with slow wet brakes, potholes and debris on the shoulder, terrifying. So I would ride my brakes down the hill which left my neck and back sore. The town of Sainte Irénée looks like it would be a pleasant seaside resort which host a music fest. Except the wind and the rain are howling off of the St. Lawrence. To leave Ste. Irénée I had to climb a steep hill. I ended up pushing my bike about a quarter of a mile up the road, which itself was submerged in a stream. I reached La Malbaie a bit after 10:15, the half way point in just under half my allotted time. I stopped in the visitor's center for a few minutes just to get out of the rain and eat a granola bar. Beyond La Malbaie I turned onto rt. 138, which meant joining the truck traffic again. I hoped that this being a trucking route would mean less hills. Maybe there were a few less, and most certainly nothing like that climb out of Ste. Irénée. But there is no rest for the weary. And the wind is getting stronger! About eight or nine miles from St. Siméon there was a long hill which just about crushed my spirits - almost. Yet I managed to grind my way up and up. When I topped that slope and saw my 5-mile split I was so happy. I finally believe I could make the 13:00 ferry. I arrived at the ferry terminal at 12:35 - there had been a long, fast downhill into the port. In the terminal I acquired a boarding pass, and broke down into an uncontrollable shiver. While peddling I was working hard and kept warm. Now I was just cold and wet! In the mens room I stripped off my riding shirt, put on my fleece, and stood in front of the hand drier for ten minutes until my shivers melted away. After the ferry arrived, walkers and bikers are the first to board. So I was first in line at the purser's window to pay for my ticket and then immediately went to the cafe for coffee and a muffin. The woman at the coffee counter offered me a small hand towel to dry my face with before she poured my coffee. Thank You! By the time I finish my coffee, I have finally warmed up and the ferry was underway. It is an 18 mile and 40 minute trip. I can only see a few hundred meters in the pea-soup fog and driving rain. It was still raining when we disembarked. It took me about 15 minutes to ride into town and find the "Auberge Internationale de Riviere-du-Loup". I am really wet, and so start with a hot shower and a cup of even hotter tea. The hostel is a big old cubical house, probably from the 1920's. The ground floor is common area, kitchen, eating, lounge, library. The upper two levels are rooms for two, four or six people. Behind the main house is an auxiliary with another few rooms and the bunk room, which is where I am staying. Even before I arrive someone has rigged cloths lines across the bunk room, and people are drying their gear. I string my line and do the same. In the kitchen I had a long talk with Mark who lives in a cabin in the woods near Lake Huron, in Ontario, about three hours from Windsor and Toronto. He had been on a trip to Halifax, but his truck broke down in Riviere-du-Loup and he was waiting for parts. Mark writes screenplays. He has worked in London, India, China, Los Angeles and New York City. But now he has retreated to the old family cabin. Once it was winterized, he could still work for all those city-based companies, but live in the heart of the Canadian forest. Dinner and then bed. Day 8 - Wednesday, August 9th, 2023 I tried to tip-toe out of the dorm room, but with my stuff spread all over to dry, it was not easy.
Down in the kitchen at 7:00 things were much noisier and busier. There I got talking to Matt. He too is on a bike trip, but going to sit out the weather in Riviere-du-Loup for the day. When I pointed out that at that moment it was not raining (despite the forecast and ominous sky), he just shook his head. I actually think the idea of sitting idly for a day was worst than getting a little wet. It is misty this morning, and about 10 km/6 miles out I noticed that my bike was acting sluggish. I then realized that my front tire was nearly flat. As I stopped and pulled over onto a sidewalk a retired couple, out on their morning walk, asked if everything was okay, and offered their hospitality, two doors down, if it was not. I decided to just pump up the tire and press on. I would only be able to ride about six to eight miles and then have to stop and pump up the tire. It was apparent that I needed to really stop and replace the tube. But now it is pouring and the idea of sitting in the rain fixing my tire was not very attractive. So I pumped the tire and rode a few miles and repeated this until I approached the town of Trois-Pistoles. At the edge of town I stopped