J!m
03-06-2006, 11:03 PM
Text attached from my recent trip. It's a long read, but you'll see we had fun in the cold!
James Bay tour February, 2006…
First, a bit of background… There was an odd noise from under the truck. This was to be expected as we were about to depart for a 3,000 mile trek into some of the coldest places accessible by wheeled vehicle. It seemed to be coming from the transmission area, but since it's merely a year old, there must be another answer. A few phone calls to the helpful folks up at Rovers North shed some light: it seemed possible the clutch arm is cracked; a fairy common problem with the R380 transmission. So, we order a pile of parts, drop the transmission two weeks prior to departure, replace everything that can be replaced, and find the odd noise remains; naturally. All the associated parts were tested and/or inspected, and seemed to be perfectly fine. The rear lower control arm was found to be loose at the axle while the wheel was re-installed, allowing an inordinate amount of movement at the rear pinion. This was causing a bad pinion angle (more on this later). We had scheduled a stop at Rovers North anyway, so perhaps an evaluation in person by the experts will shed some light on the cause of the mystery noise from below...
Day 0: The night before departure… I had driven up from Long Island where I had put in a typical eight-hour day. The two and-a-half hour drive up to Connecticut went without incident.
Arrival at the local brew pub was around eight PM, with a plan for a quick beer, then off to Mike's Home for packing of his items and an early bed night. Well, that was the plan; what actually happened started with leaving the pub a bit later than expected, and the packing/unpacking/repacking of the truck taking far longer than expected. Actual pillow contact was well after midnight.
Day 1: We awoke at 6:30 am, with a plan to depart at 7:30; therefore we were underway at 8:30, as expected. Breakfast at McDeath, and a quick stop to pick up a spare CB antenna and a quart of oil; OK then, all set.
We made reasonably good time, arriving at Rovers North at 12:30 PM to visit and investigate the odd sound that just wouldn't stop, regardless of how much money we threw at it. A lower control arm was replaced with an attractively priced used piece, and after the surgery was complete the rear universal joint was found to be completely devoid of needle bearings. I have honestly never seen a worse universal joint in a functional car before in my life (and I've seen some pretty scary ones). It seems the pinion angle was severe enough to destroy the universal joint in short order. Another few miles, and we would have been in a much worse situation- in rush-hour traffic on the Champlain Bridge for example…
The Canadian border went, well, poorly. The officer at the border was not impressed by Mike using his cell phone while I was being questioned: "Please park to the left and proceed into the building for a full cavity search" Oh, joy. A few uncomfortable minutes later, and we were underway again.
"Not far now" was heard a few too many times… The local Montreal police are very friendly, quickly assisting us when we inadvertently run through an invisible stop sign. Fortunately for us, they felt bad for us (we were, after all, driving a Land-Rover) and decided to let us go with a warning.
The navigation program, which sent us into a few too many U-turns, driving in the wrong direction: "now arriving at your destination" in front of Canada Tire; uh, NO we are NOT at our destination… We had sunk to a new low: we called the hotel for directions. Not a bad start at all. This should be an interesting week…
The hotel was a breathtaking structure. Built in about 1965, and never redecorated; the shower curtain reminded me of a trash bag; mirrored ceiling, hourly rates available- you know the drill. An unmistakable smell: something like bingo night at the local retirement home. Sweet dreams…
Day2: We were dragged out of sleep at 7:00am to the soothing screech of a $10.00 digital alarm clock. The general feel of the "retro" hotel reminded me of a post war third-world nightmare…
It had snowed overnight, with about six inches accumulation on the ground. Traffic was heavy, with the street crossing to the Pennzoil shop for our oil change taking several minutes. The rest of the expedition group arrived shortly thereafter; however our cement-like gear oil from the overnight refrigeration made us one of the last trucks out of the shop. The typical four-hour "ten minute" oil change.
An entirely forgettable 5$ breakfast of ham and egg with cheese, while waiting for the group to finish their oil change and decaling, rounded out the morning's activities.
A very scenic drive over roads that give North Africa a run for its money culminated with a 110 running out of fuel on the roadside at -4F (and that's without the wind-chill); a frozen gas cap lock on the 110 made the experience complete.
The group arrived at the luxurious Hotel Forestall in Val D'Or - running water, clean sheets, minimal contagion content; this will be a restful night; a safe haven from the burden of our travels.
Dinner in the evening proved entertaining; however the hotel bar proved even more entertaining – the first night get to know our traveling companions over a fine single malt…
Day3: We drove a bit, ate a lot. Drive. Eat. Drive. Eat.
We stopped at Tim Horton's for key supplies, then drove for about an hour to Amos, Quebec, where a local festival was underway in our behalf (well, maybe not for our behalf), where snow tubing and dog sledding were the main attractions. Interestingly the festival was held on the grounds of the local cathedral. A curious contrast: 1920's Catholic Cathedral and mammoth inflatable green alien kid-bouncing attractions… One interesting attraction at the festival was the booth were yellow snow eating was encouraged - boiled maple syrup is poured into the snow, were it solidifies quickly into a wonderful tasting filling-removing adhesive (the local dentist was on hand to clean out wallets).
