Season's Greetings!

Since my thanks-giving trip to my home town in October, I've hardly ridden my bike at all. We've been having drenching rain storms, with winds gusting up to 80mph one day. Besides I caught a bad cold which gave me an excuse to indulge myself by spending a day or two bundled up at home, drinking herb tea, eating hot soup, and reading and napping for hours at a time - very enjoyable. I recovered fast, but it's been hard to face the thought of vigorous exercise in cold, wet weather.

Still, I was aiming to ride 5000 miles this year, without regular commuting to rack up mileage. By mid-December I still had almost fifty to go. Trying to catch up, I did a couple of easy, flat twelve mile rides, then on Christmas Day rode a 26-mile loop to Lynden and back. The lay-off from riding has had its effect: I was tired and sore after only 26 miles, and have decided I definitely need a bike that fits me better.




Wintering in Ferndale is already very isolating and lonely, and Lynden on Christmas Day wasn't very cheery, either - the town was completely closed down by afternoon. All the churches on Front Street have lights and nativity scenes but services were over for the day and everyone had gone home. The weather was a little warmer, with a hint of blue sky and sunshine, though, and some of the views of farms along the way reminded me of old English or Dutch landscape paintings. So it was good to get out and get moving again.

Still have eighteen miles to go before the end of the year.

Snow on the foothills, but not at sea-level yet. Mount Baker is hidden in the clouds here.

Home Again

Seattle from Myrtle Edwards Park

Thanksgiving Day, almost exactly three months since I returned from my bicycle tour in Quebec, and I've fallen back in to my old routines. Not exactly, I'm making some changes.

All summer I had meant to take a trip to my home town of Issaquah, to try out some of the rail-trails and bicycle-pedestrian routes that have been developed around Lake Samammish and up in to the foothills around the towns of Fall City, Preston and Snoqualmie Falls. By the end of September the weather was turning autumnal enough that I knew I'd better fit the trip in soon, and I got a cheap fare offer on Amtrak, so I took off a few days in October.

Amtrak's carry-on bike service on this route has improved, and it was easier to book me and my bike online. The morning train from Bellingham arrives in Seattle at about eleven, just in time for lunch. After that, I loaded my bike on the front rack of a commuter bus for an express run via I-90 to Issaquah. I checked in to the Motel 6 near Lake Samammish State Park, only a few miles by bike from the Park & Ride.

Issaquah Park & Ride

When I was growing up, the green welcome sign that the school bus passed on the way in to town showed the population as 4210. The bus route ran through woods of pine, maple and alder. There were fenced pastures near town, usually just home to several horses. The dairy farms and herds of cows were already gone. Now those fields are covered by malls, office complexes and parking lots, and the human population has multiplied many times over. In the old business core there are still many landmark buildings, especially the salmon hatchery on Issaquah Creek, but I didn't find many fond memories. The old town is so engulfed by new development that it's hard for me to feel very nostalgic. Besides, I was a sulky and discontented teenager, and couldn't wait to get away when I turned eighteen. I visited the Hillside Cemetery and left flowers at my parents' grave site. It's said that funerals are for the living, and so were the flowers, I suppose, but I am grateful for the inheritance from my mother that paid for my tour this summer.

The Motel 6 is practical and cheap, and well-located for bicycle exploration. There was an IHOP next door, a Tully's coffee shop down the street, and a Taco Time within walking distance for dinner - not haute cuisine, but reasonably cheap and nutritious and hearty fuel for bike trips. There are paved bike lanes on most nearby streets and easy access to the paved trails along Lake Samammish.

The Preston-Snoqualmie Falls Trail, which I'd come to explore, starts just beneath the freeway overpass near Gilman Boulevard. It is paved for the first few miles, but turns to packed gravel most of the way, with some rocky places, mud puddles and patches of wet leaves. It's pretty much up-hill for the whole twelve miles, but at an easy rail-road grade. The scenery is pretty and woodsy, but within hearing distance of I-90 most of the way. I'd seen some descriptions of the trail that recommend riding a mountain bike, but I had no trouble on my Surly Cross-Check.

Trail crossing at Preston-Fall City Road

I think, back when I was in high school, the cross-country track team ran on undeveloped trails out this way, but I wasn't an athlete back then so the terrain was all new to me. My parents did take my sister and me out for car trips to Snoqualmie Falls when we were kids, though. It was a treat to view the falls, then stop for lunch at the Colonial Inn in Fall City. This time I took a side-trip at the road crossing, and found that the inn is now a jazz-age style road house, with pretty much the same country diner American food.

