Process: Time Sculpture

On a stop-over in Toronto, I visited the AGO. Bypassed the KingTut exhibit in favour of Beautiful Fictions, an engrossing photography exhibit. Highlights amongst others were Arnaud Maggs' Hotel series and Bernd and Hilla Becher’s Watertowers (Typology), 1980. Anyone who has been to Sudbury would appreciate this series of industrial architecture. Taken out of context and aligned together, the structures are quite otherworldly.

Gazed out over the city from Gehry's light-filled staircases, and explored the Vivian and David Campbell Centre for Contemporary Art on the 4th and 5th floors. I particularly enjoyed the “land art” room. Remembered Ian Hamilton Finlay from my Scotland days. Responded to Robert Fones’ (b. London, CA, 1949) woodcut, Natural Range of Canada Plum, 1984.

Completely intrigued by Cycling Sculpture, 1-3 Dec. 1967 by Richard Long (b. Bristol, UK, 1945) — the simplicity of his documentation (a photo, a typed page with instructions, and a map with waypoints). His work has often been cast as “romantic” yet the artist always referred to his objective method of documentation. Perhaps it is because his photographs, devoid of human presense, are often strikingly beautiful.

I too tend to favour the rural scenes in my own project, conscious of how my documentation of placenames veer from an objective method in my reach for beauty. Finding the right vantage point to witness the play of light on water for instance. The gold of a swaying field. They are empty landscapes with no direct human intervention like cars or people walking, though the occasional house does figure in the background. To be fair, most of my genealogical/geographical waypoints have been in rural settings as they are related to waterways. Urban waterways are habitually underground.

I also try and shy away from direct self-representation in my photos. My rule is to not represent the figure, but to allow the trace of the artist through a stand-in: the growing “path-map” — the tracing of my passage on the Quebec landscape or the occasional glimpse of my bike in the panoramas. The bike is much like the artist’s knapsack in Long's photo A Night of Rain Sleeping Place An 8 Day Mountain Walk in Sobaeksan Korea Spring 1993. It is possible to completely erase the artist? Without this human impulse to leave a trace, would the artist be driven to create work? Is ego a necessary part of the creative process?

Where I do respond to Long’s work is the aspect of “discovery” of a space — not in a colonial fashion (claiming something as one’s own in conqueror mode), but more on an intimate level through simple movements in time and space. The act of searching and being uncertain of where I am going (both physically and conceptually) is a necessary part of my art practice. There is an element of risk in the unknown. The subject emerges through time.

Looking forward to the Sculpture as Time exhibit coming up in March.

Progress: December 17, 2009

Gave a presentation of my work at Laboratoire NT2 at UQAM as part of FAIS TA VALISE!, a Montreal School Board project co-produced with the Fine Art faculty at Concordia and Hexagram. While I concentrated on the collaborative project Fugues, I briefly showed the Tongue Rug project to talk about process.

Trying to describe my project to a class of grade 6 students (age 10), I quickly realized that I needed to resort to plain everyday language. Vague art speak was not going to cut it. What was this project about?

Told them that I was cycling to different bodies of water with my family names and this was creating a path in the landscape. Each waypoint is represented by a tongue in the tongue rug. The structure is participative as the public can send their own stories about these placenames by commenting on the blog, filling out a form or simply through haphazard meetings. In this way, I do not know what the final tongue rug will look like. It will depend on my travels in space and in time, with my interactions with people.

They seemed to readily accept the logic (or whimsy) behind it. I loved that the kids didn’t focus on the “why” of the project but honed in on specific details: why were the tongues labeled so? I tried to explain that the tongue rug could have a different shape and be animated differently were we to travel to waypoints with their family names for example.

I showed them my dusty old Lake of the Woods Tongue Rug, that had initially served as my inspiration. (The back of the rug is made with burlap sack from Lake of the Woods Milling). Talked of objects that can be used as archives, both past (handicraft) and present (virtual). I truly enjoyed sharing my ideas and the creative process with them. Their spontaneous and uncluttered feedback was refreshing.

Progress: November 19, 2009

 

Getting ready to make an animated Tongue Rug that pieces together all the tongues (trips). The sladdakavring's shape will be determined by the dates when the trips were made and the number of tags for each tongue.

 

			...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	LA3 09 06 2009
			...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	LE4 07 29 2009 *
			...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	LA5 07 29 2009 *
			...... ...... ...... ......	LE6 08 06 2005	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
			...... ...... ...... ......	LE10 06 19 2005	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
			...... ...... ...... ......	LE8 06 18 2005	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
			...... ...... ...... ......	LE1 06 18 2005	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
		LA4 08 09 2003		...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
		A3 07 24 2003 *		...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
		A2 07 24 2003		...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
		A10 07 07 2003		...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
		A13 07 05 2003		...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
		A11 07 04 2003		...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
	LE9 08 17 2002			...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
	LA6 08 10 2002			...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
	PA1 08 03 2002			...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
	A9 07 28 2002			...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
	LE3 07 20 2002			...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......
A3 11 2001 *				...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......	...... ...... ...... ......

* Indicates substitution of a waypoint

Making this table to document my progress was admittedly depressing at first. Reduced to a graph, my progress seems unimpressive. Telling in its inconsistency. The cycling trips were well on their way in the beginning and then I had a bike accident in 2004. Ran into a car door and was unable to ride for the rest of the summer. I then proceeded on a long academic detour. Four years worth. Had to shelve the project for months with little fits and starts here and there. The subsequent summers were spent working in Ottawa and trying to finish my thesis on the side.

But it's not fair to paint that whole period as a roadblock to my progress, as I did do considerable research. I just need to revisit those notes. As I am interested in process, all those pauses, jumps and starts are all part of the overall project. I also did document the waypoints along the Ottawa River. In fact, looking at the sketch, I managed to document enough tongues to give the rug a nice shape. I'm starting to visualize the tongues in time and space.

Process: Google Sladdakavring

Been thinking of how to represent the Tongue Rug. Experimenting. Though it is decidedly ugly, if I flip the Google map upside down, the waypoints do look like some sort of makeshift sladdakavring.

Yet if I isolate the pattern, it does makes an interesting grouping albeit, spread out. Not sufficiently rug-like. More viral.

I’ve noticed that other tongue rugs are being created online. Individual tongues (blog postings) are starting to show up in search engines because of the tags. Dependent on the search criteria, the user has the potential to create their own Tongue Rug outside of my blog. I like the chance element in this process.

There is also another sort of tongue rug that is emerging, a pseudo tongue rug based on misleading tags. These “fake” sites dynamically load content into their pages by crawling the web for tags from blogs and YouTube. A sampling:

• bestof vidéos de A à Z
• cascapedia videos | TheGolfTv.com
• Magdalene videos - Online Adult Dating Free
• Whitefish, Ontario videos on TripAtlas.com
• Fireball Planet Free Videos Online - Top Videos - All Free Videos
• Gegevens van Julie – Wieowie
• Bonaventure - Cafe.hr
• laurentides videos - Global Videos
• Hybrid Cars - Hybrid Vehicles

Were it a person creating these sites, they would realize right away that the content does not match. As the machine cannot make the differentiation, the Tongue Rug videos are popping up in unrelated sites through a mash-up process — like Tzara’s paper bag poem. I find it amusing that a user visiting the dating site, or an avid golfer, will be puzzled by these videos of slow-moving landscapes. Will they try and make a connection? Will they investigate further or just shrug it off? I like the surprise element in the process.

