The End, June 17

Perhaps not exactly, but in reality, today is the end of the vacation. Tomorrow promises to be a long day in a car to get from where we are (near Quebec City) back to Dundas.

But today we woke at the "Belle Blanche" to a gray day with some rain, and had a leisurely time over breakfast. We did not want to leave, but packed the car, and said our goodbye's in the end to Marie, before heading onto the 132. This was to take us all the way to Saint-Antoine-de-Tilly. We stopped even before leaving town at the patisserie, but passed up having anything to eat there (having just, after all, had a wonderful breakfast at the gîte). But we met there a couple who had just returned from a three-year journey around the world on their motorcycle.

Then on through other towns, some just as goof as Kamouraska, others a very pale imitation. Barry and Nancy were looking for a coffee shop that they had found years ago on their trip to the East. We stopped when we found it, in the very pleasant town of Saint-Vallier. And there we indulged in coffee and croissants (or, in my case, Pain au Chocolat). It was noon by now, so we felt okay about this.

On through to Lévis and then to our destination only 25 km or so past this. We met again with our hosts, Carol and Dianne (Carol is male, by the way), and recounted to them our adventures since we had started our trip almost three weeks ago.

We quickly settled into our rooms, and soon moved out to the back garden to read and to write, with Barry falling asleep under a tree in his chair, Nancy engrossed in her book inside, and me at the computer under another tree. I can hear the water of a fountain as I write this, and see the poppies, the iris, the astilbe, the phlox all in bloom. And the sky overhead is clear, with a pleasant breeze.

And I began to think of the couples that we had met along the way, in the various Gîtes and Auberges we had stayed in. Carol and Dianne here in Saint-Antoine-de-Tilly, Philippe and his wife in the Canard Huppé on Ile d'Orléans (and their little daughter), Cathérine and Martin in Saint-Félicien at the Manoir Banville, Marc-André and Nicole at the Maison Hamilton, Normand and his wife in Metabéthchouan, and Denis and Marie at the Belle Blanche. All of these couples were extraordinary in their own way. They wee cordial, al felt that they were privileged and happy to be in the homes that they shared with strangers, all tried hard to please their guests, and all shared happily their stories with us. It takes s special kind of person to do this, day after day with humour. And they all seemed to have it.

So it's been a wonderful trip, full of surprises and pleasures, with few downsides. We will return.

Kamouraska, June 15-16

Ah, the name even sounds magical. There was a rather racy (as I recall) movie from the 1970's by that name, based on a novel written by Anne Hébert. And we had decided to go there for a night.

Our night in Pointe-à-la-Frégate was a bit scary: the wind picked up from the water, and blew hard all night long. We were by the water, and there was nothing to slow down the wind in its path. So I lay in bed hearing the wind blow both over and under our room for much of the night. It was a strong and long blow! Amazingly, the power did not go out, and there were no trees down that we could see. The morning brought a slight amount of rain, but it was still the wind which worried us.

We had waken at 4:30 to get a picture of the sunrise over the Saint-Laurent, and it was beautiful, with the sky quite clear at the time. But when we woke for the second time at 6:30, it was cloudy, and menacing. We decided to eat quickly and leave, which we did. With some relief.

The drive down the coast was wonderful and a bit scary all at once. This area of the Gaspé is quite mountainous—more than I had expected. At times, the road would climb a hill at a 15% grade, the descend with the same speed. At other times the road was right by the river/ocean, with the water's waves slamming against the rocks by the side of the road and spraying up into the air; the other side of the road was an almost sheer cliff going up a thousand feet or so. I had no idea this type of topography existed in Eastern Canada.

Then it changed. We got out of the Land's End part of the Gaspé and into the Haute-Gaspésie, and there was some farmland between the hills, and sometimes between the mountains and the sea. And when we left the Gaspésie, there was even more farmland, with the mountains retreating to the East.

We had left our motel in a hurry, and were anxious to find a good coffee place. In the end, we did not find one until we got to Matane, about two hour's drive from our start. And it was a good one, so worth the wait.

And by this time, the sky had begun to clear, and the wind died down, so it was a much better day. With the weather, and the coffee, all our spirits rose significantly. We went on the Rimouski, where we did some shopping, then proceeded on to look for a place for the night. After Rivière-du-Loup, we stopped at a few places, and rejected them, and then got to Kamouraska. We had wanted a place with internet and washing facilities, and thought we would have to settle for a motel. But we found, in the centre of town, and place called "La Belle Blanche" which had a suite for a good price, and included use of their washer and dryer, as well as internet. So we were all happy. And the couple (Denis and Marie) are charming: he is cabinet-make, and has redone what was his grandmother's house into a magnificent Gîte; she is a gentle woman who seems to cook and do the rest. And they have son who lives in the house as well.