The bike trail continues past Preston-Fall City Road to a little bridge, where I remember stopping to climb on the rocks and admire the mossy trees by the Raging River. As I recall, the bridge was only local access then, but now the trail continues four or five miles farther through the woods along the old railway route. Shortly after crossing this bridge, there is a steep hill with series of switch-backs, where you have to walk your bike - or horse, as this is an equestrian trail, too.

The trail ends at a view point a few miles farther on, where the lodge, dam and power plant at Snoqualmie Falls are barely visible through the trees.

End of the trail

After finishing the group bike tour in August, I'd been thinking about buying a carbon road bike. I hadn't felt I had any trouble keeping up with the group, but some people had made some unkind remarks - such as, "So, Anna, do you know anything about drafting?" I thought, maybe if I was riding carbon like everyone else, instead of a 28lb steel frame, they would have been nicer. But after this ride, when my Surly went from Seattle city streets, to commuter bus racks, to paved bike paths, to gravel/rock/mud trails, and then back again, I'm happy with steel. I just need to find a frame that fits me better.

Since October I've only been riding about once or twice a week, 25-30 miles at a time. I've been doing more yoga, and trying out a TRX strength-training program. The plan is to do more cross-training and rehab over the winter, while I figure out what routes I'll ride next year.

One Last Look

Ste. Catherine's

In the last few days of my stay in Montreal a lot of my time was taken up in running around trying to find a place to print out my shipping documents; then a sweaty, grimy afternoon spent in a parking garage packing up my bicycle; finishing with a maddeningly itchy case of bedbug rash. Usually when I travel, near the end of the trip I just want to rush home to my cat, but this time I was trying to forget that I'd be returning to an empty apartment. So I had to make an effort to shake off my bad moods and enjoy the last two days of my stay.

What else can I say to sum up my travels? I want to go back. My only regrets are that I didn't prepare better, study my French, and plan a solo tour between the cities.

Next time.

I took my bicycle for one final spin to the old waterfront neighborhood of Montreal before I shipped it back home, then I wore myself out on walking tours. I spent several hours at the Redpath Museum at McGill University, which has a whole floor of displays about the geological and natural history of Quebec, and an interesting assortment of fossil dinosaurs, animals and plants, as well as human artifacts from Egypt, Africa and elsewhere. And I walked and window-shopped at random on the upscale commercial streets and quiet residential neighborhoods of the Plateau.

Nice spot for lunch across from the Visitors Info Center

At construction sites there are always signs saying "RUE BARRÉ" which are to be avoided, but there is an actual rue Barré near the waterfront.

Many neighborhoods also have folk-artsy signs with colloquial sayings, warning about speed limits, street crime or other local quality-of-life issues. "Tout doux dans ma rue" means "every thing's cool on my street."

Bike rack at McGill University

Cool places to rest sore feet

La Maison des Cyclistes

I first learned of La Maison des Cyclistes in a first-year French language class ten years ago. One of our assignments required going online to search travel and tourist information to plan a vacation in a French-speaking country. I chose to plan a bicycle tour in Québec. That’s how long I’ve been harboring this fantasy trip. Naturally, my expectations were a little exaggerated.

La Maison des Cyclistes

La Maison des Cyclistes is the headquarters of VéloQuébec, an organization formed in 1995 to promote development of La Route Verte, a system of bicycle trails throughout the province of Québec. Some of the sources I found described a combination of a café, a bike repair and retail shop, offices, and a resource center for bicycle travelers, including a self-serve repair area. I was expecting a bicyclists’ bazaar, teeming with touring cyclists from many countries, speaking many languages, on their way to destinations around the world.

In reality, La Maison has a nice little coffee shop, with good pastries and sandwiches, located across from Parc Lafontaine at the three-way intersection of rue Rachel est and rue de la Roche. Inside there is a news-stand area with racks of maps, books, and magazines of interest to cyclists. In a nook across from that is a small retail space displaying tubes, patch kits, basic tools, safety accessories like lights, batteries and reflectors, and other little essentials. Beyond this area are the offices where the people of VéloQuébec plan cycling events, create maps and publications, and continue work on expanding La Route Verte.

