Chapter 20: In Search of Montreal

Day 12: Wednesday, July 5, 2017 
29 miles
St. Phillipe, Quebec to Montreal

Somewhere along the way to Montreal we passed this garden.

Shortly after leaving the KOA campground we found a bike route into Montreal. Then, somehow, between detour signs and being routed onto local roads, we lost it. We were on the outskirts of the city with too many roads to choose from and no map with enough detail to show us the way to go. We stopped at a Tim Horton's, hoping to find someone inside who could point us in the right direction. As usual, Rob stayed outside with the bikes. 

I should probably explain why it is that Rob is the one who often stays outside with the bikes. First, he's patient and doesn't mind waiting. Sadly, patience is not my forte. I get too restless standing around waiting. And Rob is much more easygoing than I am when it comes to picking a restaurant for a good meal or a motel for a night's rest. If I give a place the thumbs up he never complains about it and if I don't like it then I only have myself to blame. After many years traveling together, we've figured out how to play to our strengths and weaknesses.

Inside Tim Horton's I stopped at a table where four men were sitting, drinking coffee, and asked, "Can one of you tell me how to get to Montreal?" I showed them the map I had.

The men represented a spread of ages, one had to be about as old as me, another slightly younger; the other two looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties. They were wearing the kinds of clothes a carpenter or construction worker might wear - blue jeans, T-shirts, baseball caps. I guessed they were workmen out for their morning coffee break. While one of the younger men pulled out his phone the oldest guy said, "You want to take that road over there," and he pointed outside. "Then go through two lights and take a left..."

One of the other guys interrupted him. "No, she wants to keep going straight until she gets to a gas station on her right."

Then the guy with the cell phone showed me a map which I couldn't follow but it didn't matter because one of the other men said, "No, you don't want to send her that way, there's road construction going on." So I just stood there while they argued amongst themselves, competing to be the one who told me the best way to go. Finally, they came to a consensus and one of the older gentlemen gave me directions which I carefully repeated.

Once outside I said to Rob, "That was too funny. These guys were all falling over each other to be the one to give me directions." And I described the scene, sorry he had missed it.

We could see Montreal across the St. Lawrence River. The best way to get there by bike was to first cross over to Ile Ste-Helene. (If you don't speak French, ile means island.) The island was the site of the 1967 World Expo and is now home to the Parc Jean-Drapeau. 

We eventually found our way to the bridge that took us to the island and the park with its maze of roads and signs pointing to a beach, casino, biosphere, amusement park, so many places that we had no idea which way to go so we just picked one. We rode past a temporary stadium where workers were putting up seats and a large piece of metal piping clattered to the ground next to me. Yikes! I rode faster and hoped nothing fell on Rob, who was riding behind me. 

We stopped for a picnic lunch outside the biosphere, former home of the United States exhibit and now a Museum of the Environment.

Next to the biosphere was an area in the middle of a courtyard that was all dug up. Stacked nearby were piles of stadium staging. It seemed like a shame to have so much ugliness in the middle of what could be a beautiful park. I saw a park ranger nearby and asked him about all of it. 

"Are they getting ready for a big concert?" I asked.

He said, "Yes, but they probably won't be using all of it. They just leave all that there during the summer because we have so many events here."

"What's going on with that garden?"

"They're taking it out so that we can accommodate more people  for traffic flow when we have events. It will just be a large walkway."

"That's a shame," I said.

"What's really too bad is that there is a family of ground hogs that lives in there. They'll have to be relocated."

Another small piece of nature gone, taken over by humankind.

Before continuing into Montreal we decided to explore the park a little more. It was quite extensive, with a second island built to accommodate the 1967 World Expo. We found our way onto a bicycle racing circuit, with cyclists speeding by us riding their fancy racing bicycles in their fancy riding clothes, as we toodled along on our slow touring bikes laden with all our gear. We stopped at intersections to look at our map and compare it with the road signs in front of us, but even so we had trouble finding our way and couldn't help but feel like we were riding around in circles, which we were. We did find the swimming beach. It wasn't free and there were crowds of people waiting to get in so we decided to give it a pass. 