I have to admit that I have fallen in love with this town. It is over 325 years old, has many homes along the main streets which date to the early Nineteenth Century, but have been well-maintained. And it is a farming community as well as a fishing place. There are large tractors going through the streets. And we ate last night at a poissonerie with an adjacent bistro, of fish caught by the owner, and well-prepared and cheap. It was delightful. We decided to stay an extra night before heading off, and doing a day of biking today if the weather held.

I woke this morning at 6:30, and was pleased to read my Globe on my iPad before breakfast. Breakfast was wonderful, as all the Gîte breakfasts have been, and we got ready to go biking. this seemed to take a longer time than usual, but finally all was ready and we headed off on the Route Verte upstream along the river (actually on Route 132). Our trip was actually in the end almost 90 km, to bring us up to about 644 km total, not quite what we had done in BC, but not bad for some old farts. We passed through the town of Saint-Denis, where Barry was again mistaken for a Frenchman, or a Belgian, so something. He was very pleased. The rest of the trip out was largely along the river to La Pocatière, then inland (and up a massive hill) on the search for a town we wanted to visit just because of its improbable name: Saint-Onésine-d'Ixowrth. This town turned out to be a disappointment—it had had a fine wooden church, which burned down in the 1960's due to a malfunctioning furnace, and the replacement was not worth mentioning.

Back along the Highway 230 to Saint-Pascal (the patron saint of cooking), then home to Kamouraska. We were all tired after our 90 km., and after each took his or her shower, we set off in search of an early and well-earned supper. We found this at the western end of town, in an auberge called the

Auberge Des Îles. A fine day indeed.

The Last of the Gaspé

Today was to be our last day at this end of the province. We woke at about 6:30, with Barry's obligatory run from bed to washroom stirring us all to life. The sun was up, but the sky was hazy; not that it mattered to Percé, which stood magnificent and tall with the gulls circling around it and diving from it into the ocean.

We had decided yesterday that we would take an easy time to get to the north shore of the peninsula, but Nancy woke with a mission to get us packed and out. So we were in the car and down into town at just after 8, having already had breakfast, and hungry for a good coffee. The patisserie that we had been to the previous day unfortunately did not open until 8:30, so we decided to go up the hill for more pictures of the "Rocher" before going back to the shop for our coffee. This task done, we left the town of Percé, up the hill and through "La Grande Crevasse", on our way up north. The land was awesome, going from barechois to flat farmland to hilly forests. And the sea is always present. Houses were less well-kept than on the South Coast, but still good. And the towns did not look as properous, at least until we got to Gaspé (the town). there we stoped for another coffee, a brief visit to the jacques Crtier cross and the curch b uilt near it, and then to the Gaspé Museum for a pleasant visit and course in the history of the area.

From here to the Parc National de Farallon, at the end of the peninsula ("Gaspé" come from the Mig'mag word for "land's end"), and through that to have lunch by a wonderful area of the park called the Cap de Bon Ami (named after M. Bonamy), a spectacular place at the end of the Appalachian chain of mountains, as the tumbled into the sea. We ate well, stayed a while to admire the flora and fauna of the area, then went off, stopping briefly to photograph the lighthouse at Cap-des-Rosiers and talk to a retraitée who very pleasantly talked with us about the caiplin fishery there, the number of older folks in her community, and so on.

But the land had changed a lot: we were now into mountainous areas, some of them topped by large windmills slowly revolving in the high winds of the area. Hills were often at 15 degree grades, and the poor Lexus struggled a bit to take us all to the top before racing down again to the fishing villages at the sea. There was a large and clearly commercial fishing fleet at Rivière-au-Renard, and a wonderful church at Saint-Maurice-de-l'Échouerie.

We pushed on, but were enticed in the end by a lovely building in the town of Pointe-à-la-Frégate. Nice motel, no internet or phone service, so this entry will wait until I can post it later.

No biking today.

The Rocher Percé, June 12

Yesterday was again a clear and sunny day. I got up early (about 6AM) and went to write my blogs to catch up. This took some time, since we had not had internet coverage for a few days. But this place had one of those 3G "sticks" to get this computer onto the net, so I thought I should do my duty.

The house is grand, and there are large windows in it. So sitting by the front window upstairs in what had been the master bedroom was a delight. I quietly listened while the house awoke, typing away happily and watching the front garden and its birds. The sun gets up in this area about 4:30, so it was pretty high in the sky when I got up. And that gave me lots of light.

I did get on the web and posted a few days' worth of information, and by then Barry was up and around. It was not long before we had the (I'm sure) unenviably task of eating yet another fine breakfast. So we went downstairs, after a bit of packing.

