Finishing Strong

When I poked my head out of my tent at 7:30 am, the wind was already howling.
Oh well, I only had to go 25 km to the ferry for the first leg of the day, and what's another headwind after so many?
However, I would soon discover that not only did I misjudge the direction of the ferry landing relative to the wind, the shoulder for the last rip on the Trans Canada was smooth and wide. So I sailed down to the landing in good time, not feeling any of the exhaustion lurking below the surface.
I passed the ferry trip eating free cheese samples, charging my phone, and reading a newspaper. I know, boring, boring. But I've spent the last two weeks along the Gulf of St. Lawrence, so it's nothing new.
As we docked, I headed on deck to give Nova Scotia a strict first assessment.
Much more wooded than PEI, and yep. Sure enough there were some decent hills lurking menacingly in the background.
I let all the vehicles disembark before hopping back in the saddle and enjoying a highway totally free of traffic for about 10 km.
Continuing on to New Glasglow, I passed several lumber mills, filling the air with billowing smoke and the acrid, metallic tang of chemicals. Lovely.
Stopping in town for groceries, pints and a new book, I chatted with the bartender at Backstage Brewing for a bit before heading out for an "easy" ride another 25 km to a campground.
I probably should have checked the elevatiom profile.
As I left New Glasgow, the road began winding up. Waiting for the eventual downhill, I plodded on. The road kept going up.
And up.
And up.
For the entire 25 km I climbed over what is apparently the easternmost foot of the Appalachian Mountains. Wow! The more you know! Sure enough, the campground was smack at the top, and after so many long, tiring days and a small mountain, I was pooped.
I had expected a gas station or convenience store enroute and being wrong, I had to make do with only my instant rice dinner and pop tarts for snacking. Oh well, I still filled up and then had a chat with the guy who runs the park and campground. He offered me a small bottle of maple syrup produced on property and I graciously accepted. It will go well with my oatmeal for the last few days on the road. The day wasn't too bad even. I did manage to sew up my pants and lube my chain before calling it an early night.
I'm going to attempt a run to Lunenberg and back up to the Halifax Airport by Sunday morning, but if it doesn't work out, oh well. Only 3 more days on the bike and man am I looking forward to my soft bed and warm shower in the Yukon.
As I ran out of purification tabs the day before, I risked drinking the water right from the tap, despite a boil water recommendation. I like to live dangerously.
I didn't find my downhill for a while. The morning started with a ride along a hilltop ridge for an hour. Luckily the road was good and traffic nonexistant. I put on some tunes and had a nice ride.
Descending into the valley, it started to get less enjoyable. Remote woodlands gave way to small farms, rusted cars, and potholed roads. Truck traffic increased and the local populace emerged as mainly surly, overweight white dudes. It seems I charted a course through Rednecktopia.
As I went along, I passed through much of the same, with some rolling hills thrown in. The shoulder was nonexistant, food and water were hard to find, and garbage was everywhere. Garbage in the ditch, in people's yards, in the parking lots.
Nova Scotia is edging down below Northern Ontario on the Provincial Rating Scale.
I stopped at a small ballpark for lunch and tried to settle some last minute escape plans. I needed to find camping, as I discovered that the imminent Long Weekend meant that campsites were hard to come by, and I still needed to book a car rental.
After an hour of data usage and phone calls, I called it good enough and took off. Turning onto a "feeder highway", I assumed that traffic would be low and it would be a relaxing afternoon ride to some camping.
I was so very wrong.
The road was in bad shape, no shoulder, potholes, etc. And the traffic was abysmal. Drivers were doing minimum 20 km/hr over the speed limit, passing me with less than 2 ft space, often shouting or laying on the horn at my audacity to ride a bicycle within 5 km of them.
The transport trucks were the worst. Passing as close as possible, at 90 km/hr, ingnoring blind corners and hilltops. I began filming with my action camera just in case I needed evidence at at hit and run trial.
To make matters worse, the road wound over a series of hills, into a headwind. And then it started pouring rain.
Things were grim. But what could I do? I just turned my pedals, secured my wallet and phone in a pannier and toughed it out to camping.
When I rolled in, I negotiated a very costly site for the night (frickin long weekends...) and set up camp. I came close to a nervous breakdown when the wind blew my action camera off the charger and into a dense bush, making me think it had been stolen until I got down on all fours and conducted an extensive search.
Then my thigh cramped up as I couldn't believe, making me feel like someone hooked a car battery up to my quadriceps.
Eventually though, the cramp passed.
I made dinner and hung up my damp clothes and read my new book.
I slept the best sleep for weeks.
The next day I cooked breakfast and determined my stove fuel may only have enough oomph for one more meal.
Pie for breakfast Saturday? I think so.
I braved the rigours of Highway 14 again, but the traffic was much better. I made it into Windsor by 11 am, grabbing one last rice dinner from Sobeys before hitting up the local cafe and brewery. I have campsites booked for tonight and Saturday and booked a car online for Sunday. Things are starting to shuffle into place.
It only took a shott effort to get back up into the hills to the campground. I set up, killed a nearby pallet for wood, then cooked some curry rice over the fire before discovering some wild blackberries, reading and going to bed.
The next day I did my best to drain the dregs of gas from my last canister. No good though, still a dribble left. Oh well, it can heat some coffee tomorrow.
I had camping booked in Renfrew that night and was looking at a 35 km ride on bad roads or a 100 km ride on unknown roads.
Easy choice. It's my last full day on the bike (only biking to the airport Sunday to rent a car), so I must obviously do the 100 km of mystery.
A little unnerved by the number of geographical features ahead of me with "hill" or "mountain" in their name, I took off. Sure enough, a few short winds took me up the side of the local hill for 10 km straight. Google Maps informed me that it would be all downhill from my 11 am snack break, but as always, my heart was subsequently broken by a series of winding hills.
I dipped briefly down into Sackville before turning north again and hitting the first good cycling road I have yet found in Nova Scotia. No shoulder, except in parts, but traffic was good and the surface was smooth. I passed the first cyclists I have yet seen in Nova Scotia.
A quick stop in Enfield for an Irving lobster roll and then I hit up Sobeys.
Being my last night camping, I went in for a feast of watermelon, corn chips, pie and beer.
Whew, gonna need to start cutting firewood asap when I get home. The calories are starting to pile up.
I spent the last night polishing off a book, feasting, and double checking bookings for my return home.
Just a quick visit to Halifax, Calgary and then it's home.
Looking back over pictures of the trip, I am having trouble believing it's over. Surely there is another cloud to gaze at, another hill to struggle over, better coffee and beer and donuts somewhere down the road...
But all journeys must end. Time to return to the Yukon and try processing four months of incredible travel.
But first, Halifax!

Beer was decent, decor was a solid 10

Need this range for my future cabin/shack

I was told Irving's big stop was the place for lobster rolls. It was alright-ish.

New Brunswick Review

Considered doing a joint review for New Brunswick and PEI, since I spent so little time in either place, but after doing a loop of the island, decided I had some unique thoughts and would do two short reviews.
Well, that being said, here's how I felt about New Brunswick:

Time spent in New Brunswick: 4 days
Distance pedalled: ~415 km
Lobsters consumed: zero! I'll have to do it in Nova Scotia
Beers drank: 7
Bakeries visited: zero! Couldn't find any that looked decent!
Average cost for unserviced tenting: 30$/night
Favourite town: Shediac
Least Favourite Town: Dalhousie
Best road: Highway 11, not sure why I ever bothered getting off it
Worst road: Highway 134 from Kouchibougac to St. Louis-De-Kent

Good: People in New Brunswick are so friendly and generous!
Many people stopped to talk to me in grocery stores and such. Not to mention that I got a free campsite, and had people offering to pick me up groceries when they went to town; it was amazing!
Since I was mostly cycling in the more rural areas away from Moncton and Fredricton, traffic was often low. Drivers were more or less courteous about getting past me.
For the most part, hills were low and gradual, a nice change from the 15% gradients of Quebec.
Also seemed to be many good spots for wild camping, if you're into that kind of thing.

