Motorcycle Sport & Leisure

A NATION within - Quebec

Quebec's people are often described as a nation within a united Canada; but as Ian Kerr found out, the area which they inhabit is pretty unique too...
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• Article from the January 2008 issue of MSL

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One miserable winter’s day, I decided I needed a good holiday to look forward to. I was idly flicking through a bike magazine and read an advert that included motorcycle tours in Canada. Some 20 years ago, I’d spent a long, hot summer with some friends up at Lake Mekinac (Indian word for Turtle), near Trois Rivieres in northern Quebec. We’d driven up from Montreal along the St Lawrence River and I’d always thought that it would be great to take a motorbike further along that route and on to the Gaspesie Peninsula. A rush of memories flooded back of empty roads winding through fantastic scenery, no tourists, the fascinating French Canadian culture and a sense of space, freedom and more space.
After a couple of emails and phone calls with H-C Travel’s Canada expert Hannah, my self-guided tour, my bike, my flights and my travel insurance were booked, and in what seemed no time at all I was catching the flight from London direct to Montreal.

After an easy eight-hour flight, I was met at Montreal’s Pierre-Elliot-Trudeau International Airport and taken by limo to my city centre hotel. After a quick freshen up, it was time to get some fresh air and see Montreal again.
Founded in 1642 as a missionary village called Ville-Marie, Montreal is now the world’s second largest French speaking city, but as nearly everyone also speaks English, luckily there are no language barriers. Next to the French, the Italian population in Montreal make up the largest ethnic group, with Irish and Brits close behind, so it is a real mix of cultures and tastes.
I took a leisurely stroll down Sainte-Catherine Street, which I’d been told has the highest concentration of stores in Canada and is a full 15km in length – a woman’s dream for fashion boutiques, so I was very lucky to be on my own. I stopped at one of the roadside cafes for a coffee and relaxed in the late afternoon sunshine – it was a pleasant 60ºF – before hopping on the metro and heading up to the Plateau Mont-Royal.

A good thing about this city is that the public transport system is great and it’s easy to get around. Plateau Mont-Royal is Montreal’s hippest and most creative neighbourhood and is packed with bars and bistros, so I had an enjoyable mooch around before tucking into steak and frites and a cold glass of beer. There would be time to see more of the old part of the city on my return journey, as I had an early start the next day.

The next morning I was again met and driven to pick up my motorcycle, a Honda Pan European ST1300. I’d wanted to try out this bike over a long distance and this tour was going to provide the chance to test its road abilities.
The Pan has built up a good reputation over the years and I have to say the Honda behaved pretty well throughout (see below for the exception), was very comfortable even on the longest days and quite economical. My only small gripes were a lack of any real character (I prefer fewer cylinders) and that with the load on the back and no pillion it was a bit difficult and unmanoeuvrable in city traffic – but maybe I was spoilt by days and days of empty roads and small towns/villages.

It is a big bike in most senses of the word – quite tall in the saddle compared to what I’m used to, fast, powerful, confidence inspiring and well built. I wanted the extra storage space for all my camera gear and I know that I’m not very good at travelling light, and there was plenty of that as this bike has a huge carrying capacity, plenty for two if required. I got most of what I had brought onto the bike, so left my suitcase and the few unnecessary items in Montreal.
The rental crew in Montreal were great and even kitted me out in waterproofs, which I’d forgotten to bring with me, as the weather was turning rough (memo to self – must read the tour info next time).

Gaspesians

Leaving Montreal, my route was via Highways 138 which leads into Highway 40 and then back onto the 138 to Tadoussac. I would be skirting around Quebec city as I’d be stopping there on the return trip. The 138 is the scenic route, but in Quebec, it means stop-and-go traffic – which would be hot work in full bike gear at the best of times, but I’d donned waterproofs on top so was roasting as I rode off into a gathering storm. True enough, the heavens opened their bowels on me and rain like bullets bounced off my visor.

Route 138 follows the north shore of the St Lawrence River and the first part of it, the Chemin du Roi between Montreal and Quebec, is the oldest highway in Canada. At the time of its completion in 1737, it was the longest road north of the Rio Grande, at 280 kilometres. This road takes you from the industrial suburbs of Montreal eastwards through the stunning Charlevoix region populated by quaint, colourful villages, and I knew from having taken it by car some 20 years ago that it would be a great riding experience in better weather – C’est la Vie!
Driving in Canada is similar to driving in parts of the United States, but with distances and speeds posted in kilometres; and of course, this being Quebec some signs are only in French. At this point, however, I couldn’t have given a monkey’s if they’d been in Swahili as I just wanted to get the miles behind me – it was now lashing down hailstones the size of cauliflowers.
By the time I reached Tadoussac, I was feeling quite tired. A long, wet first day and five hours time difference was taking its toll. A hot shower and food soon saw me right and looking forward to my bed.

