James Bay, Québec: Expedition (2/11-25/2001)

We stuck to the concept of "layers, layers, layers." Even though freezing sweat wasn't much of an issue, we wore almost exclusively synthetic clothing: capilene, fleece, nylon, polypro, etc. They insulate well and breathe, letting the skin stay warm and dry, and perhaps more importantly, stay warm if we do get wet. Socks were doubled: primary layer was a liner sock and outside of that was a heavy-duty backpacking sock. Our boots were the standard hiking type, coincidentally both Vasque. Underwear was synthetic, as were the middle and outer layer(s). The fleece were technical, multilayer, extra-heavy fleeces from Patagonia, Mountain Hardwear and Arc'Teryx. Over that were down jackets. Hands were covered with liner gloves, mid-weight gloves when necessary, and outer shells which could be cinched and were large enough to hold supplemental warming gear, like the hand warmers I got us from Grabber. Beyond that, keeping well-fed and well-hydrated is a must.

How did we sleep out there? Well, first, we only did it once. Some evenings were inopportune and others we were a little lazy. We did only made two changes to our gear to sleep in the cold: 1) doubled up on ground pads: the more space between the body and the snow, the better. 2) -20°F sleeping bags; Mickey got the Mountain Hardwear "King Tut" and I got the Marmot "Col." Some clothing needed to be removed in order to get in the bags, which was fine because they kept us warm enough (I in my bivy and Mickey in his tent).

We were poised to go to the end of the road. Literally. Beyond our destination, Radisson, there was no more road going north into Inuit country. By this, I don't mean no more blacktop, I mean no more road. There were some small gravel tracks to communities to the west and a main gravel road to the massive hydroelectric dams to the east, but they only went another 700 km or so, certainly not all the way out to Labrador. The single route in was also the way out. If a blizzard hit, we'd be trapped indefinitely.

I am exaggerating somewhat. Yeah, we'd be trapped; but this region is so prepared for snow, the equipment used for its removal is gigantic and more rugged than the equipment used south in the U.S. We could be stuck for a day or two, depending on the length of the storm, but somebody would surely be by fairly quickly. We hoped.

We knew it was a long drive ahead, so we packed up quickly after breakfast, had a bit of confusion getting to the filling station, and played with the windshield washing equipment. Again, it was a bright, sunny day, completely what I hadn't expected when I looked at weather forecasts in the weeks prior to our departure. I was prepared: a pair of glacier glasses, to keep the glare of the sun off the snow from blinding me, but I never thought I'd need them as the forecasts each day called for snow. Snow here in the U.S. is usually accompanied by clouds, but here there were none, and no snow, either, not during the day anyway. Sure enough though, it grew cloudy and snowed somewhat, just after sunset.

Just outside of Matagami is the beginning of the James Bay Road. It was designed for trucks which brought the huge equipment to block up the Grande Rivière and create the enormous hydroelectric dams which not only power the province of Québec, but also a majority of New England and New York City. These roads are extra wide and can handle vehicles of up to 500 tons. I can only imagine what those things must have looked like. Now their main traffic consists of logging trucks (no small things themselves, probably over 12 feet wide and 70 feet long with logs a foot wide or more stacked quite high), hunters and fishermen in their minivans and pickups, and trucks delivering supplies to this remote region.

Quick Fact: approx distance from Matagami to Radisson... 376 miles (606km)

The entrance to the road is somewhat like an entrance to a National Park, a small station by the side of the road and signs telling you where you are. Not long thereafter, there are warnings telling you how far you're going to have to travel until the next filling station. In this case, it was some 384 km.

We entered knowing that this is a big, relatively untamed area with lots of wildlife, but we didn't expect to see in our first couple of miles a flock of ptarmigan and two lynx. The ptarmigans were flushed from the side of the road as we drove past and nearly hit the lead Rover; in this case, Ted and Mary. As we were chattering about the experience, we slowed down to possibly assist a local sitting by his vehicle. It turns out he was not stranded but merely watching the lynx as it was in the middle of the road, apparently beside its mate, which had been hit by a vehicle. Not everyone saw the live cat as it snuck over the snowbank back into the forest, but we couldn't miss the crushed one, staining the snow in the road. We drove past and the man remained.

After passing these scenes, the comments from our Canadian compatriots seemed to indicate this was pretty unusual. On their expedition in 1999, they saw very few indications of life as they drove along. Unfortunately for us, that was the trend as well, for after that bit of excitement we saw little else.

