From Montreal to Boston

Our plan was to reach the sea in Maine within one week, then go down the coast. We were carrying a complete camping equipment, but we didn't intend to use if the weather got really bad. This trip was open-ended, in a maximum time frame of about three weeks. It had something of going on a nowhere, because, except for the first part, nothing was set. We reached the sea in Wells, Maine, on the sixth day, after a 300 miles (500 km) trek through southern Quebec, northern Vermont, the beautiful White Mountains in New Hampshire and the coast of Maine. Most of the numbered roads in New England have a very convenient paved shoulder and are relatively unstressing for cyclists, except maybe heavy-traffic interstate roads. The whole bicycle trip lasted 16 days, in which time we covered at least 1000 km. The last part of the trip, along the flat coastal strip, was an easy ride.

Sunday, August 7 - From Chambly to Frelighsburg, Quebec (81.4 km, 4.3 h)
At noon, on a gray Sunday, we were pedaling southward on the cool bicycle trail along the Canal du Richelieu. To avoid crossing the boring suburbs, we cheated a bit on the starting point: we begged friends to drop us in Chambly, some 25 km east of Montreal. After some 20 km, we reached the end of the trail in St-Jean-sur-le-Richelieu and we switched to Route 133, the main road going up the Richelieu River. That was arguably the worse part of the trip. We were running upwind in the flat countryside, crossing endless corn and soya fields, squeezed on the side of a narrow, shoulderless road by the fast and noisy traffic. We should have cut through the small village of St-Alexandre to avoid that horrible corridor; it certainly couldn't have been worse. In Pike River, we finally took quiet Route 202 and moved on through Bedford, then past Stanbridge East. We headed south on route 237 and reached the first stop, the Chutes Hunter Campground, just a few kilometers before Frelighsburg, where there were lots of available sites. In August, there is little need for reservations if you leave on a Sunday, while everybody else is going back home.

Monday, August 8 - From Frelighsburg, QC, to Newport, VT (76 km, 5 h)
From Stanbridge to Lancaster, NH, we followed the "Foglia Trail"*. After one mere day of warming-up, the Big Day was on. The weather was mild and cloudy, good enough for wall-climbing. Just past Frelighsburg, we hit the first hurdle, a 190-meter mound ironically named Joy Hill. It proved to be too steep for us (and our heavily loaded machines), and we had to walk up the hill - we are not proud. Crossing the border was easy, despite the gruff customs officer who asked us all kinds of personal questions. We passed Richford, an half-deserted rural town that had seen better days. The next hurdle was the Jay Peak Pass, a steep 10-km long, 500-meter high climb. I had to dismount there once again, but not Micheline, who was riding a lighter bike and/or was in great shape. From the top, we glided down a few kilometers, and from North Troy, we were going up and down the green rolling hills, on Route 105. After climbing one last daunting hill, just before Newport, we called it a day and stopped in the Newport municipal campground on Lake Memphrymagog. The sun finally came out, which was nice for a dip in the weedy waters of the lake. Some time later, after a glorious sunset on the Green Mountains, a sudden thunderstorm rolled in with strong winds. We had to fight a small deluge while holding on to the tent; fortunately, it didn't last long. From then on, we used all the stakes to nail the tent down.

* For this trip, we were inspired by an article entitled "Montreal to Cape Cod" published in Vélomag, a Quebec bicycle magazine, and also by an article by columnist Pierre Foglia, describing a challenging 5-day ride through the beautiful countryside of Quebec and Vermont (hereafter called the "Foglia Trail") in: "Cinq ou six jours au paradis", Randonnées de rêve, Les guides Vélomag.

Tuesday, August 9 - From Newport, VT, to Lancaster, NH (106 km, 6 h)
That morning, the sun was shining, at last. We followed hilly Route 105 through the quiet "Northern Kingdom", as this isolated frontier land is called. We rode in deep wilderness from Island Pound to Bloomfield; there, we switched to Route 102 going down the beautiful Connecticut River. After a refreshing dip, we were back on the road for our longest stretch. We were in top shape now; the worst part was behind us now, or so we thought. We rode non-stop to Lancaster, NH, just across the river, where we found a convenient campground, just behind a truck stop, not listed in the official New Hampshire camping guide.