So there are several Tongue Rugs in this project separate from my own experiments — the search engine rug, the mash-up rug. Rugs that grow of their own accord. A disquieting process as well as I have no control on which sites my “tongues” could potentially end up.

 

Process: Lac aux Loutres

Went to the Théâtre Corona in Saint-Henri on Sunday to join in on the celebrations for the 25th anniversary of RESO (Regroupement économique et social du Sud-Ouest). L’autre Montréal started off the all-day event with a bus tour of the Sud-Ouest. I’ve always appreciated their extremely well-researched tours; generously animated by Bernard Vallée, this circuit was no exception.

First stop was the Georges-Vanier building in La Petite Bourgogne, site of the first francophone public library in Canada when Saint-Cunégonde was annexed into the city of Montréal in 1906. Highlights was learning about the beautiful old buildings converted into artist spaces: L’Espace Verre in what was once Fire Station no. 21 in Victoriatown, and Quartier Ephémere in the Fonderie Darling building close to Griffintown, one the oldest working class neighbourhoods in Canada. We also visited the site of a new urban project, La cité des artistes, which will be situated in Les Bassins du Nouveau Havre on the north berg of the Lachine canal. The four original St-Gabriel Basins – which were built between 1848 and 1885 – will be excavated as part of the new development. The proposed plan also includes living/working spaces for artists, rental spaces for art and community organizations, as well as housing for families.

With all of the debate over the Turcot interchange reconstruction project and the threat of expropriations in St-Henri's Village des Tanneries, it was sobering to go through what used to be Victoriatown. This community, also known as Goose Village, was razed down in 1964 in preparation for Expo 67. All that is left now is what is called the Black Rock, a memorial to the thousands of Irish immigrants who succumbed to typhus in the 1840s. In Griffintown, we passed the site of St. Ann's Catholic Church, torn down in 1970, and the stable which houses the Old Port’s calèche horses – symbol of another era. In Pointe Saint-Charles, the seigniorial era is recalled by its toponymy. In 1663, the Sulpicien priests were granted land in the Pointe which is why the area used to be called ferme Saint-Gabriel or ferme des sulpiciens. At the end of the 1860s, much of the agricultural land had been parceled off in response to the rising industrialism along the Lachine canal and the development of the Grand Tronc rail yard. All that is left is a road sign – Rue de la Ferme.

It reminded me of my Gaspésie trip when I arrived to a point where I thought there was going to be a village called La Ferme, but did not see any dwellings. Perhaps a name on a map was all that was left of a small farming community? Here in Montreal, I wonder if the rue Angers in Ville-Émard, which runs from St-Patrick canal-side to a grove of old trees in a park, refers to Angers in France or simply indicates that it used to be an old farming road?

The overall sense that I gleamed from the tour is that the Sud-Ouest is lacking in monuments that reference its rich history since so many cultural and architectural landmarks have been lost. Bernard Vallée did mention some recent efforts like the official signage in parks which explain the site's history and public figures. I wonder if some of this memorialization is also taking place online, in an unofficial way? On a grassroots, collaborative level, rather than on a grand, monumental scale? The associative nature of the Web, its palimpsest quality, makes it the ideal tool to document layered narratives through time as evidenced by the many blogs on the subject of history, architecture and urban planning. I found this richly detailed blog by Andrew Emond that documents hidden waterways in Montreal by way of an interactive map quite interesting. Another blog of note is Walking Turcot Yards where I first came across a ghost lake back in 2007 – Lac aux Loutres.

Working on my pathmap the last couple of weeks, I decided to deviate from my initial list of lakes with the Lapalme-Legault-Angerbauer placenames. Much like I integrated Lac-à-l'Épaule into my pathmap by its association with George-Émiles Lapalme, I will also include Lac aux Loutres. The architectural firm Béïque, Legault, Thuault has proposed the Lac à la loutre project with the aim to transform the zone between the Saint-Pierre and Turcot interchange into a thematic parc. At the heart of the project is the restoration of the ancient Lac aux Loutres. This wetlands was once the bulging part of the Rivière Saint-Pierre – the precursor to the Lachine canal. The canal now follows Rivière Saint-Pierre's course and Otter Lake is embedded somewhere underneath the Turcot rail yards, having been filled in during the 19th century.

As this ghost lake is in my immediate vicinity, it is fitting to add it to the pathmap. This lost lake that has changed through time is also in line with the Tongue Rug project’s focus on the mutability of shifting placenames, maps and even geographical features through time.

Progress: October 23, 2009

Though online apps (Bikely and Google Maps) do give me a general view of the paths I’ve been tracing over the years, I wanted a more complete picture. I had been treating the paths too piecemeal, needed to map them out to see the whole tracing. Took the Quebec road atlas that I had used to plan my bike trips, and photocopied a slew of pages. It was a pain to piece them together as the legend was different on certain pages — the Gaspésie tip is not quite to scale with the rest of the map. Also, it was hard to be precise as some pages did not align properly despite my efforts. Nonetheless, it was a satisfying exercise sitting on the floor cutting and taping together this growing map, page by page. To my surprise, I was left with a ten-foot long scroll of paper. Had to affix it to the living room wall to be able to see it in its entirety.

 

I crafted some ad hoc tongue-labels to mark out the waypoints and highlighted the paths. Stepping back I was a little shocked to see that I had traveled all that distance. The map was a visual manifestation of my moving through space, but also the time spent reaching each waypoint. It sounds silly to say, but I find it amazing how the human brain can look at a squiggly line on a map,  and this abstract symbol can trigger memories, sensations and inner pictures about having been in that space — in the flesh. That tension between the conceptual and the physical.

The paths themselves were intriguing as well. Their varied shapes were of course dependent on the terrain, but they were also testament to my lack of experience in the beginning of the project. LE-3 starts from Ste-Agathe des Monts and is not attached to the network as I had received a ride up to the Laurentians and rented a bike from the campground. I had not yet attempted long solo cycling trips. Also, A-9 is full of loops and backtracking as I was lost for most of the day, not properly focusing because I was cycling with a friend.

I’ve been making vector paths according to the topographical maps, but the precision makes it very time consuming. Went low tech: took a photograph of the wall and isolated the path in Photoshop. I wanted a quick overview of the pathmap.

In the beginning, the paths did not touch, but over the years, they did create a network — a tracing that largely follows the St-Laurent and the Outaouais river. I was pleased with how the crisscrossing lines looked like discarded thread. The tracing was random in the sense that I was cycling to the bodies of water with one of my family names that were nearest to me, by whatever path which facilitated my travels, further complicated by my admittedly inconsistent orientating skills.

Put some tongue markings as well — a little breast-like but no matter — to get a sense of the tongue rug progress. I don’t get a sense of the sladdakavring yet, as the waypoints are too spread out. I will experiment with other renderings.

Process: Gabrielle in la Gaspésie

Saint-Tharcisius

Went to a public reading of Le temps qui m’a manqué by Gabrielle Roy at the Maison de la Culture Marie-Uguay. Published posthumously in 1997, it was intended to be the third section of her autobiography La détresse et l’enchantement.

Hearing her words spoken out loud by Marie-Thérèse Fortin was quite moving; in fact, the next day I went to the library to find the book so that I could read it on the train on my habitual Montreal-Ottawa commute. Quite fitting as the book mostly takes place on a journey. Memories resurface for the author brought on by the rhythmic nature of the train moving on the rails. She loses track of where she is as well as the time such that she is lost in her thoughts and emotions, rememorating her mother who had recently passed away.

