I rode my bike from NYC to Montréal (Part 1)

A photo essay recapping my journey from New York City to Montréal on two wheels.

Published September 28, 2026

Assumed audience: People who are curious about what it's like to do a solo multi-day cycling trip for the first time, with or without plans to do something similar themselves.

About a year ago, in October 2025, I rode my bike from New York City all the way to Montréal, Canada. It took me 7 days. It was my first ever multi-day cycling trip, and I completed the trip almost entirely solo.

This essay is organized in two parts:

• The first part, below, covers my experience and some of the highlights of my trip.
• The second part, coming in the next post, will cover how I prepared for this trip and some suggestions to help you plan one like it yourself.

Note: This is a very picture-heavy post.

The numbers #

An idea is born 💭 #

Sometime in 2024 or so, I came across a post on Reddit about a ride from NYC to Montréal via the Empire State Trail. I’d ridden sections of the trail at various points over the years, but I wasn’t familiar with the full breadth of it. I bookmarked the post and promptly forgot about it.

Then in 2025 right before I quit my job, I thought about all the things I’d want to do during my year off and remembered the post about the ride to Montréal. I didn’t yet know how I’d go about completing something like this, but I wanted to try a mix of whimsical and adventurous things during my sabbatical, and this ride seemed like a great candidate for that second bucket.

But when? #

I didn’t give it another thought until it was warm enough to ride outside again. I initially thought I might head out in May: the mild spring temperatures and long daylight hours make it a great time of year for long rides. But when I struggled through my first outdoor ride of the season in mid-April, I determined that attempting to complete 35 times that distance a month later would probably (definitely!) be a stretch. I had some races and travel coming up over the summer, so my next available window before it got too cold would be in October. October also happens to be my birthday month, and I liked the idea of celebrating both this and my birthday by eating my way through Montréal.

In other words: picking early October for my trip was entirely driven by logistics and fitness, but in hindsight, I think it’s the best month for this ride for a few reasons:

• It’ll be peak fall foliage in the northern hemisphere, and the trails and trees around upper New York and Vermont will be bursting with various hues of red, orange, and yellow.
• If you’re lucky and don’t have to ride through rain, the temperatures are likely to be moderate: sunny but crisp with far lower humidity than even a month earlier, making it ideal for long days in the saddle.
• You’ll encounter lots of whimsical, funny, and creative Halloween decorations once you get off the wooded sections of the trail and start riding through the small towns of upstate New York and Vermont.

Part 1: The Trip #

Day 1: Bronx → Poughkeepsie #

Strava · Route

Up until the day I left, I didn’t really think I’d actually go through with it.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I did book my hotel for the first night a few days earlier, so I knew I’d at least make it to Poughkeepsie. But I chose not to make my remaining reservations upfront even though I’d known for months I was doing the trip and had pre-planned my route. I hesitated to commit to anything nonrefundable just in case something comes up and I have to turn around, I told myself.

This would turn out to be one of the best decisions I’d make on the trip.

I slept surprisingly okay the night before, got up very early Sunday morning, and sort of went through the motions of getting dressed and eating breakfast. Then I turned off the lights and appliances in my apartment and headed out to catch the train to my starting point, Van Cortlandt Park - 242 St subway station in the Bronx.

The entire train ride up, I sort of tuned out and didn’t think about anything in particular. It felt almost as if this ride was happening to someone else and I was sitting across from them on the train, passively observing them on their way to this adventure. I got to Van Cortlandt Park around 8:45 am and headed straight to the adjacent restroom. It was mostly empty, so I took my bike into the spacious entryway with me (couldn’t risk anything happening to it before my trip had even begun!) and tried to rally myself and calm my nerves. You are funemployed. It’s not like you have anything better to do! I told myself in the mirror. You can do hard and scary things. What’s there to be afraid of? Plenty of people have done this ride before. It’s totally fine. If you get tired or too scared out there alone, you can just find the nearest train and hop on it. This is so not a big deal. You’re fine. This is fine!