Bad: Road conditions, especially on the secondary highways that Google Maps enjoyed routing me through, were poor. Very poor.
Large cracks and potholes were common, and the surface was often a bit rougher. Definitely not fun to ride on.
While the main highways were generally nicer, there was the downside of increased traffic and transport trucks. Also, Highway 8 became somewhat scary when it began winding up long hills with only an 8 inch wide, crumbling shoulder for protection.
And no cycling infrastructure! I saw maybe 6 other people on bicycles the entire time I was in NB, and it wasn't until Shediac that I saw a pitiful bike lane and realized the government even knew that bicycles existed.
I also found that the cities I went through (Campbellton, Bathurst, Miramichi) were pretty boring and a bit run down. There was not a lot of interest to see or do in New Brunswick.

The round up: Very nice people. Cycling is hit and miss, but not horrible, despite the total lack of infrastructure.
Best described as the Saskatchewan of the Maritimes; windy, a bit boring, and not much there. At least Saskatchewan had cheap camping though. I hear Fredricton and Moncton are a bit nicer but they were too out of the way for a visit. It should also be noted that I was extremely fatigued during my short Tour de New Brunswick, and that may have coloured this review.

PEI Review

Here's the review for Canada's smallest province:

Days spent in PEI: 2
Distance pedalled: 195 km
Beers drank: 5, and one cider
Bakeries visited: 1, had a decent meat pie
Best road: Highway 2 from Summerside I guess
Worst road: by far the Trans Canada from Charlottetown to Wood Islands
Average cost for unserviced camping: 32$

Good stuff:
PEI is mostly quiet farmland. It is theoretically a very nice place to ride a bicycle, and I had some nice calming moments riding past pitcuresque scenery.
The PEI Brewing Company in Charlottetown is also quite nice.

Things I did not like:
Way, way too touristy. Everything seems aimed at maximizing tourist revenue, which I found meant that towns had a mix of cheesy tourist shops or big chain stores. Very few authentic, down to earth cafes or stores. .
The best stuff was in the small, unremarkable seaside towns inbetween the cities and the tourist traps.
Beer selection at the provincial liquor stores is pathetic. Two or three local beers and then just your standard Coors, Bud, Canadian.
Then, there's the drivers. PEI has some of the worst drivers I have seen in the country. See the side story for details.
Not sure if it is normally this bad, but there were an astounding number of mosquitoes. I only spent two nights but probably suffered as many bites as I did in the entirety of Ontario.

Overall:
Didn't really like it. I went in with high hopes, and the scenery was nice, but anything that may have been fun to check out was flogged to death for tourist bucks. Couldn't find a decent coffee shop to save my life and the camping was expensive and full of mosquitoes.
Some of the seafood places looked nice, but I was trying to budget my calorie intake and spending and gave them a skip. Final word: better than Northern Ontario, but not by much.

Side Story: The drivers of Charlottetown

While negotiating my way through Charlottetown, I had a number of encounters with poor or clueless drivers that I felt warranted its own post.

As I'm approaching an intersection, I go into the left turn lane. I see a woman approaching with her right turn indicator on. As she has the right of way, I begin slowing down.
Then I see her staring me down with a mixture of confusion and panic and begin to worry.
Not wanting to miss the light or come to a complete stop, I begin frantically waving her on and mouthing "Go, Go, Go".
She moves forward two feet into the intersection. Stops.
At this point, I'm almost at a complete stop. Still waving her on.
She gives me a little wave. Beckoning me forward.
Rolling my eyes, I begin to make my turn.
She looks to the right, begins turning again, looks up, sees me coming, jumps a foot in the air and slams on her brakes.
I also slam on my brakes. Increase the tempo of my wave to furious levels.
She finally turns, I turn.

Minutes later, I'm cycling down a different road.
Different woman drives up behind me. As she goes by we make eye contact and then go abouy piloting our respective vehicles.
About 5 seconds later, she executes a hard right hand turn, no blinker, no slowing down.
I brake as hard as possible and dodge out into the vehicle lane. Luckily no one was coming.
As she pulls into a parking spot, I consider chasing her down and yelling at her but it seems like too much effort.

And finally, I am just leaving Charlottetown on the Trans Canada.
There is a lot of traffic, and the shoulder isn't too wide, but it's nothing I haven't encountered dozens of times.
Now, let me preface this by saying, I could have been about 8 inches farther over. But I was well within the white line, holding a straight line of travel, and the other 100 vehicles that passed leading up to this incident had no problems with me.
So, as I cycle along I hear a city bus coming up behind me. No problem, I've been passed by dozens of city buses on this trip.
But then he goes by.
Closely.
Like, 2 inches or less from hitting my rear panniers. If I stuck my elbow out or scratched my back as he approached he would have smashed right into my arm.
I stop peddaling for a second. Then collect myself and wave angrily at him/her.
They keep driving and pull away from me.
So I pull over a little ways down the road where there's a wider shoulder, look up the number for the bus company and report it.
Unfortunately, the only details I can give are time and place. And with no video evidence, it's unlikely the driver will even get a slap on the wrist over it.
This is just the reality of cycling though. Sooner or later you will encounter that one driver who doesn't notice you or doesn't care.

Tired nights and Mosquito Bites

Woke up around the normal time, albiet on Atlantic time. Feeling a bit tired, took some extra time with my morning coffee and sat around a bit.
I planned a slightly longer day past Shediac, but with numerous bailout points inbetween I wasn't too worried about making it too hard on myself.
Headed back over to Highway 11 and followed it until the shoulder narrowed and the traffic got on my nerves. I tried out a side highway but soon discovered it was filled with an incredible number of potholes, cracks and bumps. My poor bike.
After lunch I cut back and forth between Highway 11 and the side highways. The wind was up again today, and more often in my face than not. Still, I made Shediac by 3:30, did some shopping, took my pictutes of the giant lobster, and grabbed some ice cream. While walking over to a shady area to enjoy my ice cream I was engaged in conversation by a woman sitting on the porch. Ended up eating the entire cone while chatting before I had to break away before it got too late.
I pushed on another 20 km to do a full day of 135 km. The campground I had chosen seemed quiet and well reviewed. As I pulled in at 5:30, the owners, Betty and her husband (Mike???) greeted me, and Betty offered me a free spot for the night. As I tried to wave it off, telling her I'm not riding for charity, she assured me it was fine, as her son was also a dedicated traveller and she felt the need to mother other travellers. She even set me up with a lawn chair and encouraged me to check out the beach. Score.
After a shower, I walked on the beach to dry off and had a dinner of wild blueberry-yogurt parfait and mushroom instant rice. The setting sun left me a little time for reading before I called it a day.
I did have to ask some kids (ie: teenagers) to stop playing in the field immediately next to my tent so I could sleep. I'm officially an old man.
On to PEI tomorrow for a few days. I have 6 days before I need to get to Halifax, and it will only take me 4 to get there. Need to find one more little detour after PEI I think...
I was woken up by the urgings of my bladder and the soft drizzle of rain across my tent fly.
As I crawled back into my sleeping bag I wasn't too worried, as the rain was light. When I woke up shortly after to sunrise and harder showers, I began to plan for a wet day.
Luckily, the rain cleared as I sipped coffee and spooned oatmeal from my blue, plastic mug. I said my goodbyes to the campground hosts, and headed out onto the slightly wet highways.
Winding my way through a backcountry highway, I drained my snack supplies at lunch, shortly before reaching the Confederation Bridge. Not being allowed to cycle on the Bridge itself, I waited 45 minutes for the shuttle bus, buying myself an ice cream cone and doing battle with the cloud of mosquitoes that popped up as a result of the rain and marshy shores of southern New Brunswick.
Zooming across to PEI, the morning's last clouds cleared and I cycled through pleasant, quiet farmlands to Summerside.
During the final approach and while on my customary end of day grocery trip,  I was feeling super tired. Still feeling some effects of the one month stretch between rest days. Only 5 days left though, may as well tough er out. I made a last minute campground change when I noticed the provincial park was about 2$ cheaper and 2 km closer.
Since I am on PEI, I made a dinner of (instant) potatoes before doing some laundry and small chores. Putting off the remaining planning for the last week through Nova Scotia and Halifax, I escaped the mosquitoes into my tent.
Another night of poor sleep. Maybe I should stop drinking coffee as I cook dinner.
Feeling really tired again today but the schedule only calls for a leisurely tour of the island, so I may be okay.
I left the campground around 9 am, minus a few pints of blood. Seriously, the mosquitoes are unbelievable in the Maritimes right now. On par with rural Saskatchewan in June.
Leaving the campground, I caught onto a southerly wind. While this helped me north to Cavendish, some 50 km away, I saw it as a bad sign, as the lion's share of my ride (70 km) would be heading south.
I soon discovered that PEI is anything but flat and relaxed. I spent the day climbing a series of rolling ridges and short hills.
Still, I got into Cavendish a bit earlier than expected and had a coffee and protein bar lunch. I went to check out the Anne of Green Gables attractions but was disappointed to see most of the area occupied by tacky tourist shops and amusement parks. I passed on the Green Gables heritage site, as it was under construction and required paid entry. Not worth it for a few photos.
Heading south into the 40 km/hr headwind, I worked my way up some more hills towards Charlottetown. After some interesting driver experiences and a scary near miss (more in a side story) I headed into the brewery.
Nice interior, good beer, and I relaxed a bit after a hard day.
Then it was back to the slog for another 40 km to the campground.
Heading along the Trans Canada out of town, I was coming up on a bridge when I heard a familiat flub flub sound from my rear tire.
My heart sank.
Sure enough, there was a sturdy roofing nail firmly entrenched in my inner tube. Fueled by frustration and a desire to just get the day over with, I executed probably my fastest tube change to date. My thumbs were iron wedges of anger, winching the tire back onto the rim in no time. Some quick grocery shopping, then a long, slow ride.
After setting up camp, I was too tired to do much else than eat, shower, and ignore the mounting list of shit that needs doing. Oh well, heading into Nova Scotia tomorrow and maybe I can do a half day and curtail my side trio plans in order to get some things done before I get to Halifax.
Flying out to Calgary in a week and having mixed feelings. At this point, I'm exhausted and just plain tired of bicycle touring. I want to cook real meals and bake and make beer.
But I still want to keep moving. To see something new each day and try new food and beer.
Still, it will good to go home and begin digesting the experiences from the four longest months of my life.
But tomorrow, Nova Scotia. One day at a time.

