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".
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