Rain, rain take a hike. . .

. . .grandpa wants a dry bike [ride]

It was supposed to stop raining around noon but that never happened. So with 36 miles to finish the complete leg of Le P’tit du Train Nord, we don our rain gear and head off. We are fortunate that the base for the rest of the trail is asphalt, making the ride less hazardous. 

I decide not to wear sneakers but instead put on my Teva sandals, appearing like some graying hipster with wire-rim glasses and black [waterproof] socks on my sandaled soles. We are off.

We start in light rain, with the only sound being the rotation of the wheels kicking up water on the pavement. The slight aroma of a wood fire can be perceived as we pass Lac Nominingue, blanketed in fog. The nearby wetlands are also quiet, devoid of activities. The forests we pass are similar in their silence.

There are no others on the trail so far. In fact during the entire day we see only six other cyclists.

After 45 minutes or so the sky opens up and water blankets us in sheets. My glasses fog, covered with rain drops forcing me to look over them to clearly see the road ahead out of focus. Drops of rain hit us with a pop, pop, popping sound like little ball bearings hitting the ground. 

Nearing where I think we will be having lunch we take shelter under a spruce so I can get out my phone to navigate our location: Success.

We walk into Resto-Bar Lac-Saguay looking like a pair of drowned creatures. My socks have long lost their waterproof qualities, each depositing half a pint of water into the vestibule. We ask for a table and towel, and with a knowing smile a waitress supplies us with what we need.

Drying off, we reflect on the singular nature of our travels and then two large groups of equally saturated cyclists enter the restaurant. One has three cute babies encased in heavy-duty rain gear. The parents are much more damp as wet footprints mark the path between their table and the bathrooms.

Fueled and dried off, we head out. The rain comes and goes in spurts but if we keep peddling, we feel little effects of the wet chill in the air. Rain is overflowing the streams that surround the trail with fissures of water spurting out from cracks in the adjacent hillsides. A beaver dam overflows its structure.

Along the trail, there are many gazebo-like structures, fashioned like a caboose, along with a toilet. Unfortunately, they are all pretty much flooded at this point. We move on.

The skies really open up and thunder can be heard in the distance. Fortunately, a tiny restaurant appears in Val-Barrette and seeking safe shelter, we decide to stop for dessert and coffee. Another hour of wet cycling is in front of us before we reach our hotel.