Breakfast consisted of whole wheat pancakes with fruit and maple syrup, with wonderful coffee and fine juice. And all spiced by tales of the area told by our host, about the past life of this town, and the various goings-on of that time. And also told us about the families and types of people in the various towns. They are still static enough culturally that you can tell where someone is from by their family name.

We went from there to biking, agreeing that we would do about 80 km that day, and probably ending up in the town of Chandler. Most was to be on the highway, so we hoped the traffic would be low. And it was, with fairly good shoulders most of the way. Some hills, and a fair bit of wind. And, as predicted by Nicole, the temperature dropped significantly about five km west of town. We started with a t-shirt, and began to pile on the clothes as we got colder in the wind off he ocean.

As Barry pointed out, it was almost one town stretched out along the ocean between New Carlisle and Percé. There were a few areas of farmland, and some scrub bush, but mostly there was settlement spread thinly along the highway. Many of the towns had active fishing areas, with many fishing boats and piles of nets and traps apparent (they tell me that there are so many lobsters being caught this year that the price is quite depressed). Along the road, there was the usual bits of garbage, but this time mixed with bits of lobster shell thrown from windows.

Went again through Paspébiac, then on through Hope (where there is a large number of Basques), and to Saint-Godefroi, Shagwake, and on to Port Daniel. There we were stopped by a wonderful building beside the railway tracks, which turned out to the Hotel LeGrand, now a library and municipal office,

and looked around it in awe. Turns out to be one of the first places that Jacques Cartier found on his journey of the 1630's. And still a beautiful place. After a short stop by the Church, and a view of the Manse-turned-gîte (another stunning building), we went off on our way to the east.

We met Nancy for lunch after Newport, and she warned us that the road ahead was not pretty in any way. And besides, the wind made it quite cool. So we decided to take a ride through that mess and restart our ride in Pabos. We rode, somewhat tired, then on to around Cap d'Espoir, completing our 80 km, at about 5 PM.

Nancy had out-done herself. She had found a little cabin on the peninsula which ends in the Rocher Percé. We have a view outside our window of the Rock, and watch as the tide comes and goes, with the gulls flying up and down it. It is spare, but adequate, and the view is worth a lot.

Supper last night in Barachois, in a restaurant called the Café des Couleurs. Then home to an early bed.

New Carlisle, June 11

A terrific biker's breakfast of eggs, spinach, croissants, coffee, potato pancakes, followed by a farewell to Bruce, who was driving back home this day. So Nancy was to reprieve her role as den-mother. She went off for food, and to do the laundry, and also to visit a second-hand bookstore she had found.

Barry and I took off, stopping soon to repair a broken wire on his bike computer. We were along Highway 132, and it was busy in the morning, but the shoulders were good. We went towards New Richmond, and the the Route Verte took us into the town through some pleasant scenery but rough roads, and conveniently by a coffee shop and patisserie. So of course we stopped and indulged. Met an 86-year-old man having coffee with a bunch of younger men, all solving the problems of the day. Barry broke his (new) rule and had a coffee (it appears to make him pee an inordinate amount of times), but all was well with the world as we sat in the sun, outdoors, sipping coffee (and carrot cake and cookies).

Then back on Highway 132 for about ten km, before heading north to the 2e Rang, which we followed quite happily for over twelve km. A few twists and turns through variable land and some difficult dirt roads, the land being mostly for farming, down a wonderful hill where I got up to 64 kph, then past the Bonaventure airport to the town of Bonaventure.

By this time, I had lost any cell signal I had had before, so had no way of contacting Nancy (we had agreed that we would use the phones to arrange a meeting for lunch), and the two of us were tired and hungry. But a miracle happened: we had stopped to rearrange our energy, and were wondering how we would contact Nancy, when she drove around the corner! She had come to the same conclusion that we would not be able to use the phones to make contact, so decided to drive as much of our route as she could, and there we were.

Lunch by the side of the road, and we went on, unfortunately then over an old bridge and along some pretty tough dirt and gravel roads for many kilometres. But eventually back onto pavement and back to the highway. The ride to New Carlisle was easy and smooth.

New Carlisle is the birthplace and youth home of René Lévesque, and they have a statue of him in the park there. We learned later that the statue was life-size, and had been meant to go in Quebec City, but the folks there were shocked at how small it was (he was only about 5'2"), so refused to display it. The claimed it for New Carlisle, and there it sit, in a children's playground.

Slightly further down the road was the Maison Hamilton, and Nancy had found us a place there. We had done about 81 km (the phone ran out of power, so it was not all captured by the cyclometer).