Often while on my bike trips in search of my lakes, I’ve experienced that same sensation: at times in the moment (feeling the sun on my back, sweating or forcing my muscles), and at other times, absent, miles away in my thoughts brought on suddenly by a colour, a shape, or a smell.

I could relate to much of what Gabrielle Roy wrote about in this particular work, not so much as a fellow author — though the writing process does feature in my art practice, it is more of a tool to elucidate my ideas in my working process — but as an artist. The paragraphs where she described her creative process were the ones that resonated for me. I understood her need to search for a room of her own where she could write.

As a Franco-Ontarian, I was equally moved by the excitement she felt in discovering Québec, as an outsider in sorts hailing from Manitoba. I understood her desire to visit L’Assomption where her mother once had lived, the urge to reconnect with her roots.

She described her longing for a quiet place to write, but she did not seek out extreme solitude as she would make herself a “makeshift” family in her many refuges: her room in Rawdon in the Laurentians, her room at Miss Maclean’s house on rue Dorchester, and her much sought after room with the McKenzies in Port-Daniel.

This section where she recounts her train journey to the Matapédia Valley is riveting; the sense of traveling to the unknown, to find something one is searching for without yet knowing what it is. At the sight of a house on the hill in Port-Daniel, she disembarked from the train and negotiated to secure the best room in the house — prized for its view of the water.

While on my Gaspésie bike trip, I experienced a similar feeling. In search of my waypoint in Saint-Tharcisius, I cycled in circles through bright green fields and sparsely forested areas. I eventually found what remained of Angers bridge/pont Angers (A-10) – soft and shredded pieces of rotten wood embedded in the middle of a pathway in a field.

 

View Panorama A-10 Angers Bridge / Pont Angers July 7, 2003

 

While taking photographs in the round, I noticed the path lead to a little white house with a red roofed barn beside it with the bluish Monts Notre-Dame in the distance. A simple pastoral scene that struck me by its sheer beauty. I had to fight the urge to follow the path right up to the house and knock on the door. I could appreciate how the tranquility of the surroundings could help bring forth creative pursuits.

I could fully understand the happiness and relief in finding a room where she could deliver herself to her need to write — that feverish production period where all is heightened and the usual daily routines pass by the wayside or are done with haste (eating, drinking, washing, social events). The important thing is to not interrupt the flow, to keep at it while alight with all that buzzing.

She describes spending a night out in the storm by the water, shivering and feverish. These high emotions must have been due in part to the full consciousness of knowing that she was doing exactly what she was meant to be doing.

I was surprised to discover that Gabrielle only managed to work on Bonheur d’Occasion three times a year, when on breaks from her job. It subsequently took her three years to write the novel. How many times have I had to put my Tongue Rug project on the shelf because of pressing deadlines at work or my thesis?

Planning a train trip this summer to visit a friend in Winnipeg; 375 rue Deschambault will definitely be a stop-over.

YouTube: LA-3

LA-3 ( map  l  path )
Saint-Esprit, Montcalm, Lanaudière, Quebec, CA
Do you have a story about this placename?
Visit other placenames.

Progress: September 13, 2009

Uploaded the latest panorama to YouTube ( LA-3 ), probably the last one for this year. Making the Google map, it was satisfying to see my progress in a visual manner. The remaining waypoints will have to wait for warmer weather as they are remote and it would be unsafe to travel alone because of the bears. Berries were late this year due to the rainy summer; there has been more human-bear contact in the news lately. Many will die this winter because they did not fatten up enough to survive the long hibernation.

Yet, others can help me document the waypoints for my sladdakavring. Users can share their stories each placename as each tongue has a form so that they can submit their own story. I've heard about Lake Lapalme ( LA-1 ) in the Laurentians before setting foot in that area by reading about another's experience.

View Tongue Rug Status in a larger map

Legend: Blue = documented Red = undocumented Bold = documented

• 021M Baie-Saint-Paul (1:250000)
  • 021M12 Lac St-Henri (1:50000) ( LA-5 LE-4 )
• 022A Gaspé (1:250000)
  • 022A15 Sunny-Bank (1:50000) ( A-11 A-13 )
• 022B Matane (1:250000)
  • 022B08 Rivière Angers (1:50000) ( A-11 )
  • 022B11 St-Jean-Baptiste-Vianney (1:50000) ( A-10 )
• 022C Rimouski (1:250000)
  • 022C14 Lac Cassette (1:50000) ( A-8 )
• 022D Chicoutimi (1:250000)
  • 022D03 Rivière Pikauba (1:50000) ( A-6 )
• 022E Réservoir Pipmuacan (1:250000)
  • 022E09 Lac Gouin (1:50000) ( LE-5 )
• 022F Baie-Comeau (1:250000)
  • 022F06 Lac Le Barbier (1:50000) ( LA-2 )
• 031G Ottawa (1:250000)
  • 031G09 Lachute (1:50000) ( LE-9 )
  • 031G10 Hawkesbury (1:50000) ( LE-6 )
  • 031G11 Thurso (1:50000) ( LE-1 LE-8 LE-10 )
• 031H Montréal (1:250000)
  • 031H07 Granby (1:50000) ( LA-6 )
  • 031H11 Beloeil (1:50000) ( A-9 )
  • 031H12 Laval (1:50000) ( MO-1 )
  • 031H13 Laurentides (1:50000) ( LA-3 LA-4 )
• 031J Mont-Laurier (1:250000)
  • 031J01 Sainte-Agathe-Des-Monts (1:50000) ( LE-3 )
  • 031J11 Ferme-Neuve (1:50000) ( LE-11 )
  • 031J14 Sainte-Anne-Du-Lac (1:50000) ( LE-7 )
  • 031J15 Lac de la Maison de Pierre (1:50000) ( LA-1 )
• 032C Senneterre (1:250000)
  • 032C05 Barraute (1:50000) ( A-12 )
• 032D Rouyn-Noranda (1:250000)
  • 032D14 La Sarre (1:50000) ( LE-2 A-7 )
• 033B Lac Lichteneger (1:250000)
  • 033B02 Gorge Prosper (1:50000) ( A-4 A-5 )
• 041I Sudbury (1:50000)
  • 041I03 Lake Panache (1:50000) ( PA-1 )
• 073E Vermilion (1:250000)
  • 073E06 Mannville (1:50000) ( A-1 )
• 082G Fernie (1:250000)
  • 082G01 Sage Creek (1:50000) ( A-2 A-3 )

Part of me is curious about the body of water itself and the details surrounding its placename, and the other part of me is conscious of the path I am tracing with my passage. I will concentrate on the writing aspect of this project for now.

However, I am starting to think about more concrete manifestations of my ideas. I like that the tongue rug will remain virtual through the blog postings, but I also envision a sculptural series based on the sladdakavring, the threads (path tracings) as well as the lakes themselves. Of course, like with Orphan Train - Trained Tales, these 3-D objects will eventually be integrated into the web aspect of the project. I'm just at that stage where I need to work with my hands. Also, I like exhibiting my online work with sculptural elements.

Path: LA-3

YouTube  l  Panorama LA-3 Lapalme Waterway / Cours d'eau Lapalme September 6, 2009

Day 1 – September 5, 2009

My waypoint (LA-3) was only 50 km away  — as the crow flies  — according to my GPS. Instead of taking a northern route, I decided to go east and stay overnight in L’Assomption. The next morning I would have time to find the waypoint and return to Montreal via Laval. I had passed through L’Assomption while doing the Chemin du Roy on my LA-5, LE-4 trip. The Route Verte often bypasses cyclists away from traffic on the main strip and into the suburbs, but then you don’t get a sense of the town. I wanted to explore further.

