The Drive Thru

Yes, there I was at 5:30, standing at the drive thru window at Burger King, just me and a couple of seagulls, watching the sky turn pink. Well, I was watching; I think they were more interested in finding breakfast.

Such was my the desire for coffee, that I headed to McDonald’s, as it was reportedly open 24 hours, but it turned out only the drive thru was open, and the young woman would not let me walk through. Sigh. Next stop was Burger King, where I saw several women sitting inside. That looked hopeful. Upon seeing me, one woman waved towards the side of the building. As it turned out, she was an employee, gesturing me to the drive thru window where she kindly took my order, then put on a fresh pot of coffee for me. I thanked her profusely when she handed me a towering cup of coffee, and she said, in the loveliest voice, it’s my pleasure. I found it hard to imagine anything would be a pleasure after being up all night, but she smiled with genuine kindness. I suspect French and English are perhaps her second and third languages, and there I was barely managing one language at that hour.

I have been reminded throughout this trip, as I was on my last one, that it is often new Canadians who are working in the service industry, resourcefully recreating their lives in this country that  I have the privilege of cycling across.

Not yet 6:00 a.m, and already my day felt complete, but I still had a long way to go. I ventured to the hotel breakfast room, and after relishing a bowl of Cheerios, and preparing a bagel with peanut butter and banana for later, I then happily stuffed my pockets with extra provisions like sticks of cheese and mini packets of Nutella. Oh the joy!

Though I have never been able to pop a wheelie, or perform any other such tricks, today I mastered opening and consuming a packet of Nutella while in motion. A small trick, but a trick nonetheless, which I learned after being unable to endure the pestering of blackflies whenever I stopped. Even the most divine treat loses its appeal when those flies are biting you.

I was on Rte 148 again for much of the morning, but I did take a short detour through the trails of Parc national de Plaisance, where I met two lovely women, Sandy and Tem, who are hiking from Ottawa to Montreal, as part of a group called Chemin Des Outaouais. The organization coordinates hosts for the hikers, and then the hikers pick up food for themselves as they go along. They could not believe how little I was carrying for such a long trip, and I could not believe how much stuff they seemed to be lugging in their many packs. While I loved the idea of their trek, I was happy enough to be moving at 20-30 kms/hr rather than 5-7 kms/hr.

With a solid tailwind, I was moving right along, though I knew the latter part of the day through the busy streets of Vaudreuil-Dorion would be slow. Also, as a result of discovering the Oka ferry was not running (thank the lord I checked), I had to create a new route, taking the bridge from Grenville to Hawkesbury, which was actually easier and faster than waiting for the ferry, then navigating  from Hawkesbury to Vaudreuil-Dorion, which meant stopping to check my map every so often.

Suffice to say the latter part of my day proved more stressful, especially when the skies suddenly opened, requiring a quick stop to put my rain gear on, but here I am, at Motel le Marigot, with my bike cleaned, my laundry done, and my eyes about to close. Once again, dear reader, bonne nuit!

Cooler Temps Prevail

It’s not a catchy title, but I fear catchy titles are eluding me today. Perhaps it is a case of brain fog setting in after waking up at 4:30 to enjoy my first cup of coffee, and to work on the NYT games. How, by the way, is nonillion a word???

I had ordered a breakfast to go, since pickup was any time after 5:00, as opposed to waiting for the breakfast buffet at 7:00, so I trundled down at 5:30 with great anticipation, even though there was no mystery as I had put in my order the night before. Avoiding all meat options, I chose a bagel, cream cheese, and a bottle of water. The woman at reception even offered to toast my bagel. Heat really does wonders, and of course the cream cheese helped even if it took all of my dexterity to use a knife that was more determined to bend than to spread.

Having ridden this part of the route before, I felt less anxious about glitches in the mapping. I had planned to stay on the bike trails much of the day, but I confess I quickly found it slow going, and after being swarmed by a gang of mosquitoes, during which they went through my wallet, and helped themselves to my ID, I opted to get back on Rte 148, which followed the same route as the bike trail. I sailed along happily with a hefty but not crazy tailwind.

Once I reached the outskirts of Gatineau, I got on the paved bike path that took me all the way downtown, winding along the Ottawa River which was all but overflowing its banks. It clearly had overflowed them in recent months, leaving lots of wreckage. There were three or four places where the trail was closed for repair, but it was easy enough to follow the detours before leaving the trail for the motel, less than a kilometre up the street.

