Our rest day was restful with only a couple rides down the road to Chez Mona Restaurant, which turned out to be a favorite for meals among riders during our one-day respite.  Twenty-one of us inundated the restaurant for supper, alone. 

That battalion of bad mossies that sent us to bed, had lingered to greet our exit from the tent this 22 August morning.  By far, it was our worst encounter with the pests.  We had erected our tent, as many others did, under the picnic shelters, enabling us to pack a dry tent, quickly.  We broke camp efficiently, then partook in a pre-breakfast of yogurt and porridge at the truck.  Chez Mona then hosted a good, mosquito-free breakfast to begin our day and the last segment of our cross-Canada journey.  It was so nice to sit down again for a breakfast, and enjoy a relaxing coffee.  Our legs were spinning by 7:43 am.

The “home stretch”!  This would be our last segment, the longest at nine days.  If Joyce’s and my feelings were any indication, everybody was becoming anxious to be successful in reaching the ultimate destination of this terrific tour, St. Johns.  However, we knew that this was our last week of a memorable meander across Canada with our “summer family”.  Mixed feelings!

It turned out to be a hot day at 28*C.  Bouctouche, a beautiful little town on the shores of the Northumberland Strait, was our first stop, meeting up with Danny, Louise, Mary, and Myra enjoying lunch in the town park.  Joyce and I pushed on only to meet up with them again in Shediac at “the Big Lobster”.

With pictures taken, Danny, Joyce, and I didn’t last long in the saddle before an ice cream store caught our attention.  We indulged!  Later, toward the end of an optional side trip, we battled headwinds, oddly, bicycling away from the water.  By 5:00 pm., with another 140k “off the books”, we cycled into Murray Beach Provincial Park.  It was an open concept park with beautiful panoramas and great facilities.  A casual walk after supper to better enjoy the views provided me with my first sight of the bridge onto PEI, which we’d be crossing tomorrow.

The exposed park was susceptible to high winds and driving rain, which started about 5:30 am. next morning.  Only when the storm abated did we leave the comfort of our tent.  With only eighty-seven kilometres scheduled for the day, there was no concern to hurry to the highway.  Still, we were on our way into a light drizzle by 8:11.  The scenery provided intermittent glimpses of the huge bridge in the distance as Alain, Jacques, Mike, Michel, Joyce and I biked along.  It only took an hour to arrive at Cape Jourmain to await the shuttle to Prince Edward Island.

We waited for our turn for the shuttle over coffee and toast in the terminal restaurant.  By 9:54 am., the shuttle was transporting eight of us across Confederation Bridge, which joins the eastern Canadian provinces of Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick.  After four years of construction, the Confederation Bridge opened to traffic on 31 May, 1997 at a total cost of one billion dollars.  The curved, 12.9 kilometre long bridge is the longest in the world crossing the Northumberland Strait, ice-covered in winter.  It endures as one of Canada’s top engineering achievements of the 20^th Century. (compliments of http://www.confederationbridge.com/about/confederation-bridge.html).

At the PEI terminus was a Cows Ice Cream Store.  Tempting, but we resisted.  After some photographs, Victoria-by-the-Sea was our next stop.  Our group of seven broke up to patronize different, local spots.  Joyce, Mike, and I enjoyed lunch in a restaurant with a beautiful view at the edge of the water.  “It’s a small world” was foremost in our minds during a chance meeting with fellow Huntsvillians, Reverend John McTavish and his family, in the restaurant.  Not only was Reverend McTavish the pastor at Trinity United Church, he wed my eldest son, Chris, to his bride and wife, Clarita.

PEI is not flat.  But, the undulating terrain did not affect our timely 3:10 pm. arrival at the Cornwall KOA campground.  Good thing since we were responsible for supper.  The chicken catalina and fruit bowl were a hit.  At 8:05 pm., clean-up completed, we were in the tent. After another, evening, diary entry, sleep came fast.