Not pictured: mosquitoes

The shuttle to PEI, no bikes allowed!

The work IS the fun though >:(

Mending flats in all the wrong places

Quebec Review

Well, another big province behind me. Only three more ahead, assuming I make it to PEI.
Here's my reflections and results from La Belle Province.

Days spent in Quebec: 17
Days spent on the bike: 17, no rest days for this machine
Distance pedalled: ~ 1650 km
Elevation gained: no idea but over 13 000 m for sure
Patisseries visited: innumerable
Beers drank: many

Best beer: some saison I bought at a depanneur in Montreal that I can't even remember the brewery of.
Best pastry: Chacun son Pain; Beaupre
Best coffee: Cafe British; Aylmer
Favourite grocery store: IGA for sure
Favourite town/city: tough call, probably Montreal
Least favourite town/city: Riviere du Loup
Best riding: along Highway 138 from Montreal to Quebec, take me back to those days please
Worst riding: toss up between the day from the fjords to Saint Simeon and the last day from New Richmond to New Brunswick

Positive vibes: So so many. Quebec was the best province so far. Only BC comes anywhere close. The highways are wonderful to cycle. Wide, smooth shoulders and bike lanes abound. A rest stop with water every 25 km or so. Beautiful scenery and historic towns with great local character.
Roadside produce stands are more common than Tim Hortons, which is easily found as well, should your inclinations lie that way.
The little gas stations and depanneurs have a wonderful selection of snacks and always have a section devoted to craft beers.
Speaking of craft beers, why not grab one or two at the local IGA, as you pick up fresh, local food for dinner?
All the bad aspects I was warned of: crazy drivers, snooty francophone elitism, etc never came to pass. Drivers were more respectful than anywhere else in Canada and often extremely psyched to cheer me on as they went by. People were friendly and keen to bridge the gap between our respective French-English skills.
In short, Quebec was wonderful.

The harsh vibes:
There were a few. It wasn't totally sunshine and happiness and pastry.
First one up is the hills. In Quebec, there are some unspeakable monsters of hills. The use of switchbacks or face cuts to lessen slope does not factor into Quebec road planning, so the road will almost always go up the side of a hill at the steepest possible angle. In the Laurentians and on Gaspesie, this means that you will be more likely the find gradients of 10 - 15% than anything else, and gradients of 15 - 20+ % are not unheard of. Also, consider that between these two regions I did over 10 000 meters of climbing in 10 days, whereas crossing the Rockies took a similar length of time but only required about 6000 m of climbing.
The camping is also quite expensive in Quebec, though not as bad as in Ontario. Expect to pay about 25 - 35$/night for basic tent camping.
Also, I was unable to find a single good donut in Quebec. I have come to the conclusion that the French simply cannot make donuts. This is more than made up for by the abundance of patisserie though. Especially mille fueille, which I despair of ever finding again at the quality I have become accustomed.

General things: The Route Verte, which I was first enthusiastic about, soon proved to be not as great as I anticipated. It had the unfortunate habit of leading you away from wide, smooth highway shoulders and onto rough, potholed side roads where you will rub elbows with traffic.
I found it much better to just follow highways than to trust the Route Verte.
Important and useful things you should be able to say in French if you want to bike in Quebec:
"Bonjour"
"Je parlez un petite Francais seulement"
"Oui, c'est tout"
"C'est bien"
"Merci beaucoup"
These 4 phrases comprised the bulk of my spoken French and basically cover everything you need to say at checkout counters and to passing people who express an interest in you.

Anyways, bon voyage to Quebec. I will be back one day.