Unsatisfied with my pep talk, I walked my bike back to the park entrance, snapped a commemorative pic next to the sign, and set out on my journey.

It was a lovely morning without a cloud in the sky, and my ride up to Poughkeepsie was rather enjoyable. If you haven’t done it before, I highly encourage it. The ride is almost entirely on sheltered, leafy trails surrounded by abandoned rail tracks and various bodies of water, with the only non-trail sections being very short crossings of residential streets that connect these trails. There are plenty of Metro North train stations close to the trail, so it’s easy to ride however short or long you like and take the train back to NYC. I encountered lots of other cyclists, runners, walkers, and dogs all along the trail in both directions. And squirrels. So many squirrels, many of them assuredly with a death wish of some kind, if their frequent dashes across the trail without any sense of urgency or safety were any indication.

I stopped first around 11:30 am at Trailside Cafe in Yorktown Heights for lunch and a bathroom break, then a couple hours later at a gas station in Brewster for more water. The day had warmed considerably, and I was going through my two bottles faster than usual. I got to Hopewell Junction around 3.30 pm. The former rail depot-turned-outdoor museum is only open Saturdays, but I’d hoped to find a running tap outside to refill my water bottles. No such luck. Google Maps found me a bar around the corner, so I went in to ask for some water. Everyone turned around to stare as I walked in, clomp-clomp-clomp in my full cycling kit, cleats and helmet included. The older gentlemen were impressed to hear I was riding alone and had come from Brooklyn. Little did they know I had much further to go!

I arrived at my hotel an hour and a half later, checked in easily, and took my bike upstairs with me to get settled in and wash the day’s clothes. After showering, I walked up the street to grab a bite at Zeus before having a very early night.

Day 2: Poughkeepsie → Hudson #

Strava · Route

The next morning, my friend Tahnee met me at my hotel with her bike; she’d taken an early train up from NYC. I tried my best to fill up with some carbs at the complimentary breakfast before we set out.

The first part of the ride was rather lowkey. We set out from Poughkeepsie on our bikes, stopping briefly on the Walkway over the Hudson to take in the panoramic views of the Hudson and upstate New York before connecting to the Hudson Valley River Trail all the way to New Paltz. The woods were serene, with the sounds of nearby creeks and chirping birds providing a soothing background melody as we pedaled along. It felt almost otherworldly, as if we were in a movie set in New England (which… close enough).

After New Paltz, we followed the Wallkill Valley Rail Trail towards Rosendale. Affixed to the Rosendale Trestle bridge are several memorial plaques, many of them in honor of fellow lovers of the outdoors. My favorite is this one, featuring a quote by author and conservationist John Burroughs:

I was extremely moved by this quote. It put into words a feeling I’d so far been unable to properly articulate. I’d noticed in the eight months since I started my sabbatical that whenever I felt stuck or fearful or anxious, finding my way outdoors offered a reliable balm. So I wasn’t really trying to prove anything to anyone by going on this trip. Maybe what I was really trying to do was go through this seemingly daunting adventure so I could prove to myself that I could overcome the next eight months, whatever they would bring. Was this what was missing from the pep talk I gave myself the day before, when I was still gathering my courage in the Van Cortlandt Park bathroom?

We stopped for lunch at Village Coffee in Kingston, where I had a delicious bacon and egg sandwich. The cafe carried lots of cute trinkets from local makers for sale, and if not that I was still at the beginning of a long journey, I might have picked up something to take with me. They have a backyard (sideyard?) adjacent to the main building with a decent amount of seating, and it was nice to stretch our legs for a bit.

From there, our ride took us through some small town roads in East Kingston before dropping us into one of my least favorite parts of the trip: several harrowing minutes next to high speed traffic on the Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge. It didn’t help that the already narrow lane was blocked off at points with traffic cones for no apparent reason. Mid-way across the bridge, I decided to stop and climb over the barricade onto the pedestrian path and walk my bike for the rest of the crossing.