The Maison Hamilton was built in the mid-Nineteenth Century by a judge and merchant named Hamilton, entirely out of stone, and in a style which is apparently quite unique in Quebec. The couple who now own it (Nicole and Marc-Andrée) bought it two years ago as a derelict building, and have spent a lot of time and money (with little help from the Government of course: they were even hesitant to designate it as an historical building, and there are no tax or other breaks for people maintaining such buildings). Nicole regaled us with stories of old buildings in New Carlisle which had been left to neglect then demolished. This area was the main area for the southern coast of the Gaspé during the last century and the first part of this century.

Then the daily question of supper. Nicole suggested, and we took her up on, the restaurant at Paspébiac (which had been a major area for fishing, particularly cod, in the old days; they had had stages for drying and salting cod in great number, but now have a fishing industry without the cod). Interestingly, this area was settled by a number of people: Acadians [we saw a number of Acadian flags], basques, British, and so on. Dinner was delicious, and we returned to our beds, and soon to sleep.

June 10, Gaspé

The hotel we stayed at was a "Super 8". Prices were good, but the breakfast that was included was far from "super". Cereals, artificial orange juice, some muffins: all self-served onto paper plates and bowls. I guess it served the needs, but it had no class, and was environmentally bad as well. However, they did give us a good rate, and they were very nice to us.

We had our breakfast at 8:00 Atlantic time, went for a needed coffee at a local coffee shop, and took off all together to get past the bridge (where the traffic was bad and there was construction, and past Pointe-à-la-Croix just to get out of the suburban roads. We started on Highway 132, a fairly busy road with some trucks, and stayed on that for much of the day, with some significant side-trips.

One of the trips we decided to take, and I'm glad we did, was to the Parc National de Miguasha. This is actually a UNESCO historical site, recognized for the quality of the fossil record found there. It is a record of the Devonian Period of the Earth's development, a time when fish were predominant, and some fishes were developing four limbs, just prior to going onto land. This was about 400 million years ago. We spent about an hour there looking around at the exhibits. And some of them were quite incredible: you could see the stomach contents in one; you could see the arteries in another; a few were actually three-dimensional! Needless to say, I was mightily impressed.

From there, on along the road, with a nice side-trip along a cinder trail which led down and across a river via a suspension bridge, then past a few idyllic towns and wonderful houses (of course, it all

looks better in the sunlight). We met Bruce for lunch (his last name is Jameson) at the town of Saint-

Omer (just past Nouvelle), down by the water. We passed some people on horses, with one of them in the water with her horse. Then on through the tourist town of Carleton-sur-Mer to the Gîte he had found near Maria. This is an old (mid-nineteenth century) farmhouse lived in by a descendant of the builder, named Sid, and his wife Barbara), and lovingly maintained. They are back enough from the highway to be pleasant, and have a lot of land which they tend to. Lilacs are at their peak (about a month after Dundas), but the apple trees are finished blooming. THey have their own garden with strawberries, rhubarb, onions, garlic and beans all coming up. They were very welcoming to us, and we enjoyed our stay there. Turns out there are a lot of Anglophones in this area—some of them UE Loyalists.

Of course, one of the jobs that Bruce had was to have cold beer ready. He had done this, found a micro-brasserie down the road and bought a jug of beer (about 3 litres) which we all enjoyed sitting

out on the lawn in the bright sun. Bruce had also found a restaurant down the road to which we went for passable sea-food, but a pleasant evening.

We had biked about 73 km that day (for some reason, my cyclometer missed the first 27 km.), with enough variations to be interesting. We were tired, and fell asleep with the windows open and the fresh air helping us to dream.

The Gaspé, June 9

As we were leaving Tadoussac, of course the weather cleared and was warmer. We had had cool, windy, sometimes wet weather for the last three days, but the next several were predicted to be sunny and warm. But a nice day for a trip.

We talked with our friendly waitress over breakfast, and she suggested that we stop at the Canadian Whale Observation area just north of Tadoussac. We did this, and enjoyed a lovely walk through the woods to the ocean/river front. The rocks were smooth and sloping, the sun was bright and warm, and

 the day was perfect. But we didn't see any whales. Sigh! So on to the Ferry at Les Escoumins, and the wait for our departure time. The ferry runs only twice a day, and we were afraid we might not fit onto it. But there was lots of space, and the trip across (which took 90 minutes) was uneventful, and again free of whales. There were some ocean boats in the channel, but relatively few. And the water was calm.

Trois-Pistoles was a pretty little town to arrive in, with a downtown which looked as if there had once been some money there. And it was lively, with people out enjoying the sunny warm weather. We looked for and couldn't find, a picnic area to have our lunch in. Eventually, we drove towards Rimouski and went off the main road (which was a lot busier than anticipated) to find a small area for our lunch. Then on and across the peninsula from Mont-Joli to Matépedia, then to Campbellton. The last past of the drive across along the river was like a piece of BC, with the river wide and shallow, and the valley like a canyon. It was beautiful to see.