In a Quebec gas station, the Palm Bay is right next to the milk

Bumps in New Brunswick

The rain abated during my bivouac in New Richmond, and my tent was thankfully quite dry in the morning.
While I felt alright as I made breakfast and packed up the camp, I soon discovered this was not so on the bike.
The wind had pulled a hard 180° from the previous day and I was now facing a steady 40 - 60 km/hr wall from the west; the direction of my travel. Grinding back to the highway, I realized that my knee was even worse than the day before and that the wind would give me little chance to rest it.
I was however determined to make New Brunswick, only 85 km distant. What else could I do? I gritted my teeth, shifted to an easier gear and turned my pedals.
There were some dicey uphill moments where I feared for the integrity of my knee bits, and times where explosive gusts of wins threatened to toss me into the uncaring path of logging trucks, but I eventually won my way to Campbellton. I even managed to drop another cyclist on a long, gradual climb, despite my handicaps.
Craving poutine and feeling like I had just spent 6 hours in a wind tunnel full of OMT leg kicks, I made my way to a local cafe for a short rest. Having just left Quebec, I was shocked to hear the server's perfect bilingualism. I would continue to do double takes the rest of the evening at the grocery store and campground at the sound of perfect English. I still start every meeting with "Bonjour", and more easily say "merci", than "thanks".
Quebec has left its mark.
With two strong days (105 km to Dalhousie today) behind me, I begin to think of a rest day to let my knees recover and plan my last dwindling days of cycling. I am confronted with a 80 km stretch desolate of campgrounds between Bathurst and Miramichi tomorrow so perhaps tomorrow can be a short ride.
I wake up to a marvelous sunrise, but an hour behind my usual time now that I have moved an hour ahead to Atlantic Time.
As I leave the campground, a man warns me that it will be a hot day at 32° C. I wave him off, saying that it needs to crack 40° before I start worrying.
I set out through Acadia, the former French colony lands that were seized by the British following the Paris Treaty. Acadian pride is strong and most people speak French still, but service is always in English if necessary.
The side highway I follow is unfortunately plagued with perpendicular cracks and speed bump-esque asphalt fill. The poor bicycle takes a bit of a beating bouncing over the bumps. Luckily, traffic is low and I can weave around, hunting the best path over the road.
There are still hills to be sure, but they are fairly low, and the gradient is generally gentle.
I make it into Bathurst by 2 pm and do some quick shopping before drinking two quiet pints at the brewery.
I find a nice enough campgrpund for the night, in a nice wooded area with power and water right next to me. Unfortunately, the winged ants have laid claim to this land and burst out from under my feet in the thousands as I eat dinner. I make them pay for their settlement by killing as many as possible and sealing their major entranceways.
While researching the next day's route, I see that Google Maps really does not want me on Highway 8. I can't find anything that says I am not allowed to cycle it, and the alternative is a 50 km detour so I decide to take my chances.
The next day I enjoy a noteworthy oatmeal, and a new coffee - instant Columbian blend, the best I have tried yet.
The morning is a slow uphill over a low ridge, climbing into the wind at a 1% gradient. Nothing majorly taxing, and it forces me to enjoy the scenery.
As I join the dreaded Highway 8, I find a horrific 3 meter wide, perfectly smooth shoulder and low traffic.
Come on Google Maps...
Eventually though, the shoulder begins degrading and disappearing. While not as bad as sections of the Ontario Trans Canada, I decide to pull out after lunch to do an alternate route.
My detour turns out to be a remote, dirt road. But the dirt seems well packed and low on stones or washboard, and I haven't done anything adventurous for a while so I take a chance.
It's a bit bouncy at times, and I hit a steep hill towards the end, but I pass zero cars in 12 km and enjoy a quiet, slow ride with music on and helmet off, my hair blowing in the breeze.
Once I turn west to Miramichi, the breeze becomes a strong headwind, but I am immunized to such distractions and make it into the grocery store in no time.
Stopping at an Irving gas station outside town to top off on water and some baked goodies, I marvel at the smooth pavement of the  Highway 11 shoulder. Some of the best in Canada.
A short trek to the campground, and I prepare a gourmet instant rice with shitake mushroom, tuna, and pine nut hummus.
I plan a side trip to PEI and make arrangements to stay in Halifax two nights.
Before I know it, I'll be dipping the tires in Halifax Harbour and flying home.

Larches changing colour.

Better than dodging trucks!

Le Gaspesie Pt. III - Le Fin du Mond

Heavy dew today on my first morning away from the St. Lawrence for a while.
After the hard week to Saguenay and then around the head of Gaspesie, even my morning coffee and oats failed to pump me up. At least the sunny, cool weather is holding.
Wind shifted to the south as I hit the road, another headwind, but thats expected at this point. My legs were not too happy about the first hill, as they should not be.
Since I left Quebec City, I've done over 10 000 m of climbing, and my last rest day was three weeks ago, in London. Unfortunately, I have fallen a day and a half behind due to the brutal uphill character of Gaspesie and the Laurentians, so a rest day is out of the question until I make up a bit of time.
Still, I settle into a slower pace and aim for a 130 km day and 1100 m of climbing, which would take me out of the major hills for good. Even if I have to cash out sooner, there are lots of campgrounds enroute.
Just before Gaspe, three highways come together into a single, narrow, uphill nightmare with no shoulder for parts.
After a few narrow misses I make it into town by 9 am for Tims and groceries.
I make an additional stop at the sport store to pick up some seam sealing epoxy (for the tires), and a new mini pump, since mine is currently on life support.
I head back out into the rolling hills and headwind. As I take a wrong turn, I find my way onto a loose, sandy road and thinking it may be a shortcut, tough it out pushing my bike for a few hundred meters. Nope, no shortcut. Just ocean. Well fuck, push the bike another couple hundred meters, swear, wipe the sand out of the drivetrain and head back to the highway.
The wind picks up to 35 km/hr and the hills continue. My fatigue builds and my desire to ride a bicycle plummets.
Not everything is awful though. Traffic is okay(ish), and the shoulder is also okay(ish).
By 2:30, I am still 10 km out from Perce, and I know I have one more killer hill left. The wind starts gusting at 50 km/hr.
I hit the hill and immediately shift into my easiest gear despite the gradient being a gentle 10%.
After a series of switchbacks and false summits, the slope increases to 12%.
I dig deep and pump away, ignoring the ache in my knees as I finally cross the summit.
A frantic, 1km long, 15% downhill into Perce and I make a sidetrip for two pints at the brewery.
I aim for the town of Chandler, another 45 km away, but the fatigue, hills, and wind take their toll. I cash out in Grande Riviere at 6 pm. 115 km and 1000 m of climbing for the day.
The sun goes down as I cook dinner, and even eating takes too much energy.
I apply highly toxic seam sealer to my cracked tires, possibly get some in my mouth (maybe I'll die?), and then finally crawl into bed.
Thats the last rough hill day but theres always the wind. And it's supposed to rain tomorrow...
The next morning I got caught up on lubing my chain, figured out my new bike pump, had another crisis of motivation, and finally hit the pavement at 8 am.
No headwind to speak of, but a sharp ache and a weird noise in my knee worried me. I only made it an hour down the road before the three week fatigue pulled me into a Tim Hortons.
As the rest of the morning progressed, the wind hemmed and hawed about which direction it felt like blowing. My knee continued to worry me, but I tried to keep the power low.
As I stopped for an emergency snack break not too long after Tims, I worried that even my bailout of 110 km to Bonaventure was out of reach.
Then, right before a town aptly named Hope, my luck began to turn.
As I began tracking more to the west, I began to catch the wind on my back. I settled into an easy and natural pace for the first time in days. My speed began creeping up and I noticed my knee was, while not happy, recovering. As I rounded the bottom edge of Gaspesie, I saw a distant line of darkness on the horizon slowly resolve into the far shore of New Brunswick. Now heading straight west, the roaring wind propelled me along at a steady 35 km/hr. Bonaventure flew past in a blur and I knew I would make New Richmond for sure.
As the clouds gathered on the distant mountains, I pushed on, hoping to make the campground before the rain broke. In the home stretch, I face a curveball 5 km climb that was definitely not on Google Maps. Still, the momentum from the downhill carries me practically to the campground and I set up my tent and even manage a grocery run before it starts to drizzle. I am only 80 km from New Brunswick and will almost certainly make it tomorrow.
I end my last night in Quebec with a feast of soup, veggie chips, hummus, marshmallow strawberries, and a bedtime snack of baguette. I have only 700 km to Halifax now, and I can probably afford to take it easy.
While reading in the tent, the full rainstorm finally breaks. Listening to the drumming of the downpour on my tent, I silenty praise the inventor of polyurethane. I am warm, dry, very well fed and ready for a good night of sleep before leaving Quebec tomorrow.
I won't say au revoir to this wonderful province, rather I will say, "bon voyage".

Every structure on the head of Gaspesie looks lonely

The famous Roche du Perce. Still hasn't fallen over yet

Drying the towel for a whole 15 mins before the rain hits

Le Gaspesie Pt. II - Attack of the Hills

A light pattering of rain on the tent last night. The first for a while.
Another crisp morning, with the sun coming out as I heated water for breakfast.
Jeanine poked her head out as I was tucking into my oatmeal and we chatted about cycling things and plans as I finished eating and packed up.
I skirted the big hill by taking a footbridge over the river and made my way back down to the highway. Another light headwind today. The curse continues.
Still felt pretty fatigued, and the novelty of  bicycle touring is finally wearing thin again. Motivation was hard to come by, and by 10 am I felt the need to make a stop. Luckily I found a small, cozy cafe and creperie and stopped in for a second breakfast.
Blogging app just deleted three days of writing instead of publishing it.
Really can't remember what I had written and I am way too beat to even try writing it again. Sorry, but you don't get to read this post I guess :(
Recommend you never use Blogger for your blogging needs. Its a piece of flaming garbage but I'm too heavily invested now to switch.