Looking at the map, it didn't seem like there was that much road ahead of us, but once you see it on the ground, with the turns here and there through forests and hills and miles and miles of high tension lines, you can begin to understand what a monster drive it was. Now add to that the fact that a large part of the surface isn't blacktop, but ice and compressed snow, quite slick in places - we walked on it during breaks to see how slippery it is - and it's no wonder why the drivers were as tired as they were when we arrived at our destinations.

Most of the time, we were alone, the three Discos travelling the James Bay Road. When it snowed or the wind blew, we could barely make out the few signs. Suddenly, through the whiteness came a small blur which quickly grew and sharpened into a log hauling truck of monstrous proportions, speeding along the roads at what seemed like 70 mph As it passed, the draught of the vehicle passed over us, and all the snow that was along with it enveloped us to the extent that we couldn't see past the windshield. Whiteout.

Hours of undulating roadway were punctuated by the rest stops, which were brief but well placed. Whether it be for a pee break or a photo-op, there was always something interesting. We stopped at the bridge over the Rivière de Rupert and watched the rapids rushing below, a stunning sight. Here was one of the only places where water was liquid. Here, not only was it liquid, but a brown torrent that slashed through the forest and provided color where there was previously only green and gray.

Daily Log click here for our impressions taken that day...

Further on, we cruised past a man who seemed to have bagged himself a bird (likely another ptarmigan) and had commenced plucking its feathers out by the time we arrived on the scene. He was oblivious to our presence as he tossed the feathers into the wind, and, I'm sure, thought about the best ptarmigan recipe he could. Also, we had our first view of caribou: frozen solid in the backs of hunters' trucks. As one had blood frozen on the end of his nose, Mickey joked that they had shot Rudolph.

The first stop for gas was just past the halfway point, at kilometer mark 381. It's an unassuming place, to say the least, consisting of storage sheds and maintenance vehicles. Gigantic ones, naturally. The old pumps at the station looked unused, which was a bit troublesome. We had some jerry cans, but not enough to get us another 200+ more km. Fortunately it was open, but the operator was a grumpy little troll of a man who begrudgingly sold us the gas. A cafeteria was spotted, and as our stomachs were empty since breakfast in Matagami, we thought it looked inviting enough.

This is where we Americans were introduced to the Poutine, a gravy-covered concoction created simply to induce heart attacks in the unwary. Not that it was bad to the tastebuds or anything, but the brown sauce that covered the brown chicken slices and brown french fries would have been artery-clogging on their own, but mixed into the pile was a copious amount of gooey, greasy cheese which just seemed so apropos, like chain-smoking in a coal mine.

Needless to say I bought a t-shirt.

The rest of the road passed underneath us pretty drearily by comparison to the previous 400 km. It grew dark, and we caught the sunset as we had on previous evenings. By the time we passed one of the great power generation plants, we were growing weary of the drive. But we were close. Some told jokes to keep us all awake. A local though, not content with our close to 45 mph pace, blew past us. They're used to the icy roads and drive them as we would drive over asphalt.

Radisson is a tiny town with a permanent population of about 300-400, but is a major center due to its proximity to the largest hydroelectric project on the planet, Hydro-Québec's complex of six dams taming the Grande Rivière. Logging here is nonexistent: the trees are stunted, thin and nearly devoid of needles. They look barely alive and probably wouldn't even make good toothpicks.

The Hotel Carrefour La Grande is run by a man named Michel, who is as friendly as the attendant at km 381was not. A gregarious man, he chatted with us as we signed in and petted his cute, tubby little dog. However, he spoke to us in a friendly but blunt matter: no caribou. The warmer weather (mind you, it's like -20°C and falling as we're speaking to him) was driving the herds farther north and east from where we would be, at the 4th dam of the Grande, another 400 km to the east. The hunters, which had just finished out their season a day or two prior, had told him so.

Mick's Disco had been growing gradually colder as the evening wore on, and the temperature gauge had hit rock bottom, as if the truck had never been running. We were getting a little chilly ourselves, but not uncomfortably so. Once we got our room settled, Mick took one of our cardboard boxes and put together a makeshift dam to reduce the amount of air flowing over the engine block. For modesty's sake, he removed the grille and put the box between it and the radiator, so it wouldn't be quite as prominent. Would it work? We would have to wait until morning.

We had dinner at a little place close to the hotel, not awesome, but it was a friendly place and they made us feel welcome. During dinner, we fought over who would have to be stuck making the nightly log to send to Discoweb. Ted was chosen, but was too tired to carry on. He asked that he be let out this time, promising to do it the net night instead. Mickey volunteered so we all set down to whisky, port and the tap-tap-tapping of his keyboard. There was a small problem editing the photos so while Mick stayed up late fixing them to send, I kept him company (since it was partially my fault). We finally got to sleep close to 2 am, knowing full well there was more driving ahead...