The most painful part of the day was checking into the hotel, which turned out to be a glacial process. Not understanding French, I was unclear what the issue was with one of the guests ahead of me, but he occupied the older male receptionist for a good 10 minutes, while the young female receptionist spent about 5 minutes stapling and collating papers between each of the guests ahead of me. Or perhaps she was simply busy plotting the death of her jovial colleague who seemed to have no sense of urgency as the line in front of him grew.

I stood with sweat trickling down, wanting only to remove my helmet and to wash my face. Once it was my turn, and I had made it clear that I had ridden my bike (thus the helmet), and had no car to register, I was given my magic room key, and off I went. It might be the exact same room I stayed in before.

The highlight of the day was the discovery of a pho noodle restaurant right up the street, where I ordered  an amazing shrimp and crispy noodle dish. Add to that a local cider, and you have a perfect post-ride dinner.

Now it is time for bed. Going to aim for an early departure again tomorrow in hopes of reaching the quiet trails before the commuters set out. Bonne nuit!

From Hypothermia to Heat Rash

If you put last Saturday and today beside each other, you would be hard pressed to find two more different days, wild though they both may have been.

Whereas Saturday brought its fury in the form of cold, lashing rain, and a relentless east wind, today’s theatrics came in the form of sweltering heat and ferocious winds out of the west.

On Saturday, I avoided stopping, for fear of hypothermia setting in. Today I stopped often to avoid overheating like those cars you see on the side of the road, with their hoods up, and steam rising from the engine. As it was my face was a big red ball, and my legs were covered in a heat rash. I’ll spare you the photos; think chicken pox on a youngster, then add the wrinkles of a non-youngster. Take my word for it, not pretty.

But heat rash and overheated face aside, it was a pretty swell day. Setting out from Whitney at 7:00, I paused briefly at the Opeongo River, which, along with the Madawaska River, is popular for white water paddling; it looked so serene in the early morning.

By the time I got to Barry’s Bay at 9:30, the heat was rising, and having only had my instant brew in the morning, I was thrilled to find Madawaska Coffee, where the young barista made me an iced latte. I also got two monster cookies for later. Yes, I did say two. Monster though they were, it was a long day of pedalling with over 1300 meters of climbing. I wasn’t going to manage that on love alone.

The wind really started kicking up as the morning went along. While first nudging me gently, it then started thrusting me down the highway, which was all very appealing, but for the occasional gust from the side, especially while descending some of the longer hills. All you can do is hang onto your brake hoods, and hold yourself steady on the bike. Well you could pray if you were inclined, or let Jesus take the wheel so to speak, but I found my methods worked well enough.

The route was pretty straight forward today, but for one section taking me south of highway 60 onto some quieter roads, including some gravel. All I could think of, as I climbed the sandy, rutted gravel was how brutal it would be to ride on were it wet and muddy. The route tried to take me on a road with a no exit sign, so I had to go another four kilometres south on the sandy washboard gravel, before I could reroute myself north. Other than that glitch, after which I got back in the highway, the day ran pretty smoothly.

I would have loved to take video of Golden Lake, where the wind was creating white caps, but there was debris blowing up from the shore, and I didn’t fancy the notion of getting hit with fallen branches while trying to video the waves smashing, and the trees thrashing.

From the town of Golden Lake, I headed north and then east into Pembroke.. The back roads outside of Pembroke were pretty, with lots of trees blossoming, but it was clearly a special garbage pick up day, as people had piled up broken furniture, tires, and even the odd mattress at the end of their driveways. I was struck by one house where, amongst a tower of garbage, I spied a sewing machine with the needle still threaded. A few yards past the house, I saw a spool of thread, as if it was trying to escape the sad heap of garbage into which it had been flung. Having been a terrible seamstress, sewing the shakiest of seams on sad tote bags, I could envision myself marching a sewing machine out to the curb, though I would like to believe I would offer it a better home than a landfill site.

Passing by the sad spool of thread, I had only a few more turns to make before I reached the Best Western. My final turn took me directly into construction and the wind, suddenly a making the last 500 meters of the day the hardest and the grittiest.

I was all too happy to roll my bike into my swell suite with a separate living room and two tvs. An embarrassment of riches really. The walk-in shower and spacious room were all I needed to recover from the day. I even made it down to the fitness center, where I did some much needed stretching.

Now it is time for some dinner, before my eyes close. Tomorrow, I will head for Gatineau, and much of the ride will be on the bike trails of Quebec. The weather looks much cooler, she whispered happily, so as to avoid offending those readers longing for summer.