Monthly Archives: December 2014

Roadster, redux

The Tesla Roadster (2008-2012) will soon benefit from an upgrade package that will give it 400 miles of range (Image: Tesla Motors)

The Tesla Roadster (2008-2012) will soon benefit from an upgrade package that will give it 400 miles of range (Image: Tesla Motors)

Tesla Motors’ first vehicle – the simply-named Roadster – was a ground breaking vehicle when it hit the market in 2008.

Based on a carbon fibre Lotus bodyshell, the all-electric Roadster was a pocket rocket that astounded motorists and auto journalists alike with its neck-snapping acceleration and handling, smashing pre-conceived notions of what an electric car could be.

Tesla hasn’t forgotten that first car, which stopped production in 2012 after the company’s initial order of 2,500 Lotus bodies ran out. On Dec. 26, the company announced an upgrade package for remaining Roadsters, designed to give the vehicles a greatly enhanced range and a new lease on life.

Tesla will demonstrate the Roadster 3.0 Package with a Frisco to L.A. cruise in January (Image: Tesla Motors)

Tesla will demonstrate the Roadster 3.0 Package with a Frisco to L.A. cruise in January (Image: Tesla Motors)

Though they came from the factory with a then-impressive 244-mile (393 kilometre) range, Tesla estimates the improvements included in the ‘Roadster 3.0 Package’ will give the tiny two-seater a 400-mile (644 km) range.

The package, available in spring of 2015, includes a lithium-ion battery pack with a 31% greater capacity than the original, an aerodynamics kit that reduces drag by 15%, low rolling resistance tires, and upgraded front wheel bearings and brakes.

Read more about the upgrades here.

In the first few months of the New Year, Tesla will perform a demonstration run from San Francisco to Los Angeles to highlight the Roadster’s increased range.

 

An hour in Heaven

 

In the summer of 2011, I was able to snag an hour of alone time behind the wheel of a Roadster 2.5 Sport, the last version of the model.

The sexy white Roadster was pure motoring bliss, and turned heads wherever it went. I’d have spirited it off into the sunset, except the PR team that handed it too me warned of a $157,000 bill in the mail if anything happened to it.

The spartan interior of the Tesla Roadster has everything you need, and nothing you don't.

The spartan interior of the Tesla Roadster has everything you need, and nothing you don’t.

Given my 6’4″ frame, getting into the Roadster could easily have been accomplished by stepping over the door sill. Once nestled inside, about a millimetre off the ground, I had to crouch a bit to get my head out of the slipstream coming over the windshield.

I was struck by the Roadster’s spartan, user-friendly interior. Gear selection was accomplished via pushbuttons, as was the parking brake, but everything else was as one would expect.

With electric sports cars being a niche oddity at the time (a trend that continues today) the driving experience was surprisingly predictable and familiar. At a stoplight, the car would creep forward when you eased up on the brake pedal, just like any automatic transmission-equipped gasoline-burner.

What wasn’t familiar was the instant burst of acceleration from the rear-mounted 288-horsepower motor. Because the motor didn’t have to worry about things like RPMs or gear ratios, its 295 foot-pounds of torque were instantly available right off the line, seamlessly doled out by a 1-speed Borg-Warner transmission.

You could say the Tesla Roadster 2.5 Sport was a 'gas' to drive. I slay me...

You could say the Tesla Roadster 2.5 Sport was a ‘gas’ to drive. I slay me…

When it was first tested by the crew at Top Gear, the resulting review declared the Roadster to be “Biblically quick” – a description that stuck in my mind over the years.

Yes, the Roadster, with its 0-60 time of 3.7 seconds, didn’t accelerate so much as it instantly attained the desired speed. A light jab at the throttle on the highway meant your 80-to-120km/h passing acceleration was accomplished, seemingly, in the blink of an eye.

Tesla’s introduction to the vehicle market in 2008 came like a brick through the plate glass window of established norms. An independent maker of all-electric performance vehicles – in America, no less? Where did this come from?

As the Big Three automakers struggled to stay alive in that tumultuous year, Tesla had provided a glimpse of an alternate future. It also showed what can happen when imagination meets a pile of capital.

 

Rise up, rise up

Sales of the Nissan LEAF topped 1,000 units in Canada in 2014, a new high for the all-electric vehicle (Image: Nissan)

Sales of the Nissan LEAF topped 1,000 units in Canada in 2014, a new high for the all-electric vehicle (Image: Nissan)

If you’ve see Nissan Canada swaggering around lately, there’s good reason for it.

