|James Bay Story (standard:adventure, 11172 words)|
|Author: Adventure Boy||Added: Nov 14 2004||Views/Reads: 2113/1328||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Family trip to James Bay.|
The James Bay Adventure.. This is the story of four individuals that decided to adventure into the wilderness of the Northern Quebec region know as, The James Bay Region.. Back in August 1996, John G. Lambert began to contemplate a trip into the wilds of the James Bay Area. His goal was to place his foot into the frigid waters of the Arctic Ocean. As other famous explores from the past. Studying maps for a road into the area was a long ordeal. John soon realizes that gasoline would be a problem for this trip and started to plan ways to overcome this situation. The trip would cover 2875 miles. After several months of information gathering, map studying and trip planning. The Adventure's Four were ready to depart on their quest. My 1988 Dodge Raider with 135,000 miles would need replacing. So $28,522 dollars later a new 1997 Dodge Ram with a 360 cubic inch engine, room for six passengers and a cargo box for all the gear was prepared for the trip. Fish netting was added to the cargo box, to hold the gear along the side of the cargo space -- So that we could get into the cargo area, to sleep or nap along the long way. The day to depart finally arrives. With food, maps, gear and 12 gallons of extra fuel in boat tanks we are ready to depart. There are four brave adventures for this trip. Bob Frechette a 43-year-old landscaper and outdoorsman. Benjamin Osias Lambert a 13 year old nephew of mine. Eric John Lambert, my 16-year-old son and myself John George Lambert a 42 year old adventura. (Mother calls me, The Adventure boy.) We waited for Bob to get out of work at 11:30 PM. At his house on Mount Hope, in Sanford, Maine we loaded his gear into the truck. Stopping at Irving Fuels for fresh coffee and drinks we set sail with the Raam at 1 AM Friday, May 23, 1997. John's at the helm as we sail without traffic into New Hampshire and onto highway 11 for Lake Winnipesaukee, the Indian meaning of Winnipesaukee is The Smile of a Great God. Meredith NH is a small town on the north end of Lake Winnipesaukee, we took an inappropriate turn here and the police were following us around possibly wondering why we were out around 2am. We stopped to study the charts and in the mist of the light rain stood a small doe deer. We turned around and found the correct highway onto interstate 93 heading for Littleton NH. Littleton is a little town nestled near Moore Lake, the headwaters to the Connecticut River (long tidal river) and border of Vermont (French for green mountain). Here we changed over to highway 91 to Passumpsic VT. We took advantage of the United States lower gasoline prices and stopped here to top off the gas tank and refill the thermos of coffee that we had been sipping along the way on this drizzly night. Passumpsic, Vermont is where we entered into Canada. The border crossing was smooth and enjoyable, only a few miles down the road Bob needed to sleep and we stopped so he could stretch out in the cargo area. As we began to drive off we thought we saw a Moose in the road ahead of us, we slowly approached the beast to find it was a steer that had just crossed the road. We are now on the Trans Canadian Highway 55 heading to Montreal, Ben is eager to see Montreal and Eric is asleep in the back seat. As Ben and I discussed things we were hoping to see on this trip, the time was just flying by. The morning sun was starting to bring in a lovely dawn over the rolling hills and plains of the St. Lawrence Seaway Basin. Green fields of wheat and oats covered the floor of this basin. A giant white cross-illuminated the top of a hill and cattle grazing in the fields around the farms. Now the skyline of Montreal looms on the horizon. Ben is still all eye's for the city and its architecture. The early morning traffic is starting to increase as we cross over the Champlain Bridge that crosses over the St. Lawrence Seaway. The Seaway allows ocean-going vessels to travel 2,342 miles from the Atlantic Ocean to the furthest reaches of the Great Lakes. I pondered the name of this bridge as I crossed over it. Thinking that in hours I would travel what took Champlain month's to explore in the 1700's, the thought boggled my imagination. Click here to read the rest of this story (855 more lines)
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