Street view from the sidewalk tables

The two or three times I came in, before 9am, the office was still closed and the only other customers were a few morning commuters who stopped in for coffee on the way to work. But the young man at the café counter was very sweet and friendly, though shy and unsure of his English, which was much better than my French. The first morning I came in looking for – besides my morning coffee and pastry – a place where I could clean up my bicycle, because it was very dirty after a week of touring in the rain. He told me they didn’t have shop space on site, but directed me to a bike shop a few blocks down rue de la Roche. I explored a little in that direction and passed a shop cleverly and appropriately (for me) called Le Vélodidact. A sign on the door said it opened at nine, but I passed by a few times and it was always locked and dark. Finally, rather than annoy my landlady with my dirty bike, I bought some Handi-wipes and gave the chain and gears a quick wash with a little dish soap and hot tap water out on the sidewalk in front of the B&B.

Traffic Patterns

Rue Rachel est is a major cross-town arterial, running for several blocks at the edge of Parc Lafontaine, its west end finishing at Parc Jeanne Mance, just across Avenue du Parc from Parc Mont-Royal. It has two car lanes in each direction, and a two-way bicycle lane separated from the car lanes by curb-barriers. Rue de la Roche forms a three-way intersection with rue Rachel; it also has a two-way bike lane, but only a narrow one-way car lane, with parking on both sides of the street. At Parc Lafontaine, across rue Rachel from La Maison des Cyclistes, is a large Bixi bike station.

One Friday morning I spent an hour or so at a cafe table by this intersection, watching the bicycle traffic flow and examining the street configuration. I was a bit confused at first by the red car in these photos, which seemed to be stalled in the middle of the street, until I realized that the parked cars separate the bike lane from the car lane on rue de la Roche.








This is where I filmed the little video clips that won't play, but the first frames of the clips are at left. You can also see that the bike lane on rue Rachel was closed on this morning – more utility work and sidewalk improvements. Bikes were re-routed to one of the car lanes instead.

Bicycles flowed pretty smoothly through this intersection, cars deferred to cyclists without impatience, and faster and slower cyclists got along nicely. It was interesting to watch bikes coming from the left on rue Rachel: instead of making a left turn across the four-lane street to Parc Lafontaine, riders would make a little U-turn to the right across rue de la Roche and get at the end of the bike line-up to cross the intersection into the park.


In general I found that car-drivers in Montreal were more bike-friendly than back home, though there were exceptions. In Whatcom county I've learned to watch out for big 4x4 pick-up trucks and red cars – people who drive red cars seem to be risk-takers. In Montreal it was people who drive Mercedes and Jaguars that tend to cut off pedestrians and cyclists, then give us a blank stare as if they couldn't understand what we're doing in the middle of the street. Of course, Mercedes and Jaguars are a lot more common in Montreal than in Whatcom county.

Back home I've also become more or less used to being called a whore when I'm out walking. Pedestrian = streetwalker = whore. Apparently. By my second day in the city I learned that in Montreal, "pute" is the term.

Yes, all women, everywhere, in every language.

But I made up my mind not to stew over it or let inconsiderate drivers and crude, ignorant people spoil my dream vacation.

Bixi bikes

Bixi stations in Parc LaFontaine

In 2008 the city of Montreal implemented the Bixi bike system with 3000 bikes at 300 stations, making shared bikes available for short trips within the city. Access is by monthly subscription or a temporary access code paid by credit card at a pay station, before a bike can be removed from a locked rack. The charge is $1.50cdn for the first hour; $3 for thirty minutes more; then $6 for each half-hour beyond ninety minutes.

The payment and docking stations have software that monitors the supply and location of bikes, so managers can restock empty stations, or remove bikes from stations that are full.

The system was adopted in other cities in Canada, the US, Australia and England, but in 2014 the private, non-profit company filed for bankruptcy, in part because some US cities had withheld payment because of problems with the system's software. However, the Bixi program continues to operate in Montreal (and elsewhere) because of its popularity, and because so many people have come to depend on the bikes for regular transportation.

Bikes have to be transported between stations, so that all
locations have bikes available, and open spaces to park returned bikes.

Though I didn't try riding one of the Bixi bikes myself, I'm told they are heavy and clunky. They have large fenders over the rear wheel, bearing advertising for companies that support the system. But the bikes are designed for comfortable, upright riding for short distances in city traffic, and geared low for the hill-climb up from Montreal's city center. And they spare commuters the worry of finding convenient, safe parking, and the risk theft or vandalism of a pricey recreational bike.

