When you have a sleeping bag rated down to 40 degrees and you're
wearing woolen socks, insulated leggings (BMW brand), a t-shirt, a hat,
and piling your riding jacket on top of the sleeping bag, you know it's
a bit cold outside. When you have to do all of this in July and know
you have a few hundred miles to cover by motorcycle, things get serious
pretty quick.
I woke up terribly early; around 5:15am, and it was already light
outside. I dozed in the early morning light trying to get a few more
minutes of sleep, but it just wasn't going to happen. It was a pretty
calm morning; I could no longer hear the waves from Lake Matagami
crashing into shore, and even the forest was strangely quiet. Suddenly
I was snapped to full awake by what sounded like someone walking around
on gravel; strangely close to my bike. Too quiet for a bear; is a
person checking out my gear? Stealing something? I coughed a bit to see
what would happen. Silence. Then more sounds of something moving around
on gravel; slowly getting closer to my tent. I quietly sat up inside my
sleeping bag and listened for the slightest sounds - breathing,
panting, anything. Surely a bear would be MUCH louder, right? Every few
minutes I'd hear another sound, and each time it would be closer to my
tent. I cleared my throat again. I decided there was no way I could get
out of my bag and through two zipper safely if it was some nasty forest
beast. Bigfoot?
"Twang!" Whatever it was had just brushed against one of the guy lines
on my tent. Adrenaline was rushing through my veins now; whatever it
was had to be within 3 or 4 feet of my tent; probably closer. I was now
protected only by a double layer of tent fabric. I grabbed the can of
bear spray and removed the safety from the trigger. If a bear suddenly
tore through my tent I was going to make sure I was nicely marinate for
him. Maybe I should grab the lighter and set my tent on fire, as well.
More crunching gravel, and another "twang!" on the guy line. Now it's
behind the tent. No way to get out from there. Several more minutes
pass with only the occasional sound of crunching gravel and my
breathing. Something touches the bottom of the rainfly and I consider
cutting myself out of my tent with my Leatherman until I realize what
it is as it crawls along the bottom of my rain fly. I am officially an
idiot; it's nothing more than a small salamander. I am likely the only
person to ever mistake a salamander for a bear. I can see the news
report now: "Shoeless man seen running down James Bay Road in burned
clothing. He appears to be crying, or blinded by pepper spray. Mumbling
about a killer salamander." It must have been "hopping" or something,
making the gravel crunch and hitting my guy lines. I lay back down and
put the safety back under the bear spray trigger. I tell myself nobody
will ever hear of this; and then consider changing "salamander" to
"moose" or at least "fox". After wasting 20 minutes being terrified of
a salamander, I decide it's now a good time to get out of bed and get
moving; it's still before 6:00am, though.
I get out of my tent, don all my gear, and pace around eating
breakfast, again. It's really cold outside, and I can see my breath. I
can't wait until the sun gets higher in the sky and warms things up, a
bit. There are still a few black flies who are undeterred by the cold.
I quickly pack my gear and stuff my soaked rainfly into a mesh bag
attached to the back of my bike. I hope the wind will dry it off a bit.
The bike roars to life and settles into that familiar "noisy sewing
machine" sound of the Airhead boxer. The valves sound just fine. I
click into gear and work my way down the gravel driveway and back onto
the James Bay Road. I get moving at a pretty good pace; still watching
for wildlife. This was sure to be a quick and easy ride with a few
sightseeing stops. 30 minutes of riding all by myself brought me to my
first stop for photos. There had been a forest fire here years ago
(started by a lightning strike), and the devastation is amazing. I had
never seen a forest completely burned; pretty shocking. In some areas
the pile of charred wood stretched on forever; with not even a hint of
anything green trying to peek through. In another area there were miles
of burned trees still standing, but stripped of almost all their limbs;
a ghost forest. It's hard to imagine that this area was once teeming
with life; lush and green. Already moss and other ground cover was
starting to reclaim the area; mother nature is not to be stopped.
As I made my way along the JBR, I was noticing small orange diamond
signs on the side of the road. It didn't take me long to realize these
were to let you know a large bump was approaching. These weren't simply
potholes; these were cracks that ran across the road, so there was no
option to maneuver around, although I kept trying. Frost heave must be
a big issue up here. The first few I ignored and kept riding. Finally I
hit one that bounced me hard enough to dislodge me from my seat and
leave me standing on my pegs. Ouch. From here on in, most of the ride
involved slowing to 45-50mph as I approached these signs. Later on, I
came around a bend in the road and encountered a sign with three orange
diamonds on it, which had me hitting my brakes. I had heard stories of
people coming up here and running flat out for a few hours; that must
have been back when the road was in better condition; now you would be
bounced off the road into the trees.
Another 30 minutes of riding, and I realized my mesh glove covered hand
was getting a bit cold. The heated grip wasn't quite cutting it. I was
also getting scattered drops of rain hitting me. I pulled off and
started digging through my tankbag. Out came my silk glove liners and
some heat packs. I had nearly left these single use heat packs at home,
but at the last minute I decided to grab them since they took up very
little space. I'm so glad I did. I ignored the warnings about placing
the packs directly on your skin; I put one on the back of my hand and
one on my palm, then donned both silk liners, then shoved the whole
mess back into the mesh glove. It was a bit bulky, but I still had
decent movement, and could still get to my brake lever quickly, if
necessary. Once back on the road, my fingers started to warm up a bit,
so I cracked the throttle open a bit further. Finally I was settling in
to a nice pace, and I was plenty comfortable on the bike. The sun
peeked through the clouds, traffic was non-existent, and I was happy to
see the JBR actually had a few bends in it. After nearly an hour I saw
something else on the road; a small red fox sitting just off the birm
watched me tear by. Cool! Later on I saw a sizable caribou run across
the road as well, although once I got to that point he had disappeared
into the forest. I was keeping my eyes peeled for bears and moose; I
was really hoping to see a moose. It took me nearly an hour before I
saw any other cars on the road - I was really out on my own. A little
further and three motorcycles were head south on the JBR. We are a
crazy bunch. At least they were heading towards warmer climates and
denser population.