The Canadian division of Nissan Group – much like its American brother – boasted killer sales in 2014, vastly growing their customer base and setting company sales records. In an economic climate that had buyers demanding “value!”, Nissan offered it with a lineup of competent, ‘smart buy’ vehicles.

Not bad for an automaker that was getting pretty invisible just a few years ago.

If you think of Nissan as the overlooked high school football player who scores the winning touchdown in the last seconds of the game, I think they can be forgiven for any showboating.

In November of this year, the company’s Nissan and Infiniti brands posted a combined 21.5% year-over-year sales gain compared to Nov., 2013. Year-to date, Nissan Canada sales were up 28.2% in the first 11 months of 2014.

These are serious gains – enough to push Nissan into the Number 6 spot in Canada’s brand ranking and capture 6.3% of the market.

On Nov. 13 of this year, Nissan Canada celebrated another milestone when they passed the 100,000 units mark for the first time since entering the Canadian market in 1966.

Canada's cheapest car proved solid and fun to drive, leading to big sales for the Nissan Micra (Image: Nissan)

Canada’s cheapest car proved solid and fun to drive, leading to big sales for the Nissan Micra (Image: Nissan)

Leading the sales surge was the popular Rogue compact crossover (sales up 77.8% year-to-date), the spacious Sentra sedan, and the surprise success of the Micra subcompact, which was touted as Canada’s cheapest car ($9,998) when it went on sale this past spring. A total of 924 Micras left dealer lots in November, with 6,987 sold between April and November.

Even the all-electric LEAF, which has been on the challenging EV market for several years now, posted a 131% year-to-date sales gain, topping 1,000 units sold in 2014.

The automotive landscape at Nissan looks to remain fairly unchanged for 2015 – after all, why mess with a good thing? – but the company will have to keep on its toes to ensure it doesn’t lose any of the ground it gained this past year. With gas far cheaper than it was a year ago, it seems opportune that Nissan’s newest models – the redesigned Murano and next-generation Titan pickup (to be unveiled in January) – are on the large side of the vehicle spectrum.

Having had such success in the small car market, it would make sense that Nissan would seek to make gains in the large vehicle segment.

 

 

Face-off

2016 Ford Explorer: a blast from the past? (Image: Ford)

2016 Ford Explorer: a blast from the past? (Image: Ford)

In November, Ford pulled the wraps off a facelifted 2016 Explorer at the L.A. Auto Show – an event that caused little fanfare.

After all, a mid-cycle update of an SUV unchanged since 2011 isn’t the sexiest thing, especially when there’s a MUSTANG OVER THERE!

Still, the Explorer is a storied nameplate, and a highly visible model for Ford. And changes can make a good vehicle better or worse than before.

I quite liked the look of the newly unibody Explorer when it was released in 2011. Exterior design elements were reminiscent of the Land Rover-Range Rover stable, and gave the utility vehicle a visual sense of luxury and class it didn’t have before.

Driving it revealed remarkably agile handling for such a heavy vehicle, with precise steering, a smooth powertrain, compliant suspension, and every creature comfort a motorist could want. All of this remains for 2016, save for some new engine choices, and a refreshed front end.

The front end is the problem.

Circa-2007 Ford Freestyle (Image: IFCAR/Wikimedia Commons)

Circa-2007 Ford Freestyle (Image: IFCAR/Wikimedia Commons)

Most mid-cycle styling refreshes serve to make an aging vehicle look newer, or at least ‘different’, lest the consumer grow bored. The 2016 Explorer’s new front end – featuring a normally inoffensive chrome mesh grille – actually makes the vehicle look older.

On the night of the reveal, I wasn’t the only commenter remarking on the new Explorer’s resemblance to the 2003-2009 Ford Freestyle (aka the Taurus X). And we all remember (if we brush the cobwebs away) what a forgettable vehicle that was.

In this instance, I think making the ‘safe choice’ for the restyle was the wrong choice. The Explorer’s body still looks good, and the grille was hardly the best part of the 2011-2015 models, but at least it ‘fit’.

The blacked-out grilles on the Explorer Sport looked the best, in my opinion, especially when coupled with those black rims. Outfitted with that trim, it resembled a police pursuit vehicle.

2015 Ford Explorer Sport. Now, isn't that better? (Image: Ford)

2015 Ford Explorer Sport. Now, isn’t that better? (Image: Ford)

Besides the throw-back grille, the 2016 Explorer brings the new 2.3-litre Ecoboost engine into the fold.

