PARLEZ-VOUS FRANCAIS? NO BUT I WISH MY WIFE COULD!

Montreal to Baie-Comeau
Singing along to...A Thousand Miles Away...Hoodoo Gurus

It's a relief to see this...it's real and the expedition has commenced.
Hand me my pith helmet and safari suit...and bless me the natives all speak French.

I’m standing outside the Air Canada Warehouse with an idling KLR650. That means stage one is complete. Stage one being four months of stress and expense culminating in one Aussie spare parts man, with a South Aussie rego’d KLR650, standing in a back street in Montreal feeling slightly odd and jet lagged…
Best be off then!

Let's Go 
I'm on the wrong side of the road
on the wrong side of the world
a left sided alien in a right sided universe
...do I really need this...
 f...k yeh 
thumb the starter 
lets go! 
Dean

Gettin Here

It's nearly two o,clock in the morning. I'm standing outside a bleak unlit apartment block staring up at a long super steep staircase with all my luggage by my side. It's around twenty eight hours since I left Adelaide, I'm in Montreal, and I feel like shit. I swear profusely (as I do) out loud and start ferrying my luggage up piece by piece. Someone significantly younger than me appears out of the darkness, offers to help, grabs the lightest bag and bounds up the stairs. I follow with the big case feeling every one of my fifty seven years. When I reach my room on the fourteenth floor...which is really the seventh as ground is the seventh (huh?) I'm totally knackered. 
The room is pretty rough but what the hell...I'm here.
 The next morning a hot shower in the dorm type bathroom revives me and I wolf down a $8.50 breaky, score someone else's unused bus pass and head downtown. I emerge from the metro on Rue St Catherine the main street and wow...spend the rest of the day in beautiful weather lapping up what this seemingly endless street has to offer. Later I board the metro and get a bit lost. It's a full moon, around twenty degrees, people are out walking, it's a beautiful place...gotta get lost more often!

Your mission is ...and you have  no choice...at the top of these
stairs turn left, climb another set of stairs, flash your electronic pass,
enter the seventh floor, board the '60s lift to the 14th floor to find your
crappy shoe box...with no aircon and shared toilets

Stalag Montreal...or where I stayed...

The view out the window the first morning is pretty good.

The eagle has landed...well just a scruffy tired bastard has arrived!

Rue St Catherine downtown and the the first thing I see is a trans gender
 protest parade...interesting bunch...pretty sure the cop is female.

Beautiful shopping strip with some pretty good churches
thrown in.

Now you're talking. A native Indian lad spinning discs on stage and a chainsaw artist.
Screaming two strokes and loud music yehhhh

More native Indian dancing stuff.

And some lowriders just before I catch the metro and get lost on the way home!

Hitting the road.
It's midnight at the airport. I'm standing in front of the customs guy all noddy and acting confident. He's looking at the waybill copy I've asked him to stamp as I've been instructed by Ivan my bike shipper guy. "So you have a motorcycle with you?" he asks. "No no I've got to pick it up here from Canada Air on Monday." "This is very unusual I will have to consult my boss." They consult, look at me, shake their heads and he comes back and stamps the copy. 
Yes Step one!
Monday morning I grab a cab after transporting the luggage back down to earth and hit the freight warehouse. The gentleman at the counter looks at the waybill copy stamped and shakes his head. "This is not actually within the rules, they are not supposed to stamp a copy".  Oh Oh. "This is very unusual but OK and there is a ninety seven dollar fee for duty".
Yes Step Two!
The gentleman turns out to be an utter gem and even runs me down to the servo to get some fuel in his own car. Three hours later I finally get the crate broken down, battery connected, fuel in and luggage on. I'm knackered but determined to hit the road and knock over some kilometres.
 Kiyiyiyi duff duff Kiyiyiyiyi kaduffeta duff duff duff duff we're off!

The problem child has arrived...hmm I hope I'm wrong.

OK this is the start mileage. I'm not that confident with this bike and it already has
developed some new rattles. OK bike...you can do it...please...

The first two days. 
I figured it would tough at the start...and it is. 
After wobbling out into Montreal traffic I set the GPS for the quickest way out and cross back over the St Lawrence river and head towards Quebec. I decide to give camping a go and head into a campground 40k from Quebec. What a disaster. Nearly sixty bucks for a crappy square of mud and gravel, half a kilometre from the nearest overworked toilets, in a totally overcrowded park full of RVs and families...I couldn't figure why they were there...if wasn't especially scenic or, well, anything nice really. 
I leave the next morning tired, unshowered and with the shits on.
 I get lost in Quebec before crossing the St Lawrence again and the ride along the river for a few hundred kilometres into paradise.  
It's a fantastic ride. 
There are heaps of bikes going both ways and the road and scenery are to die for. As usual I overdo it and don't want to stop. Late afternoon the traffic thins to not much more than logging tricks and farm pickups. Oh oh better find somewhere. The first place I ask at sets me straight.
 "I'm sorry monsieur, you won't find  accommodation 
anywhere without reservation, this is the high season." 
 Erm crap now what.
 I keep riding further and further...and then it begins to pour with rain...great! I'm desperate, it's an odd situation. When was the last time you found yourself totally helpless with nowhere to stay or even some kind of shelter.  I finally end up in a place called Baie-Comeau.  After trying several motels in the rain one helps me out with a fold out bed with no bathroom. These people were fantastic and let me use another room to shower in the next morning and really saved my ass. They even apologised for offering the room to get me out of trouble. Huh? While I was there they were trying to help a few other people phoning around.   
 Great people...they're out there.

So there you have it. Ups and downs...I've gotta admit it's tough by myself. Highs and especially lows seem more extreme. All part of self exploration I guess...definitely places here previously unexplored!

Singing along to.... Black Eyed Bruiser... Stevie Wright
Turn this up to eleven...dig the wind section! 
They don't make songs like this anymore.

Yep sure good to be on the road.

No comfort, no shower, no food...erm at least it can only get better!

I'm an ideas man...how about that maccas sign in front of the church?
Drive thru confessions, marriages,funerals perhaps?
The church needs some ideas people!

Yep scenery to die for. Soul resurrection after a crap night in a tent.

I felt like having a lie down and a bit of a snooze here. Not sure
  if' it's jet lag or an old person nanna nap!

Yes that's a river. You can't throw stones from one side to the other
like at home. In fact you almost can't see the other side.

You know the river you're following is big when you need a ferry
just to cross the tributaries flowing into it.

I love ferries, especially ones that carry man size trucks!

Reality Check No.3
They speak French here...a lot. Of course I knew that, but wow, I've been to France a couple of times and it seemed almost more people spoke English there.                    
  And I don't mind. What a great language.
 Such intonation. 
I know where Gomez Adams was coming from when he crooned 
"Tish, I just love it when you speak French" 
to which Morticia would reply
 "Don't torture yourself Gomez, that's my job".
 Arrrm nah yep yeh mate yeh nah all good arrm good old 
Aussie strine just can't match it.

NEXT BLOG
 I RECROSS THE MIGHTY SAINT LAWRENCE RIVER INTO NEW BRUNSWICK AND 
NOVA SCOTIA.
Don't forget to say hello in the comments below,
Cheers Dean