It was a crisp, sunny Fall morning, but with headwind. Very few cyclists on the roads. I took the cycling trail on Notre-Dame to get off the island but avoided the pock-marked-labyrinth-like cycling trails through the smaller streets and stuck to Notre-Dame and Sherbrooke as there was little traffic. Left before the GPS had tracked all the satellites so it was in searching mode for the first two and a half hours. The interface also had lines going across the screen. It may be on its last leg. I didn’t get a reading until I reached the intersection of 100e avenue and Sainte-Maria Goretti — the bridge crossing to Repentigny. Passed the Céline Dion globe in Charlemagne and immediately saw the Route Verte trail that I had completely overlooked the last time. It took me all the way to L’Assomption through fields, suburbs and industrial parks.

Pleasantly surprised to have arrived before noon, I ate and strolled around town to survey the local architecture. I am always drawn to humble structures: the tiny chapel always outshines the ostentatious basilica. Chapelle Bonsecours was covered in vines and harboured a small cemetery with a few weathered tombstones intermixed with new ones. I was glad to see a few stone houses with the characteristic metal low sloped roofs which date from the Ancien Régime. There were also fieldstone houses with their bulbous walls, dwellings which touch me as I admire the adaptability of the early settlers, merging traditional French methods of construction with the materials at hand.

I tried to visit the Thérèse-Beaudry garden but it was closed. The panel explained that it was an example of an 18th century garden with its combination of fine herbs (thyme, sage and chives) and topinambours, sureau and pimbine. I’ve always had trouble remembering the French equivalent to English plant names (as well as fish species and trees).  Had to look up certain terms after my trip. A topinambour is the Jerrusalem artichoke or sunflower, which made sense as the tuber is edible, while sureau is the elderberry bush, again an edible berry. Pimbine was not in my dictionary. Like the fieldstone houses, this functional garden was exemplary of the determination to survive in this new geography and climate. Thérèse Beaudry was the wife of a soldier from the LaSarre regiment. Married in 1760, she gave birth to 16 children before she died at the age of 35 years c.1778. She was pregnant for almost every married year of her short life. It was sobering to read about this woman. I know I sometimes take my freedom for granted. Almost 250 years later, my everyday reality is quite different. I travel alone in relative safety when at one time unmarried women were discouraged from venturing unaccompanied outside the home.

I came across a few explicative panels by the river.

Il sort des terres une autre petite riviere du costé du Nord, nommé des François la riviere de l’Assomption, et des Sauvages 8taragauesipi, laquelle se iette dans cette grande étendue d’eau qui se rencontre a la pointe plus basse de Montreal. — Relations des Jésuites, 1642.

The Outaragavisipi placename, meaning “rivière tortueuse”, was fitting as the river is indeed winding, almost forming a figure 8. In fact, there was a popular First Nations portage spot where the land almost meets at the middle of the loop. Rivière de l’Achigan and Rivière Saint-Esprit, which feed into l’Assomption are even more twisting. The Lapalme waterway is an offshoot of the latter.

Though it was a short cycling day, my knees were sore. Headwind is tiring on the body. I had pulled my inner thigh muscle. Having tired of limped through town, I retreated to the B&B and its sun dappled rooftop terrace.

 

Day 2 – September 6, 2009

“Au postillon de l’Assomption” is a B&B in what used to be the town’s original post-office. The owner told me its history over breakfast. Before leaving I asked her if “postillon” was a diminutive term for post office. I didn’t realize that it meant the drop of saliva that is projected forward when speaking to someone. She added that the word used to refer to the person who drove the mail coach, a horse-drawn carriage. Lovely metaphor the "flying spit" as messenger, airborne gossip. I laughed to myself as I am aware of my limited vocabulary in French. Growing up in a largely Anglophone environment, I did not often hear French. A bookworm, most of my French vocabulary was acquired through the act of reading. As I would often try to approximate the meaning of unknown words, this led to confusion at times. For instance, when I first got to the B&B, the owner tried to show me how to unlock a fussy door latch. She told me I had to “trousser” the handle which was an unfamiliar verb to me. When I looked it up later, I saw that the verb was a familiar form of retrousser (to pull up) as in “trousser la jupe”. In a similar vein there was also a “trousseur de jupons” (un coureur de filles).

Once on the road, I cycled on quiet country lanes enjoying the cool breeze. Something hissed at me as I checked my map on a small road in the middle of two cornfields, the dry husks crackling in the wind. My GPS, an older model, does not have detailed maps. The rangs are often not displayed. All I see is the trace of my path on a blank screen. I use it mostly to lock in my waypoint and situate myself in relation to it. I have always had trouble with cardinal points, with determining left and right. My orienting style tends to rely on landmarks. It is hard not to notice the towering Croix de chemin that line the Chemin du Roy.

I backtracked all morning trying to find my waypoint, up one lane and down another. I passed right by my destination the first time. At a crossroads I checked my GPS to discover that LA-3 was situated about half a kilometre in the other direction. I turned back and cycled at a slower pace, scanning the fields. I knew from prior trips that unlike a river, a waterway is usually discreet and could possibly be dried up. I hadn’t seen another body of water apart from the serpentine Saint-Esprit. But at the base of a hill, in a shady grove of trees, I dismounted almost by instinct. I could just discern a rivelet of water in the weeds. It reminded me of the LE-10 waypoint, where I could only hear trickling in the bush with no water in sight. This location was more picturesque with its wild flowers and the surrounding fields with their regular rows swaying in the wind.

After taking my photos in the round, I started packing my things back into my bike panniers. A transport barrelled around the corner and down the small hill, its wheels spinning into the gravel where my bike had been initially placed. He most probably was going high speed on a straight stretch of road and didn’t anticipate this sudden slight dip. It had been calm, with little traffic and then with no warning, this thundering charge. I thought of the small white crosses decorated with flowers by the side of the road that I had passed in my travels. I shivered, certain that the driver had also had a fright.

I stopped to eat in Saint-Roch-de-l’Achigan. I asked if the crêpes were made with buckwheat flour. The waitress said no, that would be the “Galette de Sarrasin”, made from local flour. It looked like grey shoe leather but slathered with butter and thick brown molasses, it tasted incredible. Certainly gave me the energy needed for the long ride home.

The smaller roads were not always well marked so I was constantly altering my route. I also went the wrong way twice. In St-Vincent de Paul I couldn't resist following other cyclists going downhill until I realized that the bridge to Laval was nowhere in view. In Montreal North I couldn’t remember the street which took me all the way to Van Horne. So I passed Christophe-Colomb, only to backtrack once again after asking a fellow cyclist for directions. The trails were congested and it took longer than anticipated to get home. It was difficult to switch gears – the fast pace of a crowded city after the tranquility of country roads with wide open spaces.

