We arrived to the ferry dock around 8pm, was promptly shamed by the dock attendant for only being able to speak english as he walked away from our group shaking his head in disgust, and was fortunate that the ferry was getting ready to load for our side of the passage accross. This ferry is a short ride accross the river I don't know the name of, and is an open deck ferry. It can carry a couple tractor trailers, several cars, and of course our 12 english speaking only, nuisance snowmobilers, accross in about 20 minutes.
As I stated, this is an OPEN deck ferry. There is a narrow, enclosed, hallway that runs along one side of the ferry, with seating, vending machines, toilettes (French for rest rooms) and HEAT. It was now, by my estimation, -10 degrees. Steady wind of 50-60 mph, by my estimate, and gusts of 60-80mph. No exaggeration... When I got off my sled I walked to the front of the ferry, in full gear, helmet and everything, to look over the front. When the wind gusted, I literally would be in mid step and not going forward, just held in place. I have never experienced winds like that. Big mistake also was going to look out at the water we were about to cross. Boy did I have second thoughts. This looked like an angry Lake Superior and we were on the Edmond Fitzgerald. I decided to just go into the narrow, warm, hallway and awate my fate.
Safely on the other side, we were first on and first off. Supposedly only about 15 miles to go to our destination. Winds screaming, snow blasting, we struggled to find our trail head. The first speed bump was the giant hill that a few in the front made to the top, a few in the middle got stuck on, and a few at the back stayed on flatland and observed. Finally it was decided that the few in the middle back down the hill and ride the road a short distance to evade the snowblown hill trail.
Which leads us to our next debacle. Young Vinnie engaged his parking brake on the hillside as he was assiting the others who were stuck. He reversed down the hill just fine, but when he disengaged the reverse lever, his sled would not go forward. I drove over to see why he was holding us up now, as I'm effing cold. He, in panic, says "I think the drive shaft bolt broke, it won't move". I promptly did what I know how to do best, and I flagged Craig, our leader, over to assist. With the smell of a hot belt in the air, Craig quickly analyized the situation, disengaged the parking brake, and we were moving again.
But we were not moving far, nor fast. We were ditchbanging the ungroomed trail, that was seriously wind drifted. We made it a couple miles out of town, couldn't find the trail head to get us the last 12 miles into our scheduled overnight stay, and after some deliberation, decided with the conditions, we had better go back to town and check into one of motels that we had passed.
It was now 9pm, extreme winds, very cold, and the first motel we came upon was getting ready to close. But they had 6 rooms for our 12 riders, and we promptly got to work checking in. Inquiries were made to the availabilty of food. We hadn't eaten since 1:30 pm, and the snacks in our pack would suffice, but warm food was desired. The french speaking receptionist said "no the kitchen is closed". An offer was thrown out...$200 for 3 large pizzas? (the attached restaurant that was open to the reception area was advertised as a pizzeria restuarant/bar but only the night lights were on) She looked intrigued now, and said "wait a minute". Success we thought. Upon her return she said "No, the cook has left the building". We couldn't even get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of her.
While we continued checking in, Action Dan rode less than a mile back the way we originally came into town and found a large house lit up pretty well, like it was a restaurant or bar or something. He went in, inquired, spoke with the right gentleman, and a deal was made that they would make a spaghetti dinner for our group. Mind you now, it is around 9:30pm at this point. He texted me the good news, I spread the word, and after a quick bag drop in our respective rooms, we were in the warm confines on a former large house that had a large open gathering room, a TV playing the night's professional Hockey game, and a bar on the back side behine 2 french glass doors!
Come to find out, we had stumbled upon a Hostile. We could have stayed here for only $12 bucks per night, and this is the kind of place my former riding wingman & I would LOVE to stay at. Friendly local people, bare bone conditions, and the conditions for a great story.
On a side bar, during our wait for dinner preperation, conversation was ongoing with a fellow, an older man in a wheel chair, that I assume ran/operated the hostile. I inquired if he knew the wind speed, as it was still whipping outside. He replied "it's not as bad as yesterday". I, in astonishment, responded "it was worse yesterday?" He said oh yea, steady 150 kmh yesterday (thats approximately 90mph steady the day before).
