Day 54: August 21 Quebec City to Riviere Ouelle  85 miles (137 km)    Climbing (meters): 650 up, 668 down
Picture: The Quebec City skyline from the ferry.  The Chateau dominates the skyline

I was ready to be antisocial.  I wanted to ride on my own and go as fast or as slow as my legs were interested in going.

Breakfast wasn't served at the University cafeteria until 7:00 a.m.  I was wide awake by 5:30.  Poor Jon.  He was my roommate and he wanted to sleep in and have a casual ride for a change.  I was as quiet as I could be, but in a small, cinder block room it's not possible.  We were both in the cafeteria when it opened.

Alan must have been feeling anti-social too.  He took off by himself a few minutes ahead of me.  I missed a turn and had to double back about 2 kilometers so I missed the ferry that he was on.  I caught the next one with Sue and Ron.  It was a 20 minute ride across the St. Lawrence from Quebec City to Levis.

The rest of the route was along highway 132 on the south side of the river, heading northeast.  The road was slightly rolling, with no hills to speak of.  The early part of the ride went past country homes and farms.  As I got closer to Riviere Ouelle (Eel River) there were scores of art galleries -- sculptures, paintings, miniature boats, stuffed animals, and antiques.  One place had a sculpture garden with old painted appliances in trees.  (Yes, you read that correctly.)  It had a yellow dishwasher, a white commode, and a red ringer washing machine up in the air, one per tree.  I also saw a few colors of refrigerators sitting in a field, sort of a "fridge-henge".  I didn't realize how easy it was to be an artist.  I thought about stopping but didn't want to get out of the groove.  Besides, I didn't really need a life-size carving of a fisherman or a painted dishwasher.

I stopped a little later for a coffee and a couple of donuts at Dunkin Donuts in Montmagny.  I didn't see the Tim Hortons down the street or I would have waited.  I had to struggle to order the coffee (un petit cafe noir) and the donuts (deux beignes, double chocolat et lait au buerre).  The language barrier is tough.  At least I can point.  I'd been riding with Jules or Robert for most of the time in Quebec and they provided translation services.  

I arrived in camp around 1:00 p.m.  Alan had been there for 30 minutes.  He'd had a fast day and was just as happy as I was.  We helped Brook unload the truck then settled down to do our journals.  I got this web page up to date and started importing pictures from the camera.  I didn't realize how many I'd taken recently.

The others started arriving around 3:30.  They'd had rain and most had stopped for lunch to let it pass.  Alan and I had sun and light tailwinds all morning.  The wind shifted from the west to the north for the afternoon, so the others had a crosswind.

I felt OK on my seat in the early morning and was hoping I'd be fine all day.  About two hours into the ride my butt was sore again.  I think I'll be fine as long as the rides are short, like today's.  I'm worried about the two big days coming up - 113 and 110 miles (183 and 178 km).  It may be time to wear two pairs of biking shorts, one over the other, for added padding.

The bad news of the day was Keith's accident in Quebec City.  He ended up on the ground when he swerved to miss a pedestrian who walked out in front of him.  A police cruiser took him to the hospital and his bike to the shop.  How's that for service?  He looked pretty banged up when he arrived in camp.

Day 55: August 22 Riviere Ouelle to Trois Pistoles  78 miles (126 km)    Climbing (meters): 544 up, 550 down
Picture: My two favorite possessions -  tent and bike.  

Today's ride was short and easy.  It was only supposed to be 73 miles (117 km) but turned out to be a little longer.  I didn't pack a lunch because I planned to eat at the truck when I got in.

The cook crew made pancakes and fruit salad for breakfast.  I'm going to miss this when I get back home.  I hardly ever make a hot breakfast for myself.

The route took us along highway 132 for most of the day.  There were a couple of places where we were sent off the highway for scenery (for example, in Notre Dame du Portage there was a statue of a man portaging a canoe) or just to get us off the busy highway (the bike path around Trois Pistoles).  Someone in camp last night told us about a bakery and a coffee shop in Kamouraska, just 15 miles (24 km) away.  I found the bakery.  It was only 8:00 a.m. and the sign on the door said they were open from 9-5 but the door was unlocked. The staff inside were friendly and didn't mind that I was early.  I had a raisin danish and a croissant.  Both were still warm.  The coffee shop truly didn't open until 9, so I left without coffee.  Dave and Carol came by as I was leaving and I strongly recommended they go in.  They did.  Hint for future riders: don't miss this one.  It's across the street from the church at the east end of town.  Look for the Pain du Jour sign on the left.  It's a boulangerie in a house at the back of the parking lot.