Day 1 – September 5, 2009

 

Time	Location	Trip Odometer	Moving Time	Stopped	Max Speed	Moving Average
8:00 Arrive: 10:30	100e Ave/ Sainte-Maria Goretti	Apx. 40 km GPS not working
	Céline Dion Globe, Charlemagne N 45°43'071" W 73°29'143"
Arrive: 11:30	L’Assomption N 45°49'574" W 73°25'40"	17.8 km + 40 = 58 km	1:02 + 2:30 = 3:30	8 min	42.1 k/h	17 k/h

Day 2 – September 6, 2009

 

Time	Location	Trip Odometer	Moving Time	Stopped	Max Speed	Moving Average
8:30 Arrive: 10:40	LA-3 N 45°53'833" W 73°37'546"	33.5 km	1:48	20 min		18.5 k/h
Arrive: 11:50	Saint-Roch-de-l’Achigan N 45°51'393" W 73°35'310"	43.9 km	2:22	30 min
Arrive: 2:10	Terrebonne Bridge to Laval	76.1 km	4:08	51 min		18.3 k/h
Arrive: 3:15	St-Vincent de Paul (backtracked)	93.5 km	5:04	1:03
Arrive: 4:10	Christophe-Colomb (backtracked) N 45°33'779" W 73°39'839"	104 km
Arrive: 4:50	Van Horne N 45°31'678" W 73°36'316" Avg: 17.7 k/h					17.7 k/h
Arrive: 5:45		125 km	7:11	1:22

 

Progress: September 5-6, 2009

Traveled to and documented: LA-3 Lapalme Waterway / Cours d’eau Lapalme, (Saint-Esprit, Montcalm, Lanaudière, Quebec, CA).

LA-3 ( map  l  path )
Saint-Esprit, Montcalm, Lanaudière, Quebec, CA
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Progress: August 30, 2009

Uploaded some new tongues into my YouTube channel and made playlists of each placename: Lapalme, Legault and Angerbauer. Viewing them, it sometimes took a while to situate each one from memory, as many share similar landmarks — a road, forest, bush, or dwelling in the distance. Also, the trips spanned from 2002 - 2009 with a big gap in between when I was in graduate school. However, just one detail (the foggy outline of Mont Saint-Hilaire, the weather) could stir a recollection.

My memory of each place, which is generally fleeting, imprecise and tends to involve all of the senses, is quite different from these documentations — silent, halting, "fake movies". The archiving process seems to add a preciousness to these landscapes in that they become distant, otherworldly. This off feeling could also be because of revealing details: the way the edges are sometimes blurred or do not align properly so that there is a ghost image. The outlines of each photo are evident and even accentuated at times. I didn't want to hide the fact that they were composite photos. A way of revealing the work process, the patching of fragments together.

Process: Émile tongues

Poring over one of my topographical maps — 021M12 Lac St-Henri in the Baie-Saint-Paul region  —  I had noticed that two lakes from different bloodlines were situated in the same area: Lac Lapalme ( LA-5 ) and Lac Legault ( LE-4 ). I had nicknamed these waypoints the “Émile” tongues, as two historical figures in Quebec with these family names share a surname: Georges-Émile Lapalme and père Émile Legault.

 

View Émile Tongues in a larger map

 

Georges-Émile Lapalme (1907 - 1985) was a politician, a member of the Legislative Assembly of Quebec, and the leader of the Quebec Liberal Party. He is often said to have been the thinker behind the Révolution tranquille, inspiring Jean Lesage with the electoral programme he wrote for the Liberal Party (Pour une politique) in 1958. It was because of G.E. Lapalme’s association with Lac-à-l'Épaule, that I substituted the more remote LA-5 and LE-4 waypoints with this lake.

Émile Legault (1906 - 1983) was a key figure of 20th century theatre as a playwright, stage director, professor and critic. Ordained as catholic priest in 1930, he founded a troupe of young actors in 1937, Les Compagnons de Saint-Laurent. The chapter on the early beginnings of the theatre troupe (1937-1952) in Hélène Jasmin’s Père Émile Legault : Homme de foi et de parole (2000) was a fascinating read. With few financial means and an overload of enthousiasm, all the actors in the troupe worked together towards a common goal, sharing administrative tasks and creating the decors and the costumes. Madame Dullin sewed the latter from burlap bags and a goat brought from the Savoie provided meager rations of milk and cheese to the troupe (7). For Legault, compagnonnage and anonymity went hand in hand, and was essential to preserving team spirit. Not one actor took the spotlight, as the roles were inter-changeable; the troupe members who did not have assigned roles learned each other’s lines to take on the role of souffleur (11). In the mid-forties, the actors lived in a commune for a short while in Vaudreuil in the area of les Chenaux, a small colony looking out on the Deux-Montagnes lake (24).

 

View Larger Map Montagne du Père-Legault (46° 51' 0" N 75° 13' 18" O) North-East of Mont-Laurier in Antoine-Labelle, nestled between Lac Placide and Lac Cadieu there is a mountain (400 m) named after Émile Legault.

 

The section on Legault’s origins in Ville Saint-Laurent were also of interest, especially the paragraphs detailing the enterprising spirit of his father, Omer-Wilfrid Legault. At a time when business was down at the branch of the Ville-Marie bank that he managed, O.W. Legault, along with some friends, founded a manufacture in Joliette to transform cultivated tobacco. The manufacture supplied chewing tobacco to lumber camps and even went on to launch its own cigar brands: Le Pélican, Le Champagne and Le Blue Bonnets, (38) in reference perhaps to the Blue Bonnets Raceway. Georges-Émile Lapalme’s father, Euclide, was also a tobacco manufacturer in Saint-Esprit-de-Montcalm.

What interested me about O.W. Legault, was that he invented an English associate to attract a larger customer base: Legault & Thompson. This borrowed name helped him through difficult times, though the sudden rise in popularity of the cigarette around the world would soon decimate cigar sales. (39) What linked these two stories for me was the sense of mutability — inter-changeability and invention. As Émile Legault’s theatre troupe philosophy was centered on compagnonnage and anonymity, the various roles in the group could be freely interchanged. O.W. Legault not only borrowed a name for his business, he invented an associate who existed by name only.

As an adoptee born with another name (Monique Legault), I've always been intrigued by the ghost figure, how blood ties and kinship form families and create bonds. When one adopts a child, that child then adopts the adoptive family’s history as her own. If she does not know her own genealogical history, then this new history is indeed a substitution. If she does know details of her pre-adoption past, she simply adds the mix to the equation. A mash-up of family trees using the splice and tongue graft technique known in horticulture. Though I may share blood ties with the first Legault ancestor on Quebec soil, I also share kinship ties to the Lapalme family tree through the process of adoption.

This brings me to wonder, what is a name? Does our identity rest on a haphazard mixture of inherited values and created values? What is the role of invention in the ever-changing process of identity formation?

YouTube: LE-4

Lac-à-l'Épaule : Substitute for LE-4 ( map  l  path )
Lac-Jacques-Cartier, Beaupré Coast, Quebec, CA
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YouTube: LA-5

Lac-à-l'Épaule : Substitute for LA-5 ( map  l  path )
Lac-Jacques-Cartier, Beaupré Coast, Quebec, CA
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YouTube: LE-6

LE-6 ( map  l  path )
Grenville, Argenteuil, Laurentians, Quebec, CA
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YouTube: LE-10

LE-10 ( map  l  path )
Saint-Sixte, Papineau, Outaouais, Quebec, CA
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YouTube: LE-8

LE-8 ( map  l  path )
Plaisance, Papineau, Outaouais, Quebec, CA
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YouTube: LE-1

LE-1 ( map  l  path )
Plaisance, Papineau, Outaouais, Quebec, CA
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Path: LA-5, LE-4

YouTube  l  Panorama Lac-à-l'Épaule (Substitute) LA-5 Lapalme Lake / Lac Lapalme LE-4 Legault Lake / Lac Legault July 29, 2009