Sorry, will try to back up or copy.my posts in the future. Really fucking bummed out about this.

Autumn vibes and open seas 

No Whitehorse on the signpost but its farther than pretty much all these locations

At Cap-des-Rosiers, where I ran out of east-ward road and had to turn south

A nice day in Gaspesie, couple of hills

Side Story: Bicycle Tourist Meals

Been meaning to write this for a while, and since I'm planning a longer day in the hills, seems like the time is ripe.
Here is a breakdown of my average meals in a day:

Breakfast - 7:00 am
Instant oatmeal with nuts, dried fruit, chia granola, honey, coconut, and apricot jam.
Instant coffee with a shot of mead.

Le Gaspesie Pt 1: Return of the St. Lawrence

An early morning in the fjords of Saguenay and I was feeling even more worn out than the day before. The fatigue was inscribed in my marrow, and although I had only 75 km to go to St. Simeon, Google Maps predicted almost 800m of climbing. I dug in deep and hit my first hills right out the gate. It wasn't an enjoyable day, and despite a tailwind I spent most of the day struggling up hills, pumping my greatly overworked legs up steep hill after hill.
The downhills were negligible, the road condition decent, and the scenery nice, but barely noticed beyond the suffering. I spent the morning running on sheer willpower and fumes.
I finally made it to St. Simeon around 11 am, and was greeted by a chilly wind off the St. Lawrence, with a strong scent of sea and brine. Passing a cyclist resting on the roadside, I found the breath to yell, "Don't go to Saguenay!"
I dropped some money on fast food and an ice cream sundae and settled in for the 1.5 hr wait before the ferry departure. Thw sun came out as I was eating lunch, and distracted by my extreme fatigue and an overly enthusiastic cyclist, I left my trusty little knife laying around somewhere. That little guy has stuck it out through the entire country, seeing service at least once or twice a day. I only hope that whoever found it treats it right.
The crossing was uneventful, and I refrained from buying any onboard coffee or refreshments, as I knew they would be cheaper at the IGA and Tims in Riviere du Loup.
Once across, I was greeted with a howling 45 km/hr headwind. Hmmm, I could have sworn someone telling me the wind is usually from the west on Gaspesie.
After wearily checking into camping, I dragged myself up another couple of hills to the aforementioned Tims and IGA.
Side note: Riviere du Loup has wrested away the crown of Most Potholed Streets in Canada from Winnipeg. An amazing amount of potholes plague the streets of RdL, and eventually I gave up and rode in the middle of the eastbound traffic lane. The autos seemed used to it, as no one honked or otherwise accosted me.
The temperature continued to drop as I made dinner, and I even put on a sweater before eating and dragging myself into bed at 8 pm to recover. No more hard hard days for me I have decided. Time to rest, recover and enjoy the last 2 and a half weeks of cycling.
The morning brought a very autumnal chill, complete with grey skies and chattering crows. I milked the last few drops from my oldest gas canister cooking breakfast, add that to the shopping list.
Unsure about the chill in the air, I opted for the armsleeves.
As I rode along, it seemed obvious from the fading greens and initial dusting of leaves on the ground that summer was soon to be over. Oh right, and the cold headwind too. The sleeves stayed on all day.
And what a long day!
I was still pretty bricked from my Laurentians adventure, and with a steady headwind, I made sure to keep my pace low. Even plodding along, climbing long, gradual gradients, I made it to Rimouski by 2 pm. Despite my fatigue and the still-blowing wind I opted for another 30 km to make it a full 135 km for the day.
Not quite an easy day. Oops again.
In Rimouski, I topped off my stove fuel and soap for the last time on the trip.
A pretty ride along the river but I was gassing hard. I had to shut down a few overly enthusiastic question askers today when I became too tired to even attempt cross-language communications.
Just before checking into camping, I stopped at a meadery and grabbed a smaller bottle as a brief departure from dinner beer before realizing I did not bring a corkscrew...
No worries! There are always rusty screws laying around campgrounds, and with a pair of leatherman pliers, I soon had mead in my belly. Too tired to do laundry, I instead opted for a feast of rice, trail mix, and nougat with sips of mead, all while watching the crimson bauble of the setting sun dip laconicly into the St. Lawrence.
Alls well that ends well. And tomorrow will actually be an easy day, promise. Maybe.
The sunrise wasn't as gorgeous as the sunset, but the air promised another crisp and comfortable day on the bike. Still feeling pretty bushwhacked so I topped off my coffee with a shot of mead.
As I was packing up, another cyclist at thw campground, Jeanine, came up and asked if I wanted to share canping that night. I made a tentative committment to share a site at Riverside Camping in Matane, only 75 km distant.
With that I set out, and since the sun was shining I kept the sleeves in storage but still had a few brisk moments in the shade.
Even with such a short ride to Matane, I was feeling pretty tired and unmotivated. Getting into town around 12:30 (late start this morning), I indulged a week old craving for fried chicken before hunting down the campground. I almost gave uo when, 100m from the turn off, I came to the bottom of a rather steep hill.
Mentally telling myself to stop being such a big baby, I scrambled up and coasted down the other side, where I procured a rather nice spot in the trees.
Going to work on chores, I was dismayed to see the sidewall on my relatively new tires was cracking. This could be an issue, as there is no bike shop available for severral hundred kilometers. I decide to risk it and rotate the tires anyways. Exhausted, trying to reseat a bead, I pop an inner tube. At this moment, a man who barely speaks English decides it is a good time to wander over and play 20 questions about my ike tour. As I am very tired, dirty, trying to fix a flat on tires that may fail in the next few days in the middle of French-speaking nowhere, I am obviously not keen on chit chat.
I try to brush him off but he insists on hanging around. When I start swearing, grunting and slamming tools around in frustration, he finally catches on and takes off. Sorry guy, you really have incredibly bad timing for social moments.
Eventually, everything is as fixed as possible. I relax under a free, hot shower and begin dinner. Jeanine rolls up and offers to split camping fees. I crack my new book and start a load of laundry.
Deep breath.
I am going into the hills again tomorrow and my tires may still explode, but at least I am not so angry anymore.
Small comforts. Another day of riding tomorrow and I had a productive afternoon.
Tomorrows another day.

Summers end draws nigh.

The best justice my phone can do to the St. Lawrence sunset.

One of many beautiful seaside gardens.

The tourist info building in Matane.

