Ouest along des St Lawrence

Morning brought an entirely new weather pattern and vive la difference. We woke to sunshine. Beav would not hear of a plan to skip breakfast and indeed had scouted out a place for us to dine prior to our making our morning appearance at the bikes. As we finished breakfast I caught a glimpse of the Beav nicking an extra bagel and putting it in his pocket. He really learned something from yesterdays fast. Anyway, I suggested that I take the lead again as I only led the latter half of the day yesterday, but it was suggested in return that my demonstration of what Boog called excessive exuberance on the trottle after we reached pavement disqualified me in light of the now apparent law enforcement presence. I was banished to the back where boog told me to get in touch with something he called his muse. Ostensibly, I was to become a man of letters like the boog if I could get this muse thing to talk trash to me like he does to the boog. Then it came to me. "We departed under a high azure canopy with the occassional scattered fluffy white thing. (Note to pawn dog--not all fluffy white things look like the purloined motel towels you are so fond of) As the spindly fir trees of the north country gave way the the more substantial alder the the odd maple we traversed a broad high plain along the eastern most part of the St Lawarence seaway. We found ourselves on the route des balienes heading ouest. For you who only speak anglaise and have no experience with boog's favorite cartoon character the means road des whales heading west. These French! The only sign in english I saw today was one to remind us that radar detectors are illegal. Begrudgingly I must admit that Quebec is actually a really beautiful bit of eye candy along this route. After only a few miles we leave the plains and enter some really nice hilly terrain with large granite boulders and wooded hillocks. This muse thing is really inspiring me to literary flights of fancy. Then we come to some real twisties and I'm dragging foot pegs and becoming my old self. Then I remember that I am no longer a man of action and return to my now more contemplative ways. Oh hell, it was really fun 'til the road straightened out again. After about 100 miles we head over an abrupt rise to find that the road falls away abruptly into a river. Fortunately for us there is a ferry waiting to recieve us at this point. We have been assured that we should expect to see the balienes on this crossing. No balienes in evidence, but an uneventful crossing took us to yet another "side" of Quebec. We begin to notice that the countyside is beggining to look a lot like old Europe. The architecture is becoming decidedly more French in appearance and even the barns are beginning to look a little sissyfied.. Two hundred fifty miles of this and we make it to Quebec City for lunch. In reality I don't think the beav could really be hungry because I spied him surreptitiously consuming his stolen bagel. He was very careful not to be observed since he was concerned that he would be in violation of some arcane ordinance such as "thow shalt not eat with thy left hand while astride a two wheeled conveyance" Yep, your'e right I'm still pissed about the beer. We have a good lunch with green things that we have been missing on our mostly deep fried trip. Somehow we become separated on our way out of the city but fortunately we have decided on a terminus for this day's journey and we head sud ( that's south) toward CONUS and Newport Vermont." I'm sick and tired of the muse thing now and it's bedtime. Get back in the box, muse. more to follow............smoke