Apres de Weddin

Day two. We're in a K-town in Quebec. Karamouraca? Kamourcaon? Karawannarockandroll maybe, not sure. It's a quaintish place on route 132. And in our estimation, it's a lucky town too. As evening was dawning on us, and we were following the river with no particular place in mind, we'd driven by a few motels and were debating whether or not to motor all the way up to the Joli Motel, in Mont Joli... It's one of the few that we'd read about. Anyway, as it was nearing 7:30pm and the clouds were setting in, we decided to have a look at a motel that we'd just driven by, The Mariner. So a quick 3-point turn later (why the Eclipse doesn't have a tighter turning circle, I don't know...) we stopped in to inquire about the rate. It proved favorable, so I grabbed the wallet and went in to pay while Cara put the top up and began to gather our things. When I emerged from the motel office, it had started to sprinkle. By the time we got to the room, it was raining, and shortly thereafter the storm rolled in. Lightening and rain and thunder and all that jazz, only minutes after we had stopped at a random motel. Nice, if it's going to be that type of trip, I'm in for the long haul.

Anniehoo - back to day one. We rolled out of the park later than we'd hoped - no surprises there. Finally on the road, we kept the top down all the way into Montreal, a city that waged war on us upon arrival. We found our hotel relatively easily, and without incident, except that when we found it we were driving by it on a road that we couldn't stop on, and turning at the next block was prevented by a one way street coming at us. So we turned left at the next opportunity only to find that put us into a tunnel - one of those fancy subterranean highways a la Vienna. Which was a real bummer, since it just about forces you right out of the city. There are, of course, underground exits as well, but you never know where those are going to take you, and let's not forget that Quebec still doesn't get along with the rest of Canada, so Quebecois signage is exclusively in french. Finally we made a big loop back to where we wanted to be, but questimated the cross street incorrectly - no problem, just loop around, right? Wrong, this is Montreal. The cross street that we turned on, 300 feet from the hotel, manages to go over (as in overpass) the road that we needed to turn on to. What's more, it was a one way street that had no exit, aside from parking lots to the Molson Brewery. Not that we didn't want any Molson Beer, but we more wanted to get to our hotel and the brewery was closed anyway. Jeesh! What seemed like a couple miles later, we finally made it back to near where we had to be and voila, checked in to the hotel.

Our room was nice and tiny, just as we had anticipated. The location was great though, and it was an easy stroll into the center of things for dinner. We enjoyed a couple microbrews on a nice roof garden then had an ice cream on the way home. Very nice indeed. The Ice Cream guy did try to short-change us, but somewhere between living in Prague and Accounting practice we learned to check our change and inform the man that $6.50 is not, nor will it ever be, $12. He of course was very sorry for the confusion.

The next morning (now this morning) we awoke and had an awesome breakfast, included with the price of the room. It was dandy. None of that "continental breakfast" either - we're talking eggs, meat, french toast and fresh fruit. Very good indeed. Although the waitress tried to scam us out of $11 and change on a free meal - funny how that happens. Costellos 2, Scammers 0.

Then we headed off to find the jet boats for the rapids. First we took a good tour of the harbor, then got suited up in what seemed like old WWII sweaters and life vests to tackle the La Chine ) sp? rapids. What a ride! We of course sat up front when offered the choice "mild or wild?" - when were we ever mild-choosers? So it goes, a fun ride out there in an overgrown waverunner running two 650hp turbo-diesel caterpillar engines. The rapids were indeed big - in fact, even before the proper rapids, the water is just very swift and threatening in places - I'm surprised those crazies ever made it though with their big wooden sailboats back in the day. As for running the rapids, Cara and I have figured out a way to save everyone some cash: put on a big lifejacket and sit in a relatively uncomfortable chair and hold on. Then have someone with a fire-hose randomly shoot it straight at your face at full power while a couple buddies bump you from side to side, gently. Repeat this 8-12 times. Don't get us wrong, it was very fun and thrilling and all that jazz. And as a matter of fact, I feel ashamed that it's taken me this long to run the river's rapids. But when you go (definitely do go) sit in the back of the boat. Not because you're a wimp, but because if you sit in the back of the boat you will be able to see and really experience the madness of what you're driving through. The front is a vicious nose-enema, and you'll spend the fun bits of the ride with your eyes closed as you're smashed by water.