Available in the Lincoln MKC and Ford Mustang, the 2.3 (unlike the previous 2.0) will be offered in 4-wheel-drive models, including those with towing packages.

While the 3.5-litre V-6 remains the standard engine, a 3.5-litre Ecoboost now comes standard on Explorer Sport and Platinum models.

The 2016 Explorer goes on sale in mid-2015.

Dream on

Regrettable car decisions don't go away just because you're asleep...

Regrettable car decisions don’t go away just because you’re asleep…

There was a great independent film released a few years ago called Take Shelter, in which a simple, hard-working family man in Ohio begins having horrific, recurring nightmares.

All of the dreams, which are the most realistic I’ve ever seen on film, contain the same hallmarks – an atmosphere of uneasy tension, the approach of a thunderstorm, a deluge of rain that seems thicker than normal, and the appearance of an unexpected menace.

In the film, those dreams are trying to tell him something (I won’t say what).  In our own lives, theorists tell us that recurring dreams are our mind’s way of telling us something about ourselves, and are often caused by a psychological trigger.

Michael Shannon in a scene from Take Shelter.

Michael Shannon in a scene from Take Shelter.

Sure, it’s common for illnesses like anxiety and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder to trigger such dreams, but could something as benign as selling a car lead to Slumberland disturbances?

I say it can, because it happened to me.

After trading in my old ’94 Camry in 2008, that same car appeared in my dreams for years on end. Unremarkable dreams, sure, and ones that gradually diminished in frequency over time, but it was still something.

The dreams were simple. No matter what car I was presently driving, I would wake up to find that my old Camry had returned sometime during the night and was again vying for my driving affection. I would then scramble to make arrangements to house my returning friend.

I loved that car. It took me anywhere and everywhere, competently and without drama or mishap. I firmly believe that era of Toyota Camry – 1992 to 1996 – was the pinnacle of bulletproof Japanese quality.

Not my actual Camry, but a near copy of it, right down to the colour. Mine kept its wheel covers (Bull-Doser/Wikimedia Commons)

Not my actual Camry, but a near copy of it, right down to the colour. Mine kept its wheel covers (Bull-Doser/Wikimedia Commons)

Built like a bank vault, oozing quality, that car never once left me stranded, never burned oil or required engine or transmission work, and still ran fine with 420,000 kilometres on the odometer.

It drove me to Newfoundland and the south coast of Labrador , and shrugged off impacts with two deer over its lifetime, suffering next to no damage. Even on the harshest sub-zero mornings in Ottawa, the aging battery (which had been replaced only once, at 91,000 km) turned over the engine without hesitation.

Oh, and it was rare, too. Beige, yes, but rare. Somehow I had managed to find a 2-door model with a 5-speed manual transmission bolted to the base 2.2-litre four-cylinder, which made for a fun, economy-minded Japanese rig.

I could go on and on (oh yes!) – about the roominess, the fold-down armrest in the rear, the wonderful placement of the ignition in the dash, the high-quality upholstery – but you get the picture.

Oh, it's MORE, baby! Could the '92-96 Camry be the most rock-solid midsize ever?

Oh, it’s MORE, baby! Could the ’92-96 Camry be the most rock-solid midsize ever?

Eventually, the list of non-drivetrain fixes that needed to be performed to keep the car on the road became too long. I was starting a new job that required a daily driver, and the psychological impact of the extremely high mileage on the odometer worried me.

Forget range anxiety – this car was starting to give me lifespan anxiety!

So, it went to the wreckers shortly after the trade-in. And I felt bad about that. Worse, I felt guilty, like I had betrayed a loyal, trusted friend. I had taken it out behind the barn while its little 2.2-litre heart was still beating (and not burning a drop of oil, either).

Guilt, regret, sorrow – all of those emotions compelled the Camry to return to me in my dream state. It’s been about a year since the last time it happened, and I credit a frenzied January search for a worthy buyer of my last vehicle (rather than trading it in) for making the dreams cease.

After years of thinking my Camry guilt was outside of the realm of normal, a confession by two car-loving friends made me realize my experience wasn’t so unusual.

For one friend, it was a childhood car that kept coming back in his dreams; for the other, it was a car frequently borrowed as an adolescent that “got away” before it could be owned.

I felt pretty normal after that, and began to wonder – what was the frequency of car-related dreams amongst drivers? I don’t have the funding to perform a survey, so we can only guess.

I also wonder when Toyota will bring back the 2-door Camry, so that me and (maybe) three other drivers can buy one. How about it, huh?

