A light mist continued to fall on me as I ambled back out to my bike to
dig into my tank bag. I knew I had my confirmation number for the hotel
somewhere, and I was determined to find it. It took several minutes of
digging around as half of the tank bags contents ended up on the
ground. Finally, I pulled out a folded up piece of paper with the
confirmation number I had received several months ago when the
reservation was made. I walked back in to the hotel triumphantly;
surely they couldn't turn me away, now. The receptionist looked worried
as I walked back up the the front desk and handed her the slip of
paper. A bit of typing on the computer and more confusion as she walked
across the hall into her supervisors office. More talk, and out come
both women to the computer. This was not looking good. I set my helmet
down and walked over to the wall to check out the weather reports. No
wonder I had been so cold riding in; the minimum temperature was in the
mid 30's; with the high listed in the low 50's. It was nowhere near 50,
currently. "Sir?", the receptionist beckoned me over. "This has never
happened to us before; you have a valid confirmation number for our
system, but it is linked to someone who stayed here months ago. I'm
sorry, I have no idea how this could have happened. Unfortunately, we
have no empty rooms for you, so there is nothing we can do." This
wasn't the answer I wanted to hear. Keeping my building anger in check,
I suggested I might set my tent up in their lobby for the night, but
was told that wouldn't be possible. I decided not to press the issue; I
didn't want to end up jailed in Radisson. I wasn't sure anyone would
drive this far to bail me out. She quickly returned to her office to
call the other hotels in town for me. Sadly, they too, were full. Both
the receptionist and the manager were eying me wearily. You could cut
the tension with a knife as I stood there staring at them in disbelief.
I wasn't wearing club patches or any of the usual "scary biker" type of
clothing, but I'm sure they didn't like the idea of having an angry,
tired, cold biker on their hands. Realizing this was a fight I could
not win, I grabbed my helmet and turned to speak with them once more. I
think they both expected my helmet to come flying their way, as they
both flinched noticeably. Who throws a $400 helmet? In a calm but
sarcastic voice, I thanked them for all of their help and wished them a
good day as I made my way back out into the drizzle. The sky looked
grayer than ever. My spirits were at an all-time low. I thumbed the
starter button on the bike and my old friend roared to life. My only
friend.
I made my way across the street to the only restaurant in town and
walked in, peeling off most of my gear and sitting down at the bar. I
was the only patron at the time. A rather attractive looking girl came
out and welcomed me with a smile. The beaten look on my face must have
been obvious as she began to ask me about my trip; looking suitably
concerned about my wellbeing. Note to self: tip well. I leaned back in
my chair as I sipped on my can of Pepsi and thought about my choices. I
could ride over to the only campground in town; I had plenty of warm
clothing and gear, and I could probably pile everything on myself and
sleep well enough to get back. My other choice would be to ride a few
hours back the way I came and get a room back at the Kilometer 381
stop. I didn't like either option. On top of that, I was tired and
cold, and failure was staring me in the face; I might not reach
Chisasibi and the James Bay. I couldn't see riding the 150 or so miles
to get there and back, it would be just too far. As the waitress ran
back to put in my pizza order, the door swung open and two guys stepped
in; stopping and smiling at me. Did they know something I didn't? Turns
out they were two brothers from Hamilton, ON who also came up this way
by motorcycle. All my gear piled next to me and the BMW parked out
front made it obvious I had done the same. I joined them at their table
and struck up a conversation; a welcome diversion to my current
problems. Turns out they had been a few steps ahead of me and missed
the rain and hail from the day before, and had ridden about half the
distance I had, today. As we ate our lunches, an invite was made, and a
plan was hatched. They were also planning on going to Chisasibi, so I
would join them. They would allow me to unload most of my gear into
their hotel room until we got back, so I wouldn't be riding with the
extra weight through the gravel I knew we would encounter. My spirits
began to lift. I still had no place to stay, but the company was doing
me good, and I could still accomplish all of my goals. To add to the
good luck, I stepped outside to find the rain had stopped. Although the
sun wasn't out, it was definitely getting a bit brighter outside. Nice.
We fueled up and made out way to Chisasibi.
Heading back a bit South on the James Bay Road, I was riding in the
back of the group. They were running a bit slower than I would have,
but it was a nice change to slow down a bit. Getting to Chisasibi is
pretty easy since there are few roads up here. Just head back south on
the James Bay Road until you see the sign for Chisasibi, turn right,
and follow that until you get there. We ran up on the turn a little
fast and had to slow down quickly to make the turn. I pulled in the
clutch and began downshifting, except I got stuck between gears.
Strange. I came to a stop and rolled the bike forward and back, playing
with the shifter until it popped into gear, and then down into first.
That was weird. I made my turn and continued on. There is very little
to look at out here; just miles of scrub grass and the two bikes ahead
of me. We picked up the pace and approached 130kph. Suddenly I felt the
bike stumble briefly; like it missed a spark or two. Or did my hand
slip on the throttle a bit? More strangeness. I swear the James Bay is
cursed. We continued on. Suddenly I saw a brake light come on and
immediately saw why; there was a wide section of road missing; going
from smooth pavement to gravel for about 10 feet. I jumped on the
brakes and downshifted. Again I got hung up between gears, but managed
to get unstuck without stopping. I was growing a bit concerned about my
transmission. Further down the road we came upon a road crew that
required us to ride through some loose gravel in the birm; this time I
made sure to double-clutch on my downshift; pull handle in, downshift,
release handle. Pull handle in, downshift, release, all the way through
the gears. That seems to be working fine - I could deal with it. We
eventually rolled into Chisasibi; I had made it. In my mind I was
already standing on the shore of the James Bay.
