Waking up to blaring 80's rock music before the sun is even up is not
what you would expect when you're sleeping in Radisson. I had been
sleeping with earplugs in, as I had been warned one of my roommates
tended to snore. Still, they just couldn't keep out the high-volume
cacophony pouring in through the window. I was still terribly
exhausted, and somehow managed to fall back to sleep through the music.
It added to the surrealness of the trip. I would occasionally wake up
briefly and roll over; the CD must be on "repeat" because I had heard
that same song last time I was awake... or had I only been asleep for a
minute? Once, I glanced outside in a failed attempt to locate the
source; possibly a truck parked back by a shed. There was no way to be
sure, and I wasn't getting out of my sleeping bag. For the next few
hours I slept fitfully as I continued to dream about riding and
mechanical failures, all set to a soundtrack. Eventually the sun began
coming up, the music stopped, and my roommates began to stir. I climbed
out of the sleeping bag and began my daily ritual; rolling and packing
the bag and my therm-a-rest. While the other guys showered, I went
about fishing out some clean clothes to wear and re-packing my bike. My
turn for the shower came and I happily jumped in - a very nice way to
start out the day. I stepped outside, finished my last bit of packing,
and spent a few minutes looking the bike over. No leaks, no obvious
visible problems. I tried starting it up and as usual, the engine
jumped to life and settled into a welcoming idle. While my four new
friends were headed off to tour the hydroelectric facilities, I was on
my way back south. I had made a decision while I was in the shower. I
was going to do whatever it took to get off the James Bay Road, today.
I was going to run south and find myself a nice hotel, with a REAL bed.
Over a breakfast bar, I bid my friends a fond farewell before fueling
up and hitting the road. According to the GPS I had about 600km to
Matagami, and then another 184km to the first small town; Amos. 500
miles. The sky was blue with scattered clouds and although it was cool
out, I wasn't shivering this time. I can do this. WE can do this. I
double-clutched down as I made my turn onto the JBR and accelerated
away. Every mile from here was a mile closer to home.
The road had smoothed out a bit near Radisson, so I knew keeping my
speed up wouldn't be a problem. 110kph, 120kph, 130kph... 135kph, and
then the bike stumbles. Merde. I was getting an idea of the problem;
likely a timing issue. I could pull off the road and check the points,
but that seemed ill-advised to me. Based on my luck, something would
break or fall off, and there I would be, stranded on the JBR. I noticed
things ran fine between 120 and 125kph. Not a problem; slow and steady
wins the race. I have no problem keeping my speed down. Now I just have
to worry about the transmission.
The miles rolled by, and it would have been downright enjoyable if not
for the crushing fear of my transmission exploding into a thousand tiny
pieces. I kept talking myself down. Remembering the guy who said he
rode for days losing a gear at a time, only stopping to drain the metal
shards and fluid out of his transmission across Africa until reaching a
dealership. I'm on decent, clean pavement. I'll be fine. We'll be fine.
A short distance and I found myself braking hard; almost missing the
turn into KM381. Double clutching myself in. Only two more stops until
reaching Amos - only two more times of shifting down and back up. I
cruised back, gave the gas boy another $36, and was back on the road.
Back to dodging huge cracks and dips in the road; back to looking out
for wildlife, back to worrying about the bike. Stress coupled with very
little sleep had me on a short fuse. Any unusual feel or sound had my
heart in my throat. My blood pressure must have been terribly high.
As I continued on, the sky remained mostly clear. It was still cold,
but I was comfortable just running the heated grips for my mesh-gloved
hand. I noticed traffic was a bit heavier now; I'd see another vehicle
every 30 minutes or so; mostly trucks pulling trailers or boats. Having
lost all track of what day it was, it took me a few minutes to figure
out that it was now Thursday; maybe people are heading up for a long
weekend of fishing and camping.
200 miles down the road my bike stumbled again; this time it was just
me going onto reserve. Stress. I hated the thought of shifting down and
stopping with nobody around - but I had no choice. I slowed and came to
a stop in the gravel at the top of a small hill and hopped off to
stretch out a bit. A truck blasted by and the driver waved as I removed
the gas can and gave him a "thumbs up"; all was well. I spent about 10
minutes filling the bike, draining myself, and taking a photo or two
before getting back moving. It was again a quiet stop as no other
traffic passed me by. Such a beautiful day; what a difference the
weather can make.
Back on the road; across the tundra towards the promised land. Shifting
through the gears, settling into a nice cruise until more engine
stumbling. It seems my throttle hand has a mind of it's own and wants
to get out of here even more than the rest of me does. I slow down and
ride on, and on, and on. I keep checking the GPS and watch the
kilometers tick away until Matagami appears on the tiny screen. My
spirits get a bit higher. I cross the Waswanipi river and past the sign
for Matagami Lake campground. I smile... now only 35km and I'm off the
JBR, into Matagami, and within 180km of Amos. Two more hours, and I'm
there. We're going to do this. I pull into the security checkpoint at
the start of the JBR and walk in, happy to tell them I'm off the road.
Riding into Matagami I fuel up the bike, grab more gas station food,
and sit outside on a picnic table to enjoy the warm sun shining on me
as I refuel myself. I'd come a long way in the past few days. Last time
I was here I had just been hailed on, the sky was still overcast, and I
was being assaulted by black flies. What a change. Again, back on the
bike, out of town, and onto remote Highway 109. Blasting down the road,
through the trees, past the spot where hail had delayed my forward
progress. Past a slower moving car; past the entrances to mining and
logging operations. In good weather, this road was downright boring.
Approaching a sharp turn to the west, I remembered turning here and
heading north; outrunning the storm. I half expected to round the bend
and see the same storm waiting for my return. I was, of course,
pleasantly surprised to see more blue skies dotted with clouds. My
shadow stretched out in front of me as continued on, my stress level
rapidly falling.