Later, we visited the local bistro for Bison burgers and drinks on the way back to our trusty steeds.
A few short and (fortunately) uneventful hours later we rolled into Matagami and stay at the luxurious Hotel Matagami. Our sprawling suite offered a breathtaking view of the Esso station across the street, and was fully equipped with indoor plumbing!
A few drinks in the bar, accompanied by an enthralling game of pool on the worst table yet seen on two continents, followed by a surprisingly tasty dinner in the hotel restaurant.
Day 4: This was the coldest morning so far.
We met for breakfast at 7:30am, and afterward, began the epic journey 400 miles to colder regions, but, not until we managed to get a group of five trucks lost in a one-street town. We stopped briefly to photograph a set of semi-frozen rapids running under an imposing bridge. At "381" (the only fuel/food stop on the way, and named for the distance in kilometers that you need to travel to get to it) we ate (again), and fuelled up with 5 minutes to spare- it seems they were closing the fuel pumps down, NOW.
A friendly, nomadic dog (who we named Rover) was happy to receive affection, yet refused the gift of a cookie from the cafeteria. We ate it, but he wouldn't. Do you think Rover knows something we don't?
Later, we saw several groups of Caribou in the road, which caused a serious risk to the group – it was dusk and difficult to see them until we were nearly upon them. We had to slow down, shut down the lights and we were then able to snap a few poor photos of the magnificent animals in their natural habitat.
We rolled into the town of Wemindji about an hour after the hotel closed, but fortunately, we were able to get our keys from the restaurant, but, unfortunately, no food.
In this small (I'm not sure if small really conveys it) community, the restaurant and motel provide significantly more limited service than the usual Holiday Inn. No problem; there is a ready supply of (slightly frozen) MREs to keep the crew fed. After a rather comprehensive, yet amusing 'training course' in the finer points to MRE preparation, the crew was ready to eat – well, let's say, the crew was willing to examine closely the contents of these nine year old meals, with an eye to possibly eating it. In our make-shift kitchen (AKA the bathroom), we were able to provide a delicious, high-carb, high cholesterol, high calorie (read: BOMB) dinner for the entire crew. Some of the items were a bit off, such as the "digestible" crackers, "chopped and formed beef steak with grill marks" and the ever popular "beef frankfurters". On a positive note, the nine-year-old MRE peaches actually tasted better then the "fresh" peaches we had with breakfast that morning; all-in-all, a wonderful meal. Well, the beer and scotch helped I think (a lot perhaps?)… How the hell do we win any wars eating this crap?!?
Continued...
James Bay tour February, 2006…
First, a bit of background… There was an odd noise from under the truck. This was to be expected as we were about to depart for a 3,000 mile trek into some of the coldest places accessible by wheeled vehicle. It seemed to be coming from the transmission area, but since it's merely a year old, there must be another answer. A few phone calls to the helpful folks up at Rovers North shed some light: it seemed possible the clutch arm is cracked; a fairy common problem with the R380 transmission. So, we order a pile of parts, drop the transmission two weeks prior to departure, replace everything that can be replaced, and find the odd noise remains; naturally. All the associated parts were tested and/or inspected, and seemed to be perfectly fine. The rear lower control arm was found to be loose at the axle while the wheel was re-installed, allowing an inordinate amount of movement at the rear pinion. This was causing a bad pinion angle (more on this later). We had scheduled a stop at Rovers North anyway, so perhaps an evaluation in person by the experts will shed some light on the cause of the mystery noise from below...
Day 0: The night before departure… I had driven up from Long Island where I had put in a typical eight-hour day. The two and-a-half hour drive up to Connecticut went without incident.
Arrival at the local brew pub was around eight PM, with a plan for a quick beer, then off to Mike's Home for packing of his items and an early bed night. Well, that was the plan; what actually happened started with leaving the pub a bit later than expected, and the packing/unpacking/repacking of the truck taking far longer than expected. Actual pillow contact was well after midnight.
Day 1: We awoke at 6:30 am, with a plan to depart at 7:30; therefore we were underway at 8:30, as expected. Breakfast at McDeath, and a quick stop to pick up a spare CB antenna and a quart of oil; OK then, all set.
We made reasonably good time, arriving at Rovers North at 12:30 PM to visit and investigate the odd sound that just wouldn't stop, regardless of how much money we threw at it. A lower control arm was replaced with an attractively priced used piece, and after the surgery was complete the rear universal joint was found to be completely devoid of needle bearings. I have honestly never seen a worse universal joint in a functional car before in my life (and I've seen some pretty scary ones). It seems the pinion angle was severe enough to destroy the universal joint in short order. Another few miles, and we would have been in a much worse situation- in rush-hour traffic on the Champlain Bridge for example…
The Canadian border went, well, poorly. The officer at the border was not impressed by Mike using his cell phone while I was being questioned: "Please park to the left and proceed into the building for a full cavity search" Oh, joy. A few uncomfortable minutes later, and we were underway again.
