Twenty-eight, the Route from Gatineau to Picton

Alexander Vargas Sanabria

An espresso and off we go. We started our journey from Gatineau, crossing the Champlain Bridge to Ottawa. At 5:00 a.m., the Canadian capital was still asleep, allowing us to move smoothly out of the city. Although the morning was cool, the forecast promised a hot day on the road as we headed toward Picton, a town in southern Canada on the border with the United States.

TIME: 13 hrs

Every year the GCC organizes a long ride as a group challenge. In 2022, the group rode from Gatineau to Montreal, and this time the goal was to ride from Gatineau to Picton. This was my first year with the club and although it initially looked like I might not be able to participate due to some logistical issues, the opportunity suddenly presented itself when I was informed that there would be room for me in one of the support vehicles.

One of the keys to the success of these ultra-funds is meticulous planning: clearly identifying the resources needed and anticipating potential obstacles. Although our planning was not overly rigorous, we made sure the bikes were in top condition, carried lights, and organized food with the idea of resupplying along the way. However, a squeak in Jose’s shoe marked our first stop; the cleat seemed to have come loose, which meant he would have to endure this discomfort for the duration of the ride.

We move forward at an average speed of 35 Km/h, taking turns in the leadership position to ensure the necessary rest. It is always important that the weight of the group falls on those who feel stronger, allowing them to take longer relays. After passing through Ottawa, we entered a narrow road lined with farms, with a gravel section of about 2 km until we reached Perth, a small town on the banks of the River Tay, where we made our first planned stop after 86 km. We filled our water bottles, drank coffee and ate some carbohydrates, we felt great, the pace we were riding and the distance we had covered encouraged us to try to increase the pace, we felt very confident.

We continued our journey and encountered the meandering Tay River, which had turned into a lake, marking the beginning of a landscape dotted with water along our route. However, despite the scenic beauty we observed, we faced a series of exhausting steep climbs that gradually sapped our strength and the initial pace we had set.

We needed to stop, but the road did not offer many opportunities. In the distance, Miguel spotted a sign that looked promising: Mrs. Garrett’s Butter Tarts, a bakery in operation since the 90s, a surprise in the middle of the road. After 71 km from Perth, we refueled with water, hydration and fresh fruit, revitalizing our bodies to continue. I was encouraged to try a blackberry pie, which I would order again on my next trip.

With Kingston in our sights, we marked our next destination on the GPS. After 22 km under a scorching sun, we arrived in this dynamic city, an urban oasis where we took the opportunity to have lunch and get some mechanical assistance for our bikes. We were in the center, we took the official photos, we were fine, we had no discomfort and Jose finally managed to adjust his shoes. For lunch we had Ivan’s recommended fish and chips.

With 93 km to go, our renewed legs pushed us forward. We made an extra stop at a gas station in Bath to refuel before tackling the stretch along Lake Ontario. On this section, we decided to ride at 28 km/h to make sure we rode together. The weather was good, we had no wind, and the sky was overcast.

Although we tried to stay together, the route to the Quinte Skyway Bridge was challenging, with several splits that affected our pace. I think we abused the effort we imposed before reaching the stop we made after Perth, and it took its toll on the group.

It was time to finish, we had no time to regret, we had already crossed the bridge and a road full of potholes was waiting for us. With the bikes vibrating with the roughness of the road, every 5 meters we faced a crack, a hole or the joint between two concrete slabs, the obstacles and the monotony became annoying, almost like a punishment. We managed to finish the last concrete slab and the signs announcing the last kilometers to the finish line cheered us up. We laughed at each other; we had reached a sign that would serve as a record of our achievement.

“Good job guys!” “Cracks!” We were in Picton, Jose’s dad is the one who welcomes us at the port, celebrating with a handshake and mutual recognition of our achievement. It was time to rest, the beach at Sandbank was waiting for us.

On the route: Jose, Ivan, Miguel and me. If you have any questions about this or any other tour in the Capital Region, write us, we can share what we know.