Feature: North to James Bay in a BMW X6 xDrive 35i

Story and photos by John LeBlanc Matagami, Que.–For more than 600 kilometres, the James Bay Road cuts a wide, two-lane swath of pavement without Draconian speed laws, stop-and-go traffic, clogged intersections, stop signs – or any of the other daily driving obstacles known as "modern civilization." Constructed in the early 1970s to transport workers and materials to build a massive hydroelectric project in northern Quebec, the road is a series of lengthy straightaways connected by fast sweeping curves. It's known as the longest service-free stretch of road in Canada, and the second-longest service-free stretch of road in North America, after the highway up to Alaska's Prudhoe Bay. To enthusiasts, however, interested in the freedom of open road driving, some consider it Canada's own Arcticbahn. To experience it for myself, I recently made a 3,000 km four-day round trip up and down the James Bay Road driving solo (with a side excursion to the eastern shores of James Bay itself) in BMW's new $63,900 X6 Sports Activity Vehicle – a sexier, four-seat version of the automaker's X5 midsize crossover. If you think a drive up to the Muskokas is "long," heads up: Just to get to the James Bay Road it's about a 930 km drive northeast of Toronto, or 670 km and eight hours of driving from where I started in Ottawa. Of course, the driving "freedom" on the Arcticbahn comes at a cost. Unlike Germany's high-speed autobahn, there are no communities or services between its southern access in the small town Matagami until its very end in Radisson, except for a fuel and food stop at the halfway point. Also missing: cellphone coverage, terrestrial radio, bed and breakfasts, spas, or ATMs. Maybe more worrisome for road food junkies, there are also no chip wagons, or drive-thrus for coffee, doughnuts, pizza or shwarma. There are a few billion trees, though, if nature does come calling. Just outside of Matagami, where Hwy 109 turns into the privately owned and maintained James Bay Road, I pulled over to the side at the "Km 0" marker to contemplate the day's task at hand: making it to Radisson for dinner. Just to make sure I'm heading in the right direction, I check my extensive navigation notes: 1) Start out going NORTH on JAMES BAY ROAD. 2) End at Radisson, Que. Estimated time: 8 hours, 22 minutes. Estimated distance: 629 kilometres. The view from the X6's windshield would become achingly familiar for the next two days: kilometres of empty two-lane bracketed by a constant treeline. At least I had plenty of confidence in the BMW's abilities. Unlike some of the masochistic bikers who attempt this trip, I really wasn't concerned about making it to the one and only fuel stop at Km 381, called Relais Routier. With a full tank of regular gas at $1.54 a litre – there's no premium octane, and the highest I would pay on this trip would be $1.67 for regular in Radisson –my modern, enclosed, air conditioned, AWD, super-duper-handling SUV's trip computer read 652 clicks until empty. In other words, there will be no hypermiling from here to my evening's hotel bed in Radisson. The posted speed limit on the Road is 100 km/h. But the first southbound pickup truck I encounter gallops by me about 40 per cent faster than that – at least. "Kilometre Six" on the Road is the 24-hour check-in point for all drivers heading north. It's a sort of safety net because of the remoteness of the road. Extending from the 49th to the 55th parallel, the municipality of James Bay is the largest in the world. It constitutes more than 350,000 square kilometres, yet is inhabited by only 21,000 Jamesian and 12,000 Cree natives. After I pass the sign-in, I don't come across another oncoming vehicle for 90 km. Some sections of the Road are so open, I can park the X6 right smack dab in the middle for photos without any concerns. With such little traffic and no crossroads, it's easy to imagine the Road as a closed racecourse. But the temptation to match the local's Grand Prix pace is tempered by the poor road conditions. Until around the 232 km marker, after crossing the Broadback River, the pavement struggles to cover the glacial leftovers from the Laurentide Ice Sheet. The potholes and washboard surfacing make it dangerous to drive at any speeds above 85 km/h. The really bad spots are marked with orange diamond markers on poles. The X6's short wheelbase, taut sports sedan-like suspension with 20-inch rubber band tires may not be the best match for such rough conditions. In one particular stretch, I learn that if you get the two front wheels of the X6 airborne, the ABS kicks in. Two hours into this much-anticipated drive, and I start to think, "What the hell? Am I going to have to hobbyhorse my way all the way to Radisson? I can get these lousy roads in Ottawa 12 months of the year!" But a lot of things can change along a route that's more than 600 km long. After the Broadback, the whoop-de-doos stop whooping, and the potholes and cracks are replaced with smoother tarmac. The driver concentration required to constantly dodge road imperfections like waves on a Sea-Doo isn't necessary anymore. As quickly as the trees whizzing by the X6's windows, the Road starts to live up to its Arcticbahn legend. In these conditions, outside the confines of urban driving, it's easy to drive here as fast the road allows. In the BMW, that means stretches – and I mean tens of kilometres here – cruising around 140 km/h. Effortlessly. Just like the engineers in Munich and the driving gods had intended. At these speeds, distances are covered quickly. Hey, I may actually make it to Radisson and not have to sleep in the back of the Bimmer after all. But then, there's a change in the weather. By the time I reach Relais Routier, the previously non-threatening dark clouds are now emptying their contents. Heavily. Even with about one third left in the X6's tank, I fill up for safety's sake and feel badly for the two-wheeled riders parked outside the Relais Routier's cafeteria building waiting for the deluge to let up. Then I tweak the lumbar support in my seat and search for something fresh on my iPod. I remember someone smarter than me once saying, "Any fool can be uncomfortable." Back on the Road, the downpour acts as a speed limiter, which is just as well. Despite the best efforts of the BMW's sophisticated electronic nannies, the X6's fat performance rubber is starting to aquaplane over the rivers of water forming in the ruts created by more than 40 years of tractor-trailer traffic. Of course, that doesn't stop me from passing one of the bikers in a waterfall of rain a few clicks down the road. Enjoy the weather, fella ... The remaining 224 km to Radisson remains wet, until the last 50 clicks or so. Like flocks of migrating Canadian geese in V formations, the giant hydro power lines from all directions start to converge, pointing the way to the end of the Road in Radisson. That's where the Robert Bourassa power station sends electricity so you can keep your beer cold or watch the Blue Jays lose another game on TV. Traffic (if you can call coming across two vehicles in 30 minutes "traffic") is mainly made up of Quebec Hydro service trucks here. Most of which will stay in the same white-collar prison I will tonight, a.k.a. Auberge Radisson. Before the return drive to Matagami and then eventually home, I'll take the opportunity to check out the La Grande 1 hydro dam located on the road to Chisasibi, where the Rupert River empties in to James Bay, and eventually the Arctic Ocean. But for the evening, I'm revelling in the experience of being able to drive all day unfettered by urban traffic conditions. A rare treat for this city boy. And according to the X6's trip computer, at a rate of 14.7 L/100 km, it only took me 5 hours, 44 minutes to get from Matagami to Radisson. You do the math ...

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