I have a thing about wanting to check out expensive hotels and restaurants. It's fun to see how the one percent lives. And it's also fun to check out the price of a room and look over a menu because, you never know, we might be able to afford it for a special night out. So when I saw the casino off in the distance, I decided we had to go inside. Rob doesn't have the same drive as I do to explore high end places, but after over 30 years together he's learned that the best thing to do is go along with it.

That's the casino, really an architectural work of art. Finding the entrance turned out to be a challenge.

We finally did find our way inside and walked around a spiral of several floors with betting tables and thousands of gaming machines, people trying their luck, winning just enough money to keep their dreams alive of joining the ranks of the rich. The  multi-colored lights only took the edge off the dark atmosphere, a stark contrast to the bright richness of the summer day outside. Before long Rob said, "Let's get out of here." 

Then it was on to Montreal where we were immediately struck by how many bicycles were on the roads with many accommodations for the cyclists. 

On many streets bicycles had their own two-way section.

We saw people riding in specialized cycling clothes and regular work clothes.

We saw a number of people riding these shared bikes.

If there weren't specially built bike lanes, there was still no mistake that bikes have a right to the road here.

I really have no idea what our exact route was into Montreal. This will have to give you the general idea.

Chapter 19: On to Quebec

Day 11: Tuesday, July 4, 2017 
60 miles
Grand Isle State Park, Vermont, to St. Phillipe, Quebec

We got a reasonably early start today, on the road by 8:30. But our progress was halted temporarily while we waited for this bridge to settle down so we could continue on our way to North Hero Island.

Like a surfer coasting along the crest of a giant wave, we rode effortlessly along Route 2 through the Lake Champlain Islands. I spun my pedals easily at a steady tempo as I marveled at the occasional views of the lake, thankful for the smooth road, cool temperature, wide shoulder, and light traffic. Mornings like this are the pinnacle of bicycling.

And the terrific riding came with a happy memory. The first bicycle tour Rob and I took together was in Vermont. That was over thirty years ago. And we bicycled through these islands, mostly camping, but we treated ourselves to two nights at the North Hero House. I kept an eye out to see if it was still there, and it was. I remembered that we stayed in one of the units with a porch in front and a view of the lake. For a young couple starting out it was an extravagance. (Heck, it would be an extravagance even today.) 

Sitting at breakfast those many years ago, we looked out over the tennis courts. Rob had played tennis competitively in college; I had only played recreationally. This was a day off from bicycling for us and we thought it might be fun to give tennis a try. We asked the staff if they had racquets we could borrow. They did. And we had a fun time of it even though Rob was much better than I. So when we got home, we bought a racquet and shoes for me. But when we played again, it wasn't fun because Rob would send the ball along the sideline when I was standing in the middle and I couldn't possibly get to it in time. Or he'd put a spin on it and laugh when I swung my racquet where the ball looked like it was going. I got pissed off and told him that if he was going to play like that then I wasn't going to play at all because what was the point if all I did was spend the whole time running after balls I had no prayer of hitting.  

Rob decided that spending time together doing something he loved was more important than winning every point. So he started hitting the ball to me often enough to keep me in the game. He'd still throw in his trick shots, but occasionally he'd even let me win. It worked. Over thirty years later, we still play. And we've had many boisterous times on the courts playing doubles once our kids got old enough to join us.

Bicycling past the North Hero House opened up my box of tennis memories. And an appreciation of how my husband was willing to give up being competitive so that we could have so many terrific tennis moments together.

While we didn't stay overnight on North Hero Island this trip, we  did linger over some morning treats. 

What luck we had finding the Hero's Welcome General Store. Check out that cinnamon roll I am about to devour, and Rob's overflowing muffin. 

Still early on the 4th of July, we shared the outdoor cafe with a few birds looking for crumbs, enjoying the view and a cool morning breeze.

It was inevitable that we would run into a parade on this 4th of July. The road into the little town of Alburgh was closed, but we rode past the barrier anyway and got to town as the parade was in full gear. Having seen enough small town parades and not wanting to wait this one out, we walked alongside as quickly as possible until the crowds had thinned enough that we could get back on our bikes and head out of town.

