It’s been a month since spring officially began, and it has just snowed overnight. Again.
I am in Thunder Bay again, heading home soon, and the forecast is another possible 20 centimetres – 8 inches. Everyone is so sick of snow.
It is Tuesday. I’ve been travelling since Thursday. I left our home in Greenstone just after 6:00 a.m. It was snowing. Again. Highway 11 was partially clear. Temperature hovered around zero (Celsius). Visibility perhaps three hundred metres. My kind of driving: I passed everything I caught up to in my little red car.
In the photo above, I’m shooting down Orient Bay hill. Compare it to the photo in Chapter 4.
At Lake Helen I slowed down for the suicide curve. We’ve got lots of suicide curves in this country, some marked, most unmarked. It helps to know the road. The one at Lake Helen is signed. It didn’t help that transport driver a couple weeks ago. He just drove straight over the cliff and landed on the ice. Trailer mangled beyond repair. Tractor salvageable.
The driver survived, or we’d’ve heard. News reporting in the rural regions is hit and miss, but deaths usually get some journalist’s attention.
My business in Thunder Bay took till 3:00 p.m. It was still snowing. Thermometer had risen to plus 4, so the flakes died when they hit the ground.
I struck out for Manitouwadge, where my brother John lives. At Nipigon I turned right, and drove for five hours east, then north for an hour.
It snowed all the way.