 

Magic bus

Patriotic people-mover: a pre-1972 Volkswagen Microbus resting in Kingston, Ontario.

Patriotic people-mover: a pre-1972 Volkswagen Microbus resting in Kingston, Ontario.

There are few vehicles are more soaked in stigma than the iconic Volkswagen Microbus, in all of its many forms.

(For a car that comes close, see the Chevy El Camino)

Nothing says hippie counterculture, free love, and daisies shoved down gun barrels like the Microbus, which defined an era thanks to its spacious interior and ability to serve as a rolling canvas for wannabe artists.

While the lovable German people-mover was indeed the ride du jour of the Age of Aquarius, it should be remembered that the Microbus line both preceded and outlasted Jim Morrison’s career.

Born in Germany in 1950 to serve as the utility-minded stablemate of the equally iconic Beetle, the Microbus was designed to fill many niches. Called the ‘Type 2’, and known in Europe as the Transporter, the bulbous VW was produced in numerous body styles ranging from pickup to panel van to camper, not to mention the desirable ‘Deluxe Microbus’ (a model festooned with tourist-friendly skylights).

A second-generation Microbus (right) reverts back to nature alongside a 1980s-vintage Vanagon in Ottawa, Ontario.

A second-generation Microbus (right) reverts back to nature alongside a 1980s-vintage Vanagon in Ottawa, Ontario.

A slow evolution followed the introduction of the Microbus. Though it departed the U.S. market in 1979, continued in production in Latin America until 2013.

The first-generation Microbus ran from 1950 till 1967 and featured engines ranging from 1.1 to 1.5 litres, while the second-generation took the model from The Summer of Love until the end of the Carter Era (1979). A slightly modified Gen-2, still containing an air-cooled engine, lived on in Mexico and Brazil well into the 21st Century.

Those second generation models are often remembered by North American non-owners as impassable barriers encountered while struggling up a steep mountain grade.

Ready for soccer practice or a Woodstock revival, these '72 VWs had space to spare.

Ready for soccer practice or a Woodstock revival, these ’72 VWs had space to spare.

Certainly, the Microbus was no rocket. The second-generation engines were gutsier than before, but those 1.6 to 2.0-litre power plants still topped out at 70 horsepower.

Diesel Volvo wagons (the kind favoured by those with grey beards and elbow patches) could blow them into the weeds.

But speed wasn’t why owners and enthusiasts gravitated to the Microbus. A unique sense of character, combined with space and efficiency, was the vehicle’s true charm, and it continues to draw new fans.

A quick Google search will reveal a world of potential friends to any Microbus owner.

The longevity and continued adoration of the VW Microbus proves that a vehicle doesn’t have to be fast to be fun, and that practicality and familiarity counts for something in an industry obsessed with the Next Big Thing.

 

Green energy

Call me, please: 1971-72 Ford Mustang Mach 1, spotted in L' Ange-Gardien, Quebec.

Call me, please: 1971-72 Ford Mustang Mach 1 (L’ Ange-Gardien, Quebec).

It would be great if a person could live vicariously through a parked car.

I mean, think of the boosted levels of personal satisfaction and contentment that could come from lifestyle redistribution. A society’s collective frown would be turned upside down!

Sailing... in your new Mach 1. This '72 ad looks like it should come with a Carly Simon record.

Sailing… in your new Mach 1. This ’72 ad looks like it should come with a Carly Simon record.

In the real world, however, I was forced to just stand there and drool as a spotless early-70s Mustang Mach 1 rested driverless on the roadside. Of course, it had to be a warm, sunny weekend, with nearby autumn-tinged roads – twisty ones, no less – beckoning nearby.

An unfortunate moment for yours truly, but a dream come true for the lucky owner. This fastback was a real gem, too – almost too flawless. As for power under the hood, that’s anyone’s guess, as the Mach 1 told few tales via its exterior.

’71 and ’72 Mach 1’s are visually identical, but the powertrain options differ greatly. The ’71 (a year sometimes viewed as ‘the last good year’ amongst horsepower enthusiasts) could be had in more flavours than Baskin Robbins, starting at a base 302 Windsor V-8 and moving up through FOUR 351 Clevelands before topping out with two 429s (Cobra Jet and Super Cobra Jet).

Sean Connery (the life of any party) in 'Diamonds Are Forever'.

Sean Connery (the life of any party) in ‘Diamonds Are Forever’.

