Arctic air and cold fog couldn’t stop this adventurer from his intended destination.

I’d left Happy Valley-Goose Bay in early evening. Staying indoors in town would have been preferable after three nights of roughing it, but on a little 250 you’ve got to make every mile that you can while the getting is good. I pointed the WR in a south-east direction and headed down the Route 510 section of the Trans-Labrador Highway.

I was heading to the coast; the terrain was opening up a bit, and when I rode over the massive bridges spanning river gorges, signage warned me this was Atlantic salmon country, and not to fish here without an appropriate licence. I soldiered on in the fading daylight, then was shocked to see it was nearly 10 p.m. This far north, in the mid-summer, you’ve got usable daylight very late into the evening.

Where to camp? I rejected possibilities as I rode by. One place was too close to roadside garbage bins, a sure magnet for bears. Another place had plenty of room to pull over but offered no trees big enough to sling my hammock. Finally, I spotted a decent-looking coppice of trees beside a good spot to park my bike; I launched the WR up the roadside embankment and promptly dumped the overloaded machine when I hit a patch of tricky rocks.

BOGS AND BUGS … AND BEARS?

I jumped clear of the bike in time and surveyed the situation. Dark was falling too fast for me to properly inspect the Yamaha. Time to sling my hammock — before I couldn’t see. I soon realized this location was more boggy than I’d realized while riding by, but there was nothing to be done about it; I slung the hammock and climbed inside. 

Zipping it shut, I realized in my horror that I’d enclosed dozens of bloodthirsty mosquitos inside with me. It seemed that I had inadvertently camped directly over their breeding grounds. I thrashed wildly, smashing them into smithereens before falling asleep, exhausted from the long day aboard a small single-cylinder bike … only to awaken to strange sounds in the night. 

Was a bear rummaging through my bike’s luggage, hoping to find a snack? I could not tell, and I wasn’t about to open the hammock to look, exposing myself to thousands of blood-sucking bugs. Besides, I had no bear spray if I did encounter a bear, and certainly no gun. I tossed and turned all night, wondering if I’d damaged the bike in the crash, with a bear stopping by to finish the job. Would my Trans-Lab trip come to an ignominious end here?

PROPER PREPARATION SAVED THE DAY

My Trans-Lab trip did not come to an ignominious end. A quick pre-flight inspection in the morning showed my bike was fine; my pre-trip preparation, including a massive rad guard, had probably saved me. No bears had stopped by, either. I rolled out, enduring more of the same sprinkly rain showers that had dogged me for days now…