Why Trust Me: Jen Rose Smith spent five days biking 272 miles through Canada, which she visits often from her home in Vermont.
“Your bicycle, madame?” A uniformed concierge at the door of Old Montréal’s newly renovated Hôtel Nelligan bowed slightly across my bike, strapped with bags that held clothing and a smoked salmon bagel the kitchen had packed for breakfast. Curls of mist wreathed the historic center’s gabled roofs; bells tolled from nearby Notre-Dame Basilica. The cobblestone streets gleamed damp with dew.
That morning’s ride would take me across the St. Lawrence River, out of the city, and along the easternmost segment of the Adventure Cycling Association’s new Eastern Canada Bicycle Route. Stretching some 926 miles from Toronto to Quebec City, it’s a province-hopping journey that passes cosmopolitan cities and a rural constellation of villages, vineyards, and maple groves that turn crimson each October.
I planned to pedal a 272-mile section between Montreal and Quebec City, riding alone through a landscape I know intimately. From my home in neighboring Vermont, I visit often to indulge in cross-border spa days, sip vintages like Frontenac noir and Marquette made from cold-hardy grapes amid autumnal grape harvests, and search for meals inspired by the province’s fields and boreal forests.
What is the Eastern Canada Bicycle Route?
The Eastern Canada Bicycle Route is a string of bike paths and back roads that connect in a northeasterly line across southern Ontario and Quebec. It’s divided into three sections: Toronto–Ottawa (364 miles), Ottawa–Montreal (290 miles), and Montreal–Quebec City (272 miles). Each city has both an international airport and a train service offered by Via Rail, making it easier to ride different sections as a car-free trip.
Between the cities lies a less-visited landscape of farms and forests that catapult from jungle-lush summers into polychromatic fall foliage. The route is lined with so many villages that cyclists can carry only the food they need to reach the next café or market. Campgrounds also dot the route, but an abundance of excellent inns across the Quebec section means you don’t have to carry a tent; instead, you can end each day with cocktails and warm hospitality.
There may be some cobblestones in cities, but the majority of the route isn’t on roads at all.
Courtesy of Backroads
Section 3 (Montreal–Quebec City) is appealing for first-time bike tourists or solo cyclists, like me, since the ride is comparatively flat and mostly sticks to paved or gravel bike trails away from traffic. Just 15 percent of my overall route was on the road, and those are mostly quiet sections with little traffic.
If you want to hire a guide, this six-day, small-group cycling trip from Backroads samples standout stretches of trail and road between Quebec City and Montreal, with overnights at some of the province’s most charming auberges. Or Frelighsburg-based tour company Ravito designs self-guided trips by arranging inn-to-inn luggage transfers, detailed itineraries, and comfy accommodations.
Where to eat, drink, or picnic along the way
My first stop was the 1843 Canal-de-Chambly, where I enjoyed a bagel picnic while watching workers usher sailboats through a water system with nine locks operated by old-fashioned hand cranks.
A more ambitious meal can be found at the nearby Nord laboratoire culinaire, which has tasting menus inspired by northern landscapes that might accompany wild apple cider from Vignoble Camy.
I then pedaled east through the fields and forests of rural Montérégie, where cyclists gather on the sunny terrace of Farnham Ale & Lager for its quenching house-brewed blonde ale.
And in Granby, I cast a longing glance at Maison Boire, whose Quebec-sourced game and produce are grilled over heaps of maple-wood embers, in dishes such as golden-seared duck crown in a ground cherry gastrique.
A route lined by spas and cushy hotel stays
Gastronomic distractions aren’t the only trailside indulgences. Long before wellness travel took off worldwide, Quebec made a specialty of Nordic-inspired spas.
Just past Granby is the lakeside Balnea, set within a 600-acre nature reserve. Its glass-walled saunas and outdoor hot pools frame astonishing views of fall foliage, and the spa’s low-key hotel, with minimalist wood-paneled rooms, is a short walk away.
Biking near the St. Lawrence River in Quebec provides a relatively flat ride.
Photo by Ian Roberge/Tourisme Cantons-de-l’Est
About 20 miles farther on, the route brushes past the entrance to Spa Eastman, a forest wellness retreat spread across more than 300 acres, with holistic dining and a sprawling complex of saunas, baths, and pools. (Overnight packages usually start at three nights, but Eastman relaxes that requirement for travelers arriving by bicycle so they can stay one night before pedaling onward.)
I then climbed a rippling gravel path between the summits of Parc national du Mont-Orford and descended toward a trio of pretty lakes: Memphremagog, Magog, and Massawippi. On the shores of the third lie the gardens and birch groves of Manoir Hovey, a Relais & Châteaux estate from 1899 that ranks among Quebec’s most luxurious stays. Meals at its fine-dining restaurant, Le Hatley, rely on hyperlocal ingredients, from the organic cheeses of La Station to Appalachian truffle oil and Domaine Bergeville bubbles. The compact but excellent Nordic spa has a dock leading into Lake Massawippi, where you can take an all-natural cold plunge.
And by the time I rolled past the building-height murals in the riverbank city of Sherbrooke on the third day, my confidence and mileage had grown so much that I briefly considered a self-congratulatory stop at nearby Strøm Spa Nordique for its boulder-studded hot pool and eucalyptus steam room.
The last leg from farmlands to city cobblestones
After a quick call with my husband to coach me through repairing my minorly derailed derailleur, I began the two-day northeasterly descent into the St. Lawrence River valley. Resort towns gave way to grids of corn or soy and villages where line-dancing bars eclipsed wineries. Spiraled hay bales piled trailside in golden mounds. In quiet Plessisville—aka the “maple capital of the world”—I watched morning light stream through sugar maples garlanded with sap lines.
History retook center stage as I reached the edge of the St. Lawrence once more, passing a row of gingerbread-adorned homes on the Lévis waterfront. Across the river, Quebec City’s ramparts and turrets rose above sheer bluffs. My end point in old town was a ferry ride away. Pulling up to the ticket window, I stood astride my bike and dug for my wallet.
“How many tickets do you need?” the agent asked in French, looking past me. “C’est juste moi,” I replied. Just me and my bike.