Wednesday, August 10 - From Lancaster to Crawford Notch, NH (67 km, 4 h)
The rain started early in the morning, before we could pack up, a worst-case situation. While having a hearty breakfast at the truckers' restaurant, we agreed that we would be better off riding, even in the rain, than gnawing our nails up to our shoulders waiting for ideal weather : better wet than upset. The plan was simple : we took shelter in the deserted laundry facility, where we dried all our wet equipment, including the tent, which is small enough to stuff into a dryer. We used a lot of green garbage bags to waterproof our equipment. As we left around 10:30, the rain stopped and the sun was back. At the tourist office in Lancaster, the friendly attendant gave us the official camping guides of New Hampshire and Maine, which proved to be very useful for the rest of the trip. According to our initial plan, we were to take Route 2, the shortest way to Maine, on the north side of the White Mountains. However, we soon got tired of going up and down the hills on that busy interstate road; we decided to turn south on Route 115 instead and cross the White Mountains National Forest. That was a good decision : we certainly enjoyed the light traffic, the extra-wide shoulders, the gentle hills, and, of course, the splendid view of the mountains that came as a bonus. In Twin Mountains, we turned on Route 302, which took us to the highest point, in Crawford Notch. We stopped in a campground in the forest, near a mountain brook.

Thursday, August 11 - From Crawford Notch to Ossipee, NH (87 km, 4 h)
The next day was pleasantly fresh and sunny. We left the National Forest and in Conway, we took Route 16. In retrospective, I think we should have taken Route 153, less busy and somewhat shorter. Because we planned to reach the sea by Friday night, we phoned to make reservations in Wells, Maine. In New England, most public phones cannot read phone cards; you may have to dial as many as 39 numbers for some calls - unless you prefer dropping in 16 or 20 quarters (on that point, Canada is certainly ahead of the United States because, if the card doesn't work, one-dollar coins will). Because she didn't understand the phone system either, the attendant of an information booth kindly let us use her cellular. Past Ossippee, we finally stopped in a roadside campground that looked absolutely deserted, even the swimming pool area. Nobody answered at the office. We found out that most of the guests were elder people taking a nap or watching TV inside. Because we were exhausted and felt like geezers ourselves, we joined them for a good night's sleep.

Friday, August 12 - From Ossipee, NH, to Wells, ME (93.4 km, 5.3 h)
The next morning, we left Route 16 and we took a secondary road passing by a town named Granite, to connect with Route 153. Soon, the pavement ended and we were on a dirt road. At some point, we had to ask for direction. From then on, we decided to avoid unnumbered back roads, because our medium-scale map was often a source of confusion. We were going down Route 153, a narrow, shoulderless winding road, with signs asking motorists to share the road with cyclists. As a matter of fact, we felt secure everywhere on New England roads, mostly because drivers are remarkably nice to cyclists, even in large cities like Boston (which is still more remarkable). Helmets off to New England drivers.
We met quite a few cyclists, but we didn't see other long haul cyclists like us, not even in campgrounds. Obviously, for most Americans, a bicycle is strictly for exercising, but not by any means a way to travel. I must say that, loaded like Mexican busses, we were an outlandish sight indeed. Finally, we hit Maine-bound, seaward Route 109. The hilly landscape and wild lakes are pure candy for the eyes, but pedaling up the climbs requires a great deal of stamina. No problem: after a few days on the road, you have already exchanged some loose fat for muscles, and the trade-off is pure profit. You fly on the road and nothing can stop you; this is the fun part of the trip. Our last hard climb (already) was just before Springvale, ME. For the rest of the trip, we would be moving on flat coastal plains, with few challenges for trained cyclists. By the end of the day, we reached our reserved campground site in Wells ($17/day)**.

** All prices are in US dollars.

Monday, August 15 - From Wells to York Village (81.4 km, 4 h)
Despite some mixed weather in Wells, we were dealt a perfect day on the beach Saturday. By Sunday, the overcast and cold weather spurred us to move on. We hit the road on Monday in the drizzle. Even in the rain, Ogunquit was as busy as anytime. On that foggy day, as in a dream, we zipped through beautiful seascapes featuring stunning palettes of pastel and washed-out colors. We passed through beautiful Cape Neddick and, by the end of the afternoon, we reached York Beach and York Village, drenched and dripping. Camping was out of question, so we found a very quiet and nice guesthouse, with kitchenette, for $65 US. That was a very good deal, because it rained all night, too.