at the information office. My first thought was just to seek a bit of shelter. But then I asked the two women at the office if there was a local bike shop. They looked at each other, and then asked, "what for?" When I told them I was looking for repairs they quickly directed me to "Pedale!" Tucked away off the main street I found Pedale! and its owner Mischa, who was charmed by Mistral, my bike. In fact as I rolled it into his shop he mumbled, "That is a classic English Touring bike. What a long wheel base!" Yes he could fix it. I then asked about the brakes, if he had time. When he agreed to that too, I suggested that he tells me where to get lunch. I would leave him with the bike for an hour, and I would ask him to do what ever was reasonable for $100. ($100 Canadian = $75 US) So off I went to the "Grains de Folie" (Grains of Madness) cafe. The cafe was very busy, but I soon found a seat at the bar, which meant I could watch everyone, staff and customers alike. It was warm, dry and the mac'n'cheese was good, the comfort food I needed on such a wet day. Back at Pedale! Mischa told me all sorts of things. First, my old tire was falling apart, the rubber flaking and decaying. So a wire from within the tire's edge had poked the tube causing the slow leak. So new tube, tire and brake shoes. Also, those Japanese hubs from the early 1980's lasted forever and rolled well, but needed to be tweaked every 1,000 miles. So he had repacked the grease in the hubs, adjusted the cones and tighten the headset. I asked him about his shop. It is hard to find, but crammed full of bikes. He said so far it was known just by word of mouth. (Did his aunt and cousin work in the info booth?). Also, he said that traditionally French bike shops are named after a bike part, thus "The Hub" or "The Gear" bike shop. But he wanted to invoke action. Thus "Pedale!" - with the exclamation mark. It is both a noun and a verb, the bike part and the action of riding the bike! My bike, "Mistral" (it is an English bike with a French name) rides so much better now! I can feel that the hubs are rolling smooth and crisp. And I have the brakes I wished I had yesterday as I shot down the hill into Ste. Irenee! At lunch, while it was raining, I booked an air B&B in Rimouski. But in the early afternoon, with my rejuvenated bike and a bit of drier weather, I started to think that I could be camping in Parc National du Bic. But just as I approach the park it again started to pour. It is a cold, damp, foggy day as I rode through the water front of Rimouski. My B&B is on the far side of the port, 2 or 3 miles beyond downtown. There I find Diana, tonight's landlady. She tells me that they are leaving for PEI before 6:00 tomorrow, and just ask me to make sure the door is locked when I leave in the morning. I have to cycle back to downtown for dinner. The town is set up for a street fair and there is a lot of people in the restaurants. But the rain has washed the streets clean of anyone. Back at Diana's I meet another bicycler. He tells me he rides about 300 km a day. "If I am not over 30 km-per-hour, I get mad with myself!" (30kpm = 18mph). He is carrying almost no gear; as far as I can see a spare shirt and a credit card. And his sister's engagement party is in Campbellton tomorrow. I do laundry, and then to bed. Day 9 - Thursday, August 10th, 2023 At 5:30 I heard Diana and her husband leave for PEI. Then at 6:00 the intense cycler also left. When everything was finally quiet, I got up, went to the kitchen and made coffee. I have the whole place to myself. Diana has decorated her home in a Beach Cottage motif, full of cozy sayings painted on driftwood. Out the back door, on the patio, I can smell low tide, but the fog is too thick to see the water. We are seaside, on the Fleuve St. Laurent.
I'm on my bike by 8:00, when the weather shifted from a heavy mist to a light rain. But the miles are easy! Most of the time route 132, Route Vert #1 and I follow the coast. But often, when approaching a small community, Rt 132 will swerve inland, a bypass, which leave the town undisturbed. The designers of the bike route are not so considerate. Route Vert #1 is drawn, magnetically, to the center of all these hamlets. Thus I was on Rue de la Mer (Street of the Sea) in Baie-des-Sables (Bay of Sands) when I came across "Café de la Caisse". I went in and found a window seat with a view out over the water, both the St. Lawrence and the rain. Americano, Danish and a muffin. The morning is damp and it is nice to be inside for awhile. By my calculations, today marks the mid point of this trip. Half way from the Upper Valley to Campbellton. It is also half way between Quebec City and the