Canada 2011
  
 

Day 03

July 27

  
   
   
     
 

Today I have the privilege of riding with Alain in his world. I have found that when you ride with someone in their home turf, you get to see things that most folks from outside the area would never see. Alain has a great plan for today, and as I will tell him many times -

"I'm just following your taillights. Unless you go off a cliff!"

He bids a fond adieu to his lovely wife, Miss Claire, and we are off like a dirty shirt.

  
   
  The weather does not look too inviting, but I figure it can't be much worse than what I went through yesterday. At least I know what leaks and what doesn't now.  
   
  Once again we pass by the magnificent waterfall. There's just something about waterfalls that captivate my eyes. One of my favorite places to backpack at home in Tennessee has two waterfalls that cascade into a nice swimming hole.  
   
  And I also like churches - imagine that! This one reminds me of some of the cathedrals that I saw on my European rides.  
   
  But we quickly leave the city behind .... for the construction zones, not to be confused with the moose zones. I've been told that, unlike most animals, the eyes of a moose do not reflect light which would make them very hard to see in the dark. Don't know if this is true or not, but I hope I never have the opportunity to find out on a personal basis!  
   
 

As we journey through the Charlevoix region, we take a short break at an interesting rest area. Alain points out to me -

"On that point to the right used to be the shipyards where they built the boats for hauling lumber in this region."

I try to visualize what efforts must have went into those vessels to be sturdy enough to haul their cargo to market.

  
   
  When we pass through a small town, I can imagine this as any place in Tennessee... except the locals would not be speaking French.  
   
 

I tell Alain over the CB -

"This area reminds me so much of Yellowstone National Park back in the States."

This is called 'Parc National Des Grands-Jardins' - the 'Great Gardens' and it certainly lives up to its name.

  
   
  As we pass an old church, I wonder what stories the old building would tell if it could but speak to me.  
   
  I can see on the distant hills the effects a major forest fire, where only the sad, scarred trunks stand sentinel to the devastation that swept through this area.  
   
  Then the weather catches up with us again as we get stuck behind a slow moving truck. But riding in the rain still beats sitting in the office most days.  
   
  We stop at Ferland-et-Boileau, where we are invited to partake of a 'panoramic view point' if my my feeble French is working correctly.  
   
  And grand it is as we get a good view of the area, even if it is somewhat shrouded by the encroaching fog.  
   
 

On the way back down, I get an encroaching view of something that I am very familiar with. The first house I lived in as kid up in the hills in Tennessee had one of these, but it wasn't near as fancy or as in good a shape as this one. And it didn't have a half moon on the door either. Alain asks me -

"Well, we are at a decision point. If we continue on, it will be another 150 more miles."

Never one to be reticent, my short answer is -

"Well, is there anything else to do besides ride?"

  
   
  Soon we leave our lofty perch for the more mundane task of dealing with more construction zones. At least I have no doubt what is the meaning of the sign that the gentleman is so vigorously holding.  
   
  As we journey on, I am left a bit wondering about the significance of this bridge covering. It's sort of pretty, but I don't see a practical purpose for it - a bit like many things in this life.  
   
  Alain takes us to a viewpoint near Port Alfred for a short break.  
   
  While I am enjoying the scenery, the tour master is busy fighting with his sometimes recalcitrant GPS.  
   
  Promising me, that he will not starve me completely to death, we pull into the Grand Duc Restaurant. It's got some cars and a few pickup trucks, so I figure I'll be all right.  
   
  It's nice enough, and Alain helps me order, since our server doesn't speak English - at least the kind that I understand - and I don't speak French. I figure I'm in fishing country, so I order the fish and chips and I am not disappointed. When I go to check out, the credit card procedure is a bit different than what I am used to, since the buttons on the machine are in French. But we managed to get through it without burning the house down, so I file the info away for future reference.  
   
  With the important stuff done, we hit the road again and I am reminded of what a beautiful world we live in. This could be many places in the US that I have ridden through.  
   
  Alain gets to a nice stopping place along the mighty Saint Lawrence.  
   
