By Dana Lacey
Late this summer my buddy and I loaded our bikes onto a train and headed to the east coast of Quebec to eat our weight in poutine and bike along the famous Route Verte -- a 4,300-kilometre network of bike trails, lanes, dirt roads and paved highway shoulders.You can read about the Route in my story for the National Post. But since I also lugged along my camera gear -- including bungee-cording a tripod to the back of my bike, which I hated myself for somewhere around the 20th hill -- I thought I'd also share some photos here.
There were bikes everywhere, and in the small towns nobody locked them. It's a beautiful trip, if you're up for the hills.
Decisions, decisions. In Parc Bic.
Our workhorses
Found a town in Bas-St-Laurent whose chief export was sunflowers
View from the saddle.
We did have the share the road.
My gear.
My fuel.
Stumbled across these insane contraptions, built using bicycle parts and plastic lawn chairs. Apparently the inventor likes to scoot around town in them, to the chagrin of his neighbours.
The largest town was Rimouski (population 42,000), which boasted an extensive and envy-worthy bike path that stretched along the waterfront.
A very impractical solution to hydration. Spotted in Rimouski.
Did I mention that my gears AND my brakes stopped working?
Admittedly I've had this seat for years...but finally busted the seam.