Saturday, 24 August, six days left!   Blueberry pancakes rounded out the breakfast menu, our last meal responsibility.  Even with breakfast and clean-up, we were on the road by 8:11 am., again.  Charlottetown, Canada’s seat of Confederation, was a short five kilometres down the road.  The firefighters had an interesting exhibit of old fire engines on display, impossible to resist.  Joyce was concerned about making the ferry off the island, so, after a short visit and with pictures taken, we continued.  Joyce’s concern wasn’t necessary because our 11:40 am. arrival at the ferry dock was well ahead of the 12:59 pm. boarding, 1:11 pm. sailing times.  The ferry completed its 96k crossing by 2:30 pm.  Now, we were in Nova Scotia, three provinces in two days, by bike.

A large group of us detoured into Pictou to see the replica of the ship, Hector, which brought Scottish settlers to the area in the late 1700s, hence the strong Gaelic influence in the region.  Louise, a co-rider, was Scottish, and, no doubt, this Gaelic influence made her feel at home. The tribulations of our cross-Canada odyssey compared meagre to the hardships of the Hector.  Off we went.

On our route out, we came to the largest traffic circle that I’ve ever seen, or ridden.  I’m sure we doubled the day’s distance because of it.  From there, our cycle was steady and uneventful to Cranberry Campground.

I exited the tent next morning into a brisk, cool, clear day.  You could see your breath.  It seemed sensible to make a quick 180 to return to the warmth of my sleeping bag.  Now, I realize why we’ve seen so many truckloads of snowmobiles passing us on the highway. 

Joyce and I toughed it out, layered up, and got moving to keep warm.  We departed camp into the cool, brisk air, but the sun was shining indicating that, with time, the day would be warm and bright.  It wasn’t long before many of the group met up and rode together.  Tim Hortons in Antigonish was a stop nobody challenged for further warmth with a coffee. 

Joyce and I left the main group further down the road, only to meet up with them again after experiencing some tough going on a “short cut”.  It’s great to cycle with a larger group since you get to talk to different riders, when riding along quiet routes.  In Harve Boucher, a small eastern town, the group stopped for sausage on a bun and drink to support the fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital in Halifax.  It was opportune since it was lunchtime, and a preferred menu to the normal, summer fare of peanut butter sandwiches.

An hour down the road, Larry and Gee, on the side of the road, flagged us into Aulds Cove Volunteer Fire Department.  A 2012 TdCer had arranged a lunch in the firehall.  What a treat!  Our second lunch in an hour included fruit, vegetables, yogurt, crackers, cheese, cookies, and chocolate milk.  Well stuffed, our lucky group posed for a photograph with the TdCer’s sister.  With difficulty, off we went.  

Once we’d crossed the Canso Causeway two kilometres along, we were in Cape Breton.  The remaining, seventy kilometres of the day’s 168 kilometre journey was hilly, and our sated condition made riding tough.  We were late arriving at MacKinnon’s Campground at 6:30, and late for the pot luck supper, which the campground had arranged. This memorable day was one of feasts.

Joyce’s knee had been bothering her for a few days. A heavy day across Newfoundland was before us.  Joyce did not want to miss that day.  As insurance, we chose to bivouac in Baddeck for two nights while the group circum-cycled Cape Breton Island.  Eric, who was experiencing hamstring troubles, decided to join us.

On Monday, 26 August, while our cycling compatriots toughed out the ride around hilly, but scenic, Cape Breton, Joyce, Eric, and I became “pure tourists”.  After the relatively short ride of 55 kilometres, we lazed about in picturesque Baddeck lunching at the Highwheeler Cafe and checking into our B&B.  Coincidentally, Cycle Canada’s Tour Atlantic riders started to arrive in town.  After applause from us, we spoke with some, and met with Bud, our tour organizer / owner, who was in town to congratulate those same riders.  Our dandy day ended with a good supper at Lynwood Inn and some TV.  Sleep still came easily despite our leisurely day.

