Ottawa was mentioned in a very positive way by everyone I spoke to at breakfast, in spite of the beggars and scantily dressed young ladies standing alone and hopeful in doorways and corners, a seemingly safe town, good natured and unlike downtown Auckland, with no threatening element apparent. There seemed to be many gay couples about, just normal loving couples, no “look at me” actions or attitudes, so a tolerant city as well - hopefully the influx of “refugees” won’t change this, a percentage so eager to escape the persecution of their Home land, but keen to impose it on others. From the moment we left the hotel bound for Montreal this morning, the “Frenchness” of our surroundings altered markedly, where as up until our arrival some attempt had been made with road signage to be multilingual, with English and French being given equal predominance, but that changed, and no further English was evident. My earlier post made reference to the state of the roads - whilst a lovely day, great company, great scenery, quite possibly the worst “overall” roads I have come across in some time. Our first stop was in Lochaber, a small and pleasant village complete with wee market, Citroen CV2, and Chocolatier (who did very well out of our crew), then through to Mont-Tremblant where Doc found a very rare beast, a supermarket! Supermarkets are a treasure trove of goodness for we motorcycle gypsies, offering a huge and varied range of fabulous salads, sandwiches, fruit, drinks and more - even a loo out the back for those in need. We each loaded up with respective prizes (albeit, one or two did leave their run a bit late), then Doc led us a few kms up the bumpy road for a picnic beside a river - other than too many midges, a lovely spot. None of the lads were prepared to follow the example of a simple (village idiot was a phrase used) local teenager who striped down to his jocks and went for a swim. By this time the sun really was at its zenith and we the collective decision was that we’d prefer to opt for the most direct route (over scenic) to the hotel, only about 80kms further. As you’d expect, the final 10km took as long as the previous 70, massive road works causing detours and delays - as bad as it was on a Saturday afternoon, I shudder to think what weekday horrors would be like. Being a downtown hotel, parking was an issue, with plenty being asked of our big, heavy and hot Harley’s, slow, tight and awkward manoeuvring being required. Unfortunately Cuddly became victim of a car park barrier arm, in fact a version of a guillotine, quite apt in this very French city, his mates cutting his lunch and leaving him to get clobbered on the head by aforementioned Barrier, knocking him, Harley and pride asunder, and a head ache to boot. Our Team meeting in the lobby bar will serve to pay wages for the hotel for the next week - they know how to exploit a captive market. We are here for two nights so no pressure- the big group splintered with 4s and 6s forming to head in different directions for dinner - tapas for us (lovely too!) Tomorrow, sightseeing. Comments are closed.
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Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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