Our destination for Day Two was Montreal, which meant that my high school Spanish would be useless in the French-speaking province of Quebec. From Belleville, we rejoined Highway 2 heading east to Kingston...no, not that Kingston, as this one seemed to be reggae-free. The road was nice and smooth, cutting through the countryside and an endless series of farms. One thing that became apparent is that Canadians take care of their lawns. Not only were they all green-no surprise given the summer rains-but all seemed to have been mowed within the past week. I've never seen so many riding mowers in my life! Further, while the average Canadian house is smaller than the average U.S. home, there was also a higher degree of upkeep, too. A lesson that we could learn down here south of the 49th parallel. But this ain't Better Homes and Gardens, is it?
Once through Kingston-which really was a lovely looking city-we headed up north on Highway 15 to Smiths Falls. I'm not sure if there are more Smiths or more falls, but it was another picturesque city with pedestrian-filled sidewalks and a vibrant downtown area. We lunched at Norm's Diner, engorging ourselves on pizza, Italian food, and chicken. Note that while the food is quite good, you better not be in a rush to eat because their tomato sauce is served at the same temperature as lava. From Smiths Falls, we made another long cross-country dash east on Highway 43, south onto Highway 34, then east on Highway 401 (which becomes the 40) into Montreal.
Of course, the first sign that one has crossed from Ontario to Quebec is that all of the road signs are suddenly in French, as are the names of the towns. Our stop for the night was the Best Western Europa-Downtown. There was some very interesting architecture on the inside, very Mediterranean, complete with a large, scaly man in a fountain, surely turned to stone by Medusa.
And then it happened: upon being seated for dinner at Les 3 Brasseurs (The 3 Brewers), I spotted the long-sought putin on the menu. At last! After devouring several orders (as well as a broad selection of the restaurant's microbrewed beer), the verdict was unanimous-Long live putin! Seriously, it's delicious but repeated internal applications will eventually result in cardiac arrest-you've been warned.
After a night full of dreams of paddling a French fry kayak across a lake of melted cheese and gravy, I awoke to yet another bright sunshiny day, perfect for the conclusion of our cross-country trek to Quebec City. Once past the urban sprawl that is Montreal, this was the most enjoyable day of the trip. We rode along Highway 138 which was smooth and a bit on the curvy side, more Scarlett Johansson than Kate Moss. 138 follows the St. Lawrence River, which is not your run-of-the-mill river, flowing over 800 miles from Lake Ontario north to the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Parts of the river are over a mile wide and it is a major shipping route through the northeast part of the continent. So to the right we had the river and to the left were more scenes of agrarian tranquility, with towns ranging from quaint to small interspersed along the way.