Back in Fort McPherson…
We were hopeful. We woke up to the news that the road was
finally open. Now the pressure was on the ferry man to get the boat going. We
could see the traffic starting to stack up on the other side of the banks. This
was wonderful! The banks had been empty for days. Now, it appeared that it was
possible to move pass the road washouts.
The log jam was not cleared out completely, there was one
resistant pile hanging on, with one very larger tree still hanging on the
cable. Earlier they had loaded a backhoe onto the ferry, drove to the other
side of the boat, hung the arm over the water and tried to clear debris that
way. This was very exciting, as they did not counter weight the other end of
the ferry, and the whole ferry was weighted down and heavy on one end, causing
the boat to be way low on that end. This
cleared some of the jam, but not all.
Finally, a ferry man climbed on top of the woodpile with a
chain saw. Talk about getting paid to do stupid thing! It was sort of like
standing on pick-up sticks and removing the sticks… I shook my head, I wanted out of there, but
not at the expense of someone getting hurt. A reminder how you just need to do
what you need to do this far north. He
climbed back in the boat and they rammed the woodpile again, most of it broke
up and floated down stream. The northern peanut gallery broke out in cheers.
The next thing that needed to happen was to complete the
load ramps. The high river had washed away the dirt loading ramps on both
sides. They were having difficulty in making a stable dock on the south side.
Too much of the bank had eroded away, and all the gravel they were putting in
was falling through and getting washed or saturated to where there was no
stability. They worked on it for hours, and finally ended up with a bank they
hoped would work. We spent the entire day watching them push dirt around with
machinery. The best we could hope for that late in the day was Eagle Plains.
Playing dangerous with a chainsaw |
Now, all the people who wanted to get out of there were not
so sure they wanted to go first! Dave the truck driver, said he would rather
wait until it was more compacted down. We hemmed and hawed. With skinny motorcycle tires, we would
certainly sink further than a lot of folks.
I told Michael, I would rather drop my bike on the other side of the
bank and have people have to help me up, then to be stuck in FM another night.
We volunteered to go. It turns out this was a good move.
We waited for the entire ferry to empty, The ground was like
oatmeal… we approached the south ramp and the ferry guys eyes got real wide.
Michael went first and dropped into the slop… and sunk. He
throttled it to get through and fishtailed to the top. I went next, the ferry
guys eyes got wider. I swam through the oatmeal, got purchase and made it to
the top and didn’t look back We were finally on solid ground on the sound side
of the Peel River.
We heard later that this was a very smart move on our part.
When they tried to reload the ferry right after us, a truck pulling a trailer
got stuck and tore the ramp up, even with repairs, it was too soft. The first
car off on the south side ripped it’s bumper off completely, and several
motorhomes scrapped the undercarriages trying to get off… some doing damage.
Dave, whom we met up with in Eagle Plains for a beer later that night, said
when his front two tires of his diesel hit the soft ground, he felt it sink and
say “oh crap.” He had a vision of his truck being stuck half on the ferry and
half on this soft sinking bank.
Once on the road, the road was a smooth ribbon winding
through the bush, with only minimal ruts. We passed Rock River and couldn’t
even tell the road was nonexistent just the day before. Every time we stopped
the mozzies fed. Dragon flys kept hitting my windscreen with loud thunks.
We were told to keep an eye out for the porcupine caribou herd;
it was migrating in the area. We kept an eye out, but had not look. We did
catch more moose, and several folks saw grizzlies, but with my eyes focused on
the gravel, it is hard to watch the road and the scenery consistently. Several
hunters were success with caribou.
We rolled into Eagle Plains and got the last room available.
We had Lead Dog Ale in the bar, and Dave joined us for road stories. We
exchanged address and plan to stay in touch. I said hi to Jaz’s favorite friend
in the bar.