Not long after we landed on the east side of the Hudson, Tahnee’s rear tire flatted. It was 2:30 pm, and we were only 36 miles into our planned 60-mile day. After trying unsuccessfully to re-inflate the tire, Tahnee called a taxi to the nearest open bike shop, which happened to be some 18 miles away. I needed to decide whether to keep riding solo and meet her at the bike shop or join her in the taxi ride up. Ultimately, I took the long view: I still had more than 300 miles of solo riding to get to Montréal, and spending an unexpected afternoon exploring on foot with a friend sounded far more appealing than climbing a thousand more feet on my bike without the company I’d anticipated doing it with. I felt momentarily bummed to miss out on the satisfaction of knowing I rode the whole way, but the feeling didn’t last long!

We waited about 20 minutes for the taxi to arrive, a spacious Toyota Sienna van with plenty of room for us and our bikes for the ride to Catskill Bicycle Supply Co.. It turned out her rear tire only needed a new tube, but she took the offer to replace both tires and tubes since we were there already. While they worked on her bike, we wandered outside to find some snacks. It was a quiet Monday afternoon, and many shops were closed. We passed the house where former President Martin Van Buren got married (now a pirate-themed tiki bar) and ended up at an outdoor table facing the marina.

After returning to pick up our bikes, we navigated the short distance to our Airbnb in the town of Hudson, then stepped out to the main street to enjoy some live music over dinner and tasty Asian-inspired cocktails at BackBar.

I didn’t sleep very much that night. Knowing I’d be continuing onward solo the next morning filled me with extreme dread and anxiety. All the doubts and fears I’d experienced on Sunday came rushing back with full force. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that every subsequent hour from then on would take me further and further away from the safe confines of my home. I’d be riding the farthest north I had ever ridden from NYC before. And I’d be doing it alone.

It also didn’t help that for the first time since I’d had the idea for this trip, my brain conveniently chose then to inform me that we (i.e. me & said brain) did not have a plan for what we’d do if we ran into any bears on the trip. Cue several hours down that rabbit hole while my friend slept soundly next to me. In case you’re wondering, yes, there are bears all along the Adirondacks and parts of Vermont, and yes, they are very much still active in October. While my research informed me that my chances of running into one on my bike was likely next to zero, nothing I found could assure me that the risk was definitely zero, so naturally my brain latched onto that minuscule probability and turned it into a cause for ✨ major stress ✨.

I found myself once again questioning my decision to go on this trip. Why was I in Hudson at all, planning to ride all the way to Canada? Couldn’t I do something more chill, like a day hike closer to the city? And most importantly, if I *gasp* ditched the trip entirely and made my way back to NYC with Tahnee, would anyone other than me even understand or care?

I didn’t come up with any answers that felt satisfactory enough before the melatonin tablet I’d popped earlier kicked in and I finally fell asleep.

Day 3: Hudson → Waterford #

Strava · Route

I woke up the next morning feeling groggy and extremely low energy, but my legs surprisingly had some pop to them which gave me fresh motivation for some more riding. I didn’t know it yet, but every morning on the road would feel this way: slightly tired from the day before but strong and ready to tackle the day ahead.

I decided to take a looser, gentler approach to the rest of my trip: I’d only go as far as I felt up to doing that day; I’d re-assess my decision at every rest stop, every night and every morning. If at any point I got nervous or scared for whatever reason, I’d just focus on making it to the nearest town. And if I truly didn’t feel like continuing on, I’d find the nearest train station and go back home. I would not pre-commit to any specific destination ahead of time. This was my trip, after all. Nobody but me was making the rules here. I could do whatever I wanted.

Because I didn’t get much rest the night before, the 77 miles I’d originally planned to ride to Saratoga Springs suddenly seemed like a lot. It didn’t help that a quarter of it wouldn’t even be along the trail but were merely “junk miles” along town streets necessary to get me to the nearest residential area. That also meant I’d need to ride those same ~17 miles the next morning to get back onto the trail. Over breakfast, I browsed housing options a bit further south of Saratoga Springs and lucked out in booking the sole Airbnb room available in Waterford, a “mere” 52 miles from Hudson. That felt much more doable, probably about 3-4 hours of riding time, giving me plenty of time to pace myself and take rest/photo breaks.

