I would also like to add that the patrons in KM31 thought we were crazy to be riding under those conditions. The Canadian I spoke with at the door had been there all day and was waiting till the next day to ride.
Ok, I will take Day 1 since other members handled all of the other riding that was done. Let the record show that #5 led the day of the most miles ridden on this year's trip (Day 2). Day 1 has a great story to tell to start the trip off.
A Prelude: Having driven all the way to the once elusive destination of Jonquiere we arrived at the HI on Sunday evening with much time to spare. #'s 2, 3, 99 and 388 decided to unload the machines from the 4-place and park them in the highly secure swimming pool area to be ready to strike out at first light. #7 and I decided to do the same because we were unsure if unloading in the morning would cause more of a delay and didn't want to be different from the others. We settled into the rooms and headed down to visit Seg Bill and drink a toast to where we were and to another successful Quebec Trip! #99 made a call and had 3 rooms waiting at a relais about 100 miles away in the mountains. We couldn't wait to get started!
It was the best of times and it was the worst of times... Up and at 'em, bags packed and headed down to the corral. I walked out into a malestrom of a wicked wind driven rain and couldn't quite comprehend what I was looking at. Other members were already smashing and bashing the more than 1/4" thick solid sheet of ice that completely encased everything. With brittle hands we got the sleds unlocked and started firing up the engines.
A blessing in disguise, but not really: As it turns out, the wind was actually carrying in warmer air, so the as the ice was smashed away it exposed relatively dry equipment. This procedure was unexpected but was progressing steadily when something very crazy and scary befell one of the members.
The calm before the storm: #388 was parked just to my right and was perched at the top of a small (1.5 feet) drop off just above maybe a half dozen other sleds below. There was a small (3 foot wide) walk cleared to the hotel entrance. He was dutifully smashing ice from his handlebar controls when lightning struck. Now the sound of #388's exhaust system is quite impressive. It is throaty and crisp, but most importantly, it is a beacon that announces 150 Horses are about to be unleashed. These dual pipes were only inches to my right but I was also industriously working to free my machine from the H2O in its solid state.
Someone stop that sled! All at once I heard the Apex revs climb to what I knew with no doubt to be a clutch engaging level. We have all experienced times when we realize just how fast the human brain works (even after too many drinks the night before). The first thought was surprise that #388 was already finished clearing his sled of ice. The second was that #388 had decided actually pull forward and over the drop out of the parking area. After all, I had just walked that way and didn't realize there was even enough room to manuever a sled that way. But by this time a third thought had already taken over - that sure is A LOT of throttle to apply in such a small little space. This is about the time my head was coming around to behold the horror. #388's sled engaged and leapt forward as if on the Dash for Cash starting line. Without hesitation #388 himself dove, quite like Superman, onto his departing machine and swung for the kill switch. I've never actually seen an incident where the big red easily accessible kill switch was necessary to kill the motor. It took two swings of the Sarge's rather large mitt to stop the onslaught.
The dust settles: The Apex RTX was on it's side with #388 laying completely outstretched on top of it. Not moving. After a moment of shock, we all ran to help. #388 seemed ok and we righted the machine back to rubber side (not to mention the 168 carbide tipped daggers) down. The assessment was astonishing. No damage to his machine or the other 3 or 4 he moved past in the air. Just a small tear in his snow pants from his valiant leap. Uncanny is the only way to describe it.
Let's ride: Believing the worst was now behind us, we set out to the north in search of elevation, and snow. We rode out of the city and the rain stopped. The trails were not bad at all and the 2010 WPR contingency rode with style and grace. I can't say who led as I was pulling up the rear but I believe it was mostly #3 with #2 helping to guide. I could hear #388 chiming in with GPS support as well. We first went west I believe and then north. Over the frozen river and north again. Then east. There was one area that was flat as a pancake as far as the eye could see with the beautiful Valin Mountain range rising up majestically in front and to our right. I recalled this to be the 5 mile potato field Seg Bill talked about when describing our way out the night before. The wind was so powerful you literally had to steer to right just to keep going straight. It was impressive.
Arrival at elevation: As we climbed the conditions got better, although I was a little surprised at the poor grooming. I realize there wasn't a lot of snow but I had never ridden bumps like this this far north. We were headed to Auberge 31 out on TQ93. We rode to our favorite old hangout, the Passion, and gassed up for the final leg of the ride. The rain was appearantly chasing us all day and finally caught up as the air temp rose drastically. Our leader had timed it perfectly so we were pulling into the relais just as the rain became harder and steady. We lined up the sleds and headed in to eat and get dry - but based on the size of the place, the number of sleds and the impending weather, nobody took off their saddlebags. Hmmm...
KM versus Milles: Just another reason that two nomenclature conventions sucks. As we later came to understand, #99 had booked rooms about 300 miles to the west at a place named by the same number 31, but Milles, not KM. There were 6 of us and only room for 4. We sat down to eat and the rain outside came down in sheets. It was an absolute deluge. We ate with smirks on our faces wondering what was about to happen to us. The poutin was going down hard.
An old friend... Once again, we couldn't help but feel that someone was looking down on us as we suited up the rain seemed to abate for us. #99 had called ahead and had learned of small cabins back at Passion that could accommodate us. We arrived right at nightfall. For old times sake, we ate at the ski area restaurant. The next night we would find Vincent at the Passion. It took us a few years, but we finally figured out the reason this area is so nice, much classier than normal snowmobile digs, was not just because this was a ski resort area, but also a thriving gay community. Ogunquit and P-town have nothing on this place. But how we found that out will remain a sworn secret among the 6 that were there. #10, since you left me high and dry this year, be aware I have found a new partner. Sorry.
I just want to take this opportunity to say on the record that riding with this crew is really great. I like this club a lot and the members are fun and easy to get along with. With all the adversity that beset us on this trip, we stayed a tight knit group and still managed to find fun all the time. Patience was tested and frustration was held at bay at times. But in the end it was another great trip. Made more so by the friendship and riding experience which is this group's trademark. I personally want to say thank you to everyone for another successful annual club trip and that I am grateful to be included among your members. It was heart-warming to see everything put aside and how we all rallied together at one members stressful news and a time to act as one.
Well done WPR Riders and there's still lots of winter left in 2010!!! See you on the trail!!!
