Thursday, 8/25: My goal for the day is to make it back to the hostel in Montreal in time to hang out in the common room. I find it hard to leave the auberge (that wonderful combination of French dinners and English breakfasts!) I spend a few moments meandering through the grounds, admiring the views while I can.





I somehow manage to get on the path in good time, but somehow I just can't muster much speed. I make it back to St. Jerome a little before 1:30. I feel pleased that I arrived at the end of the trail before the shuttlebus arrived from the north end -- I had gone faster than I would have if I had "cheated" and used a car! Suddenly, the sky opens with a downpour that sends me (and everyone else) running for cover. The squall only lasts about 20 minutes, but now I'm running late by my own schedule.

I get back on the path, and eventually I notice that there is a train to my immediate right. Since I'd just spent several days following a rails-to-trails conversion, seeing an actual train was something of a surprise. And this is a working train, a commuter train, and (as a rushed check of the signage reveals) a train that allows bicycles. Yippee, I exult -- just as it pulls away.

No problem, say I. I have the train schedule -- there will be another at 5:17 pm -- and I have a book ("Agatha H and the Airship City"). I haul my bike up to the platform, and sit down to read. At 5:00 or so, a train approaches from Montreal. I sit, thinking it's another 15 minutes until my train comes by. After 10 minutes, the train that arrived at 5:00 leaves the station -- headed TOWARDS Montreal. Uh-oh! It's only then that I realize the significance of the single set of train tracks in front of me: it must be a spur line. No matter whether the train is headed towards or away from Montreal, it will always approach the station from the same direction. I missed my train -- and that was the last one of the night!

By the time I realize what has happened, it's 5:30 at night. Remember, back at 4:00, I thought it would be nice to take the train so I could spend more time in Montreal. Now, instead of looking forward to spending the night chatting amiably with travellers from all over the world, I get to make a mad bicycle dash for the city. First things first -- I need to cross the island of Laval, where I got so badly lost on Monday. The pathway jinks and jogs, using any available bit of asphalt. I'm directed across an active train platform, then in between what sure seemed like two railway containers, before I find the bridge to Montreal. I realize that I had taken the wrong bridge on my trip north -- that was an automotive bridge; tonight, I get to cross a train bridge instead.

I get to the west side of the city at about 8:30 pm. Just when I was thinking everything should be fine after all, I hit a curb badly and get a sudden flat. I get the opportunity to change a tire after dark at a busy interesection in a foreign country where I don't speak the preferred language. (How many XP do I get for that? I think I must have levelled up!) Before reaching for the tire irons, I get out my cell phone. "Hello, Alternative Auberge? You're expecting me by 10:00. It looks like I won't be there until midnight...."

The good news is, dinner wasn't someone else's ramen; dinner was a sandwich from a convenience store. I bought an extra, so I could donate to the "free food" pile at the hostel when I got there, tired and grimy, at about 10:30. 65 miles.