On a useful trial run

 What with one thing and another, I had repeatedly failed to do something I had wanted to do to test my fitness since June. Namely, ride around the Island of Montreal. That is ride from my home to Eastern and Western extremities of the Island and back. I hadn't failed to complete this ride, I'd failed to start it. Sometimes, it was going to be too hot. Other days, I simply failed to get up.

With the upcoming trip, I decided that enough was enough and I had to do it. As forecast was for Sun and cool temperatures, I set off East this morning on Victor von Fleddermoose. It was a good day, though I wish I had checked the forecast as what wind there was coming from the North East meaning I should have gone the other way around.

I reached the Eastern tip in good time and then rolled back West along Gouin Boulevard, along which I stopped to remove my tights. I later took off my relatively heavy long-sleeved jersey for a short-sleeved one. 

It was clouding over, when I got to Ste-Anne-de-Bellevue a bit after 1. I stopped at one of the waterfront restaurants for lunch. The waitress commented that cyclists tended to order what I had ordered, namely a piña colada and a Korean style chicken burger. I shrugged and said that I couldn't comment on the trend.

I set off again, and was surprised to feel a bit cold. A few minutes later, I stopped and switched to the long-sleeved jersey. Then it was the long but rather familiar run along Lakeshore Boulevard. It began to sprinkle near Lachine. As I got on the Lachine Canal bike path, my thighs started to protest. Strenuously.

I got home and made an important decision. I wasn't going to try to do the 134 kilometers of the Petit Témis Interprovincial Bicycle Path in one day. That had been my plan but if my thighs felt like they did after 127.94 km, in 5 hours, 44 minutes and 4 seconds of biking (average speed 22.3, max speed 53.5) on the lightweight Victor von Fleddermoose with no load, then trying to do 134 kilometers on a loaded Leonardo would be asking for trouble. Consequently, I set about changing some reservations. I realized that it allowed a useful change. I had been planning to ride 80 plus kilometers to Saint-Simeon through the hilly Saquenay Provincial Park in order to catch the 5:30 ferry to Rivière-du-Loup. Now, I could defer the crossing until the next morning meaning I wouldn't have to worry about making the ferry.

On a decision about this year's bike trip and some interesting luck

 What with the chaotic situation with air travel in general and with baggage in particular, I have opted for a plane-free expedition this year. I had contemplated biking from Montreal to Moncton and taking the train back, but to get to Rivière-du-Loup would have involved covering too much familiar ground. Instead, I borrowed an idea from a discarded plan, and reversed it. I will now start from Jonquière having taking the train there. The time gained will allow me to get as far as Halifax for the return trip.

Last night, I looked up the schedules and prices on Via Rail and noted with a certain surprise that many of the sleeping options on the Ocean (the train from Halifax to Montreal) were already sold out, even though the day I wanted was in October. I decided that I should book sooner than later. However, I also noticed that I had accumulated enough Via Preference points to pay for both trips. These could only be redeemed by talking to an agent, so I decided to wait until this morning.

I started by booking the return trip on the grounds of scarcity. I was offered the option of either a Renaissance cabin for two (without a shower) or a cabin for one in a stainless steel HEP car (i.e. one of the sleeping cars built by Budd for the Canadian). I opted for the latter as I have found them more comfortable and more interesting than the Renaissance sleeping cars. After booking the train to Jonquière, I asked the man to include notes in my reservations that I would be traveling with a bicycle. He chuckled at that, then said that he should have guessed it given my email address (moosebike@*******.***) to which he had been sending confirmation emails and boarding passes.

Later while I was reviewing my boarding passes, I noticed that my cabin for one was unit 7, on car X. This drew my attention. On all my trips on the Canadian, I had been sleeping in Manor sleeping cars, which have 6 cabins for two and 4 cabins for 1.

While I have never slept in one, I have been on the other type, namely the Château sleeping car which have 8 cabins for 1 and fewer large cabins. In addition, the cabins for 1 are staggered up and down, meaning you have a step or two up to get into half of them in order to save space. This is rather trivial, but also kind of cool to a train geek like myself.