Day 1 – July 27, 2009

Rivière-à-Pierre to Fossambault-sur-le-lac

Woke up early to a rainy morning. Packed up my bike and headed down the Lachine canal to the VIA Rail station to catch the 8:30 train to Rivière-à-Pierre. Took off my front wheel and was able to stuff my bike and tent in the box they provided. The scenery was grey and gloomy, as it rained throughout the ride. Right before Rivière-à-Pierre a group of canoeists got on, smelling of campfire, looking ravenous and chilled to the bone. When I got off at the station, there were about six other cyclists ready to board. The rain had stopped but the air was heavy. The sun tried to pierce through the clouds, but just created a blanket of damp heat. My breathing was raspy, but as the first few kilometers of gravelly road passed through a forest, the air cooled a little. The trail was a little monotonous but at the same time, it gave me plenty of time to think as I just had to plod along in a straight line, brought out of my reverie by the occasional big dumb horsefly. Many doves of a brown-rose colour and the frequent cawing crow. Eventually fields appeared on either side and the sun peeped out. For the most part, I was on my own. I crossed only one other pair of cyclists and a few locals on the trail. I startled a calico cat who jumped and glided in the tall glasses as if it were a hare. I had to laugh out loud as it was so graceful in its fright. There was the occasional picnic table and portable toilet. I had enough snacks to tie me over. Passed the communities of Saint-Léonard, Saint-Raymond, Lac Sergent, Sainte-Catherine-de-la-Jacques-Cartier and finally reached Fossambault-sur-le-Lac in the afternoon. I could have kept going, but it started down pouring, so I circled back and headed for the campground. I got soaked to the skin and had trouble finding my way as my maps got all wet and I had to turn off the GPS. Of course, as soon as I entered the campground, the rain stopped. Though I was grouchy, I was relieved that I would not have to pitch my tent in the rain. The annoying thing about cycling solo is not being able to share camping fees. It cost me $40.00 for a little damp square of earth. Not my idea of camping. It was the kind of campground where families go with their trailers and stay the whole summer. There was no privacy between the lots. I'm surprised I didn't hear anyone snoring. Was next to a family with a very noisy dog who whined and whimpered when left alone. Went to bed early and packed up early the next morning, anxious to get going.

 

Day 2 - July 28, 2009

Fossambault-sur-le-lac to parc de la Jacques-Cartier

Was on the Corridor des Cheminots, which leads to Quebec City, before I knew it. I didn’t have detailed maps so I was uncertain how I was going to get to the parc de la Jacques-Cartier, otherwise known as the parc des Laurentides. I stopped on the side of the road close to Wendake to pore over my maps. A cyclist stopped to see if I needed help, Andrée from Charlesbourg. A local, she knew all the routes and advised me not to take my planned route through Tewkesbury as it was extremely hilly. The smaller roads through Lac Saint Charles would be a better option. She was on her regular training route, but said if she had time she would circle back and ride with me. I turned onto Boulevard de la Colline and went and ate a late breakfast. I asked a rather handsome cop for more detailed instructions and he obligingly wrote down the route for me.

 

 

At Grande Ligne, I hesitated. The direction looked wrong as I referred to my GPS and map. I decided to go the other way. Thankfully, I ran into Andrée who was headed towards me from Charlesbourg. She laughingly informed me that I was heading towards Quebec City, not north and offered to ride along with me for a bit. She suggested we take a more scenic route turning right on Bellerive, left on Rivière Jaune then right on Éthier to join Boul. Talbot, which is the 175. There was a lot of traffic but it had a decent shoulder. It turned out to be a boiler of a day. We were both sweating profusely. We stopped at a gas station in the shade to look at my map. Andrée, perhaps hungry for a good ride, offered to go a little further as it was part of her regular training route and Stoneham promised nice climbs. (Or perhaps she was worried because I was on my own. Fair enough, anything can happen. Though I do spend a good amount of time planning my trips I do leave a lot of room for error, for whims, for encounters. And I can’t control traffic. That’s where I have to let go. I realize that part of this project is about letting myself be helped by people instead of always striving to be self-sufficient. Or appearing to be so… Embrace the vulnerability, allow the other to experience the small joy of helping another. It is another way of connecting, to ask for help.) She was much faster than I was. I am generally slow because of the asthma, but also because of the camping equipment. I am however a steady cyclist with good endurance. Stoneham was indeed a very quaint town. We stopped at the 175 junction and chatted before parting ways. She told me about her recent trips with Vélo Québec and some of the trips she did overseas with her partner. She even gave me her phone number and told me to call her if I needed anything at the park. Truly a very kind person. She did me a great service, probably saving me hours of cycling. I slathered on the sunscreen before steadying myself for an uphill climb. Insane traffic whizzing by, but the shoulder was generous enough. I reached the park entrance only to find out I had another 10 km to go before I got to reception – with some wicked hills. The scenery as I entered the Jacques-Cartier valley was breathtaking. It felt so green and clean compared to the aggressive highway traffic.

I had registered online for my campsite – le Grand Duc — so I simply had to sign in. I decided to treat myself and dug out my quarters to take a hot shower, wiping the layer of dead bugs stuck to my legs. It was another 5 km to my campsite, following the Sautauriski river. I was delighted with the site, surrounded by evergreens and mossy areas with the river babbling in the background. They even delivered a bag of wood for the campfire. I pitched my tent and cycled back to the registration area to pick up my cell (which they agreed to recharge for me) and eat supper. I did not have room on my bike to bring cooking equipment and so I settled for a sandwich at the cantine. Back at my site, I started a fire and read, but after about 20 minutes of contentment, it started raining hard. I had to retire to my tent. I tried to read as late as I could so that I was not wide awake at 3:00 AM, but finally dozed off around 10:00. I knew I had a rough ride the next morning so I needed to rest up. At one point in the night, I woke up. My tent kept flashing white. I was so sleepy, I thought it was fireflies at first until I heard the sky cracking. Eventually the rain came down like nails and I realized that there was a thunderstorm directly overhead. Alone in my tent, I'll admit that I was scared. There was another group of campers in the next lot, so I was not completely on my own. It was more of an existential aloneness in that I felt small and vulnerable in my flimsy shelter. There was nothing I could do if a lightening bolt were to strike me. I felt like a petrified little rabbit as I froze and adopted the fetal position. I just had to wait it out for what seemed like hours. I admit to mouthing a continuous plea to the heavens. People say that there is very little chance to be struck by lightning, but it is an irrational, animal fear that takes over. I always think of my mortality in thunderstorms and in planes — situations where I have little control. After it died down, I slept in until 8:30 AM, exhausted.

 

Day 3 - July 29, 2009

Secteur de la vallée to secteur Lac-à-l’Épaule return

The next morning it was muggy and the air was heavy with the threat of rain. I was wheezing more than usual going uphill. I was apprehensive about my ride to Lac-à-l’Épaule. Lac Lapalme (LA-5) and Lac Legault (LE-4) while in proximity of each other, were simply too remote to attempt cycling there alone. Lac-à-l’Épaule was chosen as a substitute, not only for its proximity to the other waypoints, but for its historical significance. While political figures like Churchill, Roosevelt and de Gaulle had all met at the remote fishing camp bordering Lac-à-l’Épaule at one time, Georges-Émile Lapalme had also been a visitor. On the 4th and 5th of September 1962, he met with Prime Minister of Québec, Jean Lesage, and other cabinet ministers including René Lévesque to discuss whether they should launch an election on the theme of the nationalization of Hydro Québec. The expression “tenir un lac-à-l’épaule” stemmed from this historic meeting. This idea of gathering in a remote outdoors setting to discuss issues, to defend views and possibly come to a compromise, appealed to me considering the symbolism of the coordinates of the LA-5 and LE-4 waypoints. The Lac-à-l'Épaule area also has historical value for Aboriginal people. In the 17th century, Jesuits followed a "montagnais" trail from Lac-à-l’Épaule to the lac Saint-Jean area1. (The Montagnais-Naskapi tribes now call themselves the Innu nation. "Montagnais" is a french term meaning "mountain people" while "Innu" means "people"2.) In terms of mapmaking, the Huron-Wendat chief Nicholas Vincent Tsawanhonhi (1769-1844), whose name means "he who sees clearly"3, described this lake as "Hüaonjacaronté" on a map in 1829 that is known as the "Vincent plan". This lake warrants more research has there is probably a rich history that I've only touched upon.

