Quebec Pt. 1(4) - Montreal

We crossed into Quebec with Julie, whom we met literally a few kilometers before the sign.  She had also stayed last night in Cornwall and would be finishing her trip from Vancouver to her home in Montreal today.  Honoured to provide an escort back into her home province!   

Of course Julie speaks perfect English, and was gracious enough to converse with us meatheads in our native tongue.  I did take the opportunity to try out a little phrase I had been practicing...en français, to make sure it worked as intended before we arrived in La Belle Provence:

"Bonjour, je ne suis pas un américain."

Obviously the delivery needed some work, but the reception was clearly positive and Julie gave a wry smile.  "Yes, that will work." she said.   

We rode into our first town full of Québécois armed with this introductory opening line in hope that we would be forgiven our unilingual shortcomings.   

The first couple of villages are lovely and we're having a perfect day in keeping with our experiences riding up the St. Lawrence River.  

A long section of paved bike trail separates cyclists from the highway, and with the exception of the few seconds there was here to take a photo of the beautiful path, the lanes are more full of riders than anywhere we've seen since we left Victoria.   

The folks in Quebec ride bicycles.  

There's a comical mix of very friendly smiles, and turned up chins as we pass.  You never know which you'll get. We must not even remotely look like we could parlaise the french. lol. (we can't)  Nobody starts up with us in anything other than perfect English.   

A chain break on Andrew's bike had us sitting on the side of the path for a while working on a temporary fix, and then hobbling to a bike shop called The Red Zebra. Le Zèbre Rouge actually.  We're starting to translate a bit of the local language.  

The shop is awesome and gets us going quick and cheap with some new links. (installed properly!)  We did it all in English.  These near-Montrealers in Parc-Bel-Air don't even really have a hint of any Quebec accent.  I think we were expecting communication to be more difficult....which feels stupid now.  

Over the bridges and into Ste-Anne-de-Bellevue,    

which is this super hip little suburb-town with a pleasant demeanour.  We're immediately smitten, probably not least because we're STARVING and we've heard tell of a certain fries-cheese curds-gravy concoction they serve in this part of the world and we're seeking one out like missiles on heat.  

The text comes from Amanda, she's on her way home from work to meet us and has a supper plan so hope you're hungry!  That will not be a problem.  

There's a lovely, well paved and very well used bike path that runs the full length into downtown with beautiful views along the river.  We shouldn't be surprised by this point, but it's amazing how many cyclists are commuting up and down at all speeds.  30 kms or so of it for us to get to their place in Monkland Village area. 

Traffic around construction is chaos as we rolled off the bike path and into rush hour with a stiff reminder that riding fully loaded touring bikes in the middle of a large city is not the most fun one can have. We zig-zag our way to our friend’s home, a delightful brick two-story in a very attractive family neighbourhood. 

After an evening of socializing with Amanda and Eric, who wined and dined us like royalty, we’re not in much of a position to argue with them when they insist we stay for a second night. We’re so tired.  We’ve done huge kilometres over the last week and our bodies are not in full and smooth operation.

We heard from Sophie that she’d made it to Montreal for the night as well and was staying elsewhere in the city.  Felix messaged that he was in Gatineau and hoped to be home in Montreal tomorrow night. Awesome! Maybe we’ll get to catch up with him. 

The day off at Eric and Amanda’s is totally non productive, which is the point.  We spent the entire day lounging about, jamming on guitars and resting our legs, and minds, and getting to know Julius, Hans and Soren better, their three delightful sons.  

It's "back to school" time now in early September and the guys coming and going from school serves as a reminder that fall and winter are approaching quickly and we're feeling a little anxiety about taking a zero kilometre day.   

We did get a hall pass to venture out at lunch time in search of one of these fabled dishes the province is so famous for. It's a short walk to find a “hole in the wall” and we’re served up a hot and totally satisfying helping by a charming Persian man who delivers the simple dish with pride. Yes to the bacon added version. Yes to enjoying it on a street corner in Montreal, in the sun.  

Dinner is Eric's made-from-scratch pizza, topped with blue cheese, and in the morning it's fresh waffles, homemade blueberry compote and ice cream.  Our diet has ascended into utter debauchery. 

 

 

After breakfast we got going a little late, as one does when sad to leave, and headed to the recommended bakery for "the best baguette on this side of the Atlantic".  A cargo net on the rear rack is the preferred baguette transporting method. 

Our goal today is to reach Trois-Rivieres, around 160kms away, as well as pay a visit to old Montreal on our way out. That's very ambitious by the way.  

The weather is perfect for a stroll through the old cobblestone city. We've been several times before and we reminisced on attending Eric and Amanda's wedding festivities down here years ago.  

Tourism is not really on our agenda and our visit is brief.  The bike lanes leaving the city to the North are not nearly as pleasant as where we entered Montreal from the South and the path is interrupted by traffic lights at short intervals, and cracked pavement makes the going a bit slow and frustrating for the first 40 kilometres.  Construction halts us in various places and we had difficulty finding detours. This is not a gridded city of the prairies.  

Once you've navigated your way out, however, the scenery opens up to the river again and the speed and progress can pick up by a lot.   

We zoomed past fields of near-harvest corn that looked just like the ones we'd seen in each province before.  This country grows corn.  

The landscape is gorgeous and we get our first sampling of beautiful rural Quebec as the metropolis fades behind.  

We're riding on the oldest highway in Canada, the Chemin du Roy, and it's possibly our favourite riding so far. The main highway goes along in a fairly straight line from Montreal to Trois-Rivieres, and the old Chemin du Roy winds along side, crossing back and forth, offering a slow-motion-close-up of the beautiful rural homes along the route with very little in additional kilometres.  

Through one such sideway, a man came chasing us down on a motorized scooter to say Bonjour!, and rattled off some beautiful and friendly sounding French that went in one ear and out the other.  It was our first encounter with someone in Quebec who spoke as little English as we spoke French.  He was grinning from ear to ear.  

I responded with "Bonjour, je ne suis pas américain".   He laughed so hard he almost fell off his scooter.  "OK, I will try English" he said.  The lovely chap wanted to offer us a place to stay and hear tell of our travels. I wish we had more time to hang out, but we had to press for Trois-Rivieres where we have a warm showers host arranged.  

Sophie left Montreal the day before us, so she was somewhere up ahead, and we just missed Felix who had ridden over 200 kilometres into Montreal yesterday to complete his cross-Canada late at night.  

Major congrats to Felix who travelled over 8000 kilometres in Canada this year on a bicycle, completing a full coast to coast.  We look forward to another riding adventure with Felix soon!        

READ NEXT:  Quebec Pt. 2(4) - Trois-Rivieres