Plans of having an early start this morning went right out the window since last night’s debauchery. Poor Amanda had a difficult time getting up. Our brains were like mush. Our zombie-like beings eventually managed to pack all our things back on the bike and get the show on the road. Canuman rode out with us near Swanton where we had lunch at McDonald’s before bidding each other farewell.
Back where we were reunited almost a year ago at Rouses Point. Not much has changed since the last time we were here. I don’t expect much has changed back home either, but I know for sure we have.
The last border crossing of our journey
Checking out the busy scene in Montreal. We were supposed to meet up with Sarah, the intern we met in Grand Falls-Windsor, but her flight was delayed due to a storm.
A brief visit to Tristar Gym, training grounds for current UFC welterweight champion Georges St. Pierre
It was nightfall by the time we were riding out of the city limits and we managed to stop at St. Hubert for supper just before it started to pour rain.
St. Hubert is a franchised restaurant chain originated in Montreal specializing in rotisserie chicken. There used to be one not far from where I live in Toronto and I remember mom and dad taking the family out for dinner there when we were kids. Today, there are maybe a few locations left in Ontario where the majority of the restaurants are in Quebec. It’s a lot fancier now than I remember it. They have flat screen TV’s in the restrooms and cool holographic fishes swimming in the sinks.
Their famous chicken sauce. I remember drinking the leftovers when I was a kid.
When the rain let up, we were back on the road in search of a place to lay our heads; very difficult in the dark, rain, and urban sprawl. We were out hunting for gazebos in the night when Amanda had an idea when we rode past Rona, the hardware store. She doubled back and checked to see if there were any unlocked utility sheds they had out on display; clever girl. All of them were locked except for one and that was enough to get us through this miserable night.
It’s taken us a year to have the gall to pull a stint like this. We probably wouldn’t have the nerve to do this at the start, but now that we’re so close to the end, we don’t care. We just want to sleep.
Might be a little tight…
…but at least we get to stay dry and not have to pack a wet tent in the morning.
Back where it began.
Thinking outside of the box.
Sleeping inside one.