I had to ride a good 10 km just to get out of the park and another 20 km uphill on the 175, which leads all the way to Saguenay–Lac-Saint-Jean. The good thing is that I did not have all my camping equipment with me, so my load was a little lighter for what would be a 437 metre climb:  from 277 to 714 metres. Riding alongside a continuous flow of transports, trucks and campers, all going extremely fast, was stressful — this despite a fairly wide shoulder. At those speeds, you never know what could happen. My nerves were on edge from the constant noise. The last 10 km climb was made further difficult by construction, as they were widening the highway. The three lanes converged to two, with room for a shoulder on only one side. I followed the same strategy while on my trip in the Gaspésie. Whenever I saw a transport truck coming towards me, I would get off the road onto the gravel. That way if a transport was coming up behind me, there was less chance of an accident. Overall, vehicles tried to give me space when they could, but there was simply not enough room for two transports and a cyclist. When I arrived at the accueil Mercier, I was somewhat shaken and relieved to be off the highway. Unfortunately, the lake was on the other side. I told the park worker about my project and he suggested a spot where I could get a good shot of the lake. He also advised me not to take the mountain bike path back to the campground when I inquired about it. It was a good 17 km away through rugged terrain and I only had a hybrid bike. Plus it would be foolhardy to go alone. I stocked up on water and bought sunglasses as I had lost the nose attachment to my old ones. Though it was cloudy, my face was sore from squinting. An interesting detail. On a portion of the road on each side of the highway was a tubular metal bridge that was difficult to cross on my bike. I assume that it is a bridge designed to stop animal traffic as I could not imagine a moose navigating the tubes. On the highway island, I woke up a man who was lying across his quad. I wanted directions, but I also wanted to make sure he was ok. I spoke French but quickly switched to English. I think he was American. I thought it a strange place to catch a nap. I first went to the Pavillion du lac-à-l’Épaule — the historic fishing lodge? Unfortunately, I was unable to walk around as a group had already booked the lodge according to the park worker who came to greet me. She also suggested I go a bit further to the “effluves”. I assumed this word meant falls as I found a cascading waterfall. But when I looked the noun up later, I was surprised to see that it meant exhalation, breath. “Émanation qui s’exhale d’un corps organisé” — Dictionnaire encyclopédique de la langue française. I probably did not hear her well. Perhaps she mean “l’effluent du lac”? And yet, the exhalation of the lake is more poetic. It was a nice vantage point as from that angle, the lake seemed to float in midair, contained by a barrage of rocks, with the waterfall running under the bridge I was standing on to become the Lac-à-l’Épaule river. This waterway feeds back into the Jacques-Cartier river, at the foot of l’Épaule mountain. There was a small cabin nearby with a panel explaining that salmon eggs were being cultivated inside and that the saumoneau would be released back into the river. (The park has a tiny museum display where I learned that in the beginning of the 19th century, the Jacques-Cartier river had been depleted of its salmon stocks and the caribou had also been over hunted.)

I decided to take the same shoulder on my way back so that I was facing traffic. It felt safer to see the oncoming vehicles, and there was simply no shoulder on the right hand side. I used caution though veering off into the gravel when anything large came my way. As it was all downhill, I was soon out of the construction zone and on the right side of the road. All was going well when a freak thunderstorm hit. Barely had enough time to put on a windbreaker. Thankful I had bought the sunglasses as they stopped the water streaming down my face from washing away my lenses. The rain was pelting the pavement and despite the poor visibility, the traffic did not slow down. Felt exposed to the whims of the sky and traffic. On one steep climb, I thought it safer to walk my bike. I wasn’t sure what the best course of action was: to stop and hide, or to try and out race the storm? Gradually the rain lessened and the sun even peeped its way out. As I entered the park, I biked those last kilometers at a snail’s pace, my muscles burnt from that intense climb. Though I was soaked to the skin, I was content to take in the park’s scenery and simply breathe in the clean, crisp air that follows rainfall. I met another camper back at the site, Ronald Oosting from the Netherlands, on a visit from New York. He was also an artist, specializing in figurative wood carvings. We were banned to our respective pup tents for a good two hours by the heavy rain, but when I emerged he very kindly shared his piping hot supper. We enjoyed the campfire and traded tales until the next rain fall. Though it was a grueling ride, I’m glad that I was able to document Lac-à-l’Épaule. Seeing how remote it was, I realize I have to let go of cycling to the LA-5 and LE-4 waypoints in the Réserve faunique des Laurentides. A future hiking and camping trip perhaps, as there is a cabin nearby on Lac-Henri-Mercier. It’s too bad because I was 29 km away from the Secteur Jumeau entrance, and from there it was only another 115 km to Chicoutimi. My A-6 waypoint, close to Mont-Apica, will probably have to be left to the imagination.

 

Day 4 - July 30, 2009

Parc de la Jacques-Cartier to Neuville

Packed up my tent, and was at the cantine by 7:30 looking forward to a hot coffee before I set off. Unfortunately, it was not open so I hastily munched on my remaining rations: a granola bar, a stick of cheese and some prunes. As the 175 was all downhill, I was at the Stoneham junction before I knew it. Decided to keep going but quickly discovered why Andrée had suggested the alternate route. Cyclist are not allowed beyond the intersection of the 73 and the 371, which leads to Tewkesbury. I had to backtrack, and turned left on Crawford which I was relieved to see brought me to 1st avenue and then on chemin de l’Hibou through the village. I decided to go straight towards Lac Delage. What I failed to realize was that Grande Ligne was also on the other side of the lake. I had to circle back once again. In Lac Saint Charles I went the wrong way again. I wasn't thinking clearly as the sun was intense and I was getting hungry. By the time I stopped to eat, I was surprised to see that I had already cycled 55 km. Once outside the park, a sign said that Quebec City was 40 km away. Of course, I was on small backroads and kept getting lost. The Corridor des Cheminots used to be an old railroad, passing mostly through suburbs. Nearing the end I chatted with Bernard, a friendly fellow who I was surprised to see cycling while wearing a speedo — wouldn't that be uncomfortable? He offered to show me a shortcut to the port area as he too needed to visit a cycling shop. I tried to buy the nosepiece to my sunglasses, but they did not have them in stock. He offered me his own as we had the same glasses. He knew of a sports warehouse. It was very sweet of him as I had not had much luck in the past with spare parts. This trip was truly a mix of grueling rides and kind people.

Neuville

Setting out towards Montreal, I enjoyed the new Littoral trail bordering the Saint-Laurent. Unfortunately, it stopped abruptly at Sainte-Foy. I asked a few people for directions: crossed the parking lot, up Ross, left on Saint-Louis, followed a Chemin du Roy sign… and promptly got lost, cycling around in circles. It was my fault for not having detailed, recent maps. I eventually got back to the 138 and decided to call it a day in Neuville. I found a B&B on the main drag and happily soaked in the view of the Saint-Laurent from a garden swing.

