Last Saturday the Montreal Street-Skaters (Annie Pazzi & Rod Willmot, founders) decided to abandon their beloved streets for a day and check out the trail at Blainville/St-Jérôme. It was one of those days when it's just too crazy-sunny to do anything sane.
Blainville was still Blainville, meaning you still have to start off with a long
stretch on the street, which didn't really turn us on because Blainville streets aren't
streets by the Montreal definition. But it wasn't so bad. When we got to the
trail however we soon discovered that there were snowbanks under the trees, which
isn't really our bag. No prob, we headed back to the car and went vroom-vroom
to St-Jérôme. Annie was so impatient to get rolling again, she wouldn't even take
off her skates to drive.
In St-Jérôme the trail on either side of the old station was covered with a dense layer
of crap, except for two narrow lanes that had been cleared by bikes going through.
After a hundred meters though the asphalt was nice and clean, and we skated some very pleasant kilometers while enjoying various agility-games, e.g. stopping/starting to cross the many streets, crossing and recrossing railway tracks, jumping over streams, skittering around snowbanks... (For a street-skater, obstacles are part of the fun.)
We were positive that once we got out of St-Jérôme the trail stretching off through the
fields would be clear of both snow and grit. This turned out to be true for about a
kilometer, after which...
But why should street-skaters fret about skating along a trail? Heck, aren't there streets
in beautiful downtown St-Jérôme? Well of course there are, and it was while practising our art
that we discovered that said downtown contains some pretty neat places along its streets.
The most savory is surely the sausage-store we found on de la Gare street, just behind
the old station and halfway between it and the main street. It's called La Faim d'Loup.
This place is a treasure, and I urge you to pay it a visit accompanied by a healthy appetite
and some cash to stock up on important supplies. Not only can you eat there but you can
buy a surprising selection of Quebec beers and other good things.
When we entered the store I smelled the subtle fragrance of marinated sauerkraut
(marinated in white wine, I soon learned), among other aromas that will make your mouth water.
While waiting for our sausages we explored the wolf-den at the back, where lie in wait
the bottles of precious liquid mentioned above.
We ate like famished wolves, and let me tell you the meal was worth the chase.
I don't know why this is important, but Annie wanted to show everyone that when she
skates she never wears matched socks. Vaguely similar is just barely acceptable...
Across the street from the sausage-store there were two other points of interest for visitors to St-Jérôme, a store specializing in every possible supply pertaining to decorating your nails, and a small café. We took advantage of both, since Rod maintains that street-skaters should display their insanity in multiple places and various ways. Moreover there's a really pretty girl who works in that store, as your humble webmaster had sniffed out from the other side of town.
As for the café, our need for cafeine was now so urgent that we didn't notice whether
we were served by a waiter or a waitress. Check out the following picture, for example.
Well-known for her mystical calm, her meditative (not to say lethargic) attitude towards
life's ups and downs, Annie was on her fifth coffee of the day, yet still had to struggle
to keep from falling asleep at the wheel. As you can see.
By some miracle we reached Montreal safe and sound, and were thus able to continue practising our art the next morning. While the Roller-Montreal gang whooped it up in the wind on the Estacade, we put on a show along St-Denis, Mont-Royal, des Pins, St-Jacques... Sunday morning on St-Jacques against traffic, mmmm-mmmm good! The only un-interesting part of our day was that devoted to determining the atrocious condition of the Lachine Canal trail. No but really, it's too simple there to have any fun! Don't you find? Dull, dull, dull. To be avoided at any cost, except to go nowhere fast.
On the return journey we yelped with joy as we left the trail at last (along with the wind) in order to glide into the Atwater Market. In search of flowers to stick in our helmets. The nice lady refused to sell us any flowers for this purpose, saying they'd be wilted before we got as far as Mont-Royal. We opted for a big long missile of gladiolas, super well wrapped, which Rod carried like a weapon of mass destruction while skating down Ste-Catherine.
I'll leave you with this photo we took at great personal risk, of a band of old degenerates
in Lafontaine Park. Notice how grey the lives of cyclists are! Notice how they have to
smoke pot to have any fun at all!
Rod Willmot