Then we arrived at the Canadian border.

In my experience with border crossings the Canadian border control person is usually a lot nicer than the Americans. This guy was a little tight-assed though. He asked where we were going and we told him Montreal and around Quebec. He looked at our passports, then asked, "Where are you staying in Montreal?" 

I said, "I don't know the name of the place offhand, I could get it out for you, though." But I made no move to do so, because I had already decided it was too much trouble.

He did some more of whatever it is they do in the little booth on their computers then asked again, "Where are you staying in Montreal?"

I said, again, "I can't remember the name of the place. We're only going to be staying in Montreal two nights then we'll be camping around Quebec." I still made no move to look for our confirmation information. 

He asked one more time, then let it go, and let us go. And it was about time for lunch.

Do you remember what we had for dinner last night? It was definitely a bare-cupboard meal - Liptons soup, cheese and crackers, pistachios, M&Ms. We still hadn't found a grocery store so stopping at a restaurant for lunch seemed like a good idea. It was hot and we were hungry and, thinking we'd be sure to find a restaurant, we passed by a park where we could have eaten the bit of the lunch food we had left. We came across a rundown diner, but they didn't take credit cards and we had no Canadian cash. We kept riding. 

We rode through flat farmland. Lots of it, seemingly empty but for an occasional truck stop like you might find along a major highway.  After a while it got a little boring. Where were the quaint little towns? Evidently not in this part of Quebec. 

Finally we found a shady grassy spot next to a service station where we stopped to rest and refuel on what little snack food we had left.

Then, finally, we arrived at a small strip mall along the highway in Lacolle, with a grocery store and restaurant. I ordered poutine and a salad. The food was less than stellar but certainly many notches above last night's dinner. We lingered over lunch, sitting outside overlooking the parking lot. 

Our goal for today was to get as close to Montreal as possible, where we had a room booked for Wednesday and Thursday nights. We didn't find any provincial or national campgrounds in this part of Quebec, but an online search showed several private ones along the way. 

For the first time since we'd left home, we spent most of the day riding close together. I enjoyed having Rob's company nearby. 

We found a KOA in St. Philippe. It was not cheap; KOAs never are. It cost $46, but we were able to purchase a few luxuries that added to our enjoyment of the evening - beer, ice cream, and even a game of mini-golf. 

When we returned to our tent after playing mini-golf, I noticed dozens of twinkling lights. Fireflies! Growing up on Long Island, I'd spend many summer evenings catching them. But you just don't see them anymore and I often wondered, where did they go? And here they were. More than I'd ever seen in one place, a magical light show. 

We rode 60 miles, averaging 10 mph. We started at 8:30 am and stopped at 6 pm, with a two-hour stop for lunch and grocery shopping.

Chapter 18: A Stone's Throw Is All

Day 10: Monday, July 3, 2017

35 miles

Essex Junction to Grand Isle State Park, Vermont

It was a cold June morning in 2014 as the rain poured down on us while we stood at the end of a dirt road on South Hero Island looking out over Lake Champlain, hoping to see a ferry boat coming our way. We thought we were in the right place, but there was no one around to ask and we had expected something more than, well, nothing. Except a dock nearby so I guess that meant something. 

We could see a point of land about a hundred yards from where we stood, which was surprising because on our map there was no land between us and Burlington, which was where we were going on the ferry, if it ever came. 

"What do you suppose that is?" I asked Rob, pointing to the land that would be a stone's throw away, if I had ever mastered the art of throwing a stone.

"I have no idea."

We looked at our map and still couldn't see anything in the blue expanse of water. We were confused.

We had arrived about fifteen minutes early, so we waited. The rain came down and we were the only ones standing there, getting wet. I wondered if the ferry would run on a rainy day. I looked at my watch. Five minutes before the first scheduled ferry. I looked out over the water. Nothing.

Then we noticed some people moving around over on that little point of land, futzing around a boat on a dock. Then the boat came our way and in just a few minutes it pulled up to the dock where we waited. 