Tuesday was our second, consecutive, easy day, a warm-up distance of 27.6 kilometres over seventy-five minutes.  Our good breakfast was closely followed by coffee and some indulgences in town, then our bike ride.  By 2:05 pm., we were at Englishtown Ridge Campground.  It was a tough haul over the last kilometre up a steep, unpaved road.  Once in camp, we set up our tent and contents for the last time on a terrific, soon-to-be done tour.  Because our sag truck was not making the crossing to Newfoundland, it was necessary for all to organize and consolidate our belongings.  That chore really drove home the point we’d soon be finished our ride.  Our group enjoyed a supper of spaghetti and cake at tables in the campground hall.  Bud held a meeting about the logistics and crossing to Newfoundland.

August 28 was another short day at 39.5 kilometres.  The two-hour ride landed us in North Sydney about 11:51 am., but not before we ascended and descended Kelly Mountain (240 metres), crossed the Seal Island Bridge, and indulged, once more, for our accomplishments at the Cedar House Bakery, which offered a terrific assortment of restaurant and bakery cuisine.  I enjoyed coffee and toast with pie for dessert.  It was a terrible thought that soon I wouldn’t be able to eat randomly.

Simultaneously as we arrived at the ferry dock, Joyce’s sister, Cathy, and family arrived to greet us.  We needed to take time to load our bikes and belongings with the other group members, a concerted effort.  Where else but at a proximate Tim Hortons did we add to our initial, short, “Hello!”, a prolonged visit with Joyce’s family.  By 3:50 pm., the group was boarding the ferry in preparation of the five o’clock sailing.

Our berth was comfortable, clean, . . . and small, an efficient use of space.  After a refreshing shower, we met with our group to enjoy a terrific, buffet supper.  Six plates went back, two cold, two hot, and two dessert.  Too good!  My only after-supper concern was that the boat would rock too much.  The days had grown shorter with the passage of summer.  Darkness had fallen providing no scenery.  And, our ride tomorrow would be long across the Avalon Peninsula.  8:30; bed time!

Our spirits were high.  The accommodations were comfortable and first rate.  The food was aplenty and superb.  Breakfast, too, went back with ease.  We were looking forward to a great, finishing ride.  But, it appeared that our optimism was in vain.  Our boat experienced difficulty docking.  The tips of the waves were being carried away by the wind.  The day was cloudy, but clear.  Our group gathered on the car deck awaiting disembarkation.  As the boat’s snout rose, all of us could feel the cool, windy day awaiting us.  At 10:05 am., we departed the boat, readied our bikes, and made our lunches, for the last time, using any flat, table-like surface that we could find out of the wind.  Off we went at 10:45.  A moment later, we had stopped for a photograph at the “Welcome Newfoundland” sign.  We were in our tenth province, the tenth province, actually, to have joined Confederation, in 1949, a good year.

The day was breezy.  Not until Joyce and I had ascended the first hill did we realize how windy it was, and how long the day would likely be.  Welcome to Newfoundland!

 

Joyce and I rode a considerable distance together.  Catching and being caught, our group grew by mid-peninsula.  Only a couple stops delayed our progress.  Some took their turns at the front “pulling” the group facilitating the effort.  They call Newfoundland, “the Rock”, for a reason.  Sparsely populated by people and plants alike, what we saw was mostly wind-blown and barren.  The questionable scenery and cloudy day added to the day’s length.  It was obvious when we were getting closer to St. Johns.  Traffic was heavier and urban sprawl became more evident.

Darkness and rain descended upon us simultaneously as our group reached the outskirts of St. Johns.  What a welcome!  While we warmed and refreshed at our last Tim Hortons stop of the trip, our terrific truck driver, Adam, was summoned to escort us the remaining few kilometres through dark and rain.  At 9:11 pm. Newfoundland time, we arrived at the Extended Stay Hotel.  All of us were physically and emotionally spent.  After a hot shower not ten feet from a real bed, we joined a happy, accomplished group, which dined on pizza and cake for supper.  For Joyce and me, a long day, a long trip, ended at 11:30 pm.