The point of all this, is that if I am in unit 7 of a stainless steel sleeping car on Via Rail, said sleeping car is one of the Château car. So that will be a first for me. Also, it will be that much further from the wheels so, with luck, better sleep! I also understand that it will be a step up, judging by this vintage picture:

On bikes and beers

 Last weekend was the Défi Métropolitain which started out of Pointe Calumet. I went with the Parental Units. As luck would have it, we parked close to Mummy's friend Annie and her friends, so there was someone to take the cheese du départ. The weather was great, sunny and cool with relatively little wind. However, annoyingly, during a downwind section, the route was sheltered by lots of trees but not for much of the upwind sections!

The route went by Kanesatake and a fair bit was in the municipality of Oka. You could tell this by some of the signs.

There were a fair number of farms selling their produce to tourists, notably apples. I had seen a couple of signs for a place called "Jude-Pomme". I had quietly wondered why it wasn't "Pommes Jude" but put the thought aside as I pedaled. As passed the place, I spoke the name in my head and got the answer: the name could be pronounced "Jus de pommes". In the words of the immortal Mole, they shall be pun-ished for that! 

At lunch, I was seated at a picnic table shaded by a sunshade. There was a gust of wind which caused to nearly tip over and fly off. Thankfully, I was able to catch it with lightning reflexes. This impressed that guy on the other side of the table who was wearing a "Bikes and beers".

After lunch, I went by a somewhat specialized store. I didn't think the market for bolts was that big. More fool I.

After meeting the Parental Units back at the car, I drove back to Montreal and unloaded Victor von Fleddermoose and my gear. I then got on Justin and rode over to James' for beers and socializing. 

Results from the bike computer are as follows: 4.25.15 of biking time, 97.86 km covered, average speed 22.1 km/h and a maximum speed of 61.4 km/h. To which can be added about 12 km to and from James' at city speeds.

On the confidence of and in a new cyclist

 My cousin Louise and/or her husband Thomas has posted some videos of her four year-old daughter Tessa riding her bike around various tracks (sans training wheels). There was one in particular that I thought showed off Tessa's confidence and skill. I showed it to coworker who has a four year-old of her own in the learning to ride a bike zone. While re-watching the video, I was struck by the fact that not only does Tessa seem very confident, but that her parents are very confident in her as she rides quite a distance  away on the practice bike track without her parents following her, except by sight. 

Way to got Tessa! Way to go Louise and Thomas!

On having your mind blown away

 I was reading the April 2022 edition of Adventure cyclist when I had my mind blown away by a paragraph in an article by Alex Crevar called "Epicurean cruise : a gourmet bike tour along Croatia's Adriatic coast":

"I stopped at Zadar's northwestern tip and sat stop the city's Sea Organ, where 35 pipes of various sizes have been installed under the [waterfront promenade]. As the tide rolled in and out under the stone promenade, air rushed in and out through the pipes creating a symphony with the ethereality of a theremin and the soothing of whale calls."

The idea of making a musical instrument that is played by the sea itself strikes me a breathtaking leap of the imagination. 

I think I am going to add Croatia's Adriatic coast to my bike bucket list.

Addendum:

Margo had submitted the following comment. 

"Great idea! But I just reread the part of our Bangkok to Paris blog where we were discussing various route options into Europe, and you commented "You two seem tired of post-communist nonsense. Consequently, I would suggest you might want to limit your Balkan touring."

About time you ate your hat! But we are glad you are expanding your horizons."

I responded with the observation that my comment was based on what I perceived as their state of mind during their epic trek, not the merits of bike touring the Balkan coast. Thus, there was no hat to eat.

Unfortunately, I just accidentally erased both comments. Censorship was not the reason.

