Day 58 Riviere Quelle
Quebec City to Riviere Quelle
Distance: 138 km

Day 59 Trois Pistoles
Riviere Quelle to Trois Pistole
Distance: 117km
August 21, 2006

If I had thought that I had already had my toughest ride on the tour thus far, I was grievously mistaken; yesterday the wind was measured between 40 and 50km/hour-gusting and railing against us for the entire day.
Standing upright in the kinds of gusts yesterday was challenging, but riding a bicycle was beyond what I would consider to be a reasonable activity to do on a day like that.
A marine person we met along the way reported that waves on the St. Lawrence were measured at one meter-the height at which gale force winds are determined to be blowing.

At lunch a local informed us that the winds ‘usually blow in the other direction.’
I don’t know how many times we have heard that, and it was certainly not of any consolation to hear, knowing what we had to go back outside to face.
I also got tired really quickly of seeing cyclists going in the other direction with huge grins on their faces; if they’d had sails they could have been in Vancouver in a few hours.

Whereas we sometimes, when lucky can travel in the low 40km/hour, we were at times crawling along at 13km/hour- fighting and struggling for every single kilometer.
Surprisingly the noise of the wind in the ears is also really bothersome as the wind makes a terrible racket.

We had galley duty last night and one of our crew got in at 9:00pm-poor guy.
We were all really worried about him and his riding partner, as it now gets dark by 8:00pm, so navigating those roads in the dark would have been a been a challenge, on top of the winds to contend with.

Our day started at approximately 8:00am when we had a 10km stretch to get to a ferry that left at 8:30am; we thought half an hour was ample time, until we got out into the wind and realized what kind of a day of horrors we had in wait.
The ride to the ferry was treacherous; we came across other riders battling their way there, some made it, some not.
We eventually arrived into camp at 5:30pm, and had to get started with galley duty almost immediately, after an exhausting day-not my idea of fun.
Lewis was crew chief this time, and in true Lewis-style, picked a three course meal which required much chopping, cutting and overall work.
Luckily we had BC Pete step in and cover for Don, who was still out at war on the roads.
The meal ended up being one of the best yet; a chicken stew, a perfect meal for a post ride of marathon proportions on a cold and blustery day. Lewis was vindicated.
Since we started late, we weren’t able to wash up when we were done dinner at 9:00pm, as it was pitch dark, and we were without any lights-we had to wash the dinner dishes on our breakfast shift, where we served oatmeal (not popular.)
I didn’t care however; as I felt we had done more than our due the night before with our three course meal, prepared under the extreme circumstances. (Dessert included stewed apples in brown sugar and cream, if you please!)

Along the way we met quite a few other riders battling the winds, and ended taking on another rider into our traveling convoy of people who trying to get shelter from the wind.
He was an odd fellow who did not speak much English; not odd for that reason, odd for a multitude of others, one being that he kept poking me in the legs (at lunch) and remarking, in very broken English/French what, “grande des jambs” I had-I knew he was trying to pay me a compliment, but not the sort of thing a woman wants to hear, “what big legs you have.” (He had the physique of a string bean, so I could see where he was coming from, but still.)
He also called me a ‘monster’, something also that one doesn’t necessarily want to hear, again, I got the compliment, but still….
I got a couple more slaps on the back, and pokes in the leg with his spindly finger before we parted company.
He was a good distraction for a while from the mind grind that was going on, on the bikes.

Thankfully I had one of the best sleeps that night, as I was bone tired, and the cold weather made for a cozy sleep.
The weather seems unseasonably cold; usually August is one of our hottest months, but it has taken a rather wintry turn, and has some of us bundled in toques and jackets around camp.

We all prayed to the Tailwig Gods, and hoped that the winds would switch direction in the morning-no such luck; I stepped outside our tent into another wall of wind-how on earth we were to fight our way through another day of this treachery?

The ride, at least for the first part of the day, seemed, if possible even more difficult that yesterday as we had to cross through flat unsheltered terrain, where there was no shelter from any trees or hills.
Again, we were crawling along at 13km/hour in parts-painful.
If there is ever a place to get time to stand still, it is on a bike, faced with such winds.
As a distraction, we did go through the most amazing little towns that looked like they had been painted-every little house was so unique and pretty, with colorful shutters, covered in flowers.
We met up with Aussies and joined forces, making the going a little bit easier.
We ended up stopping for lunch at a spa-restaurant, where people were cruising around in their dressing gowns (from the spa.)
I was very tempted to throw one on and hunker down; the thought of getting back out into the harsh elements was enough to make me cower.

The only consolation for days like this is the food; and make no mistake, we are consoling ourselves very well, so well in fact that I feel like I am at ‘fat camp.’
We picked up some Quebecoise fromage and baguettes, with red wine, and sat on the beach and heartily rewarded ourselves this evening-the scene was spectacular and was a great way to end the day.

Tomorrow’s ride is 164km, I will cry if the winds have not let up when I get up tomorrow morning.