Many had an early breakfast enabling a group of us to ride to “Mile ‘0’” with enough time to return to prepare for our celebratory luncheon.   The inclement weather did not provide optimum conditions, nor did it deter us.  Several memorable, prized, photographs were obtained with the foremost of Canadians, Terry Fox, included.  Giddy, we were like kiddies running about, posing, unconcerned about gigabyte usage.  That done, we proceeded to Signal Hill, the traditional end of the Tour.

Signal Hill on this day was not a good location for photographs.  One could see the fog moving in and following the contours of the land and manmade obstacles.  Fog horns broke the silence.  Unlike in 2009 when it was so clear you could almost see England, our hill visit today was short with few pictures taken.  Our group then congregated at a waterfront park for the requisite, front-wheel-dip and photographs.  Then, we ascended a hill for the last time on this trip on our return to the hotel.

 

 

All of us, in turn, were shuttled to an up-scale restaurant just down the road.  We congregated in a small room, which made the affair appropriately intimate.  We paid our respects, silently, to our lost riders, Irene and Bob Booth.  Then, there were plenty of smiles, some tears, good food, some speeches, and a plethora of great memories.  The luncheon was a fitting conclusion to a fine summer and an unbelievable accomplishment.

The remainder of the day was used to organize for our imminent departures over the next couple days.  While working on our blog, I assisted Myra to box her bike, for many, a common past time today.  That evening, seven of us patronized the Keg to enjoy a fantastic steak meal with a side order of fond memories.  We revelled in the moment because 12:35 pm. the next day, Saturday, 31 August, 2013, Joyce and I were homeward bound.  What a terrific summer!

 

Segment Table 12  -  St. Louis-du-Kent to St. John’s, Newfoundland

Location  /  Date	Time camp to camp	Time on bike	Max. speed	Avg. speed	Distance	Trip to date
Murray Beach / 22Aug	10:06	6:56	41.5	20.1	139.4	6369.6
Cornwall, PEI / 23Aug	7:00	3:38	?	22.4	81.3	6450.9
Lower Barneys R/24Aug	9:20	7:11	55.7	21.3	127.1	6578.0
Lake Ainslie / 25Aug	10:56	8:02	54.7	20.9	168.4	6746.4
Baddeck / 26Aug	5:46	2:28	45.4	22.2	54.8	6801.2
Englishtown / 27Aug	3:02	1:16	49.2	21.6	27.5	6828.7
North Sydney / 28Aug	2:58	2:03	58.4	19.2	39.5	6868.2
Argentia, NL to St.John’s, NL / 29Aug13	10:26	8:11	41.5	16.0	131.2	6999.4
To Signal Hill	2:05				8.5	7007.9

 

 

 

 

 

 

Segment 11  -  Quebec City to St. Louis de Kent

The best part of our rest day was the sun which began to shine as we left the residence to resume our eastbound trek.  Otherwise, the Laval experience came up somewhat short.  That thought was quick to leave our minds with the beautiful day, “old town” scenery, and downhill ride, which took Mike, Mary, Myra, Louise, Joyce and me to the ferry.  The ferry conveyed us to Levis on the south shore.  Then, we enjoyed a great bike path to #132, which we’d ride for most of the day.  Our group lunched at TH in Montmagny.  Our second food break came when we stopped mid-afternoon at the “renowned” restaurant, La Roche a Veillon.

 

 

                                                                                                                     

Well sated, we departed.  Eventually, cue sheet directions pointed us onto a stone rail trail, a pleasant ride for fifteen of the remaining twenty-two kilometres, with the St. Lawrence close to our left.  Heavy clouds and rain were menacingly crossing the river toward us.  Seldom have I seen Joyce bike so efficiently fast. The storm instead dumped on a town to the east of us, La Pocatiere. 