This of course meant I’d need to make up the distance on other days, but rather than try to squeeze in more miles in the middle of the trip and risk wearing myself out early, I decided I’d ride a few shorter miles up front and save the last day for a big 100-mile push from Burlington to Montréal. I’d done a few century rides before, so it wouldn’t be a first for me. I hoped the knowledge of being in the home stretch would give me enough momentum to make it. And in the worst case, I could always spend the night somewhere along the way and head to Montréal the next day.

The trip to Waterford was fairly chill (spoiler: I didn’t run into any bears!) The Albany-Hudson Electric Trail was absolutely stunning and one of my favorite stretches of the entire trip, with bursts of red, pink, yellow, and orange-colored trees flanking me on both sides nearly the entire way.

I found the trail to be in great condition, too. There was one section that was closed for construction and not indicated as such on the EST’s Trail Closures page, but I was able to reroute easily via suburban streets and reconnect back onto the trail after a few blocks.

I absolutely loved this day on the trail and could easily see myself returning by train just to ride it again. I encountered a few cyclists and walkers here and there, but for the vast majority of the day, I was all alone.

At first, this made me a little nervous, but once I settled into the experience, I found it rather peaceful and relaxing. There were large stretches of time where I turned off my music and simply took in the sounds of the forest: birds chirping, water trickling down a creek, leaves blowing in the wind, the crunch of my bicycle tires against the paved trail. It was easy to get lost in thought, and I’d find myself thinking about family and friends, how good it felt to be out there on my bike, or a trip I was looking forward to. Real life company was few and far between, so I turned to my virtual friends Jason Bateman, Will Arnett, Sean Hayes and Amy Poehler to change things up.

I arrived in downtown Albany in the early afternoon and encountered my first proper urban riding in three days. How unpleasant to have to navigate around traffic lights and cars again! I made my way to an all-day breakfast restaurant called Skinny Pancake and treated myself to a chocolate crepe topped with ice-cream. Yum! The staff let me bring my bike into their outer vestibule so I could keep an eye on it while I ate inside, which was really nice of them.

Continuing on from Albany through Troy, I finally arrived at the junction where the trail forks in two: the route I was riding on toward the US border just south of Montréal, and the other part continuing west to Buffalo, just east of Toronto, Canada (perhaps a trip for another day).

The clouds gathering overhead hinted at upcoming rain. I rode quickly through Peebles Island and arrived in Waterford just before 4 pm. The town seemed a bit quiet (I was out of the city, alright!) and many places were closed, so I settled on the nearest open bar for a steak dinner before turning in for the night.

Day 4: Waterford → Glens Falls #

Strava · Route

I woke up on Day 4 to a chilly, overcast morning. It had rained heavily the night before, apparently ushering in the beginning of New York’s twelfth season, Actual Fall. The weather app informed me the temperature outside was 54 degrees, a full 20 degrees cooler than just 12 hours earlier. I looked outside at the grey, misty sky and decided to put on all of the layers I’d packed. I was also glad to have tire fenders to ward off the wet dirt from the puddles in the streets.

Even though I intended for this to be my shortest and easiest day, I still decided to hit the road as soon as possible so I could be further along in case it rained again, so I was checked out of my Airbnb and on my way before 9 am. The streets were surprisingly empty for a Wednesday morning, a glimpse into what it might be like to live in the sleepy town. The first half of the ride was mostly flat terrain along US-4 and past Saratoga National Park. By 11 am, the sun was out again, but I chose to keep my jacket on as it felt breathable and I figured the bright color and reflective panels made me more visible to oncoming vehicles.