The U.S. government let some of the air out of the high-compression fun in ’72, when the 429s were dropped in favour of just the base 302 and three 351s (in either 2-barrel, 4-barrel or 4-barrel High Output designations).

So wild was the ’71 Mach 1 that even Seam Connery got behind the wheel of one in the campy Bond flick Diamonds Are Forever, outwitting both bad guys and cops on the streets and alleyways of Las Vegas.

Solid, man.

While the Mach 1 soldiered on as a Mustang  trim level until 1978, the latter four years of its run saw the famous moniker applied to the unappreciated and wimpy Mustang II.

For Mach 1 enthusiasts, the name will always bring to mind the glory days of 1969-71, an era that was (at least for car lovers) a gas, gas, gas.

Road trip diaries (Book 1)

Driving the Trans-Labrador Highway in 2009 in the Grand Am '1.0'

Driving the Trans-Labrador Highway in 2009 in the Grand Am ‘1.0’

Ottawa to Wabush, Labrador (2009)

 

I give full credit to lengthy childhood road trips for giving me the patience and imagination needed to perform epic solo road journeys later in life.

There were no headrest DVD players or iPads in those primitive days – the world outside my side window was my only entertainment as the countryside rolled past at 60 miles per hour.

The inspiration for my journey.

The inspiration for my journey.

Winging to the downtown of various cities is nice, but you don’t get a sense of the enormity of Canada by skipping the vast swaths of land in between. If you want to be a latter-day explorer, the car is your friend.

Five years ago, during a tumultuous time in my life (cue violins), I decided to cleanse my psyche and challenge myself a bit by throwing off the chains of civilization and driving into the unknown. It was just like Into the Wild, except that I survived and was back in four days.

My destination was Wabush, Labrador – a small mining town in the western part of the mainland area of the province. High in the taiga of Canada’s subarctic, the area harbours the world’s largest iron ore deposit and didn’t even exist on a map before the 1950s.

I had never heard of the place before then, but I had unknowingly read about it. Many people have, in fact – especially if they’re fans of 20th Century science-fiction.

The 1955 novel The Chrysalids by British author John Wyndham (Day of the Triffids, Village of the Damned) is a post-apocalyptic story set in the far future. A tale of a young boy growing up in an ultra-fundamentalist farming community in a now-temperate Labrador, the novel uses real geography to frame the tense, restricted world of 10-year-old David Strorm.

Wabush, Labrador - a remote iron mining town and the setting of the famous 1955 sci-fi novel 'The Chrysalids'.

Wabush, Labrador – a remote iron mining town and the setting of the famous 1955 sci-fi novel ‘The Chrysalids’.

The village of Waknuk, where the novel’s characters obsess over maintaining a strict genetic purity out of fear of divine punishment, is really Wabush, Labrador. Other locations in Newfoundland and Labrador (with names changed slightly) make up the rest of the known world for the fearful inhabitants of the village.

The areas further from Waknuk and other such outposts are designated as “Badlands”, an endless area filled with genetic “Blasphemies” and “Deviants,” where humans fear to tread.

Thousands of years earlier, before God sent “Tribulation” to the land, Waknuk’s elders tell of great cities of light that buzzed with horseless contraptions and other unthinkable inventions – cities filled with people who fumbled with a newly-conceived type of bomb.

Having read the book not too recently, and wanting a road trip to a very unlikely location that would test my will, this became my goal.

Getting to Wabush from Ottawa is straightforward. Travel along the north shore of the St. Lawrence past Montreal, Quebec City and the Saguenay until you reach Baie-Comeau, Quebec. North from there runs a highway – Quebec Route 389 – better known as the Trans-Labrador Highway.

Since my 2009 trip, the Trans-Labrador Highway has seen nearly a half-billion dollars of completed or planned upgrades.

Since 2009, the Trans-Labrador Highway has seen nearly half a billion dollars in upgrades.

The only road link between Labrador and the rest of Canada, Route 389 runs 570km north from Baie-Comeau before it hits the border. Along the way, which is more unpaved than paved, there is a single town (about 8km from the border).

Newfoundland and Labrador Highway 500 takes over on the other side of the border, accessing Churchill Falls, Happy Valley-Goose Bay, and, since a few years ago, the southern coast of Labrador (Cartwright, Red Bay) and the ferry to St. Barbe, Newfoundland.

Wabush, a few kilometres from the larger Labrador City, is accessed via a spur highway that connects to highway 500. In 2006 I crossed the Quebec-Labrador border at Blanc-Sablon by way of Newfoundland, but Route 389 still remains the only mainland road link to Canada’s mainland highway network.