On ponderings for a trip this year and a revelation about Grandpa

 Possibly because of this CBC News article which discusses Sue, a friend of Alice in Norris Point, I dreamed up a possible bike trip for this summer. From the basic idea of "What is there more to see in Newfoundland?", I came up with the answer "Anse-Aux-Meadows and Red Bay". From those ideas, came the question "How do I get back to Montreal from said places?" A certain awareness of the various transportation options led me to the following idea:

Fly to Deer Lake and assemble Leonardo. Ride to Anse-Aux-Meadows. Ride back to St-Barbe and take the ferry to Blanc-Sablon. Ride to Red Bay and back. From Blanc-Sablon, take the Nordik Express to Rimouski. From Rimouski, bike to Trois-Pistols and take a ferry to Les-Escoumins. From there, ride to Jonquière from where I catch the train home.

I have done a high level scan of the relevant schedules and distances and I believe I can shove them into my three week holiday limitation, but who knows?

On a completely different note, I found out something new about my Grandpa in the last week. My Maternal Grandfather, may he rest in peace, is honoured for his contributions to skiing in Canada. One thing that isn't mentioned in that link was how part of his contribution to Canada's War effort was to train Canadian soldiers to ski. As it turned out, this wasn't necessary, but I think the effort stands to his credit. As part of his efforts, it was necessary for him to produce ski wax. As luck would have it, Canada's supplier of ski wax was Norway which the Germans had occupied. I am not sure where the recipe originated but suspect the Jackrabbit. In any case, Grandpa acquired one for ski wax which included shellac. The latter ingredient was sourced from records, some of which were obtained from my Aunt Lorna, very much against her will. 

What I hadn't know was the intervention of the Police. It seems that Grandpa brewed up the ski wax on the stove of the lower level of the duplex where he (and his family) was living at the time. I don't know what the full list of ingredients for the ski wax was, but I can only imagine that the smell was, for the sake of argument, very strong. This drew the ire of the tenant or landlady in the unit above. She complained very ardently to my maternal Grandparents, and, despite assurances that it was for the War Effort, she exclaimed her resolve to report it to the police, calling my Grandfather a "Big bohunk". This insult is noting but utter inaccurate slander. A quick Google search gives the following definition of "bohunk": "a contemptuous term used to refer to an unskilled or semiskilled foreign-born laborer, especially from east central or southeastern Europe." For the record, professionally, Grandpa was a chartered accountant from Scotland and during the War, was an officer in the Canadian Army. When the police arrived, they not only accepted his explanation of the smell and reason for its source, but asked for the details of the recipe! 

Please note that my sources for the above anecdote are the extant daughters of Grandpa who aren't old enough to have witnessed the event but probably heard it more than enough times to make it true.

On the things you can get from your local bike store

 I am on a two week vacation from work. One of my objectives was to get new skis, bindings and ski boots. My current set of these are very dated. The youngest of these, my skis, probably date to the late 1980s. The three pin bindings were re-used from an earlier pair of skis. The boots were inherited from my Grandpa. I suspect they may be older than I am.

Unfortunately, the first two stores I visited only had either fish scale waxless skis or integral skins waxless skis, technology that I am very leery of. These were my best two options on hand. I had been pondering putting new bindings on my old skis and buying suitable boots.

However, bike related fate intervened. I had failed to bring Justin Thyme in to be tuned up at the end of the biking season. Consequently, I brought him up to Martin Swiss for a yearly tune up well before the spring rush. After I explained what I wanted to Steve the manager, he asked in a friendly manner, "So apart from the bike, what else is up?" I casually mentioned my frustration at not being able to find new conventional skis. He mentioned a couple of places then said he'd text a buddy of his for a lead. I thanked him, then left to go home. I had only gone a couple of blocks before Steve phoned me with a few more leads.

One of them was for Poubelle du Ski (sic).  Despite the name, a second rate website and not being able to actually call them, it seemed the most promising of the leads. It was near the Jarry Metro station on Saint-Lawrence Boulevard. It was housed in a building built for another purpose and looked unprepossessing. However, it had racks and racks of skis, boots, waxes, etc. and if the racks often homemade or repurposed, the guy I dealt with seemed to know what's what and soon fitted me out with skis and boots.