Gaspé. When planning this trip I spent a lot of time thinking about "Plan-B", what would I do if I was too exhausted to get on the bike and keep peddling. But it has actually been awhile since I spent time dwelling on Plan-B. I've had a lot of rain, but finishing the trip now not only seems plausible, but also inevitable. The mist and rain comes and goes. I stopped at the information booth in Matane and they made arrangements for me at "Auberge de jeunessen du manoir des Sapins" (Youth Hostel of the Manor of the Firs). I then found an ATM and restocked food at the "Super-C". I can relax a bit. The sun is coming out and I know where my dinner and my bed are tonight. So I stopped at one of the many wayside areas with a picnic shelter, brewed myself some tea and ate a granola bar. And just sat for 20 minutes looking at the sea. In Ste. Felicite I found the hostel and checked in. I then borrowed their garden hose and washed off my bike, it was caked with mud. I also re-oiled the chain, as Mischen had reminded me. And then I cleaned myself. The hostel also has a bistro on the ground floor, and a back deck in the sunshine. I sat in the sun with an Americano and wrote in my journal. Then I walked around the town and along the cobbled shore until dinner time. Barley soup, Salmon Crepes (nine small ones you eat like a fish taco). Then a huge crepe filled with melon, bananas and chocolate for dessert. In the evening there was live Jazz music in the bistro, it was a lot of fun. I have no idea what they were singing - it was in French - but the audience loved it. Especially the eight year old girl in front of me who kept jumping up and down and dancing around the room! Day 10 - Friday, August 11th, 2023 When I woke up at 6:30 and looked out the window, the sun was shining on the St. Lawrence. It is suppose to rain today - but maybe not yet? At 7:00 it started pouring and I postponed my departure, hoping for a less damp start. At 8:00 it did back off a bit to a mere drizzle and so I packed up and peddled off. Today is not going to be remembered as one of the better days. Did I miss the cafe in Grosses-Roches? I found houses, a church and an elementary school, but no hot coffee. It continues to rain, such that when I arrived at Les Méchins I stop at the restroom in the wayside area and run warm water on my hands for a while. There is an open stage area which offers a bit of shelter for the rain, so I pulled out my stove and brew some tea to go with a granola bar. But I find that I've used all the fuel in my stove, and so my tea is only luke-warm. How many ways can I write that it was a wet ride? It would have been a cold ride too, but I am peddling hard, which keeps my body warm - at least when I am on the bike.
Finally I arrive at Sainte-Anne-des-Monts and stop at the information office. Ideally I would have liked to ride another ten to fifteen miles, but I am very cold and wet, and a bit demoralized. When I go into the information place I am just dripping. It takes me awhile to strip my gloves off, and some time in front of the hand drier before I am ready to talk to the information person. He tells me where I can find a grocery store, where there might be camping fuel (not for my stove) and suggest that the converted convent might have a room for me. I visit the convent and talk to someone who goes wandering off to find someone who might know . . . It is a very confusing conversation in a mishmashed pidgin anglo-franco language. When the person I spoke with didn't return in 15 minutes I decided to try elsewhere. I ended up at the "Auberge du Vienx Fanbourg", a regular hotel. And if I paid in cash, they would overlook the taxes. I think they also told me that they only had one room but that the heat was not working. But they would bring me a large electric heater. Actually the electric heater worked well. I strung a cloths line across the room, hung things to dry, and could direct the hot blast from the heater on the wettest item. I was soon warm and dry. Several people had recommend "Poissonnerie Restaurant du Quai", (Fish restaurant on the Wharf) which was only a 100 meters away. When I walked in they told me it would be an hour. So I walked out on the wharf for awhile. A cold wet walk, then back to the warmth of my room for half an hour. "Poissonnerie Restaurant du Quai" was good, but I am not certain it quite lived up to the hype. Fish stew, seafood crepe, lemon meringue pie. Then back to my room. They promise me sunshine tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Day 11 - Saturday, August 12th, 2023 When I first woke at 5:45 the sun was blinding! A thousand puddles reflected the sunrise like a field of diamonds.