The Pilgrimage

Escaping Quebec proved very easy! After two or three turns, I was back on Le Chemin Roy(ale), the old road that led along the St. Lawrence in colonial days.
I had only 100 km to go today, but with almost 1000m of climbing I was commited to a slow and easy pace. The Chemin Royale took me away from the busy highways and up into the hills above the river, winding through a series of small towns. I passed on visiting what seemed to be a very nice waterfall, as there was gated entrance and a fee. Shortly after I was getting hungry and cafe deprived and to my surprise saw a sign that read "Halte velo" outside a cafe and pie bakery. Perfect!
Looking over the vista, a breeze off the river brought a hint of salt and sea.
I sat on the terrace drinking coffee for about 45 mins, studying the tourist guide before I felt the pedals calling again. I am on my way to Saguenay, one of the last detours of the trip, to visit the Devinci factory where my bicycle was made.
Cycling along, I passed more cyclists than autos until I reached the small town of Beaupre, where I rejoined the highway. With a steep hill looming in my line of vision and Google Maps forecasting 900m of climbing in the next 30 km, I stopped into a small bakery tucked into the side of a gas station for a top up.
Ordering un mille feuille and a bear claw, I soom considering ordering more. It was by far the best pastry I have yet had on this trip. Exercising my will power, I turned onto the highway and began the grind of the day.
The first bit ended up being the hardest. I was technically not on the cycling route and the highway shoulder was definitely not accomodating. Adding in the relentless 9% gradient, the midday sun, and the 10 km of uninterrupted climbing and it drained a lot from me. A break in the climb led to a small, mountaintop village where I procured water and a massive, calorie bomb of a maple-walnut muffin. Back at er.
The remaining 20km of climbing wasn't so bad, with the exception of construction. The gradient eased off and I got my legs in, sprinting to 30 km/hr as I went over the summit with arms raised. Passing autos honked appeciatively and waved as they went by. Between the moral support and the 15 km long descent, it was actually worth the effort.
I stopped in at Baie St. Paul for some groceries and an atm top up (Quebec City was not kind to my chequing account) and then cycled a short ways north to a lovely, cyclist friendly campground. Showers, soup and some writing before I scared myself by seeing that tomorrow will be even more mountainous. Just like being back in BC I guess.
Waking up early, I was breakkied and on the road by 7:45 in order to avoid the heat and give myself lots of time for the mountains.  As I started out, my legs were feeling the strain of the previous days hills and I was hungrier than usual. After a quick snack break I went around the corner and was immediately confronted by a savage 15% gradient for a kilometer. That would set the tone for the rest of the day.
Apparently Quebec has yet to realize the utility of the switchback, and when a road must needs cross a hill, the road goeth straight up the side of the offending hill.
This leads to the unfortunate situation where unwary bicycle tourists riding 65 lb steeds must crank their way up a series of 12-20+ % hills for four hours on a Monday morning. It was probably the most barbaric and physically challenging bike ride of my life. I ascended 900m to the mountain peak in less than 30 km, lost count of the number of 15% gradients I endured, and actually had to stop halfway up a hill for the first time in my life.
Eventually though, a final murderous slope yielded le sommet, where a new set of challenges began. Namely, descending from 900m down a series of ultra steep hills, on potholed highways with no shoulder, without melting my brake pads or crashing at 65 km/hr.
I survived. The bike survived. I limped into Baie, and made a grocery store trip to help offset the extreme calorie amount needed to do 1400m of climbing and 125 km in a single day.
Arriving at the campground I plopped down, set up shop, ate an entire bag of corn chips with hummus, and began cooking dinner. An unusual amount of sweat seemed to be leaking from me and I soon located a thermometer that indicated it was +35 in the shade. How did I even survive in that heat, on those hills?
The next day I woke up feeling alright. The first hill of the day soon disavowed that notion, and I toyed with the idea of a short day on my way into Saguenay. Picking up speed along the flat plateau, I felt better after rolling into town and grabbing a coffee and some patisserie. I took a quick trip to the industrial park, snapped some photos of my bike out front of the Devinci factory and popped my head in the door. Greeted by a vacant reception and rows of offices, I decided not to make a nuisance of myself and headed out to do the full 115 km option to the fjords.
After a lunch break back in Baie, I took off and immediately ran back into the feet of the Laurentians. Grinding up a (thankfully not 15%) slope for 5 km in the brutal heat of midday, I began to wonder why I force myself to do these long, hard days. As I see the cars effortlessly drift by, some offering encouragement, others grazing my elbow despite the passing lane to their left, I remember something important about myself. Namely, that I am a tough, stubborn bastard and that doing really hard things that other people wouldn't even contemplate is just what I do.
After another day of 1000m of vertical gain, some close calls with semis, and some incoherent yelling whilst confronted with a 15% slope in the last 10 km, I finish at the fjords of the Saguenay River.
Technically, this is a tidal river. The waters of the Atlantic weakly mingle here. Dipping a finger in the shoreline, I can barely detect the salt. I will have to wait until Halifax to dip my tires.
My French has improved to the point where I can negotiate camping with the attendant who only speaks a few words in English. I take a quick detour 50m down the road for a patio beer before setting up camp.
With a hard day behind me, I will easily make it to the start of Gaspesie tomorrow. I have heard legends of some steep hills there, but after the last 3 days I am ready to crush any resistance the landscape has to throw at me.

First hill: not so bad

Second hill: definitely bad

Found a doppelganger down by the fjord

Quebec C'est Tres Magnifique

Getting into Montreal proved to be a pretty involved task. Even from Google Maps, I could tell that the city was not only gargantuan, but also very convoluted.
My host for the night had sent me a Strava route that I could follow into the city, but I soon took a wrong turn and decided to just follow my instincts and the flow of least traffic.
Some two hours after entering the outskirts, I dodged the last of the construction, truncated bike lanes, and one way streets and arrived at the home of Sebastien and his family. It was still early in the afternoon, so I got the quick tour of the home, dropped my bike and took a walk around the neighborhood to purchase snacks and beer.
Eventually finding my way back to the temporary homebase, I found Sebastien and a friend of his out on the deck, where I joined them for beer and shortly after, nachos with his family.
Dinner was nearing and I was out of beer, so I made one more fast trip to the depanneur.
I enjoyed a wonderful, very traditional dinner with Sebastien and his family. Sausage, potatoes and a tomatoe salad were followed by pain et fromage and a dessert of melon.
After that, I was pretty much pooped so I retired to bed and did some reading before falling asleep.
The next morning I utilized the wifi and power socket available to plan the last few weeks of my trip and book my flights home. It's official! I have a deadline to reach Halifax by September 4th. Theoretically that should be plenty of time, but you never know what can happen...
I was planning on exploring Montreal on my way north and opted out of breakfast with Sebastien and his family. I said my farewells and delved back into the streeta of Montreal.
While at times confusing and occasionally bumpy, the streets of Montreal are a pleasure to cycle. Frequent stoplights and stopsigns limit the speed of traffic, and between the cycling culture and the seperation of high speed and slower driving routes, there seemed to be very few cars on the road for rush hour.
Eventually, I wound my way up the mountain, and then navigated the narrow streets of downtown Montreal to the harbour, grabbing a latte and pastry along the way.
Admiring the view over the St. Lawrence, the beautiful skyline of old Montreal, and contemplating the three months that have brought me to this point I take a few moments for myself. Then it's off, I begin my escape north off the island of Montreal, with a short sidestep to ride some cobbles (a bucket list item). The Route Verte lets me down once or twice by jogging across multi lane highways or leading me through sections lumpier than a Winnipeg back alley in March.
Eventually I have enough and beeline over to Highway 138. Ahhh, a lane opens up to the right full of parked cars. Perfect for cycling in, as the pavement is smooth and I can easily fit between parked and driving vehicles. I follow the 138 out of the city, with a quick stop for pastry and coffee top up at the north end of the island.
At 11:30, I finally cross the bridge to the north shore of the St. Laurence. I spend the rest of the day following 138 through small towns and farmland, dodging rainstorms thay drift closely by but never soak me. A tailwind takes me into Louiseville for the night, after 120 km. I purchase a baguette, some fromage, beignettes and two bieres for my dinner and set up my tent at the Marina Campground for the night. All in all, another beautiful day in Quebec.
During the night, I discovered that cyclist friendly accomodations were not to be had in Quebec City for Saturday and began a frantic round of Warmshowers inquiries. Too much living in the moment and not enough planning. Luckily I got a hit before bed, so the night in the city is still on.
The next morning dawned a bit cooler than I expected. I mean, it was still about +15 or so, but after the heat waves it seemed even a bit chilly.
Cycling back up to the highway at Louiseville, I took note of the ongoing harvest and thought a bit about the approach of autumn. I am probably going home too soon for autumn to touch down in southern Canada, but it will be there for sure when I get back to the Yukon.
It seems like the morning's temperature signalled the end of the heat wave, as it only got up to about +27 at the peak of the day, and humidex was negligible. I pedalled along the Chemin du Roy through small towns and cozy looking farms, taking about an hour to navigate the urban sprawl of Trois Rivieres.
I made a couple of stops for snacks along the way but tried to tone it down a bit to save money and keep the fat from building up too too much.
I ended up at my destination outside Portneuf a bit early in the afternoon, and settled into a campsite with water and power. Only downside was that it was way out in the nosebleed section and I had to ride my bicycle to the bathroom that was quite a ways off. I made up some instant rice, loaded with tomatoes and shallots from a roadside farm stand, accompanied by another fine Quebec microbrew before spending the evening reading.
Unfortunately, I have overused my data again, and turned it off to save money and reserve the remainder for dire emergencies. Appparently the culprit app is Google Maps, which is strange because it has never seemed to use much data before now.
The next day I headed off towards Quebec (the city). It was only 50 km, and there was little wind, so it went by fast. Tim Hortons wifi revealed that my hosts for the night would be around until 1 pm, so I stopped in, dropped my bike, got a key and headrd off to explore Quebec by foot.
On the way to Old Town, I passed by a tiny, hole in the wall bakery and purchased a baguette for 2.50$ to snack on. Upon climbing up into Old Town and passing under the fortifications, I came upon a super busy tourist avenue. Ducking out of the first two cafes I saw, as they were too busy and too commercialized, I hit home on the third, where there was no line up, a cozy atmosphere and good selection of food. I opted for another excellent and huge espresso and a piece of apple pie with a seat by the window. After my afternoon cafe and a chat with a young woman travelling from England, I wandered around until I found a small restaurant offering a fixed menu lunch for 20$. I popped in, got a seat at the bar, and had an excellent meal of pate, coulibiac and bread pudding.
Since I was throwing around money anyways, I made a visit to the microbrewery, then grabbed another baguette, some pate, some goat cheese, and some more beer for dinner. I almost made it out of the grocery store without revealing my anglo origins until I accidentally asked for "un sac, por favor".
So close!
By the time I was feeling the bed time, my hosts were still out, so I rolled out my sleeping bag in the basement for privacy.
In the morning, I utilized the wifi to make some plans for escape route and memorized the locations of atms and campgrounds for the next week or so.
I made myself some coffee and oatmeal and knocked over a laundry rack in the basement, probably waking up my poor hosts at least a few times. Then it was au revoir to Quebec City and out the door.