It had been a great day, 20*C, cloudy bright with tailwinds, so we couldn’t complain about the headwinds when we reversed direction to follow Riviere Ouelle into camp, or the steady uphill to our campsite.  The hard, hour-long rain, which started after supper at 9 o’clock, did nothing to hamper a good sleep.

Friday, 16 August was to be a quick day, the only major stop being for soup and bagel at Tim Horton’s in Riviere du Loup, where Michel joined us into camp.  Other quick stops satisfied our thirst and hunger when necessary.  Arriving in Trois Pistoles, the mention of a bakery on the day’s cue sheet had us searching enthusiastically.  Finally, we patronized the right location only to learn that the establishment had changed name and ownership.  No concern!   The apple pie and coffee “hit the spot” and boosted our spirits and energy into camp.  Our 3:50 arrival allowed us showers and laundry before supper.  We retreated to our tent by 7:30 due to an invasion of mosquitoes.  Diary entries and reading ended the day by 8:45.

 

For the second morning in a row, Joyce and I departed camp efficiently by 7:33.  Soon on the route, Mike and Danny joined us to enjoy another day along the shores of the St. Lawrence passing through beautiful, small towns, St. Simon, Rimouski, St. Luce, and Metis-sur-Mer, among others.  The route was as picturesque as any during our Tour.  A memorable day!  It started with coffee and toast for Joyce and me at an “auberge”.  The $16.00 bill still stings.  The four of us stopped a couple kilometres down the road at a well-stocked bakery, which we should rather have patronized in the first place.  Mike didn’t make it outside before he was taste testing his purchase.  Pictures, at opportune times, also retarded our progress.  Many of our Tour group, who were also stopping at various points of interest, leapfrogged with us during the day.  Of note was the Rimouski waterfront, the Onondaga sub, and the Empress of Ireland Memorial.                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Sinking of the Empress of Ireland

It took just 14 minutes for the St. Lawrence River to swallow the Canadian Pacific’s RMS Empress of Ireland in the pre-dawn of May 29, 1914. The disaster claimed 1,012 lives. More passengers, but less crew, perished in this tragedy than in the infamous Titanic sinking of 1912, and the catastrophe ranks as Canada’s worst maritime disaster.

The Empress’s sinking is one of a triumvirate of ocean liner disasters between 1912 and 1915 that took over 3,700 souls. The other two ships were the Titanic and Lusitania, and the stories of their losses are well known. The Empress of Ireland was a monument to Edwardian splendour. The first class accommodations included a library stocked with 650 volumes, a café, a music room, and a smoking room. The dining room featured leather upholstery, handmade woodwork, sculpted ceilings, cut-glass fixtures, and an atrium that went up two levels to the music room.  (excerpt of Encyclopedia Titanica)

It was tough not stopping, again, in the Riviera-like St. Luce, the main street and cafes bustling with tourist activity.  The town was a treat to traverse.

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                 Most rivers I’ve seen in my day have not been particularly big.  The St. Lawrence is huge.  The mountains on the north side were barely discernible over the expanse close to the end of the day.  We turned south onto route  #297 to leave its influence to tackle a number of hills to ascend the spine of the Gaspe Peninsula.  Several, tough climbs remained on our way into camp.  Beautifully situated on Lac de St. Damase, our campsite provided a great view by which to cook and enjoy supper.  Loons would serenade us to sleep.  But, annoying karaoke revellers, somewhere in the camp, did their best to interrupt the serenity and our sleep until a complaint closed them down.

 

 The loons called again to awaken us early on a sunny 18 August.  After preparing, eating, and cleaning up after a pancake breakfast, we had only one supper / breakfast responsibility left during the Tour.  And, with but twelve days remaining, thoughts occasionally seeped into our minds that a super summer would soon be ending, regretfully. 

Our day southbound would complete our journey across the base of the Gaspe Peninsula.  Leaving the picturesque St. Lawrence River area yesterday had me wondering what to expect in the way of scenery today.  Canada would not disappoint!

