We rode about 44 miles on Tuesday from Mont Tremblant to Saint Saveur, still on the rail trail, which I have learned was a passenger train which opened this area to tourism, especially skiing, starting in 1910.  We rode gently and steadily up hill for about 12 miles and were rewarded with a lovely 8 mile down hill at the end of the day.  Although the day was gray and misty, the overnight rain had stopped,  and it was almost warm.

Today, September 12, we rode 53 miles into downtown Montreal.  Our cue sheets had 60 or so turns for the ride, so we played follow the leader to make better time and avoid wrong turns.  I know Montreal is very bike friendly, but I was impressed anew that we came in entirely on bike trails or protected bike lanes, never in general traffic.  Some of the bike intersections were a bit scary, as the many local bikers aren’t wasting any time.

Does the biker make this bike art?

Biggest lumber pile I’ve ever seen.

Another nice lunch spot.

This mural was in the town of St. Jérôme.  Any guesses as to its symbolism?  It looks vaguely Soviet to me.

It was good to have a leader today.

We did stop for excellent treats this afternoon.  I was preparing to take a picture of my chocolate croissant when a very aggressive squirrel got interested in the proceedings.  I wasn’t willing to share, so instead you get three happy bikers enjoying their coffee, the pastries long gone.

Brrrr...

We wanted an early start today for our 50 mile ride to Mont Tremblant, as rain was predicted for the afternoon.  When we went out to breakfast, it was all of 39 degrees, and maybe 42 when we began riding, having delayed as long as possible.  Fortunately, the trail was easy, the winds were calm, and the rain held off.  We even had sunshine part of the way.

Not sure if this counts as bike art, but it’s the best I’ve seen.

 The rest stops along the way are modeled on cabooses from the old train.  And I liked seeing seeing bikers on the trail older than I am!

Hope and I tried a different form of pedaling.

The first good treat stop of the trip.

Wind and water

On Saturday, we biked 52 miles to Kiamika, another very small Quebec town, my longest ride since last summer.  Moderate headwinds notwithstanding, I did just fine.  The whole group stayed in a large  old house, which was very comfortable, except that it only had one bathroom!  It was my night to make supper.  I had planned in advance and brought along some ingredients, showing, I thought, some foresight.  However, I had failed to check with the rider who was in charge of the previous night, and the group had two chili suppers in row.  No one complained.

Today, Sunday, we rode 42 miles to Lac Saguay, an even smaller town.  A good bit of the ride today, Monday, and Tuesday, is on a rail trail, P’tit Train du Nord.  Alas, there are lots of detailed signs along the way, all in French, so I’m not getting as much history as I had hoped.

I think this scene would make a good jigsaw puzzle.

Lunch off the truck is always welcome.  The temperature as been in the forties when we head out, barely making it to 60.  It feels like fall.

Water view at Saturday lunch.

Water view at Sunday lunch.  Hope was braver than I at sliding down the bank in bike shoes.

The dock at our motel today.

 

Friends catching up.

Water, water

Another easy, 30 mile day, albeit with one hill I walked up.  We headed northeast to the small town of  Val des Bois.  Tonight we are staying at three summer cottages along a lake.  We arrived early enough that I was able to enjoy some canoeing while others went swimming.

One of many lakes I rode past.  Clearly we had no concern about headwinds, bot of course, so friendly tailwinds either.

Our cottage, with visitors.

Don’t shoot the trees?

Into the woods

We rolled gently into the trip, going 33 miles from Ottawa to just past the little river town of Wakefield.  We were on an excellent bike path and rolling into the Gatineau Park only a couple of miles from our hotel.  And yesterday’s heat and humidity and last night’s thunderstorms disappeared into a lovely September day.

Our first climb was rewarded with fine views of Pink Lake, named for an early settler named Pink, not for the color of the water.

Summer still reigns, no fall color yet.

This bridge was indeed completed in 1997.  The original was burned by an arsonist in 1984, and the marker commented, “The town cried.”  And when the province told them they didn’t need a new bridge, the town raised the funds and contributed most of the labor for this structure.

Our group of fifteen is staying in a well equipped house near a ski area.  After bike hot tub spell is also fine.

Back to Canada

I’m in Ottowa, heading out tomorrow for two and a half weeks of biking, mostly in Quebec, and with mostly familiar faces.

On the drive north, I stopped at the Thousand Islands tower for a fantastic view of some of the 997  islands.  Rounding the number up made for a more poetic name.

Although today felt more like steamy Washington DC, Ottowa is still a nice city for wandering.  Old and new in this picture of the Parliament Building reflected in the Bank of Canada.

A month goes so fast

We're back in Quebec tonight after riding 57 miles from Baie St. Paul.  More hills -- we only covered 12 miles in the first two hours, as that distance included eight miles of climbing, taking us from sea level to the high point of 750 meters, about 2300 feet.  Fortunately, the remainder of the ride was gentle, our last day of admiring old farms.  Now I'm back to the starting point, getting ready to drive to Ottawa tomorrow to visit friends before returning home, grudgingly entering the real world again.

We were almost at the top of the second climb when we stopped to refuel with power bars and enjoy the view.

We always encounter at least one construction site we have to wade through.

This mural was on the wall of a small church.

We visited the huge pilgrimage church of St. Anne de Beaupre.  The current church was started in the 1920s at an historic pilgrimage site and features many contemporary touches in a Romanesque basilica.  I liked the lumberman in stained glass.

More images from the basilica.  Why is there a mosaic of a typewriter and telephone?

I always hated the arrival of the last day of camp.  I still feel that way.