I slept a little longer, but was still on my bike before 7:00. Just as I was leaving I met my landlady and thanked her profusely for taking in a very cold, wet and dripping rider. Today looks so very promising! About eight or nine miles out I arrive at "Sea Stack", a place which is run by the same organization that runs the hostel in Riviere-du-Loup. I had hoped to get here yesterday, but had been cold, wet and uncertain of its location. Sea Stack is a combination of cabins, bunkhouse, cafe and camping sites. It attracts a lot of tie-dye and encourages guitars around the campfire on its cobbled beach. I stopped to ask people about recommendations nearer to the end of the day and was told to look for a brightly colors food truck in about 40 or 50 miles, which had a nice camping area behind it. I also walked along the beach and talked with Monica for awhile. She is from north of Montreal and was delighted to practice her English on me. When she heard that I had bicycled about 950 km, some of that in rain, she told me that I was , "a hard man, a strong man". I told her I was "a very wet man." And then I hit some amazingly fast miles! The highway is build on top of a seawall, about five meters above the sea and perfectly flat. To my right are bluffs and cliffs and every once in a while the road bumps to the right into a cove and fishing village. But then out of the cove and back along the base of the cliffs. Mile after mile! For awhile I was convinced that I have gotten into really good condition. My GPS running-watch, strapped to my handle bars, tells me I am riding at 18 mph (30 km/hr)! I am flying! But when I stop I realized that I also have a significant tail-wind! In Mont-Saint-Pierre the park ranger suggested I might find fuel at a hardware store in St-Maxime-du-Mont-Louis. I had heard this from a few other people too. And then he reminded me that most places in the Gaspé region close from Saturday noon until Monday morning. With this tail-wind it was not hard to get the that hardware store before noon. And when I walked in I was excited to see on the camping supply shelf a box with a picture of my stove on the cover. However, they had a stove, but not the fuel! Just after St-Maxime-du-Mont-Louis I witnessed a flock of Northern Gannets fishing. The Gannet is a seabird related to the Boobie, with a long beak, pale yellow on the back of the head, and eyes which are marked out with Egyptian style mascara. And they can dive! I watched gannets flying ten or fifteen meters above the water, watching for fish. When they spotted something they fold their wings, form their body into a dart and drop from the sky at up to 60 mph. They are so streamline that their splash is very crips and compact. A gannet is plummeting into the water and school of fish every second or two! Back in the saddle, mile after perfect mile. The sky is clear and the sea is the same blue as in the flag of Quebec, with a little detail of white on the waves. Waves heading in my direction. This is also where I crossed the One Thousand Kilometer mark. Or as I think is more poetic, The Million Meter Mark! In Sainte-Madeleine-de-la-Riviere-Madeleine I found the aqua colored food truck that I had heard about several times since Sea Stack. (How would you like the name of this town as part of your address? How do they cheer for the local school?) Beyond the food truck, perched in a broad hollow above the sea bluff was a camp ground. But it was far too early to think about stopping for the night. However it was the perfect time for a late lunch. They delivered up a really good pulled-pork sandwich. The chef had a few versions and kept handing me fork fulls of different types of pulled-pork and sauces to try before placing my order. The cashier said that I must be a VIP to be receiving this sort of treatment. It was really good! Yesterday, at the tourist office, I was given a flyer with the elevation profile of all the segments of the Gaspé Bike Loop. I see that the next segment contains the most up and down of the whole peninsula, and the next ten miles the highest point of the loop by a factor of two! So this afternoon it would be nice to get a large chuck of that uphill out of the way. It is a long, long, slow grind up. I downshift to first gear and my speed drops to 3mph, a walking pace. And on I go. Occasionally it becomes less steep and I shift to second gear and get excited as I speed up to 4 or 5 mph. And then over the top and a plunge, gannet style, into Grande-Vallée! I had been heading towards a campground in Grande-Vallée, but I was not inspired when I saw it, it was a crowded RV park. So I continued in to Petite-Vallée, where I found "Camping de la Falaise / Evasion Nature", (Camping on the Cliffs / Escape into Nature). There was still an area near the main road for RV's and trailers. But in a separate field, on top of the cliffs overlooking the sea, there was a field for tents. My site has a panoramic view of the Gulf of St. Lawrence! Tomorrow's forecast includes rain, so I called a hostel in L'Anse-au-Griffon, but was assured that they had six free beds in there bunk house, so I would not need a reservation. The camp area manager and her friends are very friendly. A walk along the beach back to the harbor. Then, without fuel, it is a cold dinner; bagels, cheese and a granola bar. A hot shower and bed with a view of sea and stars. If yesterday was forgettable - today was not! Day 12 - Sunday, August 13th, 2023 The sun peaked under my tarp and woke me at 5:30, but I rolled over and slept another half hour.
