7/30/09: Off segment. Rt 132 east on the south side of the St. Lawrence River. Point-Au-Pere to Matane, Quebec; 54 miles.
So we just finished up our blogging on the picnic table and then the rain drops started to fall. We’d been blogging during a thunder storm for about an hour, and I thought that it would miss us. Wrong! We packed up our computers, unhooked from our good French Canadian neighbor, and put our gear back in the tent. I went over to the fish store to call Judy on the pay phone, and I could just see this massive storm coming in. Then went into the fish store, which was about 100 meters from our tents, to get a juice, and the storm hit. It was a complete deluge, a massive rain storm the likes I’ve not seen on this trip. Ryan and I were stranded in the fish market for a good 30 min, just watching the horizontal rain hammer.
And we waited and waited and waited, and this thing just wouldn’t budge. The store was ready to close at about 8pm, and there we are, peering out the door with the wind catching the open door and almost ripping it of my hands. It just wouldn’t quit. Finally, out of sheer desperation, I went for it, sprinting across the road, jumping puddles that were a good 6 feet wide, and making my break for the tent. I got in my vestibule, and was soaked, having just covered about 100 meters. So I go inside and it’s like a total pounding inside of the tent of the rain on the fly. It just totally drowns out everything. So I sat in there and toweled off with my backpacker towel as the rain continued to pound. And Ryan, Barney and I yelled at one another about how hard the freaking rain was pounding. It was totally crazy.
Pulled out the computer and did some work on client workouts, and then did aircard and checked email. It was pretty cool doing this as the deluge was pounding away outside. Got my work done and then got out the radio and tried to get some English radio. Had to settle on an AM station from the states, I think a Boston station. So I listened to Boston talk radio during the rain, and it pretty much lulled me to sleep. And it rained nearly all night long, on and off, with hard periods and low periods. Barney says it stopped around 1am. Hell, I don’t know. I just felt like I wanted to sleep the day away at that point. And my gear was not wet, but it had a dampness to it, from the air I suppose, and I felt clammy the whole night. Not dry, not wet. Just clammy.
Woke to my two blokes tearing down gear, and I just wanted to hit the sleep button to get another 30 min of slumber. This and the neverending fog horns blearing every several minutes due to the fact that the fog was as thich as pea soup this morning. It’s getting harder and harder for me to get up for these rides. I love riding, but this day after day thing, of hitting the saddle at 8am-8:30am is getting old. I just want to laze the morning away and listen to CBC and drink coffee. No dice Pedro! So I rousted at 6:30am, and Ryan was gone to the nearest place that served up caffeine. Barney was still packing gear. So I did my usual thing, packed the dank sleeping bag, the dank sleeping pad, the dank pillow, and then staged my gear by the door. With the rain last night it was just like wetness was in the air, everywhere. And I hate putting dank stuff back in stuff sacks. As much as I did the Felix and wiped my gear down to dry, no go. The air was just so saturated with water that nothing would get dry. So I did my best. And I felt this nasty feeling in my piriformis muscle, a bad kind of strain. And I surmised that it was the result of my spriting to my tent the night before. This bugger hurt big time, and I just believed that it was now a part of my future for the next………how many days.
Then the big Felix gig – wiping down my whole tent inside and outside, so as to not have it in the stuff sack as a soaking, dripping mess. I did the inside, where condensation built up under virtually everything I had on the floor, and then I did the outside, where it was a complete coating of water droplets. Bag a tent soaked, and you put up a tent that’s soaked! I hate that. So I wrung out my backpacking towel numerous times as I wiped the tent down. This was the biggest soaking of our trip. And no matter how much I wiped it down, it was still a sodden, soaking mess.
Ryan made it back to the campsite, and we told him we’d meet him at the first available restaurant that was open. So Barney and I took off, with Ryan breaking down his equipment. We took off into the fog, that was at times so thick that you could barely see 100 meters ahead of you. Add to that my piriformis pain, which was on each and every pedal srtroke, and I was off to a great day! Now we took off at about 7:30am, and nothing was open. So we just kept riding in the thick fog. Finally got in about 12 miles before we came across a place that was open. I rode by it in a fit of tempo riding, and then noticed that Barney was not behind my anymore. So I U-turned and got him. It was a little hotel restaurant, that really didn’t look all that inviting. But hell, we needed coffee and something. So we go in and look at the menue. And there it was…….the Gaspesian breakfast. I saw a grin on Barney’s face as he looked at this “king of breakfasts”. And then I asked him, “are you going for that?” “Yes,” he said with an air of confidence. Deal done. Me to.