 

Day 5 - July 31, 2009

Neuville – Trois-Rivières

The next morning, I admired the pretty houses in Cap Santé and stopped to eat my lunch in Deschambault at an old fashioned country store. Bought some goatmilk soap close to Grondines and talked to another cyclist going the opposite way. We both remarked that there were very little cyclists on the roads. I knew I had a lot of ground to cover, so I did not stop much except to photograph the occasional church steeple or Croix de chemin. It was a flat route but I had a head wind. Near the end of the day, I made my way to the old section of Trois-Rivières, crossing the rivière Saint-Maurice. I was so struck by the architecture – the Couvent des Urselines especially  – that I decided to stop at a B&B instead of continuing on ahead like I had planned. A good choice as Trois-Rivières was celebrating its 375e anniversary and the streets were animated with people strolling about. The terrasses were full and street performers were on every corner. At night fall, on the Rue des Ursulines, I watched “Parade Issimo” by Les Sages Fous which featured big mechanized bird puppets, a hit with the kids. Then the more sober “Stones” by the Orto-Da Theatre Group from Tel Aviv, Israel. It was all very well planned: the first performance more ambulant with the kids following the puppeteers like the Pied Piper, while the second one provided little stools for its audience. The historical setting added to the magical quality of the night.

 

Day 6 – August 1, 2009

Trois-Rivières – Montréal

The next day was very hot and I was exposed to the sun on treeless country roads (rangs) surrounded by fields in Maskinongé, Saint-Barthélemy and Saint-Viateur — away from bathroom facilities and food amenities. My GPS turned off right before Louiseville, so I lost track of perhaps 15 km? I ate in the late afternoon at a cantine outside of Saint-Sulpice and had a nice chat with the owners. I admitted that I was already very tired. If I took the 138, it was more straightforward, but with lots of traffic. As they told me that L’Assomption was quite pretty, I decided to take the Route Verte, not fully realizing how many km it would add to my day. My route turned out to be a real labyrinth: I got lost in L'Assomption then in Charlemagne trying to find the bridge to Repentigny. One person gave me directions in one way and another sent me back to the same spot where I first asked for directions, by the Céline Dion globe. I eventually got onto the island, but it was the night of the Francofolies and the fireworks competition so the trails on the east end were congested. I had to walk my bike though the old port. I just wanted to be home and take a long bath. I finally relaxed once I was on the Lachine canal as it is so familiar, I can ride it in my sleep. I inched along at a turtle’s pace, my behind and knees sore, finally getting home at 9:30. I had never done such a long day before — about 175 km. But it was worth it to see the Chemin du Roy and all the historical stopovers on the way.

Day 1 – July 27, 2009 (Rivière-à-Pierre to Fossambault-sur-le-lac)

 

Time	Location	Trip Odometer	Moving Time	Stopped	Max Speed	Moving Average
8:30  Arrive: 1:00	Montreal Rivière-à-Pierre N 45°27'578" W 73°35'842"
Depart: 1:30 Arrive: 5:00?	Fossambault-sur-le-lac N 46°54'258"  W 71°37'281" Stopped GPS because of rain	58.8 km	3:24	27 min	110k/h?	17.2k/h

 

Day 2 - July 28, 2009 (Fossambault-sur-le-lac to parc Jacques-Cartier)

 

Time	Location	Trip Odometer	Moving Time	Stopped	Max Speed	Moving Average
8:20 Stop: 10:30	Lac Saint-Charles N 46°53'331" W 71°22'282"	32.6 km	1:49	37 min	36.7k/h	17.9k/h
Arrive: 2:00	Parc Jacques-Cartier N 47°10'508" W 71°22'175" (264 m)	51.1 km  GPS battery ran out around Stoneham 51.1 + 28 = 70 km?	2:47	1:04	49.9k/h	18.3k/h

 

Day 3 - July 29, 2009 (Secteur de la vallée to secteur Lac-à-l’Épaule return)

 

Time	Location	Trip Odometer	Moving Time	Stopped	Max Speed	Moving Average
10:20 Stop: 12:35	Secteur Lac-à-l’Épaule N 47°14'292" W 71°14'807" (714 m)	30.6 km	2:05	10 min	45.3k/h	14.7k/h
Depart: 12:50 Arrive: 1:08	Bridge by Salmon Nursery, Lac-à-l’Épaule N 47°14'191" W 71°15'095" (655 m)
Depart: 1:18 Arrive: 3:15	Reception, secteur Vallée N 47°10'508" W 71°22'175" (277 m)	65.9 km	3:50	29 min	123 k/h?	16k/h

 

Day 4 - July 30, 2009 (Parc Jacques-Cartier to Neuville)

 

Time	Location	Trip Odometer	Moving Time	Stopped	Max Speed	Moving Average
7:45 Stop: 9:15	Stoneham N 47°00'160" W 71°21'748" (180 m)	28.1 km	1:19	10 min	106 k/h?	21.2k/h
Stop: 10:55	Lac Saint-Charles N 46°53'331" W 71°22'282"	56.7 km	2:50	19 min		20 k/h
Stop: 12:30 Stopped: 30 min  Leave: 1:25	Quebec City Port N 46°49'095" W 71°12'036" (12 m)	74.6 km	3:42	30 min		20.1 k/h
Stop: 2:25	End of Littoral N 46°45'832" W 71°16'701"
Stop: 4:30	Saint-Augustin-de-Desmaures	112 km	6:12	1:09	150 k/h?	18 k/h
Arrive: 5:00	Neuville N 46°41’864" W 71°34'631" (9 m)	119 km	6:37	1:11		17.9 k/h

 

Day 5 - July 31, 2009 (Neuville – Trois-Rivières)

 

Time	Location	Trip Odometer	Moving Time	Stopped	Max Speed	Moving Average
8:55 Stop: 11:25	Deschambault N 46°38'919" W 71°55'721"	37.8 km	2:11	13:37	326 k/h?	17.2k/h
Depart: 12:00 Stop: 3:45	Notre-Dame-de-la-rive (outside Trois-Rivières) N 46°23'773" W 72°26'925"	95.1 km	5:23	44 min		17.6k/h
Depart: 4:00 Stop: 5:15	Trois-Rivières N 46°20'781" W 72°32'412"	110 km	6:19	1:03		17.4k/h

 

Day 6 – August 1, 2009 (Trois-Rivières – Montréal)

 

Time	Location	Trip Odometer	Moving Time	Stopped	Max Speed	Moving Average
8:30 Stop: 10:50	Louiseville N 46°15'356" W 72°56'454"	20 km?  GPS stopped – lost 15 km?	55 min	20 min	183 k/h?	21.7k/h
Depart: 11:25 Stop: 12:30	Saint-Barthélemy N 46°11'508" W 73°07'580"	39.8 km?	2:00	27 min		21.7k/h
Stop: 2:00	Bethierville N 46°04'820"  W 73°10'594" Public bathroom in park facing church	58.1 km?	3:05	41 min		18.8 k/h
Stop: 4:00	Cantine outside of Saint-Sulpice	89.2 km?	4:49	55 min		18.8 k/h
Depart: 4:40  Stop: 7:10	Got lost in Charlemagne. Eastern tip of Montreal Island	128 km?	7:06	1:15		18.0 k/h
Arrive: 9:30	Ville Émard	163 km?  163 km + 12 km (Louiseville) = 175 km	9:29	1:25		17.2 k/h