While packing a friend of the manager wandered over to my site and offered me real coffee! My breakfast was oatmeal made with warm tap water (my stove still has no fuel), and that cup of really good coffee while we watched the day brighten over the sea was precious. He told me he operated a crane at a boat yard which moved really big boats / small ships, in and out of the water. When I asked where, he paused and then told me "Fox River". I couldn't remember seeing a Fox River on the map, but was told it would probably be near the end of today's ride. The cafe in Cloridorme would open in half an hour. I should have waited, because I didn't go through anything bigger until lunch time. After Baie-de-Saint-Yvon the road cut inland for twenty kilometers, past lakes and into the forest. I have been so focused on the seacoast that I had forgotten the forrest. The lakes, marshlands and woods are beautiful in their own gentle way. Eventually I came back out on the coast and enter Riviere-au-Renard, a village with a large harbor and boat yard. And then all of a sudden I remembered that Renard was Fox, and this is the Fox River. Often people would work hard to translate place names for me, the crane operator had to pause and think about the name of his home town. But I can only find these places on a map with their French names. It is Sunday and not much is happening in town. I bicycle by the boatyard and recognize the crane from photos I saw this morning. But a hot lunch would be more filling. Just as I am leaving town I spot the "Café Croque Faim" (Hungry Crunch Cafe?). It seems so non-Gaspé, but I have a cheeseburger, and it was good. And it was the right lunch to describe this place. Fifteen more kilometers and I arrive at "HI L'Anse-au-Griffon" (Hostel International - The Cove at Griffon). It is only 2:00pm, but it is starting to rain. And there is only one bed available in the bunkhouse! At this hostel you could stay in individual cabins, or at a camp site, or the "dortoir" (dormitory / bunk house) or you could rent a "Tents Prospecteurs" ("Prospectors" or "Gold Rush Style" Tent). In the middle of the complex is the main building which included a common kitchen, game rooms, a cozy space by a wood stove, and a bar. At the far end of the bar there was a spot to sit and look out into the fog over the sea. This is where I spent a lot of that afternoon. I had decided to make this a short day, I'm ten miles from the Parc National Forillon, my ultimate destination. But this way I get to have a whole day in the park, instead of just the tail-end of the afternoon. So I have a do-nothing afternoon. With hot tea in hand (I now have access to a full kitchen) I stared out over the sea, up dated my journal, read, and talked to people who drifted in and out of that common space. One of the people I talked with was complaining about his bike ride. I couldn't possibly know how hard it was. He had been on the road for two days and had cycled nearly 80 kilometers (50 miles) and once had been caught in the rain. I tried to agree with him that it was a hard life. However after he heard that I had started in New Hampshire, he stopped complaining to me. A walk along the shingled beach when the rain let up, and then Spanish Rice (imported by bike from New Hampshire), bagels and cheese for dinner. In the bunkhouse, every bed has a thick curtain around it, and a lamp in each space, so I could read there in the evening. But the staff have lit the wood burning stove in the common room, which takes off the dampness and makes it very cozy. I don't mind the constant conversations around me. Most are in French and I don't understand them. Day 13 - Monday, August 14th, 2023 It was a cold night and so I pulled my sleeping bag out and spread it over my blankets. Which is then very snug.
It is pouring out at 5:00am, so I pull my nose under the covers until 6:45, when the rain is not rattling the tin roof quite as hard. Today I'll be in Parc National Forillon, which really is the ultimate goal of this ride. I really wanted to camp in the park, but the weather is not cooperating. I have, however, found another hostel just beyond the park. So I make reservations there and plan to spend as much of the day in the park as I can. It is okay to get wet if I know a dry place awaits me. Now that I have a plan I linger for awhile over my coffee and oatmeal, staring out over the Golf du Saint-Laurent, into the mist and rain. It is only half an hour to the park, and then I am finally there! This is where I was heading in 1981. I am almost giddy with delight when I cross that line! At the north entrance the ranger told me that Cap-Bon-Ami was most certainly the best view in the park. So on I rode. The view here is dramatic! The whole Gaspé peninsula, that which I have been cycling on for three days, narrows down to this finger of rock which sticks out into the sea. Ten kilometers long, but only one kilometer wide, a spine of rock. From the south it slopes up abruptly to a escarpment, which then plunges down a cliff face into the sea. Cap-Bon-Ami is a small cape which sticks out the north side into Anse du Cap des Rosiers (Bay of the Cape of Roses). So from Cap-Bon-Ami you can look back at the cliffs which form this last finger of rock. Towering cliffs! Right now with wild waves crashing at their bases and their height disappearing into the mist. A stair case takes me down to a cobbled beach. I walk to the end of that shingled beach to where I can go no further because the surf meets the cliffs which tower straight up 100 meters. Do I want to use the word "Sublime"? Eventually I make my way back to a cafe near the gate and celebrate with a muffin, chocolate croissant and coffee. Back on the bike I wind my way across the spine. And maybe the rain is letting up a bit? At the south gate I ask the ranger how far out can