Our destination was Sugarloaf Provincial Park near Atholville, New Brunswick, our seventh province.  The day began with a downhill, but the headwind had us pedalling.  In Amqui, we refreshed with a coffee and muffin  at McDonalds.  From there, only a brief lunch stop in Causapscal interrupted our day’s journey past lakes and along Riviere Matapedia, world renowned for its fly fishing, until the covered bridge at Routierville.  A prolonged stop with others allowed for some necessary photographs.  Our riding group changed regularly for the remainder of the day.  About five kilometres from camp, a large contingent of our group patronized the Dairy Queen for a pre-supper dessert.  A good supper in a fine park with great facilities ended a good day.

 

 The tour group decided on a later breakfast due to the time change, a decision welcomed by most.  After arising at 6:35 on Monday, 19 August, we enjoyed another pancake breakfast at 7:15.  Hopping on the saddle by 8:15 am. was still an efficient start to the day.  Only moments from camp, six of us stopped at the “big salmon” in Campbellton for an obvious photo op. 

And, not far down the road, many of us stopped at Timmy’s in Dalhousie for coffee and the customary, cycling vices.  Good thing since we had a monstrous hill out of town.  It was short, steep, . . . . ., and breathtaking. Our reward for that accomplishment was relatively flat terrain and . . . pitter patter.  We donned our rain coats, but only temporarily since the sun would soon come out producing a humid day into camp.  The day was so short, I went blasting by the campground entrance only to have Joyce hailing me to come back.  It was only 2:41 pm., unusual, with only 97.8k registering on my bike computer.  Camp and the afternoon were peaceful, the scenery, impressive.  The good thoughts of our next rest day a day hence were tempered by tomorrow’s 150k day.

 

 

So tough!  It was so tough to arise the next morning due to the relaxed afternoon of the previous day.  Up at 5:55 am., the stunning sunrise, provoked the suspicion that “a beautiful sunrise in the morning, a sailor’s warning”, had me wondering.  We left Murraywood Campground at 7:13 after breakfast.  Finally, after two months, our departures were becoming efficient regularly. 

South of Bathurst, my suspicion was realized.  The raincoats went on.  A misty rain wet us and the roads.  In Alardville, many of us congregated to hover over a problem with Becky’s bike.  It was beyond a “side of the road” repair, so Becky arranged for the truck to transport her and Clarke to Miramichi for professional attention. We needed no convincing to sit down with them for a coffee and another breakfast at the neighbouring restaurant.  Once done, Joyce and I set off in a light rain, leaving Becky and Clarke to await the arrival of the truck.

Another fifty kilometres and we were approaching the bridge into Miramichi.  The day had become cloudy bright.  With dry pavement, a slight downward slope, and a tailwind, for miles, we cruised along at 35 to 42 kilometres per hour.  Cycling ecstasy!  Did I mention the storm following us?  

Our rapturous ride was fleeting.  Once at the bridge, with the easterly cross-wind, high traffic volume, and high, narrow sidewalk, dismounting and walking the 1.4k over the bridge was prudent.  We biked around Miramichi for a short while, indulged in some baking badness, then pushed on.  At the edge of town, Michel and Jacques caught up with us to escort us the remaining 54k into camp.  A supper of spaghetti and lobster was a fine conclusion to the day and a super start to our rest day reprieve.  Again, millions of mossies drove us to the tent by 8 o’clock. 

 

Segment Table 11  – Quebec City to St. Louis de Kent, NB

Location  /  Date	Time camp to camp	Time on bike	Max. speed	Avg. speed	Distance	Trip to date
Riviere Ouelle / 15Aug	10:00	6:47	46.6	21.2	144.4	5580.6
Trois Pistoles / 16Aug	8:23	5:50	49.0	21.0	122.6	5703.2
St. Damase / 17Aug	8:57	6:22	51.4	21.1	134.6	5837.8
Atholville, NB / 18Aug	9:30	6:45	53.7	20.9	141.3	5979.1
Petit Rocher / 19August	4:26	6:26	48.2	22.0	97.8	6076.9
St. Louis du Kent / 20Aug	10:42	7:37	50.4	20.1	153.3	6230.2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Segment 10  -  Ottawa to Quebec City, Quebec