As was the part of the Restigouche that we drove along.

We found our way to Pointe-à-la-Croix, and crossed into New brunswick there, changing time zones as we went. So we met with Barry and Nancy's friend Bruce an hour later than we had thought (we forgot the time zone difference). He had a glass of wine and some cheese, and we were happy. Lots of talk and planning for tomorrow, and the we walked to a small pub through the streets of a town down on its luck, to a meal which was less than gourmet. And the hockey game was on in French. Mon Dieu!

Bed was welcome, although we had not done a lot of exercise. It will be nice to get back on the bike tomorrow after three days not biking.

Catching up, June 8

It's been a few days since I set up to write another part of this blog, so here we go.

As i said, we were very tired when we settled into the Maison Banville in Saint-Félicien. And they were calling for rain the next day. So it tok only a little pushing to get us to commit to a two-day stay at the Gîte. We set out to have a pleasant supper at the outdoor pub just down the road. What we didn't know was that this was the graduation day for most of the regional high schools, so the joint was hopping, and the streets were busy with noisy cars. And the bar had not brought in enough staff to serve everyone properly. So the service was very slow. And the meals that we got were not as ordered. And the wine which we ordered was not that good. (In Quebec, many places allow you to bring your own wine, and they will open it for you as part of their service; but if they have a liquor licence, you have to order from their list.) We were an unhappy group going home, although we loved the Gîte.

The next morning it was raining as promised. But we had a task to accomplish: Nancy realized that she had left her purse at the bar the previous night, and Barry went to see if it was turned in. Since we had left a rather small tip as a result of the poor supper we all got, we were feeling a bit on shaky ground. But Barry returned triumphant, and all was okay with the world again.

The day proceeded to be cool and rainy. Some of us went back to rest in bed after a rather sumptuous breakfast, and others wrote or read. But in the afternoon we decided to go to visit a local museum on (believe me!) cheddar cheese. It was a cheese factory developed by the Perron family about a hundred years ago, and still run by the same family. There was a tour of the old plant, with description of how the cheese was made from raw, then pasteurized, milk. While the talk was interesting, it was a bit excessive in its completeness. And of course, it was all in French. The ninety minutes spent there was tiring.

So of course we followed that by a visit to the "Maison des Bleuets", which sold all things blueberry, as well as lots of other things. So we were ready for a nice dinner by then.

Since this was June 5th, and our 39th anniversary, we all went out to a better restaurant in the area. And the food was very good, with the restaurant also being in the setting of a local "presbytère". It was still raining pretty hard, and the Lexus was handy.

June 6th was to be a day of moving on. We had decided to try and go to Métabetchouan by bike, and Darlene was off to help us find a place to stay in that area. Lots of adventures, finding a place which looked good and was close to town. And including running into Martin from the Maison Banville, who had discovered that we had taken his wife's shoes when we left (they were about the size of Barry's, and Darlene and I thought they were Barry's). She found a wonderful place: the Lamy house, named after a doctor who had built it in the 1920's, and run his practice out of there. At the time, he was the sole medical person in town, so he was doctor, vet, and dentist. He made a lot of money, and

it shows in the house, which was splendid. When we arrived, after a chilly ride on a wonderful trail, Darlene had set up an elegant lunch on the upper front porch, a sort of turret partly enclosed by

brickwork, and very elegant in its own right. And of course there was a bath tub in our room, to add to the grace of the place. It was terrific, for our last night all together. We ate at a local restaurant, where the head of the family who owns it was present to greet us, along with his son (dressed up in a suit and tie). We ate local food, well prepared by someone who cared about it. And it showed. We loved the place, and the food.

We had biked 65 km to Métabetchouan.

And this brings us to yesterday. The day dawned cool-to-cold and sunny, with a strong west wind. Barry and Nancy were going to bike the remaining way to Alma, where we started this ride. And Darlene and I were off to the airport to get her started on her ride home.

After another scrumptious breakfast (the food has been good, as my waistline will attest), we headed off in the car, making it to the airport in Bagotville in time to have a coffee before I said a sad good-bye to Darlene and returned through Chicoutimi to the Alma area.

Barry and Nancy had had a wonderful ride into town, along the lake with the wind at their backs. Their ride was about 40 km. And they were happy, resting in a coffee shop when I arrived back from the airport. The sky, though, had changed, and there were black clouds on the horizon. We decided to start our trip back to the East and decide on the way what we would do. The weather decided for us: there was a very heavy rainfall that began just before Chicoutimi and continued well on the way to Tadoussac. So we went all the way, with two diversions.

