This week, we fulfilled yet another activity from our “to do” list; take a trip to the Iles de Boucherville, those mysterious green-clad islands which we see each time we take the bus along the riverside Highway 132 into Montréal. A combination of YouTube videos and publicly shared pictures gave me a good idea of what to expect, and the new found freedom of having a bike meant that the trip was easily within reach when the weather was suitable. Tuesday dawned rain swept and stormy, but for Wednesday, the forecast was perfect; sunshine, some clouds and a pleasant breeze to make the heat tolerable.
We outfitted ourselves for the day, with one omission, neglecting to put on enough sun block; this was subsequently to prove a significant omission! The rest of our prep included packing fresh fruit and vegetables, picnic chicken and utensils, and checking the bikes (as mine was less than a week old, the checks seemed superfluous, but old habits die hard). We set out at half past ten, knowing the ferry was scheduled to leave the jetty by Old Boucherville on each hour.
There was a substantial queue of bikes and foot passengers waiting on the jetty when we arrived, and when the boat finally docked, the queue numbered around 30 bikes and several push chairs. We were more than a little disappointed to learn that the boat only accommodated a maximum of 12 cycles and the same number of passengers, and thus we were unable to catch the next shuttle; we were even more alarmed when the boat, on its return, roared off in the direction of Longueuil, more than 2km down the river. Apparently the boat was covering not only its own schedule but that of another, downriver, and the crew were having to juggle demand. We waited almost an hour for the boat to collect its complement from Longueuil and shuttle them to the islands, while the queue lengthened behind us. Eventually we were able to board the part-inflatable craft, and the crew were unsparing of the horses on the short 1/2 km trip.
We enjoyed a brief view of the old quarter of Boucherville as the boat churned past the jetty, and this offset the dubious choice of music blaring from the speaker in the passenger well of the boat. It felt exciting to finally be heading to the more natural environment of the islands, even if only for a few hours; the positive anticipation helped us to forget the roasting which our shoulders and necks had received while waiting for the boat on the exposed jetty.
The island on which we landed was, as expected, shrouded in greenery, and the gravel cycle paths meandered through both leafy woodland and broad expanses of goldenrod. I had never seen so much of this plant, oftimes regarded in England as an invasive weed, nor so many specimens of the Monkey Tree/ tree of heaven, whose leaves were beginning to turn crimson in places.
We encountered only one animal on our first circuit, some kind of Vole which made an aborted attempt to run in front of Sylvie’s bike on a stretch of path. There were no signs of the coyote, foxes or owls promised in the guide book, and no sign of bears, which was a personal joke between us. We picnicked in the Island on which we landed, the northernmost of the archipelago. Fellow cyclists were more of an irritation than insect life, especially those unfamiliar with cycling etiquette or the basic safety rules needed to cycle properly.
Once we had eaten the bulk of our picnic and cleaned up responsibly, we continued to explore. This collection of islands is linked by both bridges and cable ferries. Taking the ferry was a fascinating experience, especially speculating on what lurked in the river below!
We toured gently around the remaining islands, which were linked to the mainland through bridges, and through the Louis Lafontaine tunnel. The lower half of the group was more tourist orientated, with a visitor centre, a display of stuffed examples of the local fauna, and the ubiquitous picnic areas. We encountered one example of the local deer, which was singularly unimpressed with my request for it to pose for a photo, although it was completely unafraid of the humans who stopped to admire it.
Feeling tired, and by now a little overheated, we headed back to the ferry point, having enjoyed a thoroughly refreshing experience in the countryside- in fact, less than a mile from Montréal’s docks and oil refinery! Although perhaps not on a par with one’s expectations of Canada, or experiences of walking and cycling in the English countryside, the experience was well worth the relief from living in a built up area, and helped release a lot of pent-up energy. It is late in the season to be experimenting with these experiences, but we are at least working slowly through our bucket list and enjoying ourselves in the process!
