2007: Ottawa to Montreal

The Plan

I graduated from university in April 2007.  Having seen many of my older friends experience confusion about what to do next after graduating, I very consciously resolved to avoid this.  But a Bachelor of Arts does not leave students with an obvious "next step," so, despite my conscious best efforts, I became as confused as my friends had, and drifted, entirely unsure of what to do next.  

For some reason, I got into my head that a trip to Montreal would help this.  I was convinced that a month in eastern Canada, largely alone and attending a bartending school in a Montreal basement would let me find myself.  In retrospect this was a crazy idea.

Nevertheless, I quite my job at a local shoe store and flew to Ottawa with my bicycle and a small duffle bag.  I planned to spend a couple of days in Ottawa, and then bike the ~200 kilometres to Montreal in one day, where I would rent a room from my former-boss’s son and daughter-in-law and live for a few weeks.  

May 24, 2007

After landing at the Ottawa airport, I reassembled my bike, and rode a city bus downtown.  I checked in at the Ottawa Backpackers’ Inn near the Byward Market.  I was in a dorm room on the third floor, practically an attic, and it was absolutely sweltering.  Even in May, the temperature was in the 30s Celsius, and the humidity shocked me.

May 25, 2007

I spent my only full day in Ottawa eating breakfast, and then hot dogs, at Ikea; swimming at the YMCA; napping during a vicious thunderstorm; filling my tires with air; and buying water and granola bars for my ride.  I ate an early supper at a Byward Market patio, and then turned in early.  Unfortunately the heat was unbearable, and I struggled to sleep.

May 26, 2007

I got up at 5:40, showered, drank a couple bottles of water, and ate some granola bars.  I strapped my duffel bag with most of my stuff to my rear rack on top of my panniers and road down to the Greyhound station, and got there at 6:30.  I bought a ticket for Montreal, lined up with the other passengers, gave the driver my ticket, and threw my bag under the bus.  Then, rather than board, I slipped around the bus and walked straight out of the yard, never looking back.  The next day I would head down to the Montreal Greyhound station and pick up my bag there at lost and found (but I was far from certain this plan would work when I set it in motion).

Despite my exhilaration at cheating the system, I was in a bad mood, tired, and dreading the trip.  I cycled across the Ottawa River into Gatineau and bumped along over the potholes of Highway 148.  Eventually, as the road improved and I realized I was making good time, my mood improved.  Biking past farms coming into Montreal, I was actually having fun.  

I stopped at a grocery store in Laval around dinnertime, and bought an entire rotisserie chicken and loaf of french bread.  I sat on the lawn by the store and ate nearly all of it.

Now overly full, I continued on towards the island of Montreal.   Back on my bike, I realized how tired and sore I was, and a bit sunburnt.  Unsure of where to go, I ended up on a freeway that was clearly not bike friendly.  Looking back at a map, I'm still not clear where I was.  After several cars had honked at me I took to the grass, but that wasn't enough to prevent a cop from turning on his sirens and lights to stop me.  Actually it was all kind of funny in retrospect.  He told me where to go, gave me back my license and I was on my way.    

Finally I crossed the Rivieres des Prairies and was in Montreal for the first time.  I had covered 200 kilometres in ten hours and was quite proud of myself.  

I had to meet my host (my former-boss's daughter-in-law), Michelle, after she finished her shift at a Starbucks on Ste Catherine Street, and was once again unsure of where to go.  But I was in no rush now, since she did not finish work until midnight.  

I was quite taken with Montreal that first night, as I cycled and walked towards downtown. I could not get over how happening it was, with people out all over enjoying parks and patios.  I was exhausted and looked awful, but was absolutely thrilled to be there.

Eventually I found the bus station near the east end of Ste Catherine and looked into see if I could get my bag.  The lost and found was closed, but I was given a number to call the next day.  That meant I would be stuck in the same clothes for at least the rest of the night and into the morning.  I tried to wash up a bit in a bathroom, but really I was too sweaty and dirty for that to help much.

It was well into the evening by the time I reached the Starbucks and met Michelle.  I sat there in the coffee shop until she got off.  Much to my surprise, she wanted to go to a party at a coworker's house before heading home, and she invited me a long.  I didn't have much choice, so I ended that first night in Montreal in good Montreal fashion: partying late into the night, and falling into bed completely exhausted.