A Quebec Cycling Trilogy: Part Three
By Rick Millikan
(This is the third and final installment of a three-part series on bike tours through Quebec, Canada by our resident independent bike tour expert, Rick Milliakan)
Travelers of all cycling abilities will find a “magnifique” trail eco-adventure just above Montreal in the Laurentian Valley. My wife Chris and I set out to explore a popular section of a rail to trail-way, enjoying stays at charming B&B’s along the way. The P’tite Tren du Nord ride begins for most in Saint Jerome, at kilometer 0.
At St Jerome’s old station we meet Christian in front of the caboose, his lineal parkway office. As director of maintenance, he assures us our venture is very do-able – as well as fun. “…As our 200-kilometer bikeway averages a mere 2% slope, it’s an easy breezy ride!” he grins. “In an hour or so you’ll be enjoying the linear park’s lower section…”
Leaving other cyclists relaxing at the station bistro or spinning northward, we depart for Labelle by shuttle, where our first stage begins. Above Iroquois Falls on Riviere Rouge stands a bronze statue of Labelle, one of Quebec’s enterprising priests. Father Labelle established the P’tite Tren du Nord in the 1800’s to carry wood to the port of Montreal. Inside Labelle’s train station museum hang photos showing early trainloads of logs and much later, grinning skiers as this region developed into a winter playground. Now cyclists exuberantly tour up and down this converted rail-bed trail, basking in dramatic scenery.
Removing racked rental bikes, our van disappears, delivering baggage to our first B&B. Carrying only bottles of cold water and cameras, we beeline southward through forests of white-barked birch, long-needled bull pines, stately maples and tall firs.
As the countryside opens into plush green pastures dotted with yellow buttercups, I spot some wooly critters. I’d love to take a pastoral photo, but a huge shaggy white sheepdog springs forward, woofing…and his sheepish flock flees. Next, when I see some udderly beautiful brown cows grazing on grassy knolls, I whip out my camera mooing, “Please stay!” Not hot to be shot, they trot. Finally, a brave Bambi stares at us, poses for a few pictures then bounds into the bush.
I pedal and ponder during this peaceful commune with nature, wondering about those early Iroquois who taught the first Europeans how to cultivate corn, squash, beans and generally survive in their new world. Just after French missionaries brought them Christ and French traders exchanged trinkets for furs, the Iroquois vanished.
Signs declaring Les Jardins de L’Achillee Millefeuille and Cyclists Welcome draw us into a rustic B&B along the trail. The smiling owner emerges, proudly telling us about her piece of Eden. A silvery Buddha statue sits above her flourishing organic garden. Resuming our pedal, we pass its campground complete with teepees. I wonder…
Mt. Tremblant and Bucky Beaver
The trail soon winds around Lac Mercier to the village of Mont-Tremblant and Auberge La Porte Rouge, our French-flavored B&B. Beside its bustling beach, we pose like victors under a newly installed banner announcing the weekend triathlon. The golden afternoon ends with a refreshing swim in the placid lake. We enjoy a sumptuous dinner on the inn’s terrace overlooking the pretty village.
Early next morning I cycle a trail looping along the river into famed Mont Tremblant. Natives considered this mountain spiritual, trembling when their god Great Manitou passed. Fantabulous homes dot the mountainside. I suspect two of my faves, Catherine Zeta Jones and Michael Douglas live in this upscale neighborhood. At the other edge of this plush resort a red tin roofed white chapel perches on a lakeside hill. Upon leaving, I photograph the town center, a beaver hewn lodge amid a large pond in the foreground. Evidently Bucky Beaver resides among the rich and famous.
Our ride continues into Val David, where Christian joins us. He tours us through the artsy community, pointing out many galleries including one renowned for its yearly pottery show. Val David also has two outdoor shops supplying canoes to paddle downriver to a spot where paddlers can become pedalers, mounting bikes for a hearty return. Lunching at La Maison de Baviere, we’re perched above Lover’s Park along the cascading River of the North. Located just off the trail, cyclists often choose to stay at this rustic Bavarian Inn.
The trail to Saint Adele twists through shady forests following Riviere-du-Nord. Christian indicates one of the many area rock faces attracting climbers. Small green islands soon dot the wide river. As this lush green valley narrows, the flow becomes a rushing white torrent.
Declaring herself the “Downhill Queen,” Chris reigns supreme as our route regally descends through small granite canyons long ago carved by TNT toting railroaders. Christian suggests a stop at a junction and leads us along a rugged cross-country ski path to a rough-hewn log bridge. Mid-span we gaze upon awesome cascades.
Pedaling downward through the woodsy landscape, below the trail we rediscover Riviere-du-Nord now winding slowly and emptying into Lake Raymond. Pausing, purple and pink lupins dance beside us in the breeze. Fellow cyclists have stopped at the lake’s sandy beach to sun and take refreshing dips in its clear waters.
On the outskirts of Saint Adele, a welcoming steam engine façade identifies Auberge de la Gare, tonight’s abode. At Inn of the Station, Chris freshens up, leaving Christian and I sweating onward along the murmuring river to St. Adele Station. Like many others, this station became a bistro. Under a red umbrella, we drink cold lemonade and discuss this remarkable trail. Asked about its success, Christian replies, “About 450,000 cycle, rollerblade or walk this trail from mid-May to mid-October. It will likely be busier next summer as we’re celebrating the completion of “Vert Route.” Our province now offers over 4,000 kilometers of cycling trails including a new link from here to Laval and Montreal.”
Back at Auberge de la Gare, our Belgian host Michel serves two of ten Belgian-style brews. Sitting above floral gardens on a large breezy veranda, I savor an icy Belgian-Canadian variety with a patriotic hint of maple syrup, a rosy maple-leaf-cheeked girl on its label. Christian says, “If you think this is fun, come back and ride the paved 93-kilometre bike path north of La Belle. It winds along lakes through wondrous woodsy areas and into little northern towns welcoming cyclists like you with open arms.”
Our days of carefree, car free fun ends back in St. Jerome the next afternoon. Filling up with costly gas and anxiously navigating our way back onto the freeway to Montreal, we face typical North American traffic snarls. For us La Belle Province of Quebec, including the enchanting Laurentians, is best enjoyed on two-wheels.
