We are chuggin along and come along the first decent town in a thousand kilometers, Hearst Ontario. We are still several hundred clicks from the Quebec border, and we figured we should pull off to get some supplies at the Canadian Tire. As we wait to talk to the staff, we begin to notice a pattern.
Every customer is speaking French. And the staff is speaking French. In fact, NO ONE is speaking English. Maybe we fell asleep on the THC and got to Quebec faster than expected. Once we got to the front of the line, I asked the staff if we were in Quebec. They laughed. They said Hearst is so remotely situated that their French heritage has been preserved. So the majority of inhabitants speak French or Cree. Wild!
We pulled off at the Hearst Visitor’s Center to ask what else is good to see here.
She suggested the Hearst Motorcycle Museum that is attached to the Visitors Center. They have some kind of renegade motorcycle culture up there, so they are showcasing some of the old bikes. Canadians are funny; they consider anything older than 40 years to be “historical.”