We walked over with our bikes.

"Is this the bike ferry?" I asked the guy who had lifted a bike off the boat onto the dock, handing it off to the passenger who had already disembarked.

"Sure is."

"How do you get to Burlington?"

He pointed to the land just a stone's throw away. "You ride down that bike path. It'll take you right into the city."

Oh. We thought the ferry took us right into the city.

"How far is it?"

"About ten miles."

We gave the guy five dollars for each of us and he put our bikes on the boat and it took about five minutes to get across to that spit of land. We could have easily swum it, but not with our bikes.

The cycling along the causeway - about three miles of it - was beautiful even in the rain, although we were a little nervous when we saw a pickup truck heading our way. The rain kept up and by the time we arrived in Burlington we were very wet. But the ferry experience and ride along the bike path was unique and fun and definitely worth repeating, hopefully on a sunny day. Which was one of the reasons why we had crossed back into Vermont on this trip, so that we could take the Island Line Bike Ferry to South Hero Island and then work our way north into Quebec.

When the day arrived for that second ferry experience, the sun was shining, not a drop of rain in the forecast. 

We slept until almost eight o'clock, a luxurious sleep-in for us. Lingering over breakfast, playing some music with Wendy and Steve, repacking our panniers with clean, dry laundry - oh, how good it felt to put on fresh riding clothes! -  checking the air in our tires, by the time we got on our bikes at 11:30 I was already thinking about lunch at an outdoor cafe on Burlington's pedestrian mall. 

We do look clean and refreshed, don't we?

Heading out Steve and Wendy's driveway, another riding day begins.

Burlington has a downtown pedestrian mall that would be sure to have some outdoor cafes. But when we arrived, we were overwhelmed by the crowds and underwhelmed by the mall itself. Designed by the same person who did the Pearl St. Mall in downtown Boulder, Colorado, it felt like the town forgot about landscaping the center of it. Where Boulder's version has gardens and sculptures and play areas, Burlington's has nothing but empty spaces. But given the crowds of people out walking and sitting outside enjoying lunch at the myriad restaurants, I had to figure that the people of Burlington enjoy their downtown mall just fine, probably not aware of the extra bits of beauty they are missing.

And where did the crowds come from? The town's 4th of July celebration was scheduled for that night and it looked like everyone took the day off from work to enjoy it. 

Needing to escape the crowds we went directly to the waterfront, but the restaurants there were crowded as well. We settled for a picnic lunch on the grass.

The view from Burlington looking out over Lake Champlain.

We followed the bike path out of Burlington and then, after several miles, came to the causeway that took us out into the lake.

And here's the ferry. It's run by volunteers and costs $5. We didn't have to wait long. It was mid-afternoon and most of the cyclists were going in the other direction, returning to Burlington.

Bikes with gear on them present a bit of a challenge for the ferry workers as they try to cram as many bikes onto the boat as possible. You can see the gap in the causeway in this picture. It's the shortest ferry ride we've ever taken.

Here's another view of the lake where the ferry crosses. You can see the cyclists waiting in line.

And another. 

Many riders take the ferry for a day ride on the islands. These folks were waiting for the return trip. Looked like they'd be there a while.

Once on South Hero Island we stayed off the main highway, riding on a dirt road that ran along the lake shore. And we passed hundreds of brightly colored bird houses.

Here's a closeup and the story I found on the internet: https://lakechamplainlife.com/south-hero-bird-house-forest/

We camped that night at Grand Isle State Park. Most Vermont state parks are on a lake, but the campsites are tucked in the woods with the mosquitoes and not much of a view. We discovered that we can have a more pleasant dining experience on the waterfront, at the swimming area. Tonight it was pleasant enough for a swim.

We started out the day low on food for dinner. When we didn't find any place to stop on our way to Burlington, we figured we'd find something on the islands. We didn't. So dinner was what we had on hand - cheese and crackers, Liptons chicken noodle soup, pistachios, and M&Ms. Thank goodness for the M&Ms. The view made up for the dinner.

As you can imagine from this hill profile, the day's riding was quite pleasant.