I ride my bike? She tells me "all the way". There is 8 kilometers of road, paved and with car traffic and then 4 kilometers on dirt and gravel shared with hikers. The trail had more foot traffic then the road had vehicle traffic! But it was not difficult and I was truly thrilled to be at the very tip of Cap Gaspé with my ancient companion Mistral! The cape has a lighthouse and maybe twenty of us are moving between the spectacular views over the cliffs, and a bit of shelter from the wind behind the lighthouse. And at our feet is Bout-du-Monde, the End of the World. My phone's battery is almost exhausted, so I have had it powered down. But now I turn it on, take some photos, and then turn on the celluar connection to send them to my family. Just the moment that I send, I receive a message from Robin, "Big news from Provence! We are engaged :)" - and then my phone dies before I can see the photos! Back on the bike, the weather has cleared and it is a leisurely ride back along the trail, through the park and out the gate. A mile later I arrive at "Le Carabobo Auberge Forillon", my hostel for the night. This is a big old rambling house, maybe with 12 to 15 rooms and three dozen people. I shower, do laundry, then walk down to a small shop for groceries. Back in the kitchen there are three stoves and eight dinners being cooked, from simple ramen to extravagant multi-course dinners. All in a happy buzz of Québécois on vacation. Later I walk down to the beach. The stars and the reflection of the stars must meet someplace out there in the darkness. Day 14 - Tuesday, August 15th, 2023
It is about 400 km from here to Campbellton. If I am to catch the Saturday train to Halifax, I need to show that I can ride 100 km a day, or more, again. Why is it so hard to get started in the morning? I tip-toed out of the dorm room at 6:00, but it was nearly 7:00 before I got on the bike. The hostel is very quiet, with only three of us moving silently around the kitchen. The morning is clear and the miles are easy. Today I'll cycle 110 km by road, but only 45 in a straight line, there are a number of big bays I'll need to ride around. In the town of Gaspé the man at the information office suggested I check Canadian Tire for fuel for my stove. Canadian Tire is like a 3/4 size Home Depot, and the have a canister which fits my stove! A few miles later I find a pavilion next to the bike trail and I brew myself some coffee. Oh to have a hot drink early on a cool morning! By the time I reach the wayside rest area at Seal Cove I have ridden 55 kilometers, yet can see where I started the day, 8 kilometers across the bay! At Saint-George-de-Malbaie I left behind Baie de Gaspé and started circling La Malbaie, which means "The Bad Bay". I wonder what nautical disaster lead to that name. I stopped for lunch at a shelter in the village of Barachois, on La Malbaie. There was a couple there who were also cooking their lunch. It was the first primarily English speaking couple I had talked with since entering Canada. She was a ranger in the National Park System, who had spent most of her career near Thunder Bay, but had recently been promoted to headquarters in Ottawa. He is a forester who is happy to follow his wife's career. They were enjoying the afternoon with a guitar and a bird spotting scope. As I rounded the bay I saw a sign for the bike route pointing away from the highway. This small road crossed a marsh land and then ended up on a gravel spit. But about 600 meters before it reconnected to the mainland the pavement ended. It looked like a storm had washed away a lot of sand and pebbles and the asphalt had collapsed. I ended up pushing my bike over this section, rather than backtracking a few miles to the highway. And it was fun to be on the beach! A few more hills and I am in the town of Percé. Its been a 70 miles and that is enough. Also Percé is a tourist town, so there is a place to camp and plenty of choices for dinner. The campground is dominated by RV's, but there is one field set aside for tents. In town I start with coffee and a croissant and then walk out to a point, Mt. Joli, which has a spectacular view of Percé Rock, a long, thin seastack. 400 meters long, 80 meters tall and 40-60 meters wide. It also has a hole going through it, an arch small boats can pass through. And then a very fancy dinner (by the standards of this trip) and bed. Day 15 - Wednesday, August 16th, 2023 I was on the road by 7:00. But before I left the campsite I called Via, the Canadian passenger rail service, and book a ticket for my bike and myself on the Saturday train. I met Guillanume who was camping in the same field as my tent. He is also biking in the same direction as I am. He mentions that he has heard of a good campsite in Paspébiac. Maybe that is where I am also going. So now I have three days to ride a bit over 250 kilometers, and Friday is forecast to be wet again. Which means I would like to ride another 100+ kilometers today. Two hours later I stop for a second breakfast. Three sausages, 3 tranche of ham, 3 of bacon, fruit, 2 toast, eggs and coffee. I didn't know I was that hungry. I'm not in great spirits for the first time on this trip. There are hills, it is gray and overcast, and there is an unending head wind. But I expect that the real reason is that after reaching Cap Gaspé, everything else is a bit anticlimactic. For so long the goal was to get to the End of the World (Bout-du-Monde), and now the goal is to just not miss a train. When I had made my original plans I had worked things out at a rate of fifty miles a day, and a rest day every four or five days. So I have an airplane ticket from Halifax for Aug 26. It now looks like I could arrive in Halifax late this Saturday, nearly a week early. So then Sunday would be a sit-around day, Monday I would ship the bike and Tuesday I could fly.
