On Friday, before we got on the road we had to address a repair (one of my inner tubes popped, requiring a tire change, that delayed us for about 40 minutes).  And then we were off to our first stop, another fromagerie, this time for organically produced cheese with blueberries. Shortly thereafter, we rode by a gigantic paper mill, with stacks of logs 50 feet high and beyond the logs, we discovered multiple greenhouses, 30 feet high by a couple hundred feet long.  Inside the greenhouses, were small trees, which will be planted for regeneration of the forest. Acres upon acres of cultivated blueberries were planted on both sides of the trail. Once again, the route directed us to Highway 169, on a Friday afternoon. While the shoulders of the highway are reasonable, the drivers, several of whom had camping trailers attached, barely acknowledged us, and none of them slowed down.  Our destination was a hotel in Dolbeau-Mistassini, where we dined, taking advantage of a litre of sangria, to soothe our fragile souls. Upstairs later that evening, we met many motorcyclists sitting in a group circle with a slew of drinks.  They teased us about how long it took them to do the same ride we had accomplished.

On Saturday morning, we cycled through the centre of Dolbeau-Mistassini and stopped to admire the confluence of two rivers and the location of a former village of monks on the bank of the Riviere Mistassini. We spotted a family with four children, all of whom had flowers in their hair and beautiful white dresses with flowered prints, being photographed. It was the day to find blueberry pie, and we did so, knocking on the door of Jacinthe Ouellet’s home and entering her small kitchen.  She had her rolling pin in hand and flour spread on a large wooden board.

For ten Canadian Dollars, we purchased one fresh pie and dug in. It was delicious and if I lived nearby I would have to buy one of her pies at least once a week. Her front yard is a temple to blueberries. After finishing the pies, we passed a large blueberry processing plant and cycled through a forest plantation for several miles. In the village of Sainte-Jeanne-d’Arc, we spotted an old mill and strolled inside to find out more about the families that once lived in the building. Over the years, the mill produced wood planks, electricity, flour and wool, taking advantage of the dam outside for water. On back roads, we cycled past a large farm, with stables for horses and dairy cattle.

We raced to our next bicycle ferry crossing at the Riverie Peribonka that dropped us at the Pointe Taillon provincial park. Because it was a beautiful afternoon, Pat and I quickly changed into bathing suits and took a short swim.  Our last nine miles were on the gravel paths within the park, a natural reserve. Miles of birch trees lined the path and as we left the park, we spotted some challenging hills required all of our energy to make the climb.

The final reward was our lodging for the night, a gite on the water, where we had an apartment to ourselves. Levon, the owner, graciously showed us around his property and promised a fire after the sunset.  One more pizza later, the four of us sat on the dock of the river, which had strong currents, and then joined the other guests around the fire. They were a family of three from Germany. As night settled in, I could see the almost full moon rising above the trees. What a very special place that is.

Sunday was our last day on the Veloroute. Levon prepared a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, toast and juice while we all conversed in three different languages. We then said our farewells and cycled back into the park.  The trails took us through more of the preserve, swamps and then the beach. The last part of our trip required getting back on Highway 169 once again and though we were promised a path for cyclists, big orange signs indicated that trail was closed. It was incredibly stressful ride back to Alma as multiple RVs whizzed by, at top speeds. Luckily, we all survived but it seemed like we were one wrong turn away from injury or tragedy. And that is the story of our ride among the blueberries.Au revoir.