(Who can say they drove to Labrador twice for no particular reason? This guy!)

 

Into the unknown

 

At the time of the Wabush trek, I was driving a 2003 Pontiac Grand Am 4-cylinder with a 5-speed manual. A minimum amount of research showed me I’d be leaving civilization behind on the northern leg of the trip, and that basic preparations were needed.

A short walk to salvation! Emergency services on Quebec Route 389, aka the Trans-Labrador Highway.

A short walk to salvation! Emergency services on Quebec Route 389, aka the Trans-Labrador Highway.

Imagine driving the distance from Mississauga to Montreal on a narrow, winding, mountainous gravel road with no cellular reception, radio reception, intersections, streetlights, houses or towns. That’s what I was facing.

I later learned you can rent a satellite phone at the major points along the Trans-Labrador, and drop it off at any place that rents them. Other than that, the only emergency services were SOS call boxes placed every 50km along the highway.

Car quit on you? Help is only a 25km walk away! Mind the wolves.

It helps to have something of a fatalist approach on trips like these, because you’ll never be able to cover all the bases when it comes to your car’s reliability. Extra water, oil and especially a full-size spare (along with donut spare) are essential, but if your car decides it’s time to bite the dust, that’s it. You’re at the mercy of those unthinking, moving parts.

Best to just put those nagging worries at the back of your mind and watch the scenery unfold through the windshield.

Sharp turns and a bad road surface makes encountering other traffic on Route 389 an adventure!

Sharp turns and a bad road surface makes encountering other traffic on Route 389 an adventure!

Now, back to the trip. Bypassing Montreal by way of Autoroute 640, the trip to Quebec City via the 40 is a pretty dull 4-lane affair. Wanting to get to Baie-Comeau by dark (it was August, and the days were starting to get shorter) I blasted through Quebec City via the 440, leaving modern highways in my rear-view at Beauport.

Route 138 – the North Shore highway – is a scenic, narrow 2-lane road that hugs the shore of the rapidly-widening St. Lawrence, winding around quaint coves and along high bluffs.

Two hours northeast of Quebec City lies the Saguenay River, which is actually a sea-level fjord capable of accepting oceangoing cruise ships.

A short ferry ride across the Saguenay gives motorists a chance to stretch their legs before picking up the 138 again on the other side.

Hydro-Quebec's Manic-5 hydroelectric dam (212 km north of Baie-Comeau) holds back the massive Manicouagan Reservoir.

Hydro-Quebec’s Manic-5 hydroelectric dam (212 km north of Baie-Comeau) holds back the massive Manicouagan Reservoir.

Population and vegetation becomes much more sparse east of the Saguenay. Only one major town – Forestville – lies between that point and Baie-Comeau, which is itself 415km from Quebec City. Fewer villages, road signs and stunted trees set the stage for the next day’s journey into nowhere.

Baie-Comeau is one of those places that exists for some unknown reason. Unlike the only two places of consequence further up the coast – Port Cartier and Sept-Iles – Baie-Comeau doesn’t have a major railroad or seaport to justify its existence. Famous for being the birthplace of Brian Mulroney, the town of 22,000 has an infuriating road system that makes unfamiliar motorists drive parallel or away from the places they want to be.

GPS would have made short work of this problem, but it was 2009, remember. Dinosaurs still roamed the earth.

The next day dawned gloomy, windy and rainy, which was just perfect for a gravel road trip to Labrador. Like a responsible person, I brought along no food. Well, there might have been a bottle of pop or two (I tend to eat very little on road trips).

A narrow 2-lane forced road with aging pavement greeted me for the first 200-or-so kilometres of the trip. Being used to driving anywhere in Quebec, this was nothing new or shocking. Near the beginning of the highway, a roadside sign warned of the need to turn around and fill up if you didn’t think your tank would last you to the next service station, 211km away.

Iron oxide turns a lake blood-red near the Mont Wright iron mine, just west of Fermont, Quebec.

Iron oxide turns a lake blood-red near the Mont Wright iron mine, just west of Fermont, Quebec.

The only tourist site along the road appears 214km north of Baie-Comeau, and serves as the division between paved and unpaved road (or, at least it did in 2009). The Daniel-Johnson Dam, also known as ‘Manic-5’, is a hydroelectric generating facility featuring 14 buttresses and 13 arches – the largest of its type in the world.

