Barbarian at the Gates

We arrived in Quebec City yesterday after a long hard slog, first through Northern Maine and then onwards over dusty Quebecois superslab.

The most Northeastern town in the USA is about 100 miles from Houlton, right on Route 1.  It’s called Madawaska and I’ve been there.

Whatever, there’s nothing there. They have this cheezy little park set up that’s full of engraved bricks that local businesses have donated. Really, everything there has an engraved plate on it: the table and bench set, a firepit, and the portable toilet even. There’s a lot of random shit with stuff written on it. There’s also another marble monstrosity, other than the one pictured above, blotting out the sun that was donated by the local Harley Davidson dealer. Apparently people ride up here all the time just to stake their claim at having ridden to one of the four corners of the USA. Fair enough, who am I to judge?

Cross the border here and on into Edmunston for a little slice of NB before entering Quebec. 4.5 hours of highway later and you’re in Quebec City. You know you’re in Canada now because gas is sold by the liter, and at $1.29 per we’re looking at about $4.90 per gallon. Gas in the far reaches of Northern Maine was about $3.91 per gallon. Just FYI. Still cheaper than Long Island. Makes sense.

For some reason they allow cars into Quebec’s Old Town but not motorcycles. Makes sense. Navigating in Quebec is a complete psychological drain. Most of the streets are one way and non-grid patterned. The traffic lights are also about 5 minutes long each. This is awful and I would never want to live here and have to drive a car. I parked the bike and hoofed it with all my shit into the Old Town to Auberge a la Paix, a hostel I had booked when I was Houlton. It’s been heating up in the great north I was roasting alive with all my layers, carrying everything I didn’t want jacked from the bike, which is everything, through the city. Whatever, I’ll take it. Better to be hot and sweaty than cold and wet. The only thing is that I was smelling absolutely repugnant. My boots and feet fucking stink. The stink crept into the skin of my feet and has just now starting dissipating. It’s gross man.

Eh, whatever.

They say that the candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long.

Revel in your time.

I’m headed for the hinterlands.

See you in Chibougamau, bitches.

 

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3 responses to “Barbarian at the Gates

  1. How did you like walking the top of the fort in Quebec? Take more pictures & keep posting. Sounds like a great trip so far.

  2. Hearing about you having to slog all your stuff into Quebec because of their inane traffic setup makes me hate Quebec. Too bad you’re not a turtle in a half shell! How did you carry everything???
    Smelly feet builds character! Any cannelli groin pastas? Onwards!

  3. Whats most important is that Michael Wincott is still a working actor. gosh, i just can’t get enough of that smokey voice.

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