Greg & Camille Go Bike

Greg and I spent the night arguing over what language had kept us up that night. If it was French (which it obviously was), Greg was obligated to ask the next-door campers to quiet down, but if it was Spanish, it'd be my job. Too tired to string together words in English, we did our best to just get some sleep despite the stadium level fluorescence of our oblivious neighbors' lights. I mustered up some courage to emerge from our tent late in the evening, but their party was already winding down by then.

We got up a bit after sunrise and enjoyed a little revenge watching the squirrels eat bread off the neighboring campsite's table. The campground had a deppanneur on site where we enjoyed coffee and omelettes before setting off on dinner some errands.

We replenished our food supply at IGA just down the road. Camille had discovered a nut missing from her rear rack earlier that morning, and luckily JC Martin Materials -- also close by -- had just what we needed. 

Back on the trail, we were treated to a taste of Oka National Park. The path was immersed in the greenery covering the rolling hills at the shore. My knee was behaving...

for about an hour. We'd only gone about 10 miles when the pain came back. We stopped in the middle of Mohawk territory for a quick break. Tons of cannabis stores littered the highway. It was sad to think of how the industry may have disrupted other small businesses previously there. 

Another hour later, I needed another break. Saint-Andre provided a nice picnic spot by the water. We were excited to potentially get ice cream at a deppanneur nearby, but they looked closed. We continued on to Ile Aux Chats where we unfortunately didn't find any cats but settled for a spectacular trail. We crossed empty bridges into residential areas that embraced their proximity to nature. We stopped at the outdoor museum that posted a lot of information about the wildlife nearby. It was a welcome refuge for sleepy Greg and my dramatic knee.

At this point, the pain had become unbearable for long periods of pedaling. We carried on with me biking on one foot until a very kind biker asked us if we needed help. We met him and the end of the trail at a parking lot where he was ready to shuttle us and the bikes to Grenville, just 10 miles away. We were eyeing a campsite there for the night. Upon hearing this, the man exclaimed that there was actually a campsite just across the street from the parking lot! It was Brownsburg-Chatham, the one we'd planned to get to yesterday. 

Ending the biking day so early and a day behind was less than ideal, but we tried to make the most of the situation. We were glad that this campground offered a biker-exclusive site right on the beach, but it did also mean that we could only put our tent out after 6 PM. With our anniversary tomorrow, I thought it might be nice for us to do something special, and the restaurant at the neighboring marina seemed perfect.

Seeing that We're Closed sign was demoralizing. I'd already felt like I'd ruined the trip by going a snail's pace with my knee. Greg was so patient, understanding, and kind through it all. We hung out in a pavillion by the water and set our tent up when it came time.

Our glamorous dinner consisted of cereal, canned sardines, and almond butter & jelly wraps. We spent much of the evening trying to figure out a plan for tomorrow. As much as I hated to admit, it wasn't looking like there would be a good way for us to finish the route. Greg would ride out first thing, and bike to the nearest train station that would take him all the way back to Ottawa. Then, he would drive the car back to our campsite and pick me up. Greg to the rescue!