All week in Montreal I saw people of all ages and physical types, flocking to and from work at rush hour on Bixi bikes, or their own cruisers, hybrid, road or mountain bikes. During the hot weather I noticed many women wearing gauzy, fluttery, floral print mini-dresses with sandals, ballerina flats, even high-heeled shoes, and I particularly wanted to get photos of women biking to work in nice outfits and cute shoes. I had planned to catch a Friday morning commute to take photos, but unfortunately there was a thunderstorm the night before. The temperature was more comfortable in the morning, but there were puddles on the streets, so instead of pretty summer dresses I saw a lot of sensible shoes with khaki, black or navy blue pants and shorts.

Payment station

Bixi parking in downtown Montreal

I also got some little video clips of bicycle traffic patterns at an intersection of two-way bike lanes on a major street, which would be thrilling to a traffic engineer. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to download the clips to Google Blogger, Facebook, YouTube, or anywhere else, in a playable form. But I have more photos for another post . . . . .

Le Jardin Botanique and Parc Mont Royal

The B&B was situated close to three of Montreal's best-known parks - Parc LaFontaine, Parc Mont-Royal, and Le Jardin Botanique. My hostess had told me "you must visit the Botanical Gardens" and so on my first day in the city, I did. I spent most of my time in the Chinese and Japanese gardens, though I also walked through a restored native forest, with exhibits of First Nations camps. This area was shady and cooler than the more open pathways. After a couple of hours walking around I began to feel sunburned, and stopped in to the gift shop to buy a scarf to protect my shoulders, neck and face.


The Japanese tea house housed a very somber memorial for the 60th anniversary of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Survivors' narratives were posted next to child-like drawings and paintings of remembered scenes, touching because any still-living people who survived the bombing would have been children at the time.

In another room were some gorgeous scenic photos from rural Japan and seaside or mountain villages, very colorful and tranquil, and different from my limited knowledge and imagination of Japanese life.

The Chinese garden

Where bananas come from -
these were only about 4" long

Gingko leaves and nuts

Gingkos are an ancient and fascinating species of tree, though I think technically they aren't really even a tree, they are so unique. Most of what I know I get from wikipedia, so I suggest anyone interested go do a Google search. But I will say that gingkos thrive in disturbed ground, and in Hiroshima and Nagasaki some trees that survived went through growth spurts after the bombing, sending out new roots, shoots and branches, blooming and producing lots of fruit. Gingkos are a symbol of life, recovery and resilience.







A panorama of Montreal from le Chalet du Mont Royal
 

I quickly discovered relief from the city heat and humidity at the cool and breezy top of Mont Royal. The mountain is really only about the size of some of the hills that US west coast cities like Seattle and Bellingham are built on. According to the natural history exhibits at Maison Smith in the park, the mountain is the remains of a pre-ice age volcano; glaciers formed and receded, stripping away thousands of feet of top soil and leaving an outcrop of black marble that was used in construction of many of the city's early buildings.

The park and path are an Olmstead design, and were meant to be left simple and natural as much as possible, but Montreal city leaders couldn't leave things in their wild state. They built a stone chalet and observation plaza, which are rustic but impressive enough to use for royal receptions.

Chalet du Mont-Royal

The hard-packed gravel pedestrian-bicycle path is wider than many city streets. It's a fairly gradual uphill all the way, with a couple of steeper switch-backs, and enough foot-traffic that you can't cut loose and go fast on the downhill trip. Some people ride Bixi bikes to the top, and I did it easily on my Surly. From my B&B it was only about 3.5 miles to the top, but I did manage to get a little lost. There is a curving path up to the Chalet, then a loop around the peak of the mountain, but the first day I visited there was - guess what! - construction work in progress near Maison Smith, with big trucks, bulldozers and orange netting obscuring the turn-off to the loop. I rode up the hill, wandered around the cemetery and a small pond, the Lac aux Castors, and then, without realizing it, got on the loop around the summit, riding around at least three times before I finally stopped in at the Chalet to find a tourist map that would point out the turn-off to get back down the hill.

Monument in Mont-Royal Cemetery

Cross of St. Joseph

Le Petit Hotêl on rue Laval

The B&B on rue Laval was comfortable, convenient and cheap. The interior was decorated with tasteful art and shabby-chic antiques, and painted a pale blue-green that gave the place a cool feeling, despite the heat and ineffective air conditioning. I chose a room on the sunny, street-side, with a sink in the room and separate shower and toilet rooms down the hall. After a little experimenting I found it was best to leave the window open, shades down and ceiling fan on high; then I could sleep well enough on top of the blankets, wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

One night I was awakened around eleven by a spectacular thunderstorm, which cooled the city down overnight. I got up and sat by the open window in the parlor to watch the rain, and enjoy the moody, romantic, film noirish look of the street.