"Not far now" was heard a few too many times… The local Montreal police are very friendly, quickly assisting us when we inadvertently run through an invisible stop sign. Fortunately for us, they felt bad for us (we were, after all, driving a Land-Rover) and decided to let us go with a warning.
The navigation program, which sent us into a few too many U-turns, driving in the wrong direction: "now arriving at your destination" in front of Canada Tire; uh, NO we are NOT at our destination… We had sunk to a new low: we called the hotel for directions. Not a bad start at all. This should be an interesting week…
The hotel was a breathtaking structure. Built in about 1965, and never redecorated; the shower curtain reminded me of a trash bag; mirrored ceiling, hourly rates available- you know the drill. An unmistakable smell: something like bingo night at the local retirement home. Sweet dreams…
Day2: We were dragged out of sleep at 7:00am to the soothing screech of a $10.00 digital alarm clock. The general feel of the "retro" hotel reminded me of a post war third-world nightmare…
It had snowed overnight, with about six inches accumulation on the ground. Traffic was heavy, with the street crossing to the Pennzoil shop for our oil change taking several minutes. The rest of the expedition group arrived shortly thereafter; however our cement-like gear oil from the overnight refrigeration made us one of the last trucks out of the shop. The typical four-hour "ten minute" oil change.
An entirely forgettable 5$ breakfast of ham and egg with cheese, while waiting for the group to finish their oil change and decaling, rounded out the morning's activities.
A very scenic drive over roads that give North Africa a run for its money culminated with a 110 running out of fuel on the roadside at -4F (and that's without the wind-chill); a frozen gas cap lock on the 110 made the experience complete.
The group arrived at the luxurious Hotel Forestall in Val D'Or - running water, clean sheets, minimal contagion content; this will be a restful night; a safe haven from the burden of our travels.
Dinner in the evening proved entertaining; however the hotel bar proved even more entertaining – the first night get to know our traveling companions over a fine single malt…
Day3: We drove a bit, ate a lot. Drive. Eat. Drive. Eat.
We stopped at Tim Horton's for key supplies, then drove for about an hour to Amos, Quebec, where a local festival was underway in our behalf (well, maybe not for our behalf), where snow tubing and dog sledding were the main attractions. Interestingly the festival was held on the grounds of the local cathedral. A curious contrast: 1920's Catholic Cathedral and mammoth inflatable green alien kid-bouncing attractions… One interesting attraction at the festival was the booth were yellow snow eating was encouraged - boiled maple syrup is poured into the snow, were it solidifies quickly into a wonderful tasting filling-removing adhesive (the local dentist was on hand to clean out wallets).
Later, we visited the local bistro for Bison burgers and drinks on the way back to our trusty steeds.
A few short and (fortunately) uneventful hours later we rolled into Matagami and stay at the luxurious Hotel Matagami. Our sprawling suite offered a breathtaking view of the Esso station across the street, and was fully equipped with indoor plumbing!
A few drinks in the bar, accompanied by an enthralling game of pool on the worst table yet seen on two continents, followed by a surprisingly tasty dinner in the hotel restaurant.
Day 4: This was the coldest morning so far.
We met for breakfast at 7:30am, and afterward, began the epic journey 400 miles to colder regions, but, not until we managed to get a group of five trucks lost in a one-street town. We stopped briefly to photograph a set of semi-frozen rapids running under an imposing bridge. At "381" (the only fuel/food stop on the way, and named for the distance in kilometers that you need to travel to get to it) we ate (again), and fuelled up with 5 minutes to spare- it seems they were closing the fuel pumps down, NOW.
A friendly, nomadic dog (who we named Rover) was happy to receive affection, yet refused the gift of a cookie from the cafeteria. We ate it, but he wouldn't. Do you think Rover knows something we don't?
Later, we saw several groups of Caribou in the road, which caused a serious risk to the group – it was dusk and difficult to see them until we were nearly upon them. We had to slow down, shut down the lights and we were then able to snap a few poor photos of the magnificent animals in their natural habitat.
We rolled into the town of Wemindji about an hour after the hotel closed, but fortunately, we were able to get our keys from the restaurant, but, unfortunately, no food.
In this small (I'm not sure if small really conveys it) community, the restaurant and motel provide significantly more limited service than the usual Holiday Inn. No problem; there is a ready supply of (slightly frozen) MREs to keep the crew fed. After a rather comprehensive, yet amusing 'training course' in the finer points to MRE preparation, the crew was ready to eat – well, let's say, the crew was willing to examine closely the contents of these nine year old meals, with an eye to possibly eating it. In our make-shift kitchen (AKA the bathroom), we were able to provide a delicious, high-carb, high cholesterol, high calorie (read: BOMB) dinner for the entire crew. Some of the items were a bit off, such as the "digestible" crackers, "chopped and formed beef steak with grill marks" and the ever popular "beef frankfurters". On a positive note, the nine-year-old MRE peaches actually tasted better then the "fresh" peaches we had with breakfast that morning; all-in-all, a wonderful meal. Well, the beer and scotch helped I think (a lot perhaps?)… How the hell do we win any wars eating this crap?!?
Continued...