I made a brief stop at a convenience store in Stillwater around mile 12 to use the restroom, refill my bottles with ice, and grab a banana. I didn’t stop again until mile 25 for lunch at Old Saratoga Eatery in Schuylerville. It was almost noon when I turned in to the unusually quiet main street, which may be why the host very kindly let me bring my bike inside. I grabbed a table by the door so as not to disturb the other patrons and found myself chatting with two old ladies at the next table. They were very curious about my journey and asked how far I’d come and how far I still had to go, and they gave me the usual warnings about being safe and whatnot. I had so far not really felt unsafe despite my many anxieties, but it’s always helpful to be reminded to keep my wits about me and not get too comfortable as time went on.

After lunch, I continued along US-4. I would not encounter a single other cyclist the rest of my time on the Empire State Trail, and it’s not hard to see why: the EST leading north from this point consists almost entirely of narrow 3-feet wide shoulders on busy roadways. To say they were unpleasant to ride would be an understatement. I thought my radar light’s battery would die in minutes from constantly alerting me to cars approaching from behind at 55+ mph. Never have I been more glad for all my time riding next to fast moving traffic on 9W (albeit on much wider road shoulders) — it gave me the confidence to hold my line while riding and recognize when to pull over for additional safety. I have to concur with the EST website’s warning that these parts of the trail are only appropriate for experienced, long-distance bicyclists comfortable riding next to vehicle traffic. I do not recommend it for beginner cyclists.

I detoured from the trail at Fort Edward and headed about 8 miles northwest towards Glens Falls, where I would be spending the night. This required going up a 3-mile long climb through the main street before turning onto an unpaved trail that would take me to the historic town. The climb caught me by surprise (I should have studied the route more closely!), but the gravel-packed “heritage trail” along the Feeder Canal was a welcome reprieve from straddling highway shoulders.

I stayed at The Queensbury Hotel, a stately presence with a rather popular bar on site. As it was buzzing with a lot of guests, I at first worried the hotel staff would object to me bringing my bicycle into my room with me, but they didn’t even bat an eye when handing over my key. I got in relatively early, around 2:30 pm, and took full advantage of all that free time, including a leisurely few hours in the basement hot tub, which featured an interesting prismatic overhead mirror.

Day 5: Glens Falls → Ticonderoga #

Strava · Route

I made a pre-ride snack out of the banana and an instant oatmeal packet and set out from Glens Falls shortly before 8:30 am.

My trip started out on the same path I’d taken the previous afternoon and reconnected back onto the Empire State Trail around mile 4. About an hour into my ride, I stopped for a hearty breakfast at Sally’s Hen House in Hudson Falls before continuing on. I finally got to see some actual farm animals on this stretch of the route, cows and horses mostly. Mother Nature continued to show off, with bright red and orange leaves on virtually every tree I passed, and I could not resist stopping every few miles to snap some pictures.

I also really enjoyed the creative halloween decorations and this church’s funny call-to-service!

Lunch was at mile 23 at The Railyard Taproom in Whitehall. I locked my bike on the railing outside and sat by the window to keep an eye on it.

It was pretty chilly for most of the day, so I kept all my layers on. Cycling in this part of the trail continued to be very unpleasant. These roads curving through the Adirondacks are all narrow and somewhat hilly, and shortly after my lunch stop, I encountered an 8-mile long stretch of roadwork that forced both directions of traffic to share a single lane!

Yes, it was just as absurd as it sounds:

The construction worker manually controlling the flow of traffic was so stunned to see someone on two wheels that he radioed his colleague further up the street to warn the drivers heading south IN THE SAME LANE, I guess? Shout out to those dudes! I appreciate them looking out for me.

I rolled in to historic town of Ticonderoga shortly before 3:30 pm.

My home for the night would be Stone House Motel & Motor Lodge. The lodge manager didn’t seem at all surprised to see me roll up with a bicycle and even mentioned this was a popular area for cyclists and bicycle-tourists. She insisted I could not bring my bike into my room and showed me a corner of the property that was hidden from the main street where I could store my bike overnight. I couldn’t have been more glad to have brought my lock for some mild peace of mind, not that it would have deterred a determined thief. The lodge has a free washer and dryer on the property, and it was so nice to not have to do laundry in the sink for a change. I tossed every piece of clothing I had into the machine and ordered a pizza delivery for dinner.