We had wanted to go down to a camp by the water along the north shore of the Saguenay, to see if we could see the gorge a bit better. But the road was very difficult and there were very few people, so we turned around on that one and returned back to the main road. And we should point out that the main road was pretty impressive. Lots of forest and rocks, with glaciated valleys, and some small rivers. But we continued on our way, getting off the road onto a paved road and going into Sainte-Rose-du-Nord. This turned out to be a small little artists' community with many charming houses and gîtes and restaurants. We decided to stop and get a bowl of soup or something warm at the little restaurant near the Post Office. We were met with a woman, who owned the place, with incredible energy and almost a pressure of speech. She said she was the mother of five children, and did everything in the place. We cold believe this, although she did seem a bit bipolar.

The rain finally stopped and we moved on to Tadoussac itself. We stopped at the Tourist Office, talked with the woman there (who for once complemented me rather than Barry on our French). We looked at several sleeping options, but then decided on the Hôtel Le Pionnier. We had separate rooms, but both looked over the River, and we were actually tired, having some food and drink for supper (in Barry and Nancy's room), then heading off to bed. We didn't bike at all that day.

And today, we decided to spend the time exploring Tadoussac a bit, at my request. We walked through the town, Barry and I going across the ferry and back, to see the mouth of the Saguenay but not seeing any whales, then going through the magnificent Hôtel Tadoussac (mostly built by

American and Molson moneys), and enjoying the restaurants and café's in what is definitely largely a tourist town. We had a recommendation from our serveuse this morning to go to a hilltop near here by trail, and we did that, and it was wonderful. Views in all directions. Flowers galore. Wonderful clouds.

I saw a whale! A beluga, probably. From a great distance, but nonetheless something white and big and coming over and over to the surface. So I believe it to be a whale. Happened while Barry and I were walking down around the point along a trail which Nancy had found earlier.

And we have to stop eating so much. Ate at a restaurant again tonight. Good, but of course more than we needed. Sigh. To bed.

To Saint-Félicien, June 4

We hadn't intended to go so far. I thought we might do 70-80 km, and was set for this. But we got as far as Saint-Félicien, 106 km all told. And therein, as they say, lies the tale.

We started off with all three of us cycling, and Darlene staying to drive and meet us later. The trail at first was along the highway. And even though there was a five-foot-wide paved shoulder alongside the road, there was a frisson each time a large truck went by us. So we were not unhappy when we got off the Route, following the trails laid out, and went on dedicated bike routes. Some of these were on secondary, and very quiet, roads. We stopped in Ste-Jeanne d'Arc,

a small town with a wonderful rapids and an old mill in place. Took some pictures, then on, taking the trial through a Provincial Forest and then back to the highway, where we met up with Darlene. She warned us that the upcoming town of Mistassini was pretty dreadful: sort of like Cornwall. Nancy decided to ride, and Barry and I rode. Fortunately, the ride was along a path which went down by the river, a much more pleasant route than the main road. We got through town with little problem, then met with the women for a fine picnic lunch.

Darlene had wondered about stopping in Normandin, but she had done her research, and thought there would be more pleasant surroundings in Saint-Félicien. So we decided to go that far.

Which would not have been a problem except for the winds. Coming out of the West, they were pretty much in our face. While the road was flat, the wind made our progress slow and difficult. We rode the 20-odd kilometres to Normandin, and decided that we would not go further unless the road turned and put the wind more behind us. Fortunately this happened, so the final 26 km. were much

easier. Barry and I phoned the ladies, discovered they had found a proper Gîte along the main road, and were stuck in traffic on the one bridge across the river. We got to the Gîte before they did, and when they arrived, they regaled us with stories of the man directing traffic on the bridge, doing so in a balletic way which aroused, I dare say, a certain attraction for the women. But they managed to forego this attraction long enough for us to get established in our accommodation, and to get the sweaty men showered and ready for the evening. We managed to go through a bottle of nice red wine, then went to dinner at a local, and not very good, restaurant.

And then to bed, tired, and feeling ready for a resting day.

The total ride today was 106 km.

Péribonka, June 3

Today was to be our first day around the Lac St Jean, Véloroute des Bleuets. We had decided to drive, rather than ride, to Alma, and start from there. And I'm glad that we did. When we got to the Info Centre for the route, the staff there were very excited to see the hats, and also very interested that we had come so far, and that I had their "app" on my iPhone. I pointed out that it did not work in English, but did in French, and they assured me this was not intended and would be remedied. They assured us that the better way to travel was counter-clockwise, so that is the way we decided to go. After a short lesson for Darlene on how to drive the Lexus, she headed off to buy us lunch and meet us. We headed off on a wonderful path, all set out on paths, and side roads, and sometimes on highway shoulders, and all for cyclists.

