Our last day of cycling is here. Non! As we wait for the dining room to open for breakfast, we take a few moments to reflect on our adventure, to remember it now while it is fresh, to help us remember in the days, weeks, months, and years to come. When that day arrives when we cannot do this anymore. But today is not that day.
There are 33 kilometers from The Alpine Inn to the end of the line. Thirty-three kilometers to Saint-Jèrôme, where our car and civilization await. On this cool, grey morning we are in no hurry. We have breakfast with the same guests we dined with the night before. Breakfast is served buffet style and pleasantries are exchanged, in French of course, as we take turns feeding
bagels and bread into the toaster. Unfortunately, my “please and thank you” came out in German which was an awkward but effective icebreaker. Everyone switched to English and the friendliness and hospitality of the Canadians continued.
The young man who retrieved our bicycles wrote out turn-by-turn directions for a secret way back to the trail. It would still be a climb, he cautioned, but we shouldn't have to walk our bikes the entire way back up.
He was correct, and in less than two miles (full disclosure: felt like more!) we were back on the trail. And heading downhill!
The pretty little town of Sainte-Adèle is about 5 miles away at km 25. It is a golfing community, and we see beautifully manicured course after course across the river we are following. Small groups of golfers are at every tee and green. On the far edge of the course are beautiful homes, built to resemble the much smaller log and stone homes in the surrounding villages.
In a blink, we leave the duffers behind and enter the thick forest once again. Almost on cue the chipmunks reappear, patiently perched on the edge of the trail until just before we are even with them when they dart out in front of us to cross to the other side. Are they suicidal? Adolescent daredevils? Thrill-seekers looking for a rush? What instinct makes them run into the trail rather than into the brush? I have had over 100 miles to ponder this question and have yet to find a plausible explanation.
The rhythm and quiet of the ride are hypnotic, and I am lulled into an easy downhill coast when I am suddenly startled by a pair of huge brown eyes.
A doe and her fawn have stopped their grazing to watch us pass. I braked so hard my tires slid in the loose pea gravel as I brought my bike around. Would she let me snap a picture? No, not today. My memory is all I will have of this encounter at km 27.
We enjoyed our final second breakfast at km 16, eating the last of our food pouch. We timed it just right and will arrive at the end of the trail empty. A hardboiled egg and coffee for me, the last of the baked goods for Ron.
The sky has gotten steadily darker, and we can smell and sense rain is near. In all of our biking (six countries, Ron reminds me: Germany, France, Austria, Italy, America, and now Canada) we have yet to be caught in a rainstorm. We are long overdue. We decide to try to keep our record intact, and we fly to the finish.
Was it only four days ago we stood under this arch, marking km zero? The café at the trailhead, Vert Vert, is open. We found a table outside, under an umbrella just in case, and enjoyed one last meal with our Canadian hosts.
Merci, Canada. And to those who rode along: “Au revoir, y'all!”
Bike Talk
Sainte-Adèle (km 33) to Saint-Jèrôme (km 0)
Biking Distance: 22.1 miles (35.5 km)
Biking Time: 2 hours, 10 minutes
Average Speed: 10.2 mph
Top Speed: 19.4 mph
Random observations of our adventure on Le P’Tit Train du Nord, in no particular order:
Scenery. We know we are not in America. The trees, lakes, and streams are similar to those at home, yet somehow unique. Taller. Greener. Unspoiled. The openness and the vastness of the land and sky.
Culture. The friendliness of the people: our hosts, fellow travelers, and the people that we meet.
Surprises. Ron: I didn't see evidence of the old towns along the rail line. Linda: I was surprised at how quickly I felt absorbed into the land and the culture. The more I travel, the quicker it happens. The language no longer seems foreign or alien. The people are no longer strangers, but friends, cohorts, and co-conspirators. It is like we are discovering and sharing a secret that binds us together.
The Mountains. We are in the mountains, but we cannot see the mountains. We are always either on top of the range or slicing through it, but we never see other mountains in the distance.
Best Breakfast – Au Beau Soliel, Mont-Tremblant. The Gite de la Pisciculture, St. Faustin-Lac-Carré, is a very close second!
Best Meal – Golf Hôtel, Nominingue.
Best Shower – Auberge L’Ile de France, Nominingue
Most Extraordinary Spectacle – the chipmunks. They were nuts!
Most Remote Section: The top 50 km, from Mont-Laurier to Nominingue (making it Linda’s favorite section!)
Biggest Regret – Not packing a swimsuit.
Bike Talk – Final Totals
Mont-Laurier (km 201) to Saint-Jèrôme (km 0)
Actual Biking Distance: 136.25 miles (220 km)
Actual Biking Time: 14 hours, 14 minutes
Average Speed: Too much math involved to calculate today
Top Speed: 24.1 mph
Number of times maxed out low end gears: 2 (both Linda)
Number of times bikes had to be walked up impossibly steep hill from B&B to the trail: 1. But only for a short distance!
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