Day 9: February 22, 2001

We’re nearing the end of our trip, but our little adventure continues. It was relatively balmy this morning, only –20 to –25 below Celsius, so Mickey’s truck started up a lot quicker than previously. The motel we were in was run by a very interesting fellow, a French-speaking man from New Brunswick (Canada, not New Jersey), who had stints in Saudi Arabia and other places before settling the last several years on the reservation town of Nemaska. To me it seemed, when I saw him for the first time, a "Dr. Livingston, I presume" sort of situation. He seemed sort of out of place being a world-travelling professional chef (not to mention a Blues aficionado) in the administrative center of the Cree Nation.

Our chef was in a bit of a pickle however, as the stove was on the fritz. We had to "make do" with a fantastic fruit and cheese platter before packing all our gear back into the vehicles, take pictures and shove off. Ahh, but only if it were that easy. We usually start off the day by filling up at a gas station before the long haul. Mickey decided that as he was last in line, he’d go across the street to get some more air in his tires, one of which was experiencing problems the afternoon before.

When it was done, Ted, myself and one of the locals noticed a loud hiss coming from the tire. Uh, oh, it would seem we have yet another slight delay…

The local guys at the garage were very friendly, and offered us use of one of the bays for changing the tire. We all talked about where we came from, various other questions about the Discos and about our trip in general. We thanked them when we were done and went on our way.

The drive to Chibougamau was just over 300 km from Nemaska, so we knew there was some time to kill – a relatively leisurely drive, as far as this trip is concerned. Someone in town suggested we take in the rapids on the Rupert, a river we stopped at on the way up, but many kilometers away. We came upon it so fast that we passed the bridge up entirely and had to turn around, but the sight was quite spectacular, and we remained there for almost 20 minutes photographing it from every conceivable angle.

Within 20 km of our destination, Michel found a nice little turnoff into a highway maintenance yard of some kind, and we stopped there for a group shot and some fun in the snow. Getting back on the highway, the traffic increased steadily as we neared Chibougamau, a town of some 2000-odd souls. Michel informed us that in Quebec, the equivalent of "middle of nowhere" or "bumfuck" is Chibougamau. So, here we were, in the middle of nowhere – but it was the biggest town we’d seen in days, so we felt a little closed in.

The first stop was an auto glass shop where Mickey’s multiple stone holes could be repaired, during which we waited out the time drinking beer (for the first time in ages!) and having snacks. Mary and Ted took in the local Army surplus store to add to their massive collection of cold-weather gear (which now, knowing the cold, we can’t blame them a single bit). As the rest of us sat around in the greasy spoon, we caught another glimpse of civilization in the form of an all-news station which informed us Washingtonians that we were hit with a "massive" snowstorm of 2 inches. It apparently caused several major accidents and essentially has shut down the mid-Atlantic. Ahh, if they only knew what a real winter was like.

Winter in Quebec is, by the way, quite beautiful. As it is extremely cold from something like September to March or April, the snow never melts, but just gets packed down, pushed aside, or sits where it fell until the thaw. Everything that stays put for any length of time gets covered in snow: rooftops, trees, roads and, well, everything! It blankets the entire landscape for months in brilliant white, requiring at times sunglasses even on cloudy days. And it snows very often, nothing like snow in D.C., which is considered almost special. Here it seems that no evening is complete without a dusting of some kind once the sun goes down – especially near James Bay, where the wind picks up and the temperatures drop astonishing degrees on already cold days.

After the windshield was repaired, we took some time looking at a number of shops and then took dinner at the Hotel Chibougamau. Not bad, considering what a little town it was, but certainly puffed with aspirations. We retired in our little dump of a motel, reflecting on our excellent time together and the interesting characters we met. Plans are being made as I type to head home our various ways. Mickey and I are going to meet some friends at a resort in Vermont.

It’s been a fantastic trip, and as this is our last transmission, I’d like to thank Ted and Mary, Cindy and Michel, and Mickey (my fellow "Statesman") for nearly two weeks of fun and adventure. We’re already talking a return trip, this time to an even colder location. You think –40C is cold, how about nearly –70? Yellowknife, look out: here we come!

T.J.