The road was relatively easy, and we put 30 km behind us with little difficulty. Even the highway part, with big trucks zooming by, was not too bad with the wide and paved shoulders. We got to the Parc National de Pointe-Taillon, and cycled around the Pointe for a while before heading across it through spruce, balsam and birch forests.

As planned, Darlene met us at the distal end of the Parc, with lots of yummy food. Unfortunately, the bugs also thought of us as food, so we left in a bit of a hurry, and cycled on to our resting place near Sainte-Monique. And one of the places we cycled over was a long (400 or so metres) boardwalk over some swampy areas, done solely for cyclists.

Darlene had gone ahead and reserved some spots at a local Auberge, actually more like a campsite, but with cabins. There was a communal kitchen, as well as a restaurant. And they were quite bike-friendly (in fact, we have found everyone to be wonderful around bikes; even one guy who almost cut me off with his car, was friendly with a wave and a big smile of apology when I yelled. And they all seem to want to help make this Véloroute successful. If only there was something like this in Ontario!) We were by the edge of the Péribonka River, which at this point is almost as big as a lake. And there was a sandy beach and a bright sunny sky as well, so we were all happy.

We had biked over 45 km.

Chicoutimi, June 2

I was excited to be in Chicoutimi, more because I would get to Arvida again, and see where I was born. And today was the day. The day began cloudy and a bit cool, but that's not so bad for biking. We had a great breakfast at the B&B, with Glen and Dennis from the previous evening, and said our good-byes to those two as they began their trip over to Lac St-Jean. They were taking all their stuff on their bikes, so had a much harder time of it than we did.

We started to get ready, but Nancy was not feeling well, and decided to stay at the Château. Barry and I got set and began our trip by heading downhill at a rather steep declination. We thought about the difficulty of getting back up again, but that was in the future. For the present, we were on a paved, smooth Piste Cyclable, and it was great. At least until we went uphill, past the "Petite Maison Blanche" which had survived the floods of the mid-1990's and still rested on its isolated foundation. Then onto a lovely Piste through the wooded areas of Chicoutimi and into Jonquière. The day was grey and a bit cool, but otherwise okay. And we made a few false starts, but eventually found what had been the Saguenay Inn, and is now the Manoir du Saguenay, and used for continuing education of the Alcan (now owned by Rio Tinto) executives. So there was no way we could stay there, but the nice lady on the reception desk gave me a brochure about it, which I will read and treasure.

Also took some pictures of the Brittany Row housing, and tried again to find the house on Radden Row (they have changed the names of the streets, so I don't know if we found one which was correct or not).

I had wanted to try and find the trail that my Dad and I took down to the River from the Inn, and Barry and I found one, and took it with our bikes. In the end, we did not go right down to the river, but up and along to the Aluminum Bridge, taking our chances on some of the steep downhills on the trail, and pushing our way up the steep uphills. It was an experience all right.

From there, we took the road back to Jonquiere, and tried to find the old Police Station (which had been the hospital I was born in. No luck. I may try again, by going to the Arvida Library. But that will be another time.

In the meantime, we started back to Chicoutimi, and it began to rain, then it rained hard, and we got wetter and wetter, even with our rain gear. It was miserable! We tried to take a short-cut across the town, only to find ourselves on an enormous hill, going literally upstream against the water flowing hard down the street. And my glasses steamed and my eyes were burning from sweat, so I was not at all a happy camper.

Back to the Château and a hot shower and dry clothes made a significant difference in mood, and a bit of food at a Peruvian Restaurant called Sud helped a lot as well.

Darlene was to arrive by plane at Bagotville at 5:20, so I had to be there. Barry and Nancy had left for a walk back from the Restaurant (the weather having improved a lot), and were not back in time for me to leave. So I was able to take Barry's car and head off in the appropriate direction, meet my wife at the appointed time (five minutes late, though), and drive back to the Château.

Darlene had brought some hats that one of her patients had made, all embroidered with the logo of the Véloroute, and looking quite smart. We all wore them with pride.

We went back to the Sud for supper, and had a grand time there, eating lots of good food which we mostly recognized. Imagine finding a Peruvian Restaurant in Chicoutimi! The evening was fine and the time was good. We went home satisfied and ready for bed.

We had biked almost 37 km.

Ile d'Orleans, May 31

Now, B&B's try to do a good job of providing a good breakfast. Barry had remembered this one as being particularly good, which is why we ended up there. And we were not disappointed. When I

get them from Barry, i will attach some pictures. But it began with grapefruit, soaked with Triple-Sec, and some sugar, and broiled in the oven. There was banana and date loaf, four jams, fresh fruits, café-au-lait, asparagus omelettes, and other things I have already forgotten. We contemplated the cost of staying there for three weeks, but decided that we really should go on. But may well stop there on the way back. And I plan to get Darlene there at some point.

