(1957)
"Ontario's Pipeline on Wheels"
PART TWO, --- After settling in, the four of us were shuttled around town, showing us the location of the Husky Oil Co. asphalt plant as well as the loading procedures. The locations to whatever we might need when on our own. You had to be self sufficient on this job. After treating us to lunch, we were told that we are now ready for a hectic season. This was on Friday. We were given Saturday to do as we wish, but must be ready to roll on Sunday evening. In Ontario you could not run on Sunday. You had to shut down Saturday before midnight, and could not leave till 10:00 pm on Sunday night. No matter where you were.
The roads were pretty well all tore up and being reconstructed, or being built from scratch in new directions. Our territory was as far East as Cochran, Ontario. It was 500 miles of totally rotten construction and bush road, the worst, between Hearst and Long Lac. To the West we went out as far as 250 miles to Kenora, Ontario, near the Manitoba border. Then there was the new Lake Superior route. The old road went south along the lake shoreline, and used to end about 60 miles South of Nipigon, down at Schreiber. It was recently opened up to White Lake Narrows, where the road ended. Other construction was working its way north from Sault Ste. Marie, to meet up. The section southbound was being blasted through solid granite. You could see the flashes in the sky all night, through most of the summer.
Sunday night came along and my first load was down to White Lake Narrows. The first 60 miles to Nipigon was totally torn up, and you could hardly get going at all. I thought that my back would break in half. (No such thing as air seats, existed) There was a Husky Oil, truck stop at Nipigon that was open 24 hours a day. It had a bunk house there also, at 50 cents a night. No one had the luxury of sleeper cabs. If you were going to get stuck on the road over the Sunday shut down time, you automatically headed for the first Husky, to grab a bunk. After that you headed for the local bootlegger, so as not to be dry on your layover. There was not much else to do on Sunday, except if you wanted to, you could go out in the bush and do a little fishing, or chase after the Moose. Or to be chased by a Moose.
It was about 1:00 am, when I pulled out of the Husky Truck Stop, heading south to the Narrows. The road at this point was old and narrow with twists and turns like a pretzel. I was getting into some pretty good sized hills. The farther I went, the higher and steeper they came. Fully loaded, I was grossing just under 80,000 lbs. I only had a 205 Mack engine and a 5 X 3 (15 speed) transmission. The grade was getting so bad now that I was down to skipping the aux. trans and using the main only. (you couldn't split the two sticks fast enough). I got down so slow that you could get out and walk faster. At one point, I pulled out the throttle all the way, and let It go on it's own. I opened the door and stood out on the fuel tank, hanging onto the steering wheel, just to get away from the heat coming up through the floor. (Stupid, I know, but that was almost 1/2 a century ago.) Only one more gear to go then I would be S.O.L. I crawled along for what seemed to be forever. I hit a pot hole and the steering seemed to float freely. I was starting to get a little nervous. Where the hell is the top of this hill. Finally, I broke over the top and had to stop and let the engine cool down. It was going to be a long trip. The shutters would not open soon enough to let air flow through and cool the rad. I found a chunk of wood, and jammed it between the shutter slats, to keep them open. After that, I carried the stick and stuck it into the shutters just before heading into the hills. I made my way down past Terrace Bay, where they had dumped fresh sand on the new roadbed. The grader had it smoothed out, and looking good. Figuring that it could still be soft, I put it to the floor. I was about 3/4 of the way through the section but was sinking fast. She went down to the hubs and bogged down to a stop. All alone and early in the morning, all you can do is flake out and wait for the bulldozers to drag you out in the morning. This happened numerous times during the summer.
I finally made it down to the plant and got the load off. Running back empty, I was really making good time, sailing into a turn in a treed section, when this Moose ran out in front of me. It was getting dark again and starting to rain a bit. All I seen was two big eyes looking at me. I cranked the wheel towards the shoulder of the road and just clipped him on the snout, leaving snot marks all over my left front fender. He just stood there like a dummy, then turned and trotted off into the bush as if nothing happened. I finally got the knot out of my stomach, and checked to see if I had messed myself. Fortunately I didn't. The tractor had a single axle drive with a dead trailing axle. I was stuck again, and it was another hour before a truck came along and dragged me out.
After that episode, I thought that I had better bring along some survival gear. I started by picking up a 3/8 steel chain, 20 ft. long. An axe, a fishing pole, a couple cans of beans. I also had to get a 20 ton hydraulic jack with a couple sockets and a T bar, so as to be able to change my own flats. No service or phones in the bush. Before the summer was over we all ended up carrying three spare wheels. Those old bias tires just couldn't take the rock abuse. I have changed as many as the three in one trip. I got pretty good at it before long.
I finally finished my first trip. I pulled into the yard, expecting to go to my room and flake out for a few hours. While topping up my fuel tanks, dispatch came over and said to hurry up. Cochran was running low on product; get there as fast as you can. Well now, so much for my nap. Log books? What are they? The Americans invented them, but did not bother to share them with us. So, off again.
END PART TWO.
----------------- William (Diesel Gypsy) Weatherstone. RETURN TO STORY MENU