I emailed the bike shop who will ship the bike on the off chance that they are open on Sunday. Meanwhile, the riding is simple. There is a wayside rest area about every ten kilometers or so, often with picnic tables, gazebos, water and toilets. I stop and brew tea and look out over the sea. I am on vacation! The last hour of riding was much better. The sun came out and the head wind let up! The IGA in Paspébiac was the biggest grocery store I've seen on this trip! When riding out to the Gaspé, towns and stores had gotten smaller and smaller, and I had expected that trend to continue. But I was wrong. The towns here are much bigger than on the north side of the peninsula. The campgrounds are on a spit of sand which sticks out beyond the fishing harbor into the sea. Apparently I got the last site because when Guillanume arrived ten minutes after me, the campground manager started waving him off, explaining that they were full. I offered to split my site with Guillanume, which lead to a confusing conversation because the manager told me, in very broken English, that I needed to tell Guillanume that he would still have to pay a fee. I started to tell Guillanume, in my very bad French, what I had just been told. But then realized that Guillanume was fluent in both French and English and could talk directly with the manager. Things worked out. Guillanume had just finished an engineering degree from a university in Montreal. He has been offered one job, but is uncertain where he wants his life to go. And so is taking a week long tour of the Gaspé to help him clear his mind. More power to him! The campground is dominated by RV's, many of which have very permanent wooden patios, lights and custom picnic areas. I think these RV's must live here for the summer. West of the campgrounds is the fishing harbor. To the east is a beach, and in-between them there is a quarter mile long boardwalk. After dinner and before the sun goes down I explore this bit of shoreline. Day 16 - Thursday, August 17th, 2023 When I got up, I made myself a cup of tea and walked with it out to the beach. The fishermen were up before me. Two surf fishermen, and two big trawlers were making their way out of the harbor.
I walked out to a spit of sand where someone had lashed a Quebec flag to the root of a drift log. I find that most Quebecker identify more strongly with Quebec then with Canada. Last night I ask Guillanume about this and he agreed. We then talked about the Quebec independence movement. There had been a referendum in 1980 and 1995, both defeated, but the second one only narrowly. It sounded to me as if Guillanume was very sympathetic to independence. But when I asked him directly, he only answered, "It is now far too complicated". I was almost packed when Guillanume came out of his tent. We shook hands and wished each other best luck, and I was off. About ten miles later, just before entering Bonaventure, I stopped at a very prim restaurant for breakfast. While waiting to order I got an email from the bike shop in Halifax saying that yes they could pack my bike, but they couldn't ship it internationally. And they were closed on Sunday. This made me think about shipping my bike from Campbellton. So right after breakfast I called Rebel Bike Shop and was told that of course they ship bikes, they shipped one yesterday. He was certain they could ship to New Hampshire, but would call me back with a price. This could change everything! But I was not going to change my tickets until things were confirmed. Back on the bike, this is turning into a sunny day. The hills are gentle and near New Richmond Route Vert left the main highway for a number of pleasant miles. When I cycled through Gesgapegiag I was surprised to see a number of very large tepees. Apparently this is part of the Mi'kmaq - First Nation - reserve and the locals have embraced the tepee. Mi'kmaq were traditionally a nomadic people. Carleton-sur-Mer is a seaside resort town, right now with sunshine to match. I stopped here for "Fruit-de-Mer" (Seafood) Poutine. It is a layer of cream-fish-scallops on top of the traditional fries-curd-gravy poutine. Rebel Bike confirmed that they could ship, and so I called the airline about changing my flight. I am booked on Saturday, August 26th, but would like to fly on Sunday the 20th. But they are no seats available until the 23rd. At which point I asked myself why do I need to fly out of Halifax? They are a lot of seats, and it is much cheaper to fly out of Montreal. So I switch my flight. Now all that remains is the train. I want to switch a Saturday Campbellton to Halifax into a Friday Campbellton to Montreal. Via tells me I can do that, but there is only one seat left and it is part of a two person sleeper car. In fact I would have to take both seats. It is expensive, but cheaper then sitting around for a few days waiting. Also, they put me on the standby list if there are any cancellations. And there it was. My entire ending of this trip has radically changed. And now all I need to do is find a campsite for tonight. The Information Office recommended a campground in Nouvelle, a place famous for salmon fishing. Eight more miles and I find the site, set up my tarp, shower and dinner. I then spend an hour at the neighboring site with a young couple who share their campfire. Her name is Catherine and is from Sherbrooke. His name is Marc and is from Riviere-du-Loup, both places I have cycled through on this trip. They told me that they come here every year to fish. But with all this rain the river, about 30 meters from us, was running far too fast for good fishing. They also told me that during the pandemic, when Canadians could not vacation in the US, the Gaspé had been packed! It was a very pleasant hour by the fire. But now to bed. Day 17 - Friday, August 18th, 2023 The train leaves at 11:00pm, and I have only 50km of peddling. I woke at 5:30, but forced myself to stay in my sleeping bag until 6:00. I then brewed myself a cup of tea and walked along the river. Back at my site I had breakfast and packed. While packing Marc and Catherine stopped by to wish me luck. They had been told that one of the upper tributaries of Riviere Nouvelle was not in flood, and might be good for fishing.
