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James Bay Story (standard:adventure, 11172 words)
Author: Adventure BoyAdded: Nov 14 2004Views/Reads: 2170/1365Story 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. 


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