Monday, August 15 - From York Village, Maine, to North Hampton, NH ( 50 km, 5 h)
On the next morning, we moved on through the southern tip of Maine, heading for Portsmouth, NH. We stopped to visit the pretty lighthouse just past York and, before leaving Maine, Fort McClary, which was built to defend the bay from the British. The weather was clearing up now. In our humble opinion, the tourist information services (if any) are deficient in that part of New Hampshire. We finally found a tourist information booth in Portsmouth, but, because it was operated by the local Chamber of Commerce, only pricey services were offered. Obviously, the polite lady who waited on us didn't know or care much about camping.
The coastal road from Portsmouth to Hampton Beach, featuring a wide shoulder reserved for cyclists and joggers, is something to see: it goes through four successive seaside State parks (no camping there). In Rye, we started looking for a place to stop, but we couldn't find any B & B or motel room under $125. We phoned to local campgrounds and finally found a place with available sites, the Shel-Al Campground, a clean and quiet family outfit in North Hampton ($14 a day). We hit the jack pot there : warm, sunny weather for the rest of the trip. We stayed 6 days, visiting the beaches and towns in the vicinity. Our favorite beach was the Rye State Park, clean and quiet.

Monday, August 22 - From North Hampton, NH, to Gloucester, MA (71 km, 4 h)
Because we had to be back in Montreal on Thursday, we packed up and headed south Monday morning, on yet another beautiful sunny day. The night before we left, we chatted with our neighbor, a cyclist from the Boston area who gave us some valuable tips, like camping in Cape Ann the next day and buying a cyclist's map to find our way to downtown Boston. We crossed the bridge going to Seabrook, NH, and Salisbury, MA, then we took Route 1 to Newburyport, a seaside town with a beautifully revamped center. From there, we switched to quieter Route 1A. We stopped in Ipswitch to phone for a reservation in Cape Ann. There again, because we had trouble with the public phone, the friendly attendant let us use his cellular. No wonder that the regular phone service is so lousy: nobody uses it anymore! By the end of the afternoon, we reached the second campground of Gloucester, located in an old pine forest on the shore of a deep bay. I was very glad to stop because my front tire had a slow leak, which I repaired in a quiet, sunny cove by the sea. That was our last camping day: don't expect to find any campground closer to Boston.

Tuesday, August 23 - From Gloucester to Boston ( 38 km, 3.2 h)
The last stretch was very technical: we followed a critical itinerary through Salem, Lynn and Everett, then across Mystic River, on Malden Bridge, to Cambridge. Thanks to the people who published that fine bicycle map, it was an easy ride and, most of the time, we avoided ugly industrial areas, like the sleazy harbor area just across the bridge. We planned to stay for one night and visit Boston but, as it happened, we couldn't find any accommodation at a decent price in Cambridge (one Bed and Breakfast was asking $180 for one night, and others wouldn't take reservations for just one night). That did it: we realized that we didn't care much about touring that dense urban environment while hauling our tired selves on heavily loaded bicycles. Moreover, that summer, downtown Boston was completely disrupted by the construction of an underground highway. We decided to call it quits and sleep on the bus that night. We stopped at the nearest bicycle shop, bought empty bicycle boxes and proceeded to take our vehicles apart, right there on the sidewalk. Then, we had a beer and some food in a nearby bar and, around 6 p. m., an oversize cab took us through the busy bridge to the bus terminal downtown (a $25, 8-km ride). The Greyhound bus ($57) left Boston in the rain at 8 p.m. The trip, including a transfer in Albany, NY, lasted 12 hours. The bus was 3 hours late mostly because of an endless stop at the Canadian border, around 5 a.m. That was obviously the most boring part of an otherwise very pleasant vacation. The driver, who was doing his first trip to Montreal, was following his buddy in the bus ahead, and that may explain why we were so late. He lost his lead while crossing the St. Lawrence River on Jacques-Cartier Bridge and he got upset because, as far as he was concerned, this was just like "driving in Paris, France"! Fortunately for him, we were sitting just behind and I guided him safely to the Voyageur Bus Terminal downtown.

	From Montreal to Boston (August 2000)
Crawford Notch, New Hampshire		Somewhere in Vermont


Past Crawford Notch		A lagoon in Rye, New Hampshire		A castle in NH


A halt near Connecticutt River		Halt near Mount Washington


Newburyport, Mass		Seabrook Nuclear Plant, NH