The same road... in reverse

After an evening spent listening to the heavy rain falling and hitting the doors and windows, and seeing it go under the door and form a nice puddle, it was time to get back on the road. Opening the door, I could see that it wasn't going to be warm, not only by the arrival of cold air it caused, but by seeing the mist that dominated the world.

Cela se voit mieux live!

So I went to load the bike and... check my pressure. Indeed, after putting the luggage in place, the front wheel seemed less "big" than yesterday. I took the pressure and, indeed, it was missing 0.4 kPa (approximately). However, the tire is fine, no nails, no holes, nothing! So I take out my compressor and add air. This is going through my head, telling myself that I will have to stop very regularly to monitor this. I return my key to the motel, then set off with this still in mind: a loss of 0.4 during the night, but the tire seems fine. I ride for about fifteen minutes then stop, check my tire which is very hard. I take the pressure again and say to myself, damn, what exactly did I put in? Yes, it happens that you are no longer certain. But the fact remains that I don't think it has lost air. I set off again, stopped 15 minutes later, tested the tire... still as hard. I set off again and this time I waited half an hour and checked the pressure again... and there, confirmation of what I thought. After about 80 km, my tire had finally slightly increased in temperature and the pressure had also increased slightly! So what I thought seemed to be correct. During my incident, I had checked my pressure the day before, at 27 or 29 degrees (in short, hot), but the morning of my departure, it was 6 or 7 degrees, 20 degrees less than the day before! And since the tire is quite thin, the air volume is not enormous and is more sensitive to temperature (contraction and expansion of gases depending on the temperature). So, that day, I left with a low-pressure tire that was never able to warm up because it was raining and which took the most brutal part of Billy Diamond. Result: micro air losses, because the tire became too malleable (undetectable because the road is really bad), which ended up with the tire separating from the rim and the sudden loss of pressure and my direction. It's just logical. Moral: always check the pressure just before leaving!

I rode the rest of the day, and my blood pressure didn't change one iota! I'll check it again tomorrow, though.

So I retraced my steps, driving 381 km to find myself in Matagami at this point:

Il n’y a pas le « bienvenue » qui est sur l’autre face.

I went to see the lady again to tell her I was passing by. It wasn't the same lady as on the way there, but still just as kind, and she told me it was "a pain, mosquito season has started," which I can confirm. As soon as you stop, there's a swarm of mosquitoes and small black flies that cling to you and just want to drain your blood or take a bite. Oh yes, they manage to get under your helmet!

Once I'd filled up the tank, I continued on my way to get lost on the 109. Get lost... in my head, because this road is a succession of endless straight lines with a scenery that barely changes. It's pleasant and meditative, but for finding something to write about, it's really not ideal.

And here I am, arriving at my destination after 570 km and 6 hours and 35 minutes in the saddle.

Merci :)