I was now barreling down Quebec route 390, crouched into a bit of a
tuck on my R80; riding for my life. Anything on the road moving slower
than warp speed was quickly passed by as I worked to get ahead of the
approaching storm. Each time I would turn south I had an opportunity to
look at the beast following me; to judge if I was making any progress.
The storm itself was a flat wall aside from a small piece sticking out
in front of the rest; like a hand reaching out to grab me. I would not
go down without a fight. East, south, east, south; running across the
countryside like a scared jackrabbit. East onto Route 111, following
it's curves through tiny hamlets, past collections of houses, around
the farm tractor making it's way slowly down the road. My riding would
have made Ernst Henne proud. Now at the tops of my mirrors I was seeing
something different; clear sky. I was winning! A short time later the
sun actually came out, but I wasn't going to be complacent - I kept
running until I hit Amos and turned back north on Highway 109; the road
that would eventually become the James Bay Road. I stopped briefly in
St-Felix-de-Dalquier for fuel; the last stop before reaching Matagami,
and the start of the JBR.
My fuel stop was brief, and I had no time to celebrate anything at this
point; I could still see the monolith unflinchingly moving towards me
across the fields. Looking north, I could see the edge of this beast.
If I moved fast enough I might be able to outflank it. I remounted the
R80, hit the starter, and jumped back onto the road. Things quickly
went from small towns to remoteness; traffic went away, and the fields
gave way to a solid forest of trees. The road cut back east and then
finally turned for the long run north. Within a few minutes I knew I
had outrun the storm. I smiled to myself. My French Canadian accent
came back "I am not afraid of any rain storm! You come for me, but you
shall never catch me! I am like the rainbow!" I settled back in for the
next 100 or so miles to Matagami on this wide and well paved section of
road; past a closed hotel, past mines, past small lakes and abandoned
houses. Is that sky ahead a little bit dark? Possibly... stormy
looking? Is that a hint of leather riding boot I taste? Maybe a bit of
gore-tex, as well?
Yes, I was riding directly into another storm cell, and the sky
continued to get darker and darker as I approached. I thought about
stopping to let it pass, but there was more off to the west of me, so
that wasn't an option. My choices were rather limited, actually. I
could pull off to the side and hide in the forest and risk a nearby
tree being struck by lighting, I could pull off and stand on the road;
the tallest thing around unless I decided to lay down and risk a
logging truck running me down on a rain slickened road. I took the
final option; I was going to ride through it as fast as I could. I
ducked back down behind the small windshield, cranked open the
throttle, and just as I saw a flash of lightning I was thinking of
Hunter S. Thompson; "Faster, Faster, until the thrill of speed
overcomes the fear of death." That thought didn't last long. I noticed
my tank bag wasn't covered, and I didn't want my camera and gear to be
destroyed by the rain. I quickly pulled off onto the gravel shoulder to
put the cover on just as the rain started falling in earnest. With my
head looking down as I scrambled to attach the rain cover to my tank
bag, I was surprised at how loud the rain was, and how big the drops
must be to make that much noise on my helmet. Then I caught something
out of the corner of my eye. Rain isn't supposed to bounce, is it?
I was being paid back in spades for my arrogance at outrunning the last
storm as marble-sized hail fell on me. I stood there for a minute or
two; there was really no place for me to hide, and at least my full
riding gear was keeping me safe. Note to self; let Olympia and Arai
know their gear works in hail. The hail continued, and suddenly my
prayers were answered; a small, well-worn pickup truck came down the
road, pulling off to the side across from my bike. I ran across the
road and the passenger door popped open just as I got to it. I had no
idea who the driver was, but for the moment he was my best friend - I
dove in and slammed the door shut. Here we sit; three guys packed tight
in a Chevy S-10 that had seen better days. The passenger window
wouldn't roll up all the way, and small chunks of ice would come flying
in and land in my lap. My two new friends were covered in mud and dirt
- probably mine workers - I was never sure as they spoke no English,
and I spoke no French aside from a heartfelt "Merci!" It didn't matter;
the hail falling on the metal roof of the truck was deafening, and we
would have needed to yell at each other. Eventually another van joined
us on the side of the road, along with a bus I passed 20 minutes
before. In the meantime, my R80 was leaning at an obscene angle as the
side stand sunk into the gravel on the side of the road as streams
formed and ran underneath. My GPS was still sitting in it's mount, and
I wondered if the screen would be cracked. Eventually the hail
subsided, and I stepped out of the truck to survey the damage. Just as
the truck drove off I realized one of my warm, insulated gloves must
still be inside the truck. He had no rear view mirror, so I'm sure he
didn't see me waving at him. Merde.
