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.