Quebec City and I'le d'Orleans

The campground was clean but claustrophobic. I had heard that Quebecians(?) were protective of the French language but wow. I was surrounded by a few hundred fellow campers and none spoke English that I ever heard. As soon as I crossed the Quebec provincial line the signs ceased to be bilingual. I need to learn some French because this place is special. In the morning I rode in the 25 miles to the city center along an amazing network of bike paths. I saw perhaps 10,000 other cyclists that day. It was amazing to me how well Canada takes care of their cyclists. The paths are really more like roads with great pavement, protection from cars and pedestrians at intersections, huge park and ride lots, and cafes and bathrooms along the trails. If I planned a city, I hope I would be smart enough to plan it like this. So far every city in Canada that I have ridden in has put Austin to deep shame. Wow, do we ever have a long way to go.

The city center is like riding into a French city. The buildings and people and shops and restaurants are so old world. I was there for the weekend of the Quebec holiday of St. Jean Baptiste Day. I had a fine time just riding around and around admiring the views and soaking in the people and the language. I can't say enough good things about the French Canadians. If not for the winter, I would be working on Kimberly to move here.

The small narrow streets went up and down the hill and I was grateful for my hills at home for making it possible to explore without walking.

Young and old, large and small, the riders here seem to love their bikes. Many were on single speeds. I was impressed by how many older riders I came across that were surprisingly strong. Here is one of the cafes where I stopped to try a local dish called poutine, which is french fries and high quality strong cheese with sausage and gravy. Sounds terrible, tastes delicious. I capped it with a strawberry ice cream in a crunchy good chocolate dipped cone.

On the way home I took a detour by some nice falls. Detour is a French word that means I got lost in a good way. It ended up being a great ride and one I hope to repeat someday.