The name Tadoussac apparently comes from the Algonquin word for ‘breasts’ but I was so tired after the ride in torrential rain that if all the womenfolk there had walked in naked, I’d not have been able to have raised more than an eyebrow.
Thankfully, the hotel I was staying in was great and situated in a stunning location by the Saguenay Fjord and the St Lawrence River, an area famous for several types of whales, including Beluga and Minke, and Greenland sharks. The Saguenay Fjord is one of the largest yet least known fjords in the world. Granting access to the mineral rich heartland of central Quebec, and starting at the St. Lawrence River, the fjord stretches through the Laurentian Mountains, deep into the Canadian Shield and is the only navigable fjord in North America.
All around are lush mountains and small villages, with Lac St Jean about 100 miles upstream as it’s focal point. This part of the region reminds me of the west coast of Scotland, not just because of the rain, but in the unspoilt, uninhabited and gently curving hills – ah, now I know why they called the town Tadoussac.
Luckily, the next morning the rain had stopped, so I rode the ST1300 to a good viewpoint and pulled out my binoculars. Not long after, I caught sight of my first whale – a sliver of black gently ploughing through the distant waves. I nearly tipped the Honda over as I saw another whale suddenly appear alongside the first one and watched in awe as they seemed to dovetail each other back and forth. This was more than worth the drenching the night before.

My ride continued up the north coast of the St Lawrence River on the empty 138 for a couple of hours to Baie Comeau, with lots of sightseeing stops. Here I took the ferry across to Matane, which took about two and a half hours, arriving mid afternoon.

On the ferry, I got talking to some of the locals, who were courteous if bemused by having to repeat most of what they said to me. The Gaspesians have a very distinctive French accent and I had to really concentrate just to participate in the basic chit chat, but having a motorbike is always an ice-breaker and I was soon discussing the pros and cons of the Honda with a couple of enthusiastic blokes.

End of land

Matane itself is the main commercial centre along this coast and is known as the shrimp capital of the world, with its summer festival honouring the little crustacean. ‘While in Rome’, as they say, so I stopped at a local restaurant for lunch and had a feast of shrimp and lobster rolls, washed down with strong, black coffee. It was late in the season but I could imagine this place buzzing in the early summer.
I decided to have a quick look at the Matane Wildlife Reserve, which I was told has the highest concentration of moose in Quebec and quite a few bears thrown in for good measure. Well, those bears were chasing the moose as I didn’t see either of the critters, but the reserve is well worth visiting just for the ride. Back in Matane, I arrived at the hotel, which is in a great spot near the beach, and in good time for a great seafood dinner with smoked salmon from the hotel’s own smoke house, but there was also plenty to choose from if you are a meat and two veg sort of guy.
The next day I was ready for the longer ride from Matane to Perce, about 370km. I’d been told that this stretch of the tour was probably one of the best and I’d certainly agree with that.
Hugging the coast, this road is a real pleasure to ride and there is plenty to keep all your senses engaged. Dotted along the coast are picture postcard lighthouses and small villages; they all have their own character and make bright splashes of colour along the route. This is an ideal biking road, with plenty of twists and turns, and I really enjoyed taking the ST1300 through its paces; there was very little traffic, just the feel of wind and smell of the sea as I put my foot down. Hours and hours of pure enjoyment... one of the best day’s riding I’ve had in a while.
And then I discovered Quebecois roadworks. Unfortunately, they copy Americans, not Europeans, when it comes to working on their roads. This means they dig up miles and miles of road at a time, leave a gravel surface and then get round to putting down a tarmac surface apparently when they feel like it. Still, looking on the bright side, learning to manhandle a Pan European along miles and miles of gravel must have improved my riding skills. I can confirm that Pans are not well suited to adventure and off-road riding, and that it is best to unzip your jacket to catch any breeze, and take your time. It always happens on a long day doesn’t it?
The town of Percé, my next overnight stop, turned out to be a great end to an exhausting but hugely enjoyable day. It’s in a magnificent location at the ‘tip’ of the Gaspé Peninsula (from the Indian Micmaq word ‘gespeg’, meaning ‘end of land’). Basque whalers had been there long before explorer Jacques Cartier established a French presence in 1534 but it took another 200 years before a thriving settlement was fully established, and fishermen from Jersey, Ireland and Canada as well as American loyalists all put down roots. Percé is most famous for the Perce Rock, an ochre coloured rock in the bay which is 438 metres long and is as wide as it is high, weighing in at five million tonnes (so they told me), and they reckon it’s about 375...

• Next page – Battling with the French language, good weather and more great riding...

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