So we went our merry and slightly heavier way towards the bridge at Levis. Saw a hang-glider along the way, before going over to the Quebec City side. We had to go into the City because Barry needed to buy a hat which was available there and few other places in North America. And I needed some cash (the B&B did not take VISA). But we got to walk around a bit in the city and again marvel at how wonderful it was.

But it was a short visit, and we were off to the Ile, with a stop at Montmorency Falls to see that beautiful sight.

We had recommended to us an Auberge called the Canard Huppe, and we went there right away. Turned out to be more expensive than we had counted on, but there was s supper included, and we thought "what the hell". But it was a beautiful day, and so we got the bikes out and went for a lovely and long ride around most of the island, getting a few splats of rain, but nothing serous, and doing more than 50 km. altogether. We felt virtuous and ready to take on the announced seven-course meal. And what a meal it turned out to be. I ate ris-de-veau (sweetbreads) which were magnificent, but this was the third course, the first two being fruit compositions, and a salad to die for. Then there was another course after that, and then desert. And I probably forgot something.

So we feel we got our money's worth.

Again, slept well, but there was rain through the night and into the morning. Woke to a grey, cold day with wet sounds on the outside of the skylight. Breakfast was also wonderful, and again we said our good-byes with some sadness (although thank heavens that this guy took credit cards!)

The trip up to Chicoutimi involved about 80 km of road construction to widen the existing road to four lanes, but through scenery much like scenery in BC, but a bit less rugged. And there was a whole lot of it. After about 250 km, we got out of the Parc and into the outskirts of Chicoutimi. We stopped at the Tourist Bureau, got a lot of information, and decided that the best Gîte was the Château Murdock.

We drove over there, and they had rooms for us all (although that for Barry and Nancy was not as good as mine). We agreed to stay there, and went off in search of a good lunch. The lady of the Château suggested a few places, and we tried out Artis, but decided it was too noisy, so went instead to Pizzata, and had a great lunch there.

Than back to the Chateau, and Nancy went for a rest (it tuned out that she was in the first part of a migraine), and Barry and I sat outside and read. I also took time for a little nap.

We had had such a good lunch that none of us was eager for supper. Nancy, as I said, was in the throes of a migraine. So Barry and I went out to find something light, to have with some beer. We first went for a long walk along the werfront, an area that they have nicely renovated, before going back uptown. We had met two other cyclists, Dennis (a retired teacher from Bracebridge) and Glen (who works at Algonquin Outfitters in Hunstville), and we and they ate a pretty awful supper in town - but the beer was good.

Home and to bed. Slept well. We had bicycled 56 km.

On the Way to Quebec, May 30

The day finally came: time to strap the bike on the back of the smart car, fill the back with bags, and head off to Union Station. Barry and I, with Nancy, had decided some time ago to reprise our trio this time in Quebec. We had worked ut a possible route around the Saguenay and Lac St-Jean, and Barry and Nancy had left the West to drive across the country and meet me in Montreal. And this time Darlene would come and meet us as well for a few days over our anniversary.

So the luggage went in the car, the bike on the back, and I drove to Toronto, arriving about an hour before the train. Parked illegally in a construction place, and got the bike and gear into the station. After some fooling around with getting the ticket and so on, we got the things checked, and Darlene took the car and went off home.

I was on my way, sitting beside a man about my age, and we started a talk which took us most of the way to Montreal. I learned about his wife who had died, his new girlfriend, how he lives now with a friend (male) who does all the cooking, and how he works for the Recycling Depot in Toronto. All very interesting, and it took most of the time for the trip. So my great plans to read and work with my new iPad didn't materialize.

We got to Dorval, and many of the 400 people on the train got off, so the platform was full. But Barry and I found each other, embraced, and went to find my stuff. It appeared to all be there, and I found Nancy as I was getting it together, so another embrace.

Soon we were packed into the Lexus and on our way across the top of Montreal, on Highway 40, getting caught in the Sunday evening traffic. But then we were through it and on our way to the South shore and St-Antoine de Tilly. We crossed a long bridge over the St Lawrence at Trois-Rivières, then onto the Trans-Canada for the short ride to our night's home.

One of the interesting things we found was the amount of smoke in the air. The sky was as dark at 7:30 as we usually see at 9:30. And our eyes were irritated. The fires were some distance away, but obviously the smoke drifted to a close point.

It was great to get to the Maison Normand, be welcomed and shown to our respective rooms, and settle in for the night. I slept wonderfully.