Singing in the rain: memories of Gaspé 2003

(The Big Wild is hosting a contest 'Singing in the Rain' contest to celebrate outdoor activities enhanced (?) by rain. This recalled one of my wet cycling adventures.)

I was worried when I signed up for an August 2003 week-long trip of cycling 700km over the hilly terrain of the Gaspésie, along with 2000 other cyclists. It was going to be my first time cycling this much distance day after day, so I trained very hard in the prior months. Almost as anxiety-provoking, it would also be my first time camping.

Everything went well - beyond my wildest expectations. My legs were well prepared and I enjoyed pedalling through the beautiful, though sometimes challenging, terrain. Camping - with a borrowed tent and borrowed camping mattress - was fine too, and I slept well each night. The biggest surprise was getting used to showering in ice-cold water every day; our campsites weren't up to the task of providing hot water to 2000 people.

About half way through the week, though, it started to rain; and then it rained for about 30 hours non-stop, with the only variations being how heavy it might rain and how hard the wind might blow. So after cycling that first day of rain, I arrived at our schoolground campsite, body soaked and spirits chilled. I struggled to put up my tent in the heavy rain; the strong wind was loud enough to mask the chattering of my teeth; but eventually I got the tent up. Cold, gritty, and in a foul mood, I sought warmth and dry refuge inside the school, but I was too distracted by my anger even to want to take advantage of the hot water that, at the point, was still flowing in the shower stalls. I hung out for a while, warmed up a bit, pretended to be dry, regained my presence of mind, and noticed the organisers were converting rooms inside the school into emergency dormitories. The spaces were being claimed quickly by dispirited cyclists. I planned to transfer to the dormitory, so I returned to my tent to take it down, expecting to find a soaking mess.

But something wonderful happened. My tent was dry in mid-afternoon, it was still dry after supper, and it stayed dry all night. Some other tents blew down in the wind in the middle of the night. Some other tents leaked. Some others spent the night inside shared close quarters with hundreds of snorers. It would be another day before I saw blue sky even intermittently, but that night in my tent, I was dry and cozy as a symphony of wind, rain, and flapping nylon sang me to sleep.

Cyclostravaganza 2007, Day 2: Frelighsburg QC to Island Pond VT

On the way from my campground back to Frelighsburg, I passed by a federal government installation for the Frelighsburg Experimental Farm, with barbed wire to keep out unwelcome visitors - squirrels? I wondered what they might experiment here, up in the hills abutting the US border. Organic apples? Or genetically modified goldenrod that can spy on your neighbour?


I cycled over Mount Pinnacle which was a surprisingly challenging climb, as in not impossible but harder than expected. It was worth the climb, as it offered magnificent views of Vermont's Green Mountains and New York's Adirondacks.

I stopped at the, er, pinnacle of my climb at the Pinnacle cider works for some refreshments (fudge, juice) before heading on...

...to Abercorn, Quebec. Part of the segment was, if memory serves correctly, unpaved, but not a problem. In Abercorn I was really looking forward to the bakery my former neighbours so raved about. To my dismay it was closed, but I did find a bike shop where I pumped my tires and chatted with a very friendly proprietor about my planned cycling itinerary. I'm glad to have met him - he gave me some good advice for cycling through the White Mountains (New Hampshire), steering me away from the busy hilly road I'd planned for, to a more gentle, quiet road I could take. He said that would be the best part of my entire trip.

After Abercorn came another more-than-respectable climb over one side of Mount Sutton past Glen Sutton into the Missisquoi Valley. This was the where I'd hoped to camp on my first night, but hadn't "quite" made it what with my late departure and heavy load. This valley is a very beautiful ride though the road is a bit bumpy.

After Glen Sutton, the rest of the day's ride ran mostly parallel to rail-lines, either Northern Vermont or the historic St. Lawrence & Atlantic, so there were no more serious mountains, though there were plenty of smaller hills.

