Miles so far= 1232
The
trepidation I felt increased as we approached Rayleigh and the
Pistolet Bay Camp-ground. What would I find? Would the 'bike start?
Were there any broken parts that were un-salvageable with the tools I
carried? Was there a motorcycle dealer in Newfoundland even? I
thanked and paid the old rustic taxi driver and walked to the Ranger
Station with more confidence than I was feeling on the inside. Having
thanked him and his colleagues profusely, we walked around to the
back of the shed, and there was Christine all battered and sorry
looking. I did a quick scan of her, the wind-shield was broken, one
hand guard almost totally missing, the right side of the fairing
badly broken and the orange indicator lens missing. Not too bad then!
The engine crash bars had kept most of the damage away from the power
plant, and the wheels looked OK but I'd need to check those later. I
swung my leg over the saddle, lifted my left hand onto the hand grip,
and with my right hand turned the key. The binnacle ignition light
came on, that was a relief. The green neutral light was showing so I
pushed the starter button with a silent prayer and she burst into
life. Thank God! The Ranger seemed as pleased as I was, although he
really couldn't have been. Anyway, we went back to the office leaving
Christine ticking over. I thought I'd better book a couple of nights,
that would give the rest of this day and all of the next to make good
and check all was well beyond the cosmetic damage. The Park Ranger
said they had struck my tent and collected up all my gear which was
now in a walk-in cupboard at the back of the office. He suggested
that it might be easier for me to let them bring it over to me in the
4x4 and for that I was grateful as I was unsure how I could handle
the bike with no feeling or strength in my left arm. Getting astride
the 'bike again I noticed that the foot gear change lever was bent
inwards and difficult to operate, something else to fix then. The
ride to my plot along the loose gravel road was very nerve racking, I
kept thinking, 'Don't be a sissy, just do it! And don't
fall off!' But I made it OK, and sat looking at the damage while
awaiting the park 4x4 to arrive with my stuff. They kindly helped me
erect the tent and I went about sorting out my housekeeping, (tent
keeping?), all the time with one eye on the bike longing to get stuck
in to repairing it, but aware that until I had a secure base it would
be silly to start.
Now
my bedding, clothes and cooking gear were all accounted for and laid
out I laid out my tool kit and went to work. First I removed the
broken shards of the right hand guard, then the left one which was
cracked, I thought they would have stood up to the smack they got,
but I guess they were only there to protect my hands from off road
branches and twigs. Surprisingly my hands were not injured in any
way, but I was wearing heavy motorcycle gloves with carbon fibre
knuckle protectors and inserts. The same goes for my motorcycle
jacket, trousers, helmet and boots, all were high specification and
protected me well. I believe the damage to my spinal cord was done as
I hit the rocks and my head was twisted violently to the side. So on
with the repairs, the foot leaver for the gear shift was next off
and, using a boulder as an anvil, I hammered it square again. The
Rangers had picked up the three main parts of the shattered fairing
and only a couple of very small chips were missing. Now I knew it was
made from thermal plastic and almost impossible to glue or even take
a fibre-glass bandage. So what I did was take my small screwdriver
and heated it over my cooking stove, then pushed it into the plastic
about 1cm from the edge of the break line, and melted a small hole
through the plastic. I offered up the mating part and melted another
hole on that, directly opposite to the first one. Then I threaded a
small Ty-wrap though the holes and cinched it up. Not easy with one
lifeless arm. Another couple of cm up I did the same and 'stitched'
the parts together. Then I got my crosshead screwdriver and heated
that up and melted small Xs along the seams. Finally I got out my
gaffa tape and taped along over the seams, all in all it was a sturdy
job, even if I do say so myself, and went far better than I had any
right to expect. This procedure had taken all that afternoon and most
of the next day, so I was pleased to see it completed, I even managed
to glue the turn indicator lens back together which I had found
amongst the bits of plastic the Rangers had picked up off the road.
Now
I just needed to pore over my maps and figure out what to do next.
With the news last week about the loose gravel and road grading going
on in Labrador, was it really only a week ago; how things can change;
I knew I could never manage a thousand miles of gravel road that
traversed the wilderness of the northern tundra that was Labrador,
and it would be stupid to try. Heck, I wasn't even certain I could
keep in a straight line on a paved highway!
I
decided to travel back to Nova Scotia and then through New Brunswick
to cross the St. Lawrence Seaway and that would bring me just about
where I would have come out anyway. Also I would regain the time I
had lost and maybe I could find a motorcycle dealer to give the bike
a once over to make sure nothing was twisted or stained. With all
sorts of demons poking me with 'what ifs?' I went to sleep thinking
that tomorrow would be a proving time for both me and the 'bike.
Next:
Back to Port aux Basques.
Miles at end of day= 1232
(PS. I will add some pictures later but my photo editor is not working just at the moment.)