Around St. Denis and Kamouraska the road veered inland, away from the river.  It felt like being on the prairies again.  The road went through large areas of flat farmland.  You knew when you were nearing a town because you could see the church steeple in the distance.  Another thing I noticed was all of the "A Vendre" (For Sale) signs on the houses and farms.  The quaint tourist towns by the water were doing okay, but the farm towns inland weren't.  We were discussing it at dinner tonight and Big Bruce said that many of the small farmers are in trouble because they'd hoped to retire and pass their farms to one of their kids.  The idea was that the kids would buy the farm by supporting their parents in their retirement.  Unfortunately many farms can't support two families so they end up selling to a big company or to someone who will merge the farm with others.  The kids end up moving away.

I met up with Alan and Jules and rode with them through Riviere du Loup.  Jules had a flat earlier, that's the only way I could have caught them today (they get out earlier than I do, as a rule).  The end of the ride was on a bike path around Trois Pistoles.  It turned to gravel and climbed a steep hill (at least it was steep on a road bike with skinny tires).  I was certain I was lost and would have to try to find my way back after I took a few unexpected turns and ended up on a road with no name.  It turned out just fine -- I was on the right route.  I stopped in Trois Pistoles for about 30 minutes to wait for Alan and Jules, thinking they'd probably want lunch too.  (It turned out Alan had a flat and that delayed them.)  I decided to go back to my original plan and rode to the truck for lunch.

Brook is great.  She got us prime camping spots, right on the beach.  My tent is on the edge of the grass, above the sand.  Eric is down on the sand, just above the water.  We teased him that he'd be floating when the tide finished coming in.

I used the afternoon to check out the river.  The tide was out when we arrived and came in around dinner time.  I also cleaned my bike.  The chain looked awful and now it's sparkling again.

Day 56: August 23 Trois Pistoles to Causapscal  117 miles (189 km)    Climbing (meters): 1295 up, 1114 down
Picture: A pretty little town sitting in the valley below the ridge line.  The St. Lawrence river is in the background

We weren't sure how long the ride was going to be.  The route map said 120 miles (193 km), but the summary sheet said 114 miles (183 km).  I was praying for the lower number.

I started out early, knowing it was going to be a long one.  I wanted as much time as possible on the highway before it got busy.  The 12% hill climb out of camp set the tone for the day; it was a hilly one.  The route took us off the highway up onto a ridge line just past St.-Denis.  To get to it we had to climb two steep hills.  From the top of the first hill, the second one looked nearly vertical.  Kelly called it the Hill of Woe.  The highway was at around 25 meters, the hills were 200 and 215 meters in less than 1/2 mile (1 kilometer).  For those of you who use motors on hills, imagine walking up a set of stairs for 20 minutes, with 10 pounds of potatoes in each hand.  That's about what it felt like.  Someone said that they saw a sign that marked one of the hills as a 14% grade.

It was beautiful on the ridge.  The road went past small, well kept farms.  They were post card perfect.  At one point you could see a small town with its church steeple down in the valley and the St. Lawrence in the background.  The picture I took won't do it justice.

The side roads ended in the town of Bic.  There was a small bakery in town.  I saw it as I went past. My brain was still working to translate "boulangerie" (bakery) when my nose kicked in and I hit the brakes.  I was about 20 feet past the store and had to turn around and come back.  A car was pulling up to the bakery at the same time.  The driver had seen my sudden stop and about-face and came out of his car laughing.  He said something in french but the laugh said it all.  Brook came by in the truck with Keith and Catherine as I was sitting outside munching on my chocolate hazelnut danish (okay, I had two of them).  It didn't take much to convince them to go in.