Ottawa, our nation’s Capital, what a great location for a rest day!  Many of our group of cyclists took advantage of the sites and sights common in the area including the Rideau Canal, which bisects the city, Parliament Hill, the plethora of museums, and the ample choice of restaurants.  Of course, R&R and laundry were high on the “to do” list.  We also made use of the wifi to correspond with family and to catch up on news in the real world.  I made use of the down time to advance my blog, a time-consuming endeavour.  For supper, Joyce and I took transit to the Byward Market to enjoy a meal at Tucker’s Marketplace, a favorite.  The bus ride increased the overall cost of our meal, but our gluttony made up for it.  Coincidentally, we happened to meet fellow rider, Greig, at Tucker’s to enjoy the meal with him.

Our country is blessed with great scenery, Ottawa being a good example.  10 August, the day after our rest day, well fed at the all-you-can-eat breakfast at Carlton U., it was a cool, brisk morning into which Greig, Joyce and I departed along the picturesque Rideau Canal into town.  Continuing along Sussex Drive, we passed embassies, 24 Sussex, the GG’s residence, and Rideau Falls.

Now, we were perched on high ground as we rode with a great view of the Ottawa River.  With a couple hours in the saddle, we returned to river level simultaneously with others just in time for passage on the ferry across the Ottawa River to Quebec, our sixth province on this memorable tour across Canada.

Joyce and I found ourselves alone once we re-commenced riding.  A clear, 25*C day, good pavement, and favorable winds made for good riding, interrupted only by quick drink and food breaks.  Close to 3:00 pm., we were on the Carillon ferry.  The seven minute ride returned us to the south side of the Ottawa River.  Forty minutes later, our bikes made a sudden left turn.  To our surprise, we were at the Dairy Queen in Rigaud.  Since we were there, we indulged.  An hour’s enjoyable riding was all that remained of our 164k day into Camp Daoust in Hudson.  Unusual, but Joyce and I were the fourth and fifth riders into camp this day.  Our 4:55 pm. arrival allowed us to set up camp and shower, particularly since the majority of the riders had yet to arrive, before focussing on our duties as cook crew.

Even with our breakfast duty on 11 August, we managed to leave by 7:35 am. with several others to navigate our way into Montreal.  It was slow going to follow the directions through the ‘burbs, across bridges, then along bike paths.  The mighty St. Lawrence was seldom far from sight.  Due to different interests, our large group split in two.  Our group of seven were soon in downtown Montreal, patronizing a restaurant for lunch.

 

Alain, familiar with Montreal, led us through the city and across the high Cartier Bridge.  Tricky  directions on our daily cue sheet made for slow going.  Once in the day’s destination of St. Hillaire about 4 o’clock, our group decided that a Tim Hortons’ break was a just reward.  An hour later, we arrived at our camp for the night.

Departing camp early, at 7:13 am., initially, Joyce and I backtracked to cross, then follow, the north side of the Richelieu River.  The route was picturesque on this sunny day.  It’s not hard to know where the next town is located on the horizon.  The Roman Catholic Church spires are good giveaways.  Thankfully, traffic was light since there were no shoulders and the pavement was deplorable, a common Canadian affliction, it seems.  A couple breaks are all that saved us from the denture-detaching Route 223.  About 11:00 o’clock, in Sorel, we met up with many of our cycling colleagues to ferry across the St. Lawrence to Berthierville.

Joyce and I split from the group 10k later to stay on Route 138.  The proposed route would have taken us along a dusty, gravel road with a storm threatening in the distance.  No thanks!  Eventually, we all ended up passing through Louisville where many stopped, again at the local TH.