  It has a beach, but since I left my sandals and suntan lotion at the house, I decide not to go dip my toes in the sand.  
   
  As we move along, I see a ship out in the channel. This will not be the last time we see it ...  
   
  The clouds look as if they will dump on us again, but fortunately we escape unscathed for now.  
   
 

Once again, I see the same ship off in the distance. I radio to Alain -

"There's that same ship. I'm telling you it's following us. Probably the government tracking you."

  
   
 

Our next stop is at the Fairmont Le Manoir Richelieu in La Malbaie, Quebec. The original hotel occupying the spot was built in 1899 by the Ontario and Richelieu Navigation Company on the crest of Pointe-au-Pic cliff overlooking the St. Lawrence River. It was the place to go for an elite clientele until a fire ravaged the hotel in 1928. Such a grand location and robust business led to architect John Archibald hastily rebuilding the hotel in the style of a Normandy chateau. Over the years, it passed through several hands. In 1985 it went through a very interesting situation -

"Few labor disputes have included such dramatic developments as the eventful Manoir Richelieu conflict, which shook Quebec in December 1985 when the Parti Québécois government sold the property, a renowned tourism heritage site, to businessman Raymond Malenfant for $555 555.55. The new owner maintained that he had purchased only a building and was not bound through the transaction by any obligation to the union or the existing collective bargaining agreement."

As Alain shared with me, Mr. Malenfant finally went bankrupt over the situation and the grand place passed into other hands.

  
   
  The grounds have a commanding view of the heart of the Charlevoix region and the Saint Lawrence River.  
   
  And in case those pesky statesiders decide to wander up the river again in search of conquest, they also have proper armament for a deterrent.  
   
  As we get back to the road, I notice our surveillance ship is still shadowing us. At this point, I wonder just what sort of business Alain really conducts.  
   
 

As we head back toward his house, he radios me -

"Want to take a little side trip?"

"Sure, I'm a game chicken. I'll just follow your taillights."

And with that we are on a steep descent on a side road. As it turns out, our destination is where Alain's parents owned a small summer house near the river.

  
   
  He spent many summers walking and riding around in the area. But looks like he has fallen down on his railroad maintenance chores.  
   
  It's a nice, quite place where I can imagine a young feller like Alain had a pretty big time running the lake shore and traipsing through the woods.  
   
  But then what should interrupt my thoughts, but the 'spy' ship once again hovering off the shoreline. I'm just wondering when I will hear the sound of the helicopters ...  
   
  As we head back to Alain's house, we get an official escort through another construction zone.  
   
  We make another short detour to nice harbor on 'le Saint Laurent'. It gives a brief history of those who came before to explore the mighty river.  
   
  But I have to wonder if these boats get iced in or removed when the fierce winter ice comes rolling into this area.  
   
 

As I look across the water, I tell Alain -

"I bet that's the high rent district over there on them hills!"

People nowadays are willing to pay big bucks for nice hillside view.

  
   
  When we hit the road again, the clouds look threatening, but fortunately for us, they withhold their liquid until we are safely back to the house.  
   
 

It's been a very relaxing day and Alain and Miss Claire provide an excellent repast once again. And there just happens be a little dab of that fruit pie leftover which somehow mysteriously evaporates. The only thing I can figure is it must be caused by the higher strength gamma rays further north. And then there are those lovely caramel squares that I find necessary to partake of because you surely wouldn't expect me to offend my hosts. Since I can still breathe after all of that, Alain brings up the most important question of the evening -

"Would you like to go out for some ice cream? Claire really likes ice cream."

I say -

"Hmmm, just blame on Miss Claire. She and I know who it is that really likes the ice cream!"

It's a short hop to one of her favorite places and it's some mighty fine eating.

  
   
  With just a little room left so I can still breathe, I make my way upstairs to tend to some of my knitting. The zipper broke on the pants liner that I have with me and I attempt a repair. But it is of no avail, so I just set them aside and will use them as they are. As the skin over my stomach begins to stretch, it pulls the skin down over my eyelids and I am out for the night in short order.