Quite a bit of the ride was on highway 132 again.  It was narrow and only had a shoulder some of the time.  With no alternate highway the truck traffic was heavy.  I was forced off the road once, a rare occurrence for me.  A few of the other riders had similar experiences today.  Other than the lack of room on the road, the other problem with trucks is that as they pass there's a wall of air that pushes you away (to the right).  After it passes, you get pulled back in (to the left).  If you're riding the white line, it's easy to get pushed off the road or pulled into traffic.  On a good road with a shoulder, I usually try to take advantage the draft when the truck passes.  Not today.

I met up with Isabelle around Ste-Luce-sur-Mer.  The map notes said there was a good bakery in town.  It was only fair to stop for a comparison.  Isabelle ordered first, a small apple pie.  She didn't understand what the woman at the counter asked but she answered "oui".  The pie arrived cut in half and on two plates.  The woman later realized from the stacked plates that Isabelle had eaten the whole thing.  She was surprised at first, then laughed.  (It must be something about bakeries that makes people laugh.)  I had a spinach quiche.  It was good, but the earlier bakery was better.

The rest of the ride was hilly and scenic.  I passed a lighthouse, the Museum of the Sea, and lots of small towns.  At the town of St. Flavie, near the northwestern tip of the Gaspe Peninsula, we turned south to go towards Causapscal.  Highway 132 East went both straight and right.  I looked at a map later and realized the road rings the peninsula.  A suggestion for the provincial transportation department: a different route number on one or the other might cut down on the confusion.  I'm sure there's an unused number out there somewhere.

Brook and Keith set up some of the tents when they arrived at camp.  They saw rain clouds heading our way and knew that we'd be arriving tired.  We sure appreciated it.  The total mileage for the day was 117 miles (189 km).  The steep hills at the start of the ride made it seem longer than it was.

Day 57: August 24 Causapscal to Petit Rocher  106 miles (172 km)    Climbing (meters): 955 up, 1088 down
Picture: Alan, Jules, and Jon in Charlo

It was a long, tough day.  We started with rain and a headwind but ended with a lobster dinner and clear skies.

I still don't like packing up a wet tent.  I like it even less when it's raining.  The rain started around midnight and lasted into the morning.  My pillow and sleeping bag were touching the side of the tent and some water wicked through.  The good thing was that I didn't notice it until I packed up.

I stumbled around camp this morning, not really wanting to get started.  I was still tired from yesterday's ride, as were many of the others.  I didn't know what to expect from today's ride, but it was starting out crappy.

Keith lent me his Gore-tex jacket since I'd lost mine on the end of the ride into Trois Pistoles.  It must have bounced out of the bungee cord on the pack.  Keith is still recovering from the fall he took on the way out of Quebec City so he didn't ride today.  I can't tell you how nice it was to have a good jacket to keep me dry in this kind of weather.

The first 30 miles (50 km) was heading south through the center of the Gaspe Peninsula to Matapedia.  In better weather the ride would have been beautiful.  We followed a river with tall hills on either side  Around Matapedia the skies started to clear and the southerly wind shifted to the southwest.  That helped.  After crossing the river outside of Matapedia, I was in New Brunswick, province number seven!

I stopped for lunch at the Whistle Stop Cafe in Campbellton.  It was a classic diner.  I had meat loaf and mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy.  It was terrific.  Since I didn't look like one of the regulars, a few of the people in the diner asked me where I was coming from and where I was going.  One of them turned out to be the owner of the place.  He said "You've been pedaling so long that you deserve a free lunch.  This one's on me."  I left a good tip for the waitress.

As I left I saw Alan, Jules, and Jon having lunch across the street at Tim Hortons so I joined them.  I hadn't wanted to abuse the hospitality in the diner by ordering dessert and I still had room in my stomach for a couple of donuts.  The four of us rode together for the early afternoon.  Jules and I stopped Brook when she came by and tried to do a roadside repair on Jules' bike.  It was a little better, but not much.  Jules and I rode fast the rest of the day -- he has a habit of doing that in the afternoons.  The meat loaf, Jules' energy burst, and the tailwind all combined to make the last 30 miles (50 km) almost easy.

