Sunday November 11, 2018 (full photo album here)
A historic, portentous day. Both for me (as I woke up after the tail end of a snowstorm rendering rough roads nigh impassable as it was snowing) and for the world, as it was the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day. The truck was my first omen of the weather and roads ahead of me:
The second omen of the day, slightly less positive, was recognizing that in my hurry to pack and leave for the trip, I had a total of zero (0) snowbrush with me. And over 4 inches of snow on the truck. So: off to the continental breakfast area to start off with a free meal (and an unwelcome dosing of news of a certain President and the varied angry riling-up of people at his choices about the California wildfires and whatever other garrulous mutterings of the moment). I reaffirmed both my love for free breakfast and my intense, stomach-churning distaste for the way the world has become in reporting stories and goings-on.
I was able to borrow a push-broom from the hotel staff for the express purposes of cleaning off my truck (the desk clerk nearly passed out in shock at my reporting having driven to Happy Valley in November without a snow brush). I hiked back over, got the truck started and the small glacier of snow and ice removed, a layer at a time (another ill omen – scraping ice with the tiny backup handheld scraper). Being my father’s son, I am fairly obsessive about this task, to clean off every iota of snow before departing on the road – to minimize snow blowing up off the hood, to keep the lights clear and visible, and to avoid any noisy non-aerodynamic formations of snow. This I did and then checked out, giving them back a sodden push broom and my thanks.
My obsessive cleaning turned out to be a wise choice – the snow had not quite stopped, and I was immediately upon unplowed AND unpaved roads. With intermittent white-out conditions, and a few gusts of wind sufficiently zesty to push or pull the truck. Can’t imagine what that looks like? You don’t have to:
Are you thinking “well wait, where is the road, versus the grass, versus the turns and curves ahead in the trees?” Those are damned fine questions, my friends – I shared them all the live-long day. White-out conditions, meet white knuckles.
Slippery, wildly hazardous conditions, and almost no one else crazy enough to drive. I dunno – maybe none of THEM had a plane to Iqaluit to catch in a few days? Weirdos!
I settled in, cranking up the excellent Dune audiobook and enjoying that tale as I went. More than once, my heavy and planted truck skidded or slid along a corner as my tires were well beyond their useful lifespan – but that Titan was not going to be stopped by mere “completely dangerous driving conditions” of course.
After another of the interminable dancing frenzy of snowdrifts cleared, I saw a sign for Churchill Falls ahead – some time later, several chapters of Dune hence, and another furious tornado of snow parted to reveal the tiny Churchill Falls itself. I stopped to refuel and for “lunch” – Armistice Day sees most Canadian businesses closed, and the remote Labrador city in front of me was no exception. I settled for a freeze-dried meal of granola plus two bags of white cheddar popcorn purchased on site at the gas station in time – yum.
Nowhere close to done for the day, I resolved to make it to the capital, Labrador City. The temperature had dropped to 16 degrees F before wind-chill, and the wind was enough to see it drop below 0 easily. This fact melded with “Eastern Canada = ESPECIALLY closed on Armistice Day, beyond normal levels of fall/winter closure”… I was certain that my night would see me sleeping at a hotel.
Darkness was beginning to fall, and was the road improving? Survey says…
… no. Hard no.
So it goes. Eventually, my rolling headquarters arrived at Labrador’s headquarters, and I made use of the resumption of cellular coverage to search for hotel options. Very unfortunately for me, the only source of food was McDonald’s so I had an unsatisfying meal at the edge of town. Finished, I headed inwards and got a room at the only hotel which had a space – the Two Seasons Inn. I parked and slowly walked inside, exhausted, and after holding the door for an (atypically) scowling Canadian fellow, I discovered the source of his ire: a poster board.
More specifically: a poster board indicating that the hydroelectric dam servicing the town would need to be taken offline from 12-6am, and that meant that all power would be out, including the electric heaters in the hotel. Awesome!
I talked my way into a discount on the soon-to-be-chilly stay (and learned that a huge hockey tournament had ended the night before so the hotels were all still full up from visitors). I bundled up, cranked the heat too high, and got the room ready for the frost cocoon I would be sleeping in. A hot shower and I was ready to fall asleep very quickly indeed.
Even with all the rather dangerous driving behind me, I had fallen in love with the terrain of the Trans-Labrador Highway. It was going to be difficult to depart it the next day (mind you, after a bunch of hours of driving through remote Quebec).
Prior to losing power, I lost consciousness in my insulating swaddling. That was just fine by me.
A Jaunt Around the States 