Chisasibi, finally:
Once you get to Chisasibi, it's a bit hard to find your way to the bay.
There are no signs, and no obvious route. The road we came in on dead
ends into a 4-lane wide gravel road, and that seemed to be the only
obvious route. We made our way a few hundred yards at a rather slow
pace; none of us very comfortable riding on loose gravel. Rounding a
bend, we saw the road seemed to continue on for miles and miles, so we
stopped to consider our options. We could ride back into town and ask
the way, we could continue riding on for a while, or we could walk over
and ask some workers in a lot off to our left. We went with the last
plan. Since I was outnumbered (two Canadians to one American) I was
elected to be the motorcycling ambassador who would go ask directions.
It turned out to be a good thing. The workers were very friendly, spoke
English, and told me we wanted to take the first left turn we saw.
Continuing down the large gravel road would not take us to the bay.
Back on the bikes, we headed off and started to make our left turn as a
Geo Metro came racing up to us. Turns out they worked for the tourist
office. I felt a bit rude not having stopped in town before coming out
here, but I was focused on getting there, and so were my new riding
companions. They verified the route we were taking was the correct way
to go (stay left!) and warned us it wasn't overly scenic and was
littered with boats and snowmobiles. They also offered a boat ride out
to some of the islands in the area; if I had the time I would have
enjoyed taking that trip. Next time, maybe. Again, we ventured off onto
the smaller gravel road and followed it for what seemed like miles,
never quite reaching the bay. One of the Canadians stopped his bike,
and discussions started as to continuing on or turning back. The gravel
was making all of us a bit tired, but the sun was now shining on and
off, and I was determined to go on. Checking out my GPS I could see we
were less than a mile from water, and that was the information everyone
needed to go on. Minutes later we crested a small hill and there it
was; the James Bay. I was elated. I had done it! WE had done it. I
patted the tank of my bike, thanked it, and then hopped off to get some
photos. Now there was more blue sky than clouds, and it had finally
warmed up. It was still in the mid 50's, but it felt like a heat wave.
We all walked around and got our photos, I tested my Sidi's by standing
IN the bay, and I made sure to get my hand wet. For a while I forgot
all about my other problems; the fact that I still had no place to stay
for the night, or that the bike was acting up a bit. Everything was
perfect.
James Bay, dirty bike:
Our hero, and the guy who's been riding:
Not exactly a smooth, sandy beach... but there IS sunlight:
Standing in the bay; smiling, even (I'm not fat, I have 4 or 5 layers of clothing/riding gear/rain gear on!):
We stayed for a while before finally deciding to head back to Radisson.
This time I was put in the lead position, and I wasted no time getting
out of there. I had gotten a bit more comfortable on the gravel and
upon reaching the pavement I had to stop to let the others catch up.
One was close to me, the other was lagging back. Now on pavement, I
cracked open the throttle and raced back to Radisson, making sure to
watch out for missing sections of road. Again the bike stumbled on me
once or twice, and the worry crept back in. The sky also went back to
cloudy and overcast; possibly it was the James Bay Road itself that was
cursed. My spirits began to sink as I got back to thinking about my
lack of lodging; I was on an emotional roller coaster.
Slowing to make my turn into Radisson I double-clutched my way down to
second gear and pulled back in to the hotel so I could re-pack my bike.
I was met by a somewhat welcome sight; two Oilhead GS's parked directly
outside my Canadian friend's room. I wondered if they were at the
Wisconsin rally. As I began to gather my saddlebags, my Ortleib bag,
and my gas can and re-attach everything to the bike, a door swung open
and out came the two GS owners. They were very friendly guys who had
indeed spent time at the Wisconsin MOA rally. They were Gene and Andy;
both from Baton Rouge, LA. The group of us talked about our ride; again
I was the only person to get caught in hail. I must be living a charmed
life. Eventually I recounted my hotel problems and right away Gene and
Andy suggested I grab my sleeping bag and set up on their floor. I gave
them a sigh, a weak smile, and a heartfelt "thank you". I really should
have been jumping up and down for joy, but the past two days had worn
on me, and I was simply exhausted. I was beginning to feel like I was
no longer in control of anything and just responding reflexively. I
almost felt like I was watching everything happen as a spectator.
Still, here was a glimmer of hope. I had a place to sleep that didn't
require more riding, and didn't require erecting a tent. I perked up a
bit, gabbed my stuff, moved it into their room, and pulled out some
money for my second new set of friend for the day. They quickly
declined; under no circumstances were they going to take my money. This
must be that southern hospitality I've head so much about! A short time
later we walked back to the restaurant for dinner and I decided to get
myself a beer; the tastiest Labatt I ever drank. It was surely earned.
Finishing dinner, my new friends again refused to accept my offer to
pay, and instead paid for my meal. Unbelievable. It's possible I WAS
living a charmed life. Walking out of the restaurant, all five of us
stood outside in the hotel's gravel parking lot in the dark, wondering
what ever possessed us to come to such a place. It was definitely a
hard trip, and I know I was questioning my sanity.
Crawling into bed, the fog of exhaustion began to creep in as I tried
to figure out the mysterious issues my bike was having. My transmission
was acting up, the engine was occasionally stumbling, and I was a long
way from home. For now I had a warm, safe place to sleep - I'd settle
for any victory I could get. Tomorrow was another day, and I could
worry then. My schedule had me heading back south to the campground on
Matagami Lake. I wondered if I would make it.