We're camped on the beach next to the Bay of Chaleur, an inlet of the Atlantic.  We joked that we could dip our front wheels in the water here then ride in the truck and take it easy for the next week.  There are only seven riding days left.  The longest remaining ride is tomorrow's.

We had lobster for dinner.  The town of Caraquet, where Robert's sister is mayor, provided the lobster.  The regular cook crew (who were at least as exhausted as the rest of us) turned it into a real treat.  We changed time zones (Atlantic) when we entered New Brunswick, so dinner was later than usual.  It was dark when we sat down.

I'm mellowing out a bit now.  The tough rides are behind us.  It's time to just absorb the scenery and enjoy.

Day 58: August 25 Petit Rocher to St.-Louis-de-Kent 98 miles (158 km)    Climbing (meters): 936 up, 939 down
Picture: The St. Lawrence River

No one was up early this morning.  With the time change and the two long days, we slept in.  I looked at the clock at 6:05 and thought it odd that I couldn't hear anyone stirring.  I rolled over and went back to sleep until 6:30.  It was a treat.

I rode with Karin and John the entire day.  It'd been a while since we'd ridden together.  I was content to ride behind them all day.  I didn't ride their wheels (in a paceline) but just sat 10-20 feet behind, enjoying the scenery.  We set out fast but slowed down when we started climbing.  There was a 6 mile (10 km) stretch a little south of Bathurst that went steadily uphill.  It wasn't much, but it felt like my legs were tired and couldn't keep up the pace I expected to be going.  Robert had told us that the ride would be flat.  He was wrong.  We climbed over 900 meters, most of it before lunch.

It was an inland ride so there wasn't much to see.  We rode on big highways with decent shoulders.  There were lots of trees and big, puffy clouds all day.  And no rain!

We had a nice, greasy lunch at the Choo Choo Restaurant in Mirimichi.  We sat outside on the upper patio and looked out on the Mirimichi River and the huge bridge that led into town.  It was peaceful.  A nap would have been nice.

The last 30 miles (50 km) was southeast towards the coast.  We had a tailwind and averaged around 25 mph (40 kph).  What a way to end the day.  Alan said he had the same wind and decided to ride it fast since he knew tomorrow was going to be a rest day.

Our crew had dinner duty again.  We made corn on the cob, sloppy joe sandwiches, green beans and potatoes.  It was simple and filling, just what we needed tonight.

The camp office has a phone jack available so I'm planning to get this updated and out on the web tomorrow.  If I'm organized, I'll be done early and go kayaking in the afternoon.

Day 59: August 26 St.-Louis-de-Kent (rest day)
Picture: Taking a break during kayaking: Brook, Kelly, Carol, Alan, and Eric

It's almost over.  This is our last rest day aside from the ferry crossing.  I'm a little sad that we're all going to split up and go our separate ways, back to the lives we left behind.

I spent the early part of the day doing the standard rest day activities -- updating this web page, cleaning my bike, and doing a little laundry.  The fun part of the day happened in the afternoon.  Kelly, Carol, Alan, Eric, Brook and I went kayaking.  There was a place on the river in Kayakouch that rented them.  We each got our own kayak for two hours.  The owner gave us a 30 minute lesson before letting us go out.  His style was a little rigid.  He told us what to do and not to do in no uncertain terms.  In case we broke anything we knew what each piece cost.  He also told the guys we had to carry our kayaks down to the water.  The girls had to use the "rolly things", carts with old bicycle wheels.

The ride was fun.  It was like taking a vacation in the middle of our vacation.  The river was calm except when a few powerboats passed by.  We saw cormorants, birds that dive under the water for fish.  The kayaks were easy to maneuver and very stable.  I was surprised at how fast they could move, even with my limited arm strength (remember, I've been using my legs all summer, not my arms).  With a little practice and better technique....  but I really don't need another sport to fill my weekends.

Dinner back at camp was lobster.  Neri and his son drove down to the local docks and bought 30 of them.  They were small and inexpensive, only $3.00 each (US$1.95).  I had fun watching some of the group figure out how to eat them.

We spent the end of the evening sitting around a fire telling stories.  I'm going to miss this.

onward >>  New Brunswick, PEI, and Nova Scotia: A giant lobster and another party

backward >>  Quebec: Je me souviens (I remember)

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