My truck now pulled a set of "A" trains. No one else wanted to pull doubles. The lead was a van, (cases, drums, pails, etc.) The pup was a tanker. (Special built to haul bulk grease, for the iron ore mills). During the delivery, the van was off loaded at the warehouse in Sept-iles, Quebec (7 islands). I would then pull the tanker over to a rail siding, and transfer the load to a tank car for delivery up to Labrador City. It was all owned by the Iron Ore Co. of Canada. The tank car would take 6 days to do a round. They screwed up one time, and forgot to hook up to the train. With no local storage available on site and no storage back in Toronto, because they formulated the load directly into the tank trailer.
Well all crap hit the fan. All these million dollar executives didn't have a clue. The train could never get to Labrador City before running out. The whole mill system runs with conveyor belts. No grease, no go. OLD BILL, to the rescue. (Who else but a truck driver could save the day?).
During that time, I had called the Texaco gas station back at Port Cartier, where I had the tanker engine serviced. The mechanic had a brother in Lab City, and he took the trail up past the Manic 5 Dam. He had thrown five spare wheels in the back of his old pickup, along with tools of the bush and a good food supply. It took him two days to finally get through to visit. It was barely passable, and he gave me some landmark directions to follow, in the event that I tried to get through.
I kept checking in with Toronto as well as the local branch, waiting for some genius management decision as to what they wanted to do. I wanted to try that trip; it would be another new exploring adventure. Finally it came down to my deciding, none of the others in management wanted to commit to a decision. I decided to go for it.
I took, the doubles back to Baie-Comeau, Quebec, I dropped the lead trailer at the local distributor, and hooked on to the pup and headed north. The first 150mi. was up and down hills like a yo-yo. But it was at least paved. It ended at MANIC 5 DAM. End of the line. I pulled up to the gate and the security wanted to know where I was going. I'm headed for Labrador City, an emergency load. The trail starts on the other side of the dam. You cannot cross over the dam with a truck, you have to go down in the valley and cross over a bridge, then up the other side. Ok, which way do I go? He sent an escort car to show me the way down to the river. It was paved 1/2 ways down then gravel. He left me there and said that I was on my own, goodbye and good luck. I almost didn't make it up the other side. It was loose stone and dirt, the wheels started to spin out, just like in snow. I locked up the differential on the fly, and began burning my way up. It was about 3 switchbacks in the climb. Making it over the top again, I headed for a big steel gate. I was to step out and wave at the camera up on a pole. I did so, and the gate opened, I waved thanks, and the camera nodded in return. I was on my way.
With Another 150/200mi. to go, I entered the world of bush roads and no roads. I went over creeks climbed hills at 4/10mph. Ran all night and went through a fly in fishing camp. They almost had a fit when they saw a tanker truck passing through the bush, with the clearance lights glowing in the black of night. I followed trails and home made signs.
I was warned about the town of Gagnon. It was a real shocker when I got there. The trail was rough and slow, ahead was a wall of granite. I stopped and the trail to the right seemed to run right into the bush and disappear. I made a left turn and was coming onto a paved road. I came around a slow curve and into town. It was just like in the 1950's science fiction movies. There were streets in order, as well as boulevards and paved, parking lots, and driveways. There was not a building anywhere. It was as if an atomic bomb went off and vaporized everything in sight. It was an eye opener, if I ever had one. Scary.
Apparently, the mines closed. The Quebec government chased everyone out of town, brought in a bunch of bulldozers. They went to work digging holes behind each building then pushing the buildings in and then cover them up. That way the government does not have to service the town.
I left Gagnon on an unexpected super paved highway, I could not believe it. I got the old girl cranked right out to the governor. It was about 10 miles when I seen a dark spot covering the road. I took it to be a shadow. On second thought, there were no hills or trees in this particular stretch. I slowed down and strained another look. Hell, it is a giant washout in the road. I got stopped about 50 feet before the hole. I got out and walked up and checked it out. From the right shoulder, to 3/4 of the way across the road, and about 20 feet wide, was nothing. It looked about 10 feet deep. Still, there was not a living soul anywhere. I was completely out of radio range, 2 ways and otherwise. There were about 4 or 5 feet of asphalt just floating in space. There was nothing underneath to support it. I checked it out for about 20 minutes, and then decided to squeeze around it. I'm committed now, so may as well try to finish what I started.
I proceeded in the bottom gear, crawling to within an inch of the left guard rail. I moved slowly, nonstop. It is a feeling of doom, that I had on the mountain cliff years ago, returning to me like it was yesterday. Looking out the passenger window, I could not see the bottom. Well seeing that I am here now, you know that I eventually made it through.
I got it rolling again, flat out. It was about 40 miles when there was another wall of granite in front of me, with an old crumbling cement silo off to the right. The beautiful paved road, just ended abruptly as it started. There used to be a mine there, Fire Lake.
