From The San Francisco Chronicle:
Who's that moving up there? For miles I've had the serene cycling path through the woods all to myself.
It's two deer grazing on yellow, pink and blue wildflowers that carpet the fringes of the gravel route. I've just finished nibbling a warm almond croissant and still have the luscious taste lingering on my tongue of a cafe au lait sipped on a terrace conveniently perched trailside.
The deer move reluctantly into the bush, and I pedal on through classic Quebec countryside; red-roofed chalets reflected in bright blue lakes and silver church steeples rising above villages. I round a curve and see a red wooden covered bridge and then an old railway station converted into a mini-museum and bed and breakfast.
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