Built from 2.2 million cubic metres of concrete, the 702 foot tall, 4,311 foot long dam holds back the 139.8 cubic kilometres of water contained within the Manicouagan Reservoir – itself an old asteroid impact crater.

Leaving the dam and its steady traffic of white, Hydro-Quebec Silverado crew cabs behind, Route 389 gave way to gravel and hard-packed dirt, the latter of which had the strength of dried mud. Near the edges of the road, soft sand would pull at your tires if you took a turn a little too wide. Another sign, too – this one reading ‘249km till next gas station’.

Crossing a gulf of nothingness usually leads to greater-than-posted speeds, and my car was no exception. After a few hours on that twisty course, my rally credentials were already half formed. I tried to maintain an average of 80 km/h to get the journey down to 8 hours or so.

In one picture, the Trans-Labrador Highway, the iron mines at Mont Wright, Quebec, and the Cartier Railway line, which connects to a distant St. Lawrence seaport.

In one picture, the Trans-Labrador Highway, the iron mines at Mont Wright, Quebec, and the Cartier Railway line, which connects to a distant St. Lawrence seaport.

There’s a saying by those who use the road that states in some places, you’ll be able to see your own taillights.

This isn’t far off. The Labrador and North Shore Railway, a rail line that originates in Sept-Iles and terminates in Schefferville, Quebec (northwest of Labrador City), intersects with the road multiple times over the space of a kilometre or so.

Up there, you don’t have flashing lights and a gate to warn of heavily-laden iron ore trains.

I’m told the Quebec government made significant upgrades to the road after 2009, so I can’t vouch for its current alignment.

The terrain along the route is typical of northern Quebec and Labrador – low to moderate rocky hills, small lakes and shallow, fast-flowing streams.

'Lambkill', a beautiful and deadly poisonous flower that grows across the north and in alpine regions.

‘Lambkill’, a beautiful and deadly poisonous flower that grows across the north and in alpine regions.

Forested hillsides give way to peat bogs ringed by miniscule tamaracks and black spruce, while the ground is covered in white, spongy caribou moss.

In places, pink Sheep Laurel flowers (aka Lambkill) and white Labrador tea blossoms added much needed colour to a brown-grey-and-green landscape.

The flowers were nice, but my eyes were kept on the road, mainly to save my backside. A lack of alternatives means Route 389 handles lots of trucks lugging wide-load machinery – even whole houses – on their heaving, flatbed backs. Going into a blind corner carrying too much speed will spell the end of any over-enthusiastic motorist.

And don’t expect an ambulance to show up.

 

Modern civilizations 101

 

After the thrill of filling up at one of Canada’s loneliest gas stations (about two-thirds of the way up the road), an outpost that featured rentable cabins for overnight stays, I eagerly awaited reaching a town, a village, anything.

Being removed from civilization for the better part of a cold, dreary day makes you appreciative of things like traffic lights, electricity and the prospect of a hot meal and warm bed. The bed would have to wait, but it was with giddy excitement that I made my first turn after 562km of driving – a right turn, into Fermont, Quebec.

Between Baie-Comeau and Fermont, 562 km of mostly unpaved driving, there are two gas stations. You'll use at least one of them.

Between Baie-Comeau and Fermont, 562 km of mostly unpaved driving, there are two gas stations. You’ll use at least one of them.

Located about 8km from the border and 23km from Labrador City, Fermont’s roughly 2,800 residents make their living in the iron mining industry. It’s sole purpose is to house the workers at nearby Mont Wright (“Iron Mountain”) Mine, which started operations in the early 1970s.

The town, which is the northernmost francophone settlement of any real population, was modelled after a northern copper mining settlement in Sweden.

The word ‘town’ is misleading, as the inhabitants of Fermont and all of its shops, institutions and amenities are contained within a single, massive building. 1.3 kilometres in length and 160 feet high, the building allows occupants to travel to the bank, the hockey arena, and the liquor store without ever having to go outside.

A number of smaller buildings exist on the leeward side of the building, which serves as a windbreak in the winter. Fermont’s record low temperature is minus 49.5 degrees Celsius (not counting windchill), meaning that being inside the big building is best.

The Quebec mining town of Fermont (population 2,874) was created in the early '70s to supply a new iron mine to the west. The town is essentially a massive building that houses all apartments and amenities, measuring 4,300 feet long.

The Quebec mining town of Fermont was built in the early ’70s to supply a new iron mine to the west. The town is essentially a massive building that houses all apartments and amenities, measuring 4,300 feet long.

