Biking Into Another Country

From the beginning when we planned this trip, our intention was to visit Quebec City. We chose this destination for several reasons. We knew we would want to take a day off from riding the bike and wanted to do that in a larger city, the pictures of Quebec we saw online were very pretty and the city was easy to build into our route. Mostly we chose to spend a couple of days in Quebec because it was reputed to be the “Most European City in North America.” This title was due to Vieux-Québec (Old Quebec), a walled city that was largely constructed in the 17th and 18th centuries. The other reason for the European feel (at least to an American) is that this city and province speak French.

We knew the primary language was French, but were somehow still unprepared for it. Everyone speaks French. The television has 12+ channels in French, 3 in English, and 1 in Spanish. All of the signs are in French, including road signs. We both just felt like the entire scene was surreal. I’m not sure why. Perhaps we never believed we would actually make it this far. Perhaps we had a preconceived notion that French Canadians were mostly American-like. I think that’s certainly part of it. Mostly, I think it’s just hard for us to believe that we left a hotel in Vermont one morning on our motorcycle and 3 hours later were in a place that is both literally and figuratively foreign.

We hit the road about 9:15. As we’ve mentioned, our ride on Friday was supposed to be one of the more scenic days of the trip and it had been a disappointment. For our route to Quebec we chose to ride back roads to the northeast corner of Vermont (from Burlington, at the western border, to the other side of Vermont is only about 65 miles) hoping to give the state another shot at providing us with an enjoyable ride. Vermont did not disappoint us this day. The weather was gorgeous and this route was great. We went through fewer villages, the roads were not under construction, there was less traffic, and the scenery was better.

We were both reenergized immediately by the ride. We stopped in Cambridge, VT to mail home some extra stuff and picked up some Vermont cheddar cheese and deli meats for a roadside lunch later on. Shortly after that, T noticed a petting zoo with a llama so we stopped for a bit to take some pictures. It turned out to be a small farm with a bed and breakfast, antique store and flower gardens. As soon as we dismounted a dog was at our feet to greet us. I reached down to let him sniff my hand and he immediately ran off. I thought that he had smelled gas or something from my riding gloves that had spooked him. Instead he ran right back a moment later with a ball that he clearly intended for me to toss for him. So I played fetch with Sam (the farmer was outside and told us the dog’s name) for a few minutes while T took some pictures of the farm’s flowers and petting zoo animals. Still tossing the ball for Sam, I was approached by a guest of the inn who struck up a conversation. He was a biker from Maine and gave us several suggestions for rides around Bar Harbor. Bikers really are a friendly lot.

Back on the road we made our way to Newport, VT which was the last town we would go through before the border. The scenery is surprisingly different from the mountains back home in North Carolina. Vermont is more foothill-like, with wider valleys and smaller mountains. It’s very green and beautiful. Another difference is the number of lakes. We don’t have any natural lakes in the NC mountains because during the last ice age the glaciers didn’t come that far south. In Vermont there are numerous lakes of varying sizes that are quite picturesque.

Around noon, we hit the interstate about 7 miles south of the border. We came across an interesting and unexpected sign that read: “45 Degrees North Latitude – Midway point from the Equator to the North Pole”. It’s not like I had to ride a thousand miles north to discover this, but I had never thought about it. It reminds you of just how large Canada is. The Equator runs through northern Brazil at this approximate longitude. The north-south spread of Canada is nearly the same distance as from Brazil to the northern border of the United States. Think about that the next time you’re watching Ice Road Truckers on the Discovery Channel.

Soon we came to the border crossing and with a minimal wait were through Canadian customs and into the province of Quebec. The lady at the crossing was surprised that we had ridden a motorcycle there from North Carolina. Surprised may be too kind a word. I think she thought we must be a little off our rockers. She then asked where we were staying. We hadn’t made a reservation anywhere yet. Our habit along the way has been to write down the information for a few inns in the anticipated destination and then call to reserve about mid-way through the day. She seemed incredulous that we would be able to find accommodations since Quebec City was very busy this time of year and is also celebrating its 400th anniversary in 2008. By the time we left she probably thought we were the dumbest travelers she had seen in awhile.

We had checked online before departing Burlington and knew of at least a couple of acceptable hotels that had accommodations available for the evening. We stopped at the tourist information center and got some recommendations, a provincial road map, and used the public phone (we’re still not sure that we can use our cell phones here) to make hotel reservations. After eating our Vermont cheese and deli meat at a picnic table we hit the road for Quebec, which was about two and half hours away.

This is when the differences started to hit us. All of the distances were in kilometers, speed limits in k/hr, and the language was 100% French. We’ve traveled in countries where we didn’t speak the native language, but this was the first time either of us had driven in a foreign country. Some of the signs we could figure out. The one that read “Risque’ de Collision” and had a picture of a moose; I pretty much knew what that one meant. The worrisome ones were the temporary orange signs marking road construction that were both more important for us to understand and less intuitive in their interpretation. We quickly discovered what the sign for “bump in the road” was. Mileage in kilometers was not a problem. The speed limit was 100kmph, approximately 62 mph, most Quebecois people drove around 75mph. Riding the Canadian Autoroute we passed out of hill country into flat terrain similar to eastern North Carolina before re-entering some rolling hills as we approached the city. We crossed a bridge over the St. Lawrence River, which is incredibly wide at this point and flanked by steep banks on each side, and into Quebec City.

I thought we would have no problems finding our hotel, the Chateau Frontenac. It is enormous and dominates the skyline of every photograph I have seen of the city. Unfortunately for our navigational purposes, all of these photos must be taken from the water and we were entering the city from the opposite direction because we couldn’t see it at all. Still, I knew which direction it was in so we rode that way. What we didn’t know is that the city has a road and buildings along the water front, but also has many buildings on top of a steep mountain in the middle of the peninsula and this is where our hotel was. We were along the water when we saw the hotel, but had no way of climbing the hill where it was located. So we circled this mountain, frustrated because we both thought we would be checked in and resting in our room already. Finally, after riding through the city for about 45 minutes we made our way through the steep, narrow, winding streets, filled with festival goers (we later found out that this weekend is the Summer Festival) to our hotel.

After resting for a couple of hours we left to find some dinner and see the town. There are still many blocks of narrow, cobblestone streets, lined with 3-5 story buildings from the 17th and 18th centuries. It’s a unique enough city that it’s easy to see why Vieux-Quebec was designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. While not the best comparison, of all the cities I have visited, Quebec is most similar to Salzburg, Austria. Quebec is quite a bit larger and has a gorgeous waterfront whereas Salzburg is smaller and located in the Alps, but the feel of Vieux-Québec is similar to the Aldstadt of Salzburg. We ate at a small French bistro, and then made our way to the waterfront. The city has a nightly light show celebrating its 400 year history. Images are projected onto a line of waterfront silos that form a 600 meter long screen. The images are accompanied by music played on hundreds of speakers spread along the waterfront. It was an impressive show with an impressive crowd there to see it. We ended the evening at a sidewalk pub table people watching.

The weather today is overcast and rainy. I guess that I am grateful that the first real rainy day of our trip came when we were taking a day off from riding, but I have to say that I am very disappointed that the weather will likely keep us from taking full advantage of our stay here. Simply put, this is a beautiful city. Today we’ll probably be limited to visiting a museum or something, but hopefully tomorrow the weather will be clear enough that we can take a few pictures of the city to share with all of you.

T’s Terrific Thought of the Day: If you’re sitting on the back of a motorcycle and you’re frustrated and ready to be done because of tight inner-city traffic; then don’t complain because the driver is even more frustrated.