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It was overcast, cold but not actually raining this morning. Up and out by 7:00am, inhaled some breakfast and got on the road. Alone. No-one going my way today it seems. Need plenty of time to negotiate this stuff. I was counting on my training on the Alaska Pipeline Haul Road last year -- and it did come in handy. This wasn't so cold, or so sticky. The mud was more negotiable, and the hills not so steep or long. I drove standing in the pegs for the full 100 km of gravel/mud -- the bike is much more stable and controllable this way. I do love German Engineering. The machine never hesitated. Only the driver. Not a house, not a clearing in the forest, until the end of the sticky part. The start of the pavement signals a complete change of mood. All of a sudden there's a rest stop with trucks and sun. OK. Nice to know for next time.
The second part, 110 km of paved road, was a delicacy. The sun held and the run was perfect. Then we hit an iron mine at Fire Lake, and the gravel started again. It was easier this time.
It had been drying all day. There were few elevation changes. We switch- backed over the railroad again and again, even passed an iron ore train headed east, and then in the distance I saw it: a mountain with the edge sawn off. I was sure it was the Mont-Wright iron ore mine, but it took another hour to get there. One's arrival at the mine is announced by a stream of red water running across the road. Straight out of Edward Burtynsky, the Canadian photographer of destroyed landscapes. A little further on, the scene improved (photographically speaking): across the railroad lines a huge red lake opened up, with the black factory turrets, tubes and smoke on the far shore, and the ravaged hillside rising as a backdrop. Jump off the bike, climb the tracks, and shoot. Then a train added itself to the photo. Doesn't get much better...
A little further on I came to the French Canadian town of Fermont -- the man-camp for the mine. Built like the Prudhoe Bay outpost, it is meant to provide shelter for the extreme winter temperatures they suffer up here. Everything is lumped into one big building -- hotel, restauraunt,
grocery store, post office, tourist office, hair dresser and so on. No efforts at light, or aesthetics. I guess in winter its always dark, so the light comes from within the building. The monument at the town park is an old monster iron ore mover with wheels the diameter of a Cadillac Escalade. Again, Canadian statues honor the practical, vs the aesthetic or the political. Like the river logger in Quebec City. I kind of like it.
It is only a few kilometers from Fermont to the province of Newfoundland and Labrador, and the town of Labrador City. But the cultural distance between the two towns is huge. Fermont is growing and vibrant, centralized in its big all inclusive building. They seem to have absorbed all the service needs for the iron ore mine. Labrador City seems to exist in a separate world, and was waiting for the possible reactivation of its Wabush iron mine. It is more scattered and decentralized than Fermont -- individual buildings house the hotel and shops. There was even a self-standing Walmart with Mall attached. One hotel had closed, and the place I stayed in complained of a terrible season last year. This year
is better though.
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Rick jones
non-member comment
While I admire your adventurness and the photos are wonderful, I remain convinced u have odd ideas about fun! Hsppy riding!