How much do I love thee? Let me cut the metres.

Either he loves me big-time, or he’s sick of my grunting. Either way, today we have a route change. We abandon the route I painstakingly plotted which traveled via a couple of lakes and potentially wonderful Canadian scenery, and replace it with a shorter, largely downhill version, that will bullet us into Mirabel, tonight’s commute-stop destination.

As we have time, we take one last walk along the paths of the Sam-Calm property, enjoying, well … the calmness of the place. By 11 we are back, packed, showered, and ready to hit the road. The first part of the road is … uphill, but then we hit the highway, and start our downward slide to Mirabel. It’s a busy road – a Sunday, and the end of a two-week break that everybody seems to take. On route 125 we’re dealing with a level of traffic that is uncommon to the rest of the trip. We’ve swapped big climbs for big trucks. But this is not Australia; the traffic is mostly courteous.

In reality, we are skimming around the outskirts of Montreal. We enjoy some beautiful Canadian scenery, before swapping that for the realities of suburbia.

Suddenly it seems we are in North America, and not the exotic quasi-Europe we’ve been in for the past almost two weeks. The towns look different, with strip malls, gas guzzlers and supersized people. Its a bit of a shock.

We make our way through Sainte Jérôme, taking a bit of a detour when we thought we knew better than our Garmin devices (nup, dumb us), and then travel alongside our next river, the Rivière du Nord, until we reach the turnoff for Mirabel.

Mirabel is right near an airport. It isn’t either of the main Montreal airports, and is in fact a bit of a white elephant. It was opened in 1975 as an international airport, and during the Olympics in 1976 international passengers arrived here. However, it is more than an hour from downtown Montreal, the promised railway line was never built, and domestic air travel was still based at Dorval airport. Eventually the passenger terminal closed, and the airport is only used for cargo, and for the occasional movie, such as the Tom Hanks movie The Terminal. We don’t expect to be bothered by air traffic.

Our home for the night is an AirBNB – the first time we’ve done a private room. Our host is not going to be home, so we do a bit of a cruise around town to see what the dinner options might be. When you say an AirBNB host is honest in their descriptions, you have to hand it to Marc, our host. I asked about restaurants, and he told me there was a McDonalds, Tim Hortons, Sushi Express … and he was right.

I go into a pub to find the bistro and find nothing but drinkers and pokies. On my way out a man stops me, asking if I was looking for the bistro. He’s a man who has lived a life. His outstanding feature is the repaired slash right down the middle of his nose, near the septum. While he talks to me – and he is really trying to be helpful – I stare at the scar and wonder what caused it. He tells me there are no “fancy” restaurants in town, but we could try the “Arab” place.

The “Arab” place is Amir, a Montreal chain of Lebanese restaurants. It closes at 8, so after we settle at our AirBNB I make a quick dash on the bike to get some take-away. We eat outside, beside the above ground pool in our host’s back yard. Our host is out, but three young girls run into the back yard. One speaks to us, and we are hopeless and unable to communicate with her in French. Just as quickly she runs off again with her friends. I assume she is our host’s daughter; she is completely unperturbed at finding a couple of strangers eating in the back yard.

Quebec fact of the day:

Since 1981, it has been illegal for a married woman to take her husband’s surname. A couple we met a few days ago told us this, but I took it with a huge grain of salt. A bit of google-research later, and I have my answer. Go figure.

Stats for today:

• Distance: 69.8km
• Climb: 272m
• Average speed: 18km/h
• Average temperature: 32C
• Moving time: 3:52:41
• See our ride on Strava

The beer picture

At the end of a day’s ride, our tradition is to enjoy a beer, and to photograph it for posterity. Today’s beer picture was taken at our AirBNB. Our hosts were not there when we arrived, and we let ourselves in and enjoyed a pre-purchased packaged beer overlooking the above-ground pool. Bliss.

Along the way today:

One of those commute days, where there isn’t much to see.