Winding my way through the tight streets of downtown Montreal

Idyllic days along the upper St. Lawrence

Picked up a new book at a little library and it came with a bonus

The view across Quebec from the top of the wall

Southern Ontario Review

Now that I have finally escaped from Ontario forever, time to write a review of the ups and downs (Ontario is nothing but hills) of the most populated area of Canada.

Days spent in Southern Ontario: 13
Rest days: 2
Distance pedalled: ~1430 km (wow!)
Steepest gradient encountered: roughly 20%
Beers consumed: lots, I can't even wager a guess
Money spent: way too much
Warmshowers stays: 4
Worst road: Highway 11 through Muskoka
Best road: Bruce County Road 25 west of Dornoch
Nicest Town: Stratford
Least Nicest Town: London
Best bakery: Williamsford Pie Company

Good things: Well, I will start by saying that there was actually a lot to appreciate in Southern Ontario. Especially in the Bruce-Grey county between Lake Huron and London, where nearly every small town had beautiful stone and brick buildings, a bakery and occasionally a brewery. Rural areas are actually very rideable, as long as you stay on the county roads and off the Ontario Provincial highways. I feel like there is great potential for cycle tourism in rural Ontario if the government is willing to invest in designating some specific cycling routes.
One thing I will say about Southern Ontario is that there are some very nice people there. Between Warmshowers hosts, and random people I met along the roads and campgrounds, I had a lot of good experiences with meeting people.

The Bad: Starting off with the big issue: money. Southern Ontario is EXPENSIVE. Camping anywhere in the region is minimum 30$/night for unserviced tent sites, and gets up to 50$ a night when you get close to Toronto. And often these campgrounds are nearly booked full with vacationers from the cities.
The other major issue is traffic. Southern Ontario has an incredible amount of people. Almost every road I took, including rural backroads, had a large number of vehicles. On the main provincial highways the traffic is more or less constant all day, 7 days a week. Add in the fact that highway shoulders are often only 6 inches wide, or nonexistant, and you have a situation that is very dangerous and unpleasant for cycling.
Also a downside that may just be my bad luck, but it seems like Southern Ontario is excessively rainy. No joke, I had rain pretty much every day at some point, and experienced something like 10 or more thunderstorms while in Southern Ontario.

In Conclusion: Lots of potential for being a good place to ride a bicycle, but needs better and way more obvious infrastructure. Avoid Ontario Provincial highways as much as you can and use the single or double digit county roads, which are almost always better in every way.
Utilize Warmshowers as much as possible, and try to stay out of the incredibly overpriced private campgrounds. Get to Quebec ASAP it seems really great here.

Your average home in rural Southern Ontario

County roads, no shoulder is no issue when theres no traffic

Awesome European vibes in Stratford

Escape from Ontario

I cycled my way into Kitchener-Waterloo, making use of the amazing amount of cycle lanes in the city. My host for the night was Martin and his family. After taking a quick shower, Martin took me on a driving tour around Waterloo and the area. Unfortunately, I am effecting a rapid escape from Ontario, so I wasn't able to enjoy the sights (and breweries) of Kitchener-Waterloo.
After a great dinner with Martin and his parents, I drifted off in a wonderful soft bed. The next morning I enjoyed breakfast and coffee a bit too much and didn't get on the road until 9 am with a 135 km day ahead of me.
The next day I was bound for another host a bit west of Barrie. I had made the mistake of checking the weather before I left London, and it was predicted to rain all week. Luckily I dodged around all the rain and even got a hot, sunny day. On top of that, I even had a wind that followed me around all day. And this time it was a tailwind! In addition, I must have been slowly gaining elevation for the last few days, as I hit the halfway point and started going downhill.
Between the tailwind and the steady descent, I made it almost a full 5 km without turning my pedals. Since it was a longer day too, I was at full liberty to eat quite a bit and drink a fair amount of coffee. All in all, a good day.
Eventually made it to the host of the night, Brian. As is usual, Brian and his family greeted me with a shower, beers, and as much food as I can eat. The best.
While researching for the next day I realized that there was no camping or even Air BnB available in Bracebridge due to the long weekend. Luckily, Brian's dad gave me some advice on possible wild camping east of Bracebridge.
After a super comfy sleep on Brian's couch I had a light breakfast and coffee with Brian's dad and then got a nice early start for another 130 km day.
A quick spin took me into Barrie, where I apparently missed their big summer festival by a few hours. Shortly outside of Barrie I was forced onto a gravel rail trail by bridge construction. While the trail was alright, I dodged off it occasionally when convenient to spin the legs up to 30 km/hr on th asphalt. Eventually I made it to Orillia and headed up a side road to highway 11, stopping for a huge and surprisingly good blueberry bar.
Upon reaching Highway 11, I had been warned that it would be a scary ride from people and Google Earth. But the alternative was a 40 km detour way out in the middle of nowhere. I opted to brave the speeding long weekend Toronto traffic for 20 km to Gravenhurst.
What an experience. Most cars were doing 20 to 30 km/hr over the limit and passed me with less than 3 feet distance, often honking at me for having the audacity to ride a bike within a 3 hour drive of Toronto. After a few close calls, I made it to Gravenhurst and waited in line with the cityiots for donuts.
Since I had some days in the wilderness ahead, I grabbed some snack food and lunch stuff at the Loblaws and biked up to Muskoka Brewery in Bracebridge.
Had some pints while listening to live music on the patio. Beer was good, but I've been finding it in LCBOs for a month now, and knew what to expect.
I headed east, aiming for a pullout/canoe put in along a lake about 35 km away.
As I left Bracebridge, I began climbing uphill, into a headwind, in the 30 degree heat. Finally, some real bike touring. I guess I'm just accustomed to suffering a bit on the road and the last few days of tailwind felt unnatural.
Getting to the pullout, I was heartened to see other tents set up, but worried to discover that they all had permits. As far as I know, the area was crown land, and the next town was a further 30 km or so. So I decided to risk it and pitch my tent to see what happened.
What an intense night ensued. I crawled into the tent early to avoid scrutiny and had maybe 4 parties of canoeists launch their outfits only a few feet away.
Just as I was drifting off, a heron started crying out only meters off, quite eerie.
Then I was awakened in the pitch black night by peals of thunder and the constant flicker of lightning. It had looked very dry coming in, and the storm was as of yet unaccompanied by rain. I began to vividly picture my tent swathed and consumed by a lightning lit forest fire. I dug out my glasses, so I could spot potential wildfires early, and spent a sleepless hour watching the lightning flicker through the trees and listening to the thunder encroach closer on my campsite.
Finally, the rain came bucketing down. Usually a major upset for me, as it means my tent would be wet in the morning, but welcome for its ability to forestall a death by wildfire. Just as I was about to try for some sleep, I saw a bobbing light approach from the lake and heard a canoe scrape onto the nearby shoreline.
I soon gathered it was a latecome arrival from Toronto, ferrying his camping gear and possessions to his campsite (permit paid) across the lake in the pouring rain and pitch black night. Soon his very unhappy wife and kids were up for the lake crossing. Poor fellow.
The rest of the night passed blissfully asleep.
In the morning I packed up as quickly as possible in case a ranger or permit checker camr around. No such misfortune while I cooked my oatmeal and I was on the road at 8 am, after appreciating the misty morning over the lake.
A very relaxing morning ride through foggy hills and cloud-shrouded sun. I stopped for some baked goodies and later assessed my paunch status as noticeable. Oops, too many bakery stops I guess.
I made good time to Bancroft, as I had a strong tailwind and was powered by days of accumulated pastries and pizza.
Getting into Bancroft so early, I called ahead to a campground 35 km down the road. Despite being technically full for the long weekend, the owner told me he would find a place for me but warned me about hills. Having spent the last month wrestling with Ontario hills, I waved it off and headed out.
By this point, it was above 30 degrees in the shade and I was firmly entrenched in rolling hills. As I turned off the highway to make my final approach into the campground, I soon found myself struggling up a series of 12% gradients for 6 km. Wow, he was not kidding about the hills.
I eventually made it in and the awesome owner offered to drive me back to the highway in the morning. I waved off his attempts to discount my campsite and settled in for a shower, a beer, dinner and what appeared to be a dry, warm evening.