Road covered in melting hail.
My unflinching companion, waiting to get going.
Yup, that's hail.
I approached my bike and set about getting things back in order. I
grabbed a smooth rock to wedge under the side stand to bring the bike
back to the right angle, then I repacked my tank bag, checked my GPS
(undamaged!), and dug out one of my new mesh gloves so I'd still have a
protected right hand. I had plenty of time to wait around as riding on
the hail was going to be like riding on marbles. I stood there in the
silence and watched the road steam, listened to rain dripping off of
the trees, and tried to gather my thoughts. Eventually a car came past
and cleared a path that I could ride in, so the helmet went back on and
I rode off. Several miles later the hail cleared, and several miles
after that the road wasn't even wet. It took about 10 minutes of me
riding in a rather shell-shocked state to realize I never buckled my
helmet back on. Not safe. I pulled off into a small picnic area and in
the 20 seconds that it took me to secure the helmet I had 10 black
flies buzzing around my helmet. Excellent. My spirits had never been
higher. I rode on for a bit until I started to laugh like a madman. I
really didn't know why; but it felt right. The situation was just too
absurd. I'm all alone, in the middle of nowhere, on a motorcycle, and
marble sized hail starts falling on me. I thought back to how I got
involved in riding, and how I had planned this trip. Never had I even
remotely considered something like this would ever happen to me. C'est
la vie. I rolled on until finally reaching Matagami.
Once in Matagami, I fueled up the bike (where is my gas boy??), and
went inside to grab a fresh (I hope) made sandwich, some chips, and two
bottles of water. I wasn't in the mood to make any food for myself.
Back onto the road and to the official start of the James Bay Road. I
pulled into the checkpoint set up at the start of the JBR. The road is
remote enough that they like people to check in and tell them where
you're going and when you'll be back, so if you turn up missing they
have an idea as to where you might be. Comforting. The workers were
rather friendly, even though I was sure I looked like walking death; I
know that's how I felt. They were surprised I had encountered hail
earlier on, as things had been rather nice further north. I wondered if
I would have avoided all of that had there not been a detour for me
earlier on.
Isolated Route, 375km. The whole length is isolated, but the first 375km is the worst.
Just a reminder there is no fuel for 375km. Do you have enough?
A sign showing how far everything is. I was headed to Radisson, and also to Chisasibi - that's a lot of kilometers.
I pulled out of the checkpoint and rode the last few miles to my stop
for the day; Matagami Lake campground. There was a nice gravel path
leading back into the trees to the campground. The shirtless man
checking me in was friendly enough, and I was quickly on my way to my
site. Things were adequate, although the campground was full of
trailers and tents setup on wooden platforms. Apparently people leave
their things here year-round as I saw hardly anyone moving about.
Hopping of my bike and removing my helmet I was quickly surrounded by
black flies, and not just a few. I dug in my tank bag for my
UltraSuperSportsmandontletkidsevenlookatthis Deep Woods Off and sprayed
any exposed skin; hands, face, and my hat before tucking my pant legs
in. This kept the black flies at bay, although they would still swarm
around me until I would get annoyed and walk into the bathroom for a
few minutes until they dispersed. I had my tent erected just as one
last rainstorm rolled though; fortunately it was rather light, and left
a nice rainbow for me as I ate dinner and checked out the beach along
Lake Matagami.
Lake Matagami; storm just starting to clear, overhead.
A rainbow over my campsite; good luck?
It had gotten late but the sun was still shining pretty brightly; I was
quite a bit further north than I'm used to. Sun or not, I was tired and
went to crawl into my tent. Fortunately I noticed the hundreds of black
flies on my jeans before getting in and a liberal spraying of my jeans
had them all running scared. I ended up making it into the tent with
only one uninvited guest, who was not long for this world. With the
bear spray next to me and my BMW riding tights still on (it was pretty
cool out) I dozed off to sleep; waking up once to pile my riding jacket
on top of my sleeping bag for extra warmth. Boy is it ever cold for
July.