Day Three: February, 16, 2001

The day starts early with a tepid shower, an 8am (Land Rover standard time) breakfast and 600 km to cover. We hit the road at 9am for a gas fill up and a squeegee joust between the women of the expedition: A little bit of fun before we stare at whiteness for hours.

No more than 2 km out of town, shortly after a near collision with two Ptarmigans which decided to fly over, like most locals, for closer inspection, we notice a recently ran over lynx and its mate watching from the side of the road, as a local man was taking in the scene. As we drive by, the convoy seems to distract the surviving lynx and it disappears into the trees, as the native man, still motionless, continues to smile and focus on the empty spot where the animal used to stand. This entire scene was pleasantly surprising as the 1999 expedition taught us to expect nothing but hours of snowy roads.

We nearly explained these rather unusual scenes to coincidence as two more hours of snowy road passed us by, when, as if taking shape in the very spot on the side of the road amidst the white-outs, stands the old man from Scene 24 apparently plucking the feathers off an unidentified fatty bird--probably a Ptarmigan. He pulls out a handful of feathers with one hand, holding the bird with the other, and ceremoniously strews the plucked feathers onto the road�s shoulder, allowing the wind to disperse them randomly on the snow-covered asphalt. Some swear his eyes glowed in the act as he stared at the three Disco�s driving by, which was, admittedly, probably rarer a sight to him than the sowing of feathers.

[editor�s note. Mary claim she saw a bull mounting a cow on the side of the road but decided not to take a picture, nor, moreover, let any of us know]

What good would a road in Northern Quebec be with out a parade of gargantuan lumber trucks trying to run you off the road? (for those who don�t know, the answer is "no") As a matter of course, then, the next hour and a half of the trip was us evading these, and the snow storms that followed them as they kicked up the snow from the road and banks. These encounters become increasingly rare as we go further north and the trees shrink with the northerner climate, and we are alone again crossing the bridge over the Riviere de Rupert. The view of the bridge was almost as stunning as the few of the Rupert river rapids from the bridge, steaming as the water rushes down the rocks between the snowy banks.

[editor�s note: The discos� wheels did not turn square in the cold. Mary is very thankful.]

km 381. First filling station since we left (375 km without services), manned by a rather pleasant old fellow who looked the part of a relay filling station attendant�short with gray hair, a scraggy mustache and very few words. Gas here was $.942 Canadian a liter, and a very plain, terrible hot dog at the cafeteria frequented mostly by logging truckers was $2.65. Crepes were wonderful, as was the Poutine. Poutine is essentially chilli-cheese fries, except with gravy instead of chili--but if anyone local, Canadian, or French reads this the locals will hunt us down. Admittedly, the stuff is pretty good and it will kill you with two forksful.

Between most of this discussion, the views were some of the best we�ve seen so far. We�re finally waking up so we can now drive a straight line, though the roads are getting more and more icy and the yellow dividing line is less and less evident. The sunset behind some of the few but dramatic hills was probably the highlight of the evening, about 45 minutes outside Radisson. Mary felt an experience. Everyone was falling asleep and mickey�s very bad jokes did not help any.

All in all, a very good day�a work day for sure, but the vistas were unsurpassable, and the hours of driving between these notwithstanding, we now can almost taste the Caribou.

Upon discussion with our host at the Carrefour La Grande, we discover that the caribou�s have started migrating north east, because of the low level of snow accumulation, they can eat pretty well anywhere. He thinks we may be a week to late to catch the heard, but we will see tomorrow when we get to LG4. Oh yeah, and it�s �33 C tonight, without the wind chill