It was a 10 dollar meal, but it had 3 eggs, fruit, sausage, ham, bacon, pâté, a torte, home made baked bearns, home made jam, and toast. This was the mother of all Gaspe Peninsula breakfasts. I HAD to have it. I’d sell my soul to have it. Visa please! And it came………..pleasure to the pallet, to the belly, to the mind. It was amazing. And we just sat there eating in bliss. I told Barney that rarely had Ryan and I enjoyed a breakfast such as this. Most of the time it was gas station coffee and a pastry. But this, this was off the charts. The toast was as thick as freaking sleeping bags – and buttered so wet that you could squeeze the butter out by the tablespoon. I just savored this meal like it was my last. And then we had a whole pot of coffee at our table, and the coffee was perfect! Ten bucks for this magnificent meal! Amazing,
And by about the time we were done, Ryan rolls in, and says he’s checked every restaurant between there and where we camped. Problem was that everything was closed when we rode by, but opened when Ryan went by. Good thing he saw our bikes by this particular restaurant. So we got going on the next leg, working our way towards Matane. And we get back on some of Barney’s bike routes. My piriformis was really sore, and bothering the hell out of me, but what’s my choice? So I just kept it rolling, favoring my right hand butt cheek. And today it was not nearly the grunt as yesterday. We had some spectacular scenery on a couple of these side trips. There were photo opps that I would not have gotten had we stayed on Rt 132 east. This was like the “million dollar” ride along the Gulf that is beyond description. The fog was heavy, and kind of set off these islands of rock as if they were just floating in space. The sun was just able to pierce the fog enough to make the scenery otherworldly.
About this time Ryan was hankering for another meal. So we road 132 into the next town and Ryan and I stopped at a gas station/store. I waited outside after I got my coke for Barney. And he came in, and I yelled and waved, and it was as if he never heard or saw me. He just motored on. And I told Ryan that I think Barney didn’t see me. So I was hoping he would hit the information center about 1K aw.ay. I pedaled out and hit the info center. No dice. So it was TT mode. The wind was still out of the west, so I was getting it up to about 21 mph, all along the Gulf. There I was, just putting down the tempo, all the while along this spectacular section of Gulf. It is amazingly beautiful riding out here. And you can take it for granted as you move along through the crazy scenery. I have to check myself occasionally to be real with everything.
So I figured that Ryan would keep it going while I chased Barney down. And I caught him about 5 K from Matane. So he was surprised that I was there, thinking that Ryan and I were still ahead of him. He never even saw me waving like mad from the gas station, and thought the whole time that we were ahead of him. This is how easy it is to get discombobulated when you’re doing a trip like this with one or several people. So Barney and I are together, and Ryan was last observed chowing down on a bag of Doritos. Barney and I took the bike route into Matane. And we ended up at the fish ladder that a gentleman had told us about back at our breakfast spot. So we figured that we’d wait for Ryan at this place since Ryan expressed a big interest in seeing this. But………no salmon climbing the ladders. It was dead!
So we hung. And after about a half hour Barney went to get us some lunch while I hung at the Salmon Run to wait for Ryan. During this interim I talked to a French Canadian about the Trans Can. He was eying my bike and gear, even taking pics. Then he approached me and asked about the trip. He loved my gear, my bike, the yak, the whole gig. And he asked me in French. I answered by saying, “no parlevu france.” And then he spoke in english. Told me he did the Trans Can in 1993, and had totally old gear. But he wanted to do it in Europe some time in the future, and wanted to use the gear that we had. So we talked for a good 30 min. In the meantime, Barney had arrived with our lunch, this awesome sub sandwich that was off the charts good. So the three of us, Barney, me, and this Trans Can Frenchie talking about touring.
Ok, so now I had lunch, BS’ed for a bit with a fellow cyclist, and then we’re waiting for Ryan. So Barney finally goes to the info center to see where the hotels and camping are in the city of Matane. And I wait at the salmon ladder. And I wait, and wait, and wait. And at a point I wonder if Barney was in an accident, and Ryan is lost – or the same. Double F-up
So I keep waiting. And about 1 hour goes by, and I catch my rays for the day, pulling the bib straps down so I can get a tan across the shoulders. And I change sitting positions a million times. Finally Barney comes back, telling me that Ryan is in the library doing internet, and he had two choices for lodging tonight – a campground that we had passed 5 k back, or a hotel right on the fringe of the east side of town. By this time I was ready for the hotel.
So Barney and I ride to the hotel – 100 bucks. Done. And we’re right on the Ocean …….err Gulf……with a seaside room. Walk 30meters and you’re in the Gulf. We put all our sodden gear out on the lawn in front of the Gulf to dry in the summer sun. So Barney went into town to tell Ryan were we were at and to get a 12-pack of beer. We’re set! I hit the water, and let me tell you, it was COLD! But I got my dip in the Gulf of the St. Lawrence. Then washed cloths in the sink to sun dry outside our room on the beach. Barney did a beer run and got Ryan, and that was the day. We’re all sitting here, all of us working on our computers, blogging, skyping etc. Next move is to hit a restaurant for some dinner.
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