Day 6: Ticonderoga → Burlington #

Strava · Route

I got up early this morning intending to catch the 7:40 am ferry from Fort Ticonderoga to Shoreham, Vermont on Lake Champlain. This is an open air, cable ferry that accepts passengers and all manner of vehicles including cars, motorcycles, and of course bicycles.

It was freezing when I left my room, with the feels-like temperature hovering around 0°C. I honestly wasn’t sure I had enough layers, but there was nothing I could do to change that so I put the thought out of my mind. It briefly occurred to me that the ferry ride might be even colder, considering it has virtually no shelter from the elements, but I thought I might be able to manage the 7 minute trip across the lake and re-warm up by pedaling hard as soon as I hit the ground. The lodge’s front desk staff hadn’t yet arrived when I departed, so I left my key on the ground by the main entrance before speeding downhill to the ferry terminal.

Where I was promptly met with a big fat CLOSED sign.

Por que?

Confused, I pulled out my phone, teeth chattering furiously, to double-check I was at the right entrance and that I hadn’t missed the ferry. Yep: right place, no service announcements on the website. Well, what gives?

It was too cold to stand around to troubleshoot the issue, and I didn’t see another soul in the vicinity, so I hopped back on my bike and pedaled the 2.5 miles uphill to the lodge, thankful I could still gain access to my room. There I discovered via some social media sleuthing that the ferry had ceased operations for the season an entire month early due to low water levels in the lake.

Great! Now… what?

I hadn’t at all prepared for this scenario, and I knew of no other way to get across to Vermont. Continuing on the EST was not something I was mentally prepared to face after the harrowing last couple days.

After an appropriate amount of panicking, I looked up my options for re-routing to Burlington. The Ride With GPS mobile app was surprisingly well equipped for trip-planning, and I was able to easily plot out a new route that would keep me on the EST only for another 15 miles before heading across the Lake Champlain Bridge to reach Vermont. I’d then take some back roads through West Addison to get to my planned lunch stop in Vergennes and in the process, skip several of the hillier and busier inland roads on my original route.

It worked out great in the end! Once I got past my disappointment in missing out on the ferry trip, I absolutely loved my rerouted Vermont segment, which turned out to be part of the state’s Champlain Bikeway system. Most of the ride was on quiet farm roads with barely any car traffic, about one every five to ten minutes it seemed, and any drivers I did encounter gave me a very generous, wide berth. I found Vermont bristling with so much character and personality. Along the way, I encountered more animals, gorgeous fall colors, and you guessed it: Halloween decorations.

I made three food stops on the way to my destination. The first at The Bridge Restaurant when I first landed in Vermont around 10 am. I wanted to have some authentic Vermont maple syrup on blueberry pancakes, and this place did not disappoint. My second stop was shortly after noon at 3 Squares Cafe in Vergennes for a coffee and pastry. An hour and a half later, I made my third and final stop at the Old Brick Store in Charlotte to use the restroom and grab more ice and a decadent chocolate chip cookie for later. I liked the overall vibe of this store. It’s a general provisions market carrying grocery basics, books, fresh-baked pastries, hot coffee, etc.; sort of a cross between a cafe, convenience store, and a mini supermarket. I highly recommend making a pit stop here if you find yourself passing through this part of Vermont, if only to peruse the offerings.

They also had this quirky clock (art?) high up on the wall on the side of the building:

I arrived at my friend’s home in Burlington around 3 pm or thereabouts. First port of duty was naturally another load of laundry. A couple hours later, she, her husband and I headed to dinner at the popular Taco Gordo in downtown Burlington. We got there just before 5:30 pm and managed to grab a table inside, which turned out to be rather fortuitous timing as only a half hour later, there were no more tables and a long line just to get in. Not surprising for a Friday evening in a college town, I suppose.