From the top of this hill you get a lovely viee of the next two hills!

No cars in sight 👍

Misty morning sun. No brown eyed girls in sight though.

Along the Ottawa River

After a good, rainless sleep I got an early morning in and was packed up by 7:45. Knocking on the door of the managers home, I confirmed that he was willing to drive me up to the highway. All good! He gave me a ride with the raccoon he had live trapped (to keep it from eating turtle eggs) and I skipped several very steep hills and about 10 km of riding. He unloaded me and the raccoon by the side of the highway, shook my hand and took off again. What a great guy, and I never got his name.
If I had known what awaited me, I may have tried to finagle a ride to Renfrew from him.
I started the day with an immediate climb up a 15% gradient slope. It was fairly short, but the harsh gradient really struck my legs with no chance to warm up. Unfortunately, this would be the first of four such steep hills of the day, with plenty of gentle climbs interspersed.
Ontario must have been trying to keep me from escaping. Too bad! By mid day I made it to the edge of the escarpment and began descending into the Ottawa River valley, hitting speeds of 72 km/hr on the last downhill.
Approaching Renfrew, the temperature climbed to 30-something in the shade, and I hit a section of road "construction", where the asphalt had been torn up and left that way. Fun times cycle touring.
After Renfrew, Ontario threw a few last curveballs at me, with a steep slope, no shoulder, and some very impatient drivers until I escaped across the river into Quebec.
Speaking almost no French, I tentatively rolled along smooth pavement into the first small town. Where everyone was speaking English. Not so bad then.
The increasing heat and declining shoulder made the last hour into town a bit unpleasant, but I made a stop to the grocery store for ice cream and settled in at the very nice municipal campground.
I chatted with some RV campers and met the mythical East to West bicycle tourist, overwhelming him with advice and warnings accumulated across 3 months of Canada cycling.
I ducked into the tent early to rest up for the next few days, which will take me through Ottawa, Montreal, and Quebec City in quick succession.
Despite clear skies at sunset, I was awakened in the night by distant peals of thunder. I lay awake, hoping the storm would pass me by, but no such luck. I heard it drift ever closer until out of almost a split seconds difference, a downright deluge erupted on my tent. Yup, another soaking wet tent to pack up in the morning. Who was it who said I've been really lucky with weather?
At least it wasn't raining when I woke up, but between the rain and the dew, it was a fairly damp breakfast.
As I hit the road towards Ottawa, I realized that my hard adventure through the saw blade hills east of Muskoka must have done some serious damage to my body. I was weak, light-headed, and it felt like my legs had been replaced with bars of rusted iron. I was surprised my knees didn't squeak as I tried to turn my pedals. Adding in the 100% humidity and it felt like I was trying to force my bike through a bowl of hot jello along a road with no shoulder. Yeah, I know I complain a lot on this blog, but cycle touring has many days where you wake up, feel like shit, everything sucks, and you still have to find the motivation to get on your bike.
At least today I am only going 75 km to Ottawa.
Eventually I found my way onto the Route Verte, Quebec's famed network of cycling infrastructure. I enjoyed fairly quiet and  separated cycling for an hour or so until I l was led onto one of the most washboarded dirt roads I've ever seen. After that, I bailed out to the highway again, where I discovered a 2 meter wide paved shoulder. Hmmmmmm.
Unfortunately,  I only got weaker and weaker as the day wore on. I had to take an early lunch at a convenience store about 20 km north of Ottawa.
I saw a gravel bike path down the hill on  Google Maps and decided to give it a go.
It turned out to be a narrow, cobbly singletrack. I stuck it out for about 2 km, dodging rocks and branches until I got down to a lovely road that wound along the Ottawa River until I got to... Le Route Verte! From here on out though, it is a 100% separated, 100% paved path for cyclists only (and the occasional rollerblader).
A brief stop for a coffee break with the largest and best latte I have yet had and then I followed the RV all the way to Parliament Hill. Back in Ontario for the night. I was a bit overwhelmed by the crowds of tourists and close streets of the capital but managed to find some snacks and beer before meeting with another internet friend, Corey (Jusda) for a brief walk around the market and tacos.
Meeting my hosts for the night, Denis and
Susan, in the garage of their behemoth 28 story apartment building, I was directed to take my bike to parking level 4. To my surprise, it was four levels below ground. Parking my bike in the caverns below Ottawa, I took the elevator up to their apartment, where I accepted offers of a shower, laundry and dinner. The rest of the night involved watching a thunderstorm approach, chatting about the Yukon, and a safe, dry sleep in a bed. Bicycle tour luxury.
In the morning, I had some light breakfast while watching the rain slowly dissipate. I took the scenic network of bicycle paths across the river and then through Gatineau, where the Route Verte took me onto Highway 148, with light traffic and great shoulders.
Despite filling myself at dinner the night before, I was still a bit weak and hungry so around midday I stopped in at a casse croute for some poutine and practiced my pathetic French with the very accomodating server.
Full to the gills with a "medium" poutine, I felt very drowsy cycling on another hot, humid day along the River Ottawa. Luckily a Tims showed up just in time for a pick me up.
With my caffeine energy in, I cruised along the shoulder to Montebello, where I picked up some coleslaw, instant rice, snack cakes, and beer at the local supermarket. Yup, Quebec has all the essentials covered.
Then it was another short rip down the road to la Riviere Rouge, where I got a very pretty campsite for only 25$ (showers included). Things are finally becoming right again in the world.
My first night without a thunderstorm or rain of any kind, and with blue skies above the tent I lathered on the sunscreen. However, leaving the campground I was nearly immediately greeted by a thick wall of fog. Strapping on the blinking taillight for safety, I continued on down the road towards Montreal. Alternating between stretches of highway shoulder and Route Verte, depending on what seemed best.
With only 15$ in my wallet, I stopped in at Deux-Montagnes for a BMO atm visit and a stop in at the local patisserie, where I continued to butcher the pronounciation of french pastries.
Checking in with my host in Montreal, I hopped back onto le Route Verte and headed towards the large, intimidating city.

The best bicycle with Parliament Hill in the background

Un poutine avec viande fumee "medium"

Finally got a dry night to air out all the bits

Low visibility along the Ottawa River