There was a small homemade sign painted on the rock face. It looked like it was almost weathered off. It pointed to the left. I thought I would need a jeep to go over the rock face. I made it and it started to level out.
I came upon the rail tracks from the Port Cartier terminal, but no road trail. I was sitting up on a high ridge overlooking a valley. Away in the distance I could see a dust trail moving. It was just like in the movies, where you could not make it out, but it kept winding around and getting closer.
It disappeared for a moment, and then all of a sudden, along the edge of the railroad track, on the shoulder, roared an old beat up Oldsmobile station wagon. It stopped in front of me as he came over the tracks. What a sight, the thing was loaded, inside and up top. It included his wife and three kids, with a Newfoundlander dog, a big black monster.
He was the first person I had seen since the fishing camp the night before. He jumped out and right into a conversation. He wanted to know if there was any problem, getting through to the dam. I was interested in the same information behind him.
While we made the exchange of info, his wife and kids had gone ahead and set up a charcoal BBQ. The thing was going great guns before I even knew what happened. At the same time, one of the kids had opened two bottles of Dominion Beer and brought them to us. After spending a day, lost in the bush, it was quite a shock to have beer and lunch served, on the spot. I called it "Newfie, Super Service", it could not happen anywhere else.
We spent a good hour there exchanging information and feeding our faces, while chasing it down with cold beer. Apparently he was heading back to the island (Newfoundland), after quitting his four year job at the mine in Labrador City. The only way out is to fly, or load your car on the train, once a week. He was in a hurry and was not going to wait for the train. Another 4 days. He decided to take a chance and drive out.
He told me about a skinny old Bailey bridge I would have to cross, and to be careful. He almost ripped the bottom of his car out, and had to unload the family and half the load to clear the drop off the bridge.
We said our good-bys, and he was off in a cloud of dust. I crossed the tracks where he came over, and was running along the right side of the track. My left mirror arm was hanging right over the rail, while the left tires were just scrubbing the ties. On the right side, the truck was leaning away over to the edge, and it looked about 30 feet or so down to the muskeg. Ahead I could see a built out section of shoulder, to where I could swing out and make a turn to cross over the track again. It was about another 100 feet to go when I had the crap scared out of me. There was a 4 engine ore train coming up behind me. He spotted me and started blasting his horn. I made a run for the turnout and got there just as he would have hit me. With about a hundred or more ore cars, and coming around a blind curve, there would be no way he could stop. As he went by he hung out of the window, shaking his fist and giving me the proverbial finger.
After that, I got off the tracks and was drifting back into the bush, hoping that I was still on the right trail, and not some moose trail to nowhere.
After traveling for a couple more hours, I came up to the Bailey bridge that I was warned about. I stopped, got out and checked it over. The rise to the deck was too high. It had been washed out, and the low slung compartments on the tank trailer could not clear the approach.
There was a whole shore line of large rocks. I started to carry them up one at a time to fill in the gap to the bridge. I spent over an hour building up a ramp. Finally I got it sloped enough for the tanker to clear.
By this time it was starting to pour rain, and running on the rock and stone base was a slow crawling process. Finally, I had to pull over and grab a couple hours sleep. I was completely baffed out.
After my nap and 27 hours into the trip, I finally made it into the mine at Fermont. The roadway brought me into the mine property. I worked my way around the rail yard and the shops till I saw the main gate entrance. I pulled up and talked to the guard. I caught him totally unawares. He wanted to know where I came from, and how did I get onto the property. I explained to him, that I just came in from Toronto and was looking for the Iron Ore Company. He just stared in disbelief. He would not believe me. I showed him my Texaco ID from the Toronto plant, and even had to get him around to the front of the tractor to see my Ontario license plate. He was some shook up, and slowly, began to believe.
He gave me directions to the plant I was looking for. I pulled out of the gate onto a well paved highway system, which took some getting used to again. There were highways all over the place, but none to the outside world. You still had to get in by train.
The first unexpected sign that I came to was a large billboard, WELCOME TO LABRADOR.
The trip in, was not without its scary moment's. After all the trouble, and aggravation I went through, to get there and save their butts, I received the usual idiot stick management question, what took you so long? Need I say more? The hardest traveling this manager ever did, was to fly in and out and get paid for it.
POSTSCRIPT; --- My trip up to Labrador City almost twenty years ago, was very primitive as far as trucking goes. In the last few years, a road has been opened up from Manic 5 dam through to the Labrador border. Walter Muma, the author of many web sites, and traveler, documented a trip over the same trail as recently as the year 2000. He has described the trip in great detail, showing the distance markers as well as many photos. This road to Labrador may still look primitive to some, but it is a beautiful modern turnpike compared to when I first made the journey. Walters trip can be seen on his web site, (LEATHERWOOD TRAIL), click here and go direct, --- http://www.tlhwy.com/ ---
----------------- William (Diesel Gypsy) Weatherstone. RETURN TO STORY MENU