After dinner, my hosts took me on a tour of the waterfront, and we caught the last bit of the sun setting over the lake.

Day 7: Burlington → Montréal #

Strava · Route

It was Saturday morning, and at long last, the big day had arrived. Today, I was going to Canada.

I woke up at 5 am with my stomach knotted with equal parts trepidation, exhaustion, and excitement. I’d barely gotten any restful sleep despite hitting the sack well before 9 pm, but I was still eager to tackle the 100 miles ahead of me. Something about coming so far and braving some less-than-ideal conditions already made this impending final stretch seem not that intimidating.

I showered, got dressed, re-packed my bags, pumped up my tires, and double-checked my various electronics before having a quick breakfast. I said my good byes and was out of the door before 7 am, hoping to make it to Montréal before dark. It was pretty cold in the morning but surprisingly a lot warmer than the day before.

My original plan had been to catch the Local Motion Island Line Bike Ferry along the Colchester Causeway from Burlington onto the South Hero Island. It’s a popular, scenic ferry ride that came highly recommended in my research. Unfortunately, my early departure from Burlington meant I would miss the first ferry at 10 am, so I decided to pocket that experience for a future trip.

There wasn’t much life out on the streets that early. I passed a few homes decorated for Halloween but didn’t stop for many pictures as I was conscious of time. Right before turning onto U.S. Highway 2, I went into a convenience store on Chimney Corner to refill on water and ice. The highway had a very wide, generous shoulder that provided ample protection from the speeding car traffic, making riding on it a far better experience than on the on-road sections of the EST. US-2 connects the Vermont mainland via the Sand Bar Causeway (with beautiful views of the lake, including a viewpoint at the Samuel de Champlain Historic Landmark) to Vermont’s South Hero island.

Once on South Hero, I chose to get off the highway and take a longer route around the western edge of the island. I spent a lovely hour and a half through some residential streets in farm country and was just a bit sad when it came time to get onto North Hero island via the highway. The ride through North Hero was much more bustling, no surprise since it was getting close to brunch time by that point. I made a pit stop at Hero’s Welcome just before 11 am for more fluids and a snack. The general store was quite busy already, and I had to wait a few minutes in line to checkout. There were two amusingly-labeled benches outside for people who identify with either of the two major political parties in the US (presumably) to sit apart from each other. Perhaps it was too early in the day for politics, but neither bench was occupied while I was there:

I sat inside for a bit and revisited my route for the day, trying to estimate when I would arrive in Montréal. My math put me at no later than 7:30 pm, just when it would be getting dark. Would I run out of steam before then? I was about to find out!

I hopped back on my bike and continued north, passing through Hemlock Island to reach the Alburgh-Noyan border at 12:30 pm. As I pulled up to the border, I slowed down a bit, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. I had just done something that was inconceivable only a few years ago: I’d ridden my bike by myself, from the comfort of my home, through forests and farms and highways, all the way to the intersection of these two countries. Here I was at the border with Canada. I’d gotten here on two wheels. I couldn’t believe that I’d accomplished this. No one made me do any of it. I had an idea. It seemed ambitious. I made myself nearly sick with worry. And I did it anyway.

It didn’t matter that Montréal was still another 50 miles away. Standing there felt so surreal, so significant. This feeling in this moment was the whole reason I’d set out on this journey in the first place.

There was a long line of cars on the other side of the road heading from Canada to the US, but on my side heading from the US to Canada, I was the only traveler. I stood for a few minutes wondering if I’d have to settle for a selfie with the border sign, but as luck would have it, a car pulled up right then! I asked the passenger to take a picture of me and they were very happy to oblige:

I walked my bike over to the Canadian immigration officer, who requested my passport and asked the standard questions about where I was going and how long I was staying before clearing me to enter the country.

