Labrador City

Did I remember to check the electrolyte level in my batteries? No. Would that oversight eventually bite me in the ass? Yes. Would it bite me in the ass at the worst possible most remote location between Nowhere and Dead Meat? Oh, yes.



That's the tailpipe and a piece of the exhaust inside my van.

Here I am troubleshooting the battery problem on the tundra. That telephone is the nearest one for 200km so I decided to stop there and do my work. That work was fruitless but the situation was getting desperate. One battery, the main one, was holding no charge and because it couldn't even give me 3 volts the axillary battery would not automatically kick in. This meant I had to jump start the van using cables from the cabin through the window and out to the main battery. Because the exhaust had fallen apart somewhere 200 km back in the taiga, I was forced to drive with the windows down as the cabin was filled with exhaust smoke, except for the smoke that was heating up the fuel tank to dangerous levels.
It was a few hours of tense driving in 100km of twisty with the windows down, rain pouring in, smoke pouring out, unable to stop because I had to jump start the battery with my one remaining battery and I had no idea how long that would work...and I had already shorted out fuses trying to use the deep cell marine battery as a main battery. It was truly Labrador or Bust.
Can you count the wildlife in this picture? Perfectly camouflaged. I asked two French Canadian hikers in the Mont Groulx park where we met what it was. I thought it was a wild chicken. Then it flew like a turkey. But it sort of looked like ptarmigan from Alaska. Turns out we agree it was a Partridge. I didn't get a picture of them. We were all 40 years old and destined to meet on the edge of the forest.

All this adds up to an adventure to get here:


Labrador City's auto parts stores now know me by first name as I required all kinds of attention to set things right again. My dead battery was 6 years old. Replaced it. The tailpipe could only receive a replacement flex pipe that will last another 6 months before rotting out like my teeth.
These repairs are not part of the wolf expedition but for the time they enable the wolf expedition. I can't lose sight of that. They are here.

I went for a wolf sighting hike but freaked myself out because I was in an uninhabited area as big as New Hampshire and wolves and bears, if I saw them, could have their way with me. They'd probably be rabid. I was scared of the Partridge. And which way was the van?

I heard the term "Open Country" for the first time since Alaska. It's used to describe park land that has no trails. I can thank the Labrador City McDonalds (still horrible food) for the Internet access but I thank the Vikings for finding this continent and setting in motion the chain of events that led to a hippie fixing his exhaust pipe in the pouring rain in a Walmart parking lot.
If the weather ever clears up I might still see the Northern Lights. We get darkness from 10pm to 5 so it's possible.

Light of Love

Here`s the van as an eye sore at «Quebec »City.


and here`s the author at Montmorency Falls.When I first arrived in Quebec City I tried to be discreet but I stalled in front of a row of outdoor beer gardens and 200 people stopped to stare at the coal powered van and the hippie driving it. Au Cotoure dressed women with flawless skin marveled. I nodded and prayed the next song on my ipod would be quiet but it was `the light of love; by rick springfield. the crowds were aghast and didn`t need to look at my license plate to know I was an American.

Goblins of Self Doubt

When they say "You will find out what kind of man you are." this is the road that they are talking about.
The story of the man who returns to Nature for 40 days and emerges renewed and clean is from the bible. I want to be cleansed by nature but this trip is more like "Heart of Darkness" as layers of civility are shed the further north I go. OR are they the same story? As one obstacle is overcome another comes along that is even more primitive. The cars show more signs of abuse. The warning signs grow less frequent. The dangers grow more extreme. The propaganda that Oggy hates is but a myth here. He is the myth, the legend of a man from the south looking for healing in a box but there is no shaman booth at Walmart.
Did I really not bring a spare water pump? No, but I have a Lionel Richie songbook. That was smart.
But I wonder if not now then it is never. The wolf will not wait as the ice that once promoted diversity melts. And if I am saving the van for some later adventure then what exactly would that be? Why not do it now.
No, the long awaited showdown with my fears has come. The bridge has been burned. There is no return trip for the same man. He either dies or another man exits the skin of the former...this steel shell pings the water and the hail and the angry bees fly in to sting Oggy skin.
There are few options for communication beyond here. I was lucky to find this one in Baie Comeau, although it is very populated. Beyond this lie wolves and mermaids.

Quebec and beyond

Typing skills on these French computers is weak. But that means I made it. No video. No pictures. $10 per hour internet equals no updates. Quebec city was a battlefield for years. Today it is a playground and music studio. What will tomorrow bring.

Chocolate croissants...and arctic wolves.

Man on the mountain

It's a long way to Canada from here...