I finally started a little after 8:00. I have a lots of time today. The shortest route to Campbellton is Rt. 132, but Route Vert #1 goes a longer way, staying closer to the coast and going through the Parc National de Miguasha. This is a quiet road after all those miles on 132. In Escuminac I rejoin the highway, and it started to rain. And there really is nothing to do but cycle to Campbellton. But riding is fast and smooth and for long stretches I hit 30 km/hr (18 mph). The town of Pointe-à-la-Croix is a busy, dusty town full of traffic and potholes. Do the businesses which fill border towns tell you something about the differences between the two provinces? The bridge over the Ristigouche, the river which divides Quebec from New Brunswick, is narrow and busy, so I ride on the sidewalk and hope the gusting wind doesn't blow me into the traffic. Farewell Quebec (for a few hours). Hello New Brunswick / Nouvean-Brunswick! I soon find Rebel Bikes and Tyler, the mechanic who will take care of shipping my bike. He will also pack about two-thirds of my gear with the bike so I don't have to carry camping gear and bike tools with me. Before leaving the shop I ask him where would I find a laundromat, a book store, a restaurant and the train station. The laundromat is two blocks down the street. The book store is half way to the laundromat. The best restaurant is across the street from the bookstore. And the train station is across the street from the bike shop! After starting my laundry I head to the bookstore, where I met Nancy, the half owner and today's manager. When she discovered that I've just finished a bike trip and am waiting for the train, she insists that I camp out at her store. There are a number of overstuffed chairs in the window and I find myself curled up with a book and a cup of tea. A large fraction of the city of Campbellton passed through "The Flying Canoe" that afternoon, some looking for books, and the rest looking for Nancy. They are all happy to get out of the rain, find a warm seat and talk for awhile. In the middle of the afternoon Jim, Nancy's Uncle, came in for tea. He is now semi-retired and told a few curious stories about the life of a lock smith. When the shop closed Nancy drove Jim home and then showed me the highlights of the town. Finally she dropped me off near the lighthouse on Salmon Boulevard. I walked for awhile by the river, and ended up at the Tourist Information Office. On such a rainy evening I think they were happy to be visited by anybody. They also had a wingback chair where I sat and read the book I bought at The Flying Canoe. I stretched dinner out to 9:00, which is when the train station opened. I checked in and was able to switch my two person sleeper for one regular seat at a quarter of the price. The station was very quiet until shortly before the train arrived and a school bus with 48 campers and 6 counselor and all their gear arrived! I was impressed with how the counselors herded these cats. Boys and girls, ages 8 to 17 and all talking all the time. The train was late, arriving just before midnight. This was the end of a two week summer camp. The counselors were taking the campers to Montreal, where in a few days they will start with a new crew. The train is full, I eventually find a seat, pull my hat over my eyes, and fall asleep. Epilogue
This story could go on. I could describe the railroad car full of the 48 campers who had talked all night and now slept in impossible positions. I could talk about the train trip, the bus in Montreal, the flight to see my folks. But that really isn't part of this bike trip. I think falling asleep on the train really is the right spot to end. Except there must be some final words. Some lesson learned, some wisdom gained? It turns out riding all those miles is not so hard. Getting back on the bike, day after day, gets easier. Mile after mile gets easier too. And even rainy days can not dampen my spirits. So what is it that I was in trepidation of at the beginning of the trip? Maybe the real problem was that I didn't write down all the stories of all the people I met. But I used all the pages of my journal so I had to stop. But as soon as I find another blank journal, I want to be back on the saddle and ride into the Sunrise! I want to be heading east to Bout-Du-Monde!  |