I missed taking a picutre of the ridiculously attractive former train station in Highwater, Quebec, and then I crossed the border at North Troy, Vermont. I was really concerned I might have to unpack all my bags, not because I had anything to hide, but because everything just (barely) fit when packed just so. Fortunately the American border guard was extremely kind; in fact, we spent a lot of time chatting about McGill University, where he'd hoped his child would study. Said child chose Columbia, or some other expensive university in New York City.

My cell phone was supposed to work only in Canada, but I was able to send a few last text messages to Gillian C. while in northern Vermont. Isn't northern Vermont an honorary part of Canada anyway?

I kept seeing very lovely yellow lilies:


...growing wild in the ditch in Northern Vermont.

The road through Newport Center, Newport, Derby Center, Charleston, East Charleston, to Island Pond was very scenic in that typical New England way, mixing farms, villages, forest, and clapboard houses.

I'd hoped to make it to Maidstone State Park that night, but I wasn't going to make it that far, what with my shortfall on day 1 and a late departure on this my second day, so I camped instead at Island Pond. I wanted to camp in the state park, but it seemed to have closed before I arrived, so instead I camped at a private park on another part of the lake. It was very nice but a tad louder than I'd hoped for. All I can say is that jet-skis are the bane of modern civilization.

I left my campground in Frelighsburg around 11:30am (it's hard to get going in the mornings, between having breakfast and packing up your travelling domus) and arrived around 6:45pm in Island Pond, Vermont. My cyclometer tells me I was actually pedalling for 5 hours, 18 minutes, but I really didn't stop much more than to have lunch, cross the border, pump tires, and take a few pictures. Those stops do add up fast though.

DAILY CYCLING STATS
MXS   58.7
AVS   21.7
DST  115.23
TIM 5:18:16

Cyclostravaganza 2007, Day 1: Montreal to Frelighsburg, Quebec

I headed out around 12:45. I was giddy with excitement as I realised that after months of preparation, I was finally doing it - I was finally embarking on a 2-week mostly-solo cycling trip from Montreal to Cape Breton. Giddy exhilaration overtook me!

I stopped at a fresh-fruit kiosk in Chambly for some raspberries before continuing along the Chambly Canal, and after St-Jean-sur-Richelieu, briefly took the Montérégiade bike trail. After Montreal and the suburbs, the motorists in Kempt and environs seemed particulary kind.

I made a very short detour into Mystic, Quebec, for 2 very worthwhile stops. L'oeuf is delightfully self-described as a restaurant, auberge, chocolatrie et micro-brûlerie (229 chemin Mystic, Mystic QC, J0J 1Y0, 450-248-7529). While L'oeuf is normally closed on Mondays, the owner saw my pathetic dejected face at his front door, had mercy on me, and served up a delightful espresso and house-made sour-cherry sorbet. With difficulty I resisted the imported cookies, chocolates, jams, jellies, and everything else that would weigh me down further and headed out, but not before stopping next door for the famous 12-sided barn.

In northern New England and parts of south-eastern Quebec, there was a tradition of building round barns so that there would be no corners wherein the devil might hide. Building circular is difficult, so perhaps that's why someone built a remarkable 12-sided barn in Mystic. Are 12 corners safer than 4?


Past Mystic, the flatlands of Montérégie were definitely behind me, and I was into the delightful rolling terrain of the Eastern Townships, with walnut groves, pine stands, and a street named Val-qui-rit. (I burst into Wagnerian laughter a little too late to photograph that one.) Between my late departure and the weight of all my gear slowing me down, I didn't make it as far as I had hoped, so I camped in Frelighsburg. By the time I set up my tent, and biked back into town, I discovered that there were no restaurants where I could eat supper; one was closed for the holidays, the other closed for the day. It wasn't the ideal meal, but the gas-station dépanneur convenience store did provide enough sustenance. Not quite the meal I was hoping for, but all in all, a marvelous day.

DAILY CYCLING STATS
MXS  51.0
AVS  22.7
DST 121.14