I had been monitoring the sinister skies to the north for some time.  As we rounded a curve on our route, a wall of heavy rain was fast approaching.  Our brakes worked well.  We scurried to don our rain coats and move into a red pine forest for refuge.  Slightly wet from the short shower, we joined others at a corner stand for an ice cream cone.  My French was not up to the task as two French Canadians, Michel and Alain, in our group helped with ordering.   A short time later, we arrived at our campsight, Lac St. Michel, a nice spot close to Trois Rivieres.

Bad news started off the next day, Tuesday, 13 August.  Joyce learned that her brother succumbed to ALS the previous night.  Joe was interested in Joyce’s progress, and Joyce was interested in finishing for Joe.  Joyce’s hope was that she’d be able to give Joe the good news, personally, in two week’s time.

English Mike and I would ride without Joyce today.  Not in a biking mood, Joyce got a lift to our next destination, Quebec City.  The rain, which had started about 4:00 am., stopped long enough for us to eat and break camp, but started again to accompany us for the first 40k.  The remaining 108k of the day were under cloudy skies.  The ride was tough with headwinds into Quebec City.  A smiling Joyce greeted us at the front door of the residence to direct us to our rooms.  Our rest day break started off well with a shower and meal of pizza, quite the treat.

Unlike Lakehead and Carleton, where the group ate well and had spacious rooms in quiet sections of the residence to ourselves, Laval’s residence rooms were snug, the halls alive with undisciplined, poorly chaperoned “yutes”.  Any fitness we might have lost during our rest day was amply maintained with our marathon walks to the washroom.  Our meals in the cafeteria were gulag in nature.  Food items for our tickets were strictly counted with the price for extras excessive.    A trip into the Old Town punctuated a rest day of the usual blog, laundry, and relaxation responsibilities.

Segment  Table 10  – Ottawa, Ontario to Quebec City, Quebec

Location  /  Date	Time camp to camp	Time on bike	Max. speed	Avg. speed	Distance	Trip to date
Hudson, PQ / 10Aug13	9:10	7:28	48.9	21.9	164.2	5049.2
Mt. St. Hillaire / 11Aug	9:30	6:14	42.6	17.9	111.6	5160.8
Trois Rivieres / 12Aug	8:49	6:13	44.4	21.0	130.6	5291.4
Quebec City / 13Aug	10:09	8:12	40.2	17.6	144.8	5436.2

 

 

Lordy, 4:00 in the morning is inhumane, too early to open the peepers after a busy rest day at home.  The early start from home was necessary in order to arrive back at camp in Tottenham to prepare to leave at a reasonable time, pre-8:00 am.

Mike, from England, had enjoyed his rest day visit to Huntsville, which began with a breakfast of bacon and eggs at Family Restaurant.  In the morning, Krista Marwick tuned up our bodies with massages while our bikes received tune-ups at Muskoka Bicycle Pro Shop.  Those tune-ups would provide trouble-free riding for the remainder of the trip.  For supper, Chris, Robert and Kiddies joined us for a great meal, which Matt and girlfriend, Carly, had prepared.  It was tough to say, “Good-bye!” to all for the remainder of the summer.  Reveille would come early.

What a serene scene!  Looking back, as in the picture above, it was difficult to leave the comfort and security of our camp as it was with any morning.  Immediately, Joyce and I missed a turn adding a few K to the day.  OK, so I missed the turn, but Joyce was foolish enough to follow.  Our route skirted the Holland Marsh, Ontario’s “vegetable basket”.  Near Bradford, adjacent to the “Marsh”, a TdCer from a previous year was greeting riders as they passed.  We enjoyed some refreshments, then we continued on our way.  With reasonably steady riding, it didn’t seem long before we had passed through the towns of Uxbridge and Port Perry.  Interestingly coincidental, two cyclists, a wife and a husband, at different times and miles apart from each other, approached us, curious about our ride.  We learned from each of them that they were biking across Canada, three weeks at a time each year.  Teeth jarring, potholed, tertiary roads east of Port Perry kept us off Highway #7A, busy with Civic Holiday Monday traffic, on our way into camp near Nestleton.