Saving the Queen: A Canadian Bicycle Adventure

Often, when one thinks of May one thinks of warm lazy spring days, gentle breezes wafting with the scent of newly budded flowers.  The leaflets reaching out their tender tips to catch the seasons firsts rays of life giving sun. And so it was with this idyllic thoughts that i headed off into the hinter lands that we refer to as Canada.  In Canada (commonwealth of Britain) they speak French, English and Canadian, along with many indigenous languages that most people don't care about (ahh, just like home).  What i would learn on my trip is that Canada doesn't have the same beliefs regarding May as i do, and that the French were great at throwing up their hands even in Canada when the British came to invade Quebec, it was a whopping 15 minute battle.

The first day was a glorious May day (as described above), cycling in shirt and shorts, i crossed over Lake Champlain islands, into New York State and hurriedly left it for the international border into Canada.  Where i crossed is where a lot of cyclist cross, though the border dude raised an eye (in hindsight this might have been because he understood what May means in Canada).  After my outright lies and half truths, they let me into their commonwealth.  Yippie!!!

And so I went north by north west through flat farm lands until i reached the island of Montreal, where i would lay my head for the night.  I stayed with a couchsurfer I stayed with once before, and before long i was snoozing away.  It was off early the next morning to follow the St. Laurent river towards Quebec.  I would follow various parts of the Route Verte bike route system.  This day it begin to dawn on me that perhaps the normally happy bicycle gods were not in favor of me biking at this time.  I narrowly diverted two torrential downpours proceed by lighting and thunder, all trying basically to hurt this little biker.  It was by mere seconds that I ducked under gas stations awnings that i am here today to write of my tales of woe.  After completing my first back to back century, I found myself in Trois Rivierais, another place the Birtish took from the French and where i camped near a huge cathedral.

The next morning was crisp.  Cold might be a good description but us campers like to say crisp because it makes us seem more rugged like the cold doesn't affect us, nay, we revel in it.  But it was cold.  It could be that it was 5am and the sun hadn't even rubbed it's eyes yet, but there i was striking camp and getting ready to head off.  The first three hours usually are the coldest as it takes a while for that wonderful black asphalt to heat up.  The day proved to be nice and the huge black clouds of death were on the other side of the river, so all was good.  I even dilly dallied knowing that i was only 85 miles out of Quebec and had more than 10 hours to bike there.  So i stopped every so often (and stopped and stopped.  My saddle was proving to not be the wonderful entity that the one i used in Japan proved to be)

Coming into Quebec i hit my first hills in three days.  The bike route takes you along the water whilst the village is actually up on the cliffs (Quebec is the oldest walled city in North America north of New Mexico or something like that)  The entire waterfront was a bustling park with great bike routes and benches and places for people and grass and pigeons.  Part of me was bummed i wouldn't get to crash camp there, it looked that nice.  I fiddled around the oldest part of Quebec, nearly 400 years before finding my way to my couchsurfer where i would spend two nights.

My host took my on a little walking/history tour that evening explaining the history of the village and some of the interesting facts about the area in general.  Like, why is there only one bridge across the river?  Because there isn't room for another.  Or, in Canada, why does the chicken cross the road?  To get closer to America.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Anywho, after a night in the biggest bed i have ever slept in, the spent the day in the chilly drizzle walking the city again, trying to get into city hall but it was locked.  Saw some art, some church and some fair trade market.  Quebec is a great place, much nicer in my opinion than Montreal as it's big but not really, has a European feel and despite the rumours, I never once felt my less than fluent French was a hindrance or secretly despised by the Quebecers.

After another night in the bed that God made, i was off in the chilly (aka COLD) overcast morning.  Rain loomed.  Winds winded.  After crossing the fabled bridge over the river, i put my camera away as for the rest of the day, for the entire day, ALL DAY, the winds blew at me and it held a steady rain.  As anyone knows, a rain coat keeps the rain out and the sweat in, so i was wet.  And as anyone knows, this makes you cold and shiver.  Around, when i thought my brain was finally succumbing to the elements, the snow began snowing.  It was snowing.  In May.  While I biked.  In shorts.  Not good.

At 4am the next morning, i felt a little stiff.  So did my tent.  A punch to the wall sent a crack and a cascade of ice off the tent.  My tent had been covered by ice.  For an hour, i dreaded leaving my sleeping bag, but by 5am I stood outside in my sandals (all i had) to witness the snow covered ground and ice covered tent.  Being rationale, i thought, " Hmmm.  This might not be good".  It was freezing.  And that's putting it nicely.

It took me awhile to strike as my fingers didn't like to move too much, and I biked 10 miles to the first gas station where i drank two cups of coffee over an hour period.  My left toe that entire time didn't thaw out.    I realized that i might have serious issues if i continue onward.  So i did something that i really, really, really, really didn't want to.  I called for help.

Another 10 miles and 3 hours later, i was sitting in my housemates car being driven back to Vermont.  As we crossed the border, the sun was shining and the air was warm (at least comparatively).  Sure, i had only biked 400 miles and been away for 6 days, but it felt glorious to be back in Vermont.  Seems they had snow too.  The mountains got two feet of snow.  Stupid May.