But I don't want to mention the name of the place because my week there came to a disappointing end. One afternoon I came in tired from walking in the heat, and decided to read and nap a bit, then go out for an early dinner. A couple of hours later I woke up to find my left arm, shoulder and ribs were covered with itchy red welts about a half-inch around. There were even a couple of spots on my face. Bedbugs.

An artsy alley near rue Laval

Disgusted, repulsed, angry and itching, I washed down my skin with cold water from the sink, then rubbed lotion on the blotches.

By this time I only had one full night and day, then a short night before I had to get up early to get to the airport. I'd been so contented with the place for almost a week. I decided to say nothing, just tough it out for thirty hours. I pulled the blankets and pillows off the bed, rolled them up, and stuffed them in the closet, and made sure all my clothes and shoes were hanging up, or inside my bags on the table, off the carpet. Then I went out to walk a bit and find dinner.

l'Eglise d'Enfant Jesus

I walked up and down and back up again on rue St-Denis, then down and up blvd. St-Laurent, two busy, upscale streets of boutiques, restaurants and night spots, enjoying the colorful and quirky street scenes, stopping to rest by the cool, shaded fountain in front of l'Eglise d'Enfant Jesus.

After dinner (taco salad at a Mexican place, I think) I wandered in to Renaud & Bray's bookstore. They have a couple of stores in Montreal, which I believe are going through some sort of reorganization. Anyway, they had lots of discounted books, souvenirs and kitsch.

There I found "Soudain dans la forêt profonde" by Israeli author Amos Oz. It was translated from Hebrew to French (obviously) but was described as "a parable for children and adults" so I thought with a dictionary at hand it might be about my reading level, and a good distraction from my itchy spots.

Can't imagine how the graffitists got up there

Bienvenue - Montreal

Leaving Quebec City

I rode my bicycle down the cobbled streets of the old city to La Gare du Palais in Quebec City, which was sleepy and uncrowded at 6am on a Monday morning. At the station I pulled off my panniers and turned the bike over to the ViaRail attendants, who wheeled it away to some safe and secure compartment before I boarded. The passenger car was sleek, modern and clean, with a single row of seats on the right and a double row on the left. I got a comfortable single seat by the window. I’d only had time for coffee in my room before I left, and was already hungry when I arrived at the station, so I ordered a yogurt parfait, a bit pricey as usual with on-board meals. But it was satisfying enough to make me sleepy and I ended up napping for most of the three-hour trip, until the train neared Laval, I think.

A café on rue Rachel Est

The train station in Montreal was big, busy and a bit confusing. After retrieving my bicycle I wheeled it through the crowds to the food court area - always trying to stay ahead of my appetite - where I had a hearty deli sandwich and more coffee, while consulting my city maps to figure out how to get to the B&B where I’d made a reservation. There was street construction going on around the station and I chose the wrong exit, circling the block before I could get going in the right direction. The city traffic was intimidating and I walked my bike on the sidewalk until I got away from the downtown core.

The B&B was on a quiet side-street on The Plateau, between the lively neighborhoods of the Latin Quarter, the Village, Outremont, Parc Lafontaine and Parc Mont Royal. It was close to La Maison des Cyclistes on rue Rachel Est, the headquarters of VéloQuébec, the organization behind the development of La Route Verte bicycle route system, which is what inspired my interest in travelling to Quebec several years ago. (I’ll devote a post to that later.)

rue Laval, Montreal

Parc Lafontaine

Unfortunately, or maybe I should have expected it, there was street construction in progress on rue Rachel, and the little cross-streets nearest the B&B weren’t continuous, dead-ending and reappearing a few blocks farther on, instead of connecting to main thorougfares. With the constantly changing street detours during the ten days I stayed in the neighborhood, I frequently overshot my turns and had to back-track and circle around before I could get back to my home-base. Ten days was just long enough to begin to get oriented, and then I had to leave.

But at least it gave me lots of chances to canvas the area, and I burned more calories walking than bicycling, so I was able to eat heartily three times a day and still lose weight.

The city was hot and humid in late August. My first night there I got take-out grilled chicken from a Portuguese place and had a picnic at Parc Lafontaine, which became my preferred dinner spot.