After entering Canada, I continued along Rte 225 (where VT 225 turns into Québec 225) until I crossed the Richelieu River and landed on La Route Verte 2, one of seven major cycling routes that make up Québec’s beloved Route Verte network. The trees along the way impressed as expected, considering they got first dibs on the leaf changing schedule. All of the road signs were in French (sans surprise!) so I was glad to be able to navigate via my bike computer.

This section of the ride felt understandably remote (being so close to the border) with almost no rest stops of any kind that I could see. My lunch stop was thus one of convenience: it was the first restaurant I could find on the map since I’d left Alburgh, Vermont some 13 miles earlier. I arrived at lunch just before 2 pm. I took my time here, charging my phone and stretching my legs for a bit. Mentally, I knew I “only” had about 40 miles to go, but the week’s fatigue was starting to catch up with me, and I tried to shake it off.

I continued my ride and made it to Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu well ahead of schedule, around 3:45 pm. This was my original bailout point as there are a few hotels close to the route, but given that Montréal was only another 28 miles from there, I decided I had enough in the tank to keep going for another two to three hours. I stopped at Second Cup Café intending to grab a coffee for some extra stimulation but treated myself to an ice-cold strawberry gelato instead. It was clearly a chain shop, and its spacious entryway was painted black, which might explain why no one seemed bothered when I brought my bicycle inside and leaned it against the wall.

I hopped on the Chambly Canal Path at Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu and followed it north. This is a truly impressive, well-maintained 20 km long multi-use path that hugs the Chambly Canal and offers a broad variety of scenery, from views of stately homes across the water, to leafy shaded sections in the woods. It was really nice to once again share the path with runners, walkers, and fellow cyclists. After traveling for the better part of a week by myself, riding through Chambly made me feel less alone and as if I had just re-entered society from an exile of sorts.

I made my final rest stop at Café MJ et Cie in Chambly. At 4:45 pm, it was buzzing with patrons of all ages. I glanced inside and saw there was a line to use the restroom, so I locked my bike to a rack outside and asked a couple seated nearby to watch it for me. Continuing west past Chambly, I finally approached the historic Pont Jacques Cartier that cuts through St Helen’s Island to Montréal. The time was 6:24 pm and the sun was starting to set.

By this point, my entire body ached and I was just about ready to be done riding. My legs were starting to struggle to cooperate, but the sight of Montréal in the distance gave me the extra nudge I needed to roll down the bridge onto the busy streets. Somehow, I made it through another two miles before reaching my home for the next week: a lovely ground floor apartment I’d booked on Kindred on a quiet, tree-lined street in Le Plateau-Mont-Royal.

I was ecstatic. I’d arrived! I made it!

Wow.

My first thought was: I’m so glad to be off this bike, and I’m never riding a bike ever again! I was dizzy with exhaustion and slightly over-caffeinated. My second thought was: Hmm, I wonder what the trail to Toronto looks like? But my overwhelming feeling was of gratitude and slight euphoria at what I’d accomplished. What had once appeared herculean had just been completed. And look at that. It wasn’t even that bad after all. The anxiety I felt at the beginning now seemed so distant in hindsight.

Later, when I had a chance to think about it, I realized what worried me at the start wasn’t actually the length or duration of the trip. The trail itself was well-marked, well-documented and straightforward to follow. I was never without internet coverage for more than a couple hours at a time, and I could easily re-route when I needed to. There was no shortage of rest stops. What actually terrified me, what I didn’t fully want to admit to myself was I was terrified of embarking on this journey alone. I didn’t know what lay ahead of me on the road. I didn’t know if I would get a mechanical issue with my bike or get sick, injured, or bored. I didn’t know if I’d find myself in a dangerous situation and not know how to respond.

And while I’m glad that none of that happened, this week on the road by myself, the getting up every day solely to tackle that day’s objective, the incredible beauty of the landscape, the warmth of the people I met along the way, all of that reminded me that even when I didn’t or couldn’t know what was in front of me, I’d find a way to get through it anyway.

Only a week before, I didn’t fully believe that I could do this. But now, on the other side, I’d done it. And I knew I could do another like it.

I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.

• Farmer's Market