For that alone, the place is creepy. I ventured inside for a bit, stopping at the local bar where I polished off a Molson Dry amongst the mainly silent patrons.

For two small settlements hundreds of kilometres from the nearest town, Fermont and Labrador City-Wabush are a study in contrasts. Fermont is almost exclusively francophone, while Labrador City-Wabush is primarily English-speaking. Despite being separated by less than half an hour of driving, Fermont recognizes Eastern Standard Time, while all of Labrador uses Atlantic Time.

And, when the booze stores close up in Labrador, they’re still open in Quebec, meaning that stretch of highway gets a workout.

Speaking of which, after the rally race that was the previous several hours of driving, gliding along that freshly-paved highway Between Fermont and Labrador City was luxurious. I felt like Elaine in Seinfeld, stretching my neck and marvelling over the “extra-wide lanes.”

Crossing the border was a celebratory event, marked by a photo and a bathroom break. Even more exciting was entering Labrador City (population 9,354), where I bowed down at the base of a street light and saluted a Tim Hortons. It was good to be in a pocket of civilization.

With the exception of the Newfoundland ferry in Blanc-Sablon, Quebec, tis is the only way to leave (or enter) the Big Land by car.

With the exception of the Newfoundland ferry terminal in Blanc-Sablon, Quebec, this is the only way to leave (or enter) the Big Land by car.

Labrador City has the distinction of having the only indoor shopping mall in Labrador (fun fact!), so I made a point of visiting. Yes, the Labrador Mall (what else would it be called?) was hopping that day, as was the Wal-Mart.

Before finding a room and grub I briefly visited the offices of The Aurora, a weekly newspaper serving the Labrador West area.

When I judged a feature category of the Canadian Community Newspaper Association awards in 2008, the winning article came from The Aurora. It was a well-deserved win, though at the time I had no idea I’d find myself in their neck of the woods a year later.

Given the distance I’d travelled that day, leaving Labrador City to drive the five kilometres to Wabush (population 1,861) was a little anti-climactic, despite me having reached my goal.

In addition to the luxury of a warm hotel room, I celebrated by indulging in the weekly Chinese buffet (very popular, I was told) they held in the downstairs restaurant. Hungry as hell, I was halfway through my plate before I realized it was the worst Chinese food I have ever eaten.

"Oh, you've been up The Road," said a gas station attendant upon seeing my car.

“Oh, you’ve been up The Road,” said a gas station attendant upon seeing my car.

I’m no foodie snob. I like my meals like I like my gasoline – cheap, and plentiful – but this had the feel and texture of a cook approximating Chinese food, having never encountered the real thing before.

Now that I was in fabled village of Waknuk, I wandered next door to a community centre to talk to some folks about the literary significance of their remote town. No one at both the centre or the hotel knew of the connection, nor did the reporters at the newspaper.

It is, at the end of the day, just one novel. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

In conversation with a mother and son who worked at the community centre, I was told of how Labrador exists off the radar of most Canadians, and how this is the perception of most Labradorians.

“People don’t have much of a sense of what Labrador is,” I was told by the friendly family, and I couldn’t have agreed more.

I have more of a sense now, after having visited twice, albeit briefly. A new life goal is to drive the entire Trans-Labrador Highway, from the border with Quebec in the west, to the border with Quebec in the south. Bridging the two areas I’ve seen, while filling in all the rest.

I left Wabush the next day, heading home. Stopping for coffee, I was told by an employee of Tim Hortons that they brew their coffee stronger “than on the outside,” an interesting use of terminology.

At the gas pump (full service!), the attendant looked at my mud-and-grit-plastered Grand Am with an expression of surprise.

“You’ve been up the road!” he said, before noticing the out-of-province plates.

“Yes, and I’m headed back down now,” I replied.

He looked me in the eyes and said, almost like a pastor, “Have a safe journey.”

 ****************************

The road back (as you can imagine) was more of the same, but my rally instincts were honed again just south of Manic-5 when those same Hydro-Quebec crew cabs decided to tailgate me on their 214km trek back to Baie-Comeau.

Maybe my Ontario plates made me a thing to be toyed with. Regardless, this lone individual in his old Grand Am gave those seasoned back-roaders a run for their money. We all made record time back to town.

 

The Quebec-Labrador border (in distance, at curve) appears after 570 km of Route 389. This is Labrador's only overland road link to the rest of Canada.

The Quebec-Labrador border (in distance, at curve) appears after 570 km of Route 389. This is Labrador’s only overland road link to the rest of Canada.