Ice Road Trucking before it was popular.

This is a picture from the modern Ice Road Truckers TV show.

Sitting in the comfort of my home, I click on the History Channel to watch another riveting episode of Ice Road Truckers, enjoying the drama of driving a large trailer truck on snowy, icy, sub-zero roads, rivers, and lakes. As the truckers try to match their speed to the challenging roads, I think back to 1975 when we did our own version of it. The setting was my second truck trip to Alaska in late November and early December. For this trip, I was the experienced truck driver, having completed one round trip from Massachusetts. I was joined by Dave and Mark, both of whom I trained and sponsored for their Class 1 driver's licenses. Our truck was the same International 4070E cab-over single-screw tractor we used on the earlier trip. The trailer and load were far different. Our job was to transport a D-7 Caterpillar bulldozer to a farm in Haines, AK. This used earthmover was an impressive piece of machinery, but if we transported it with the blade on, we would be carrying an over-width load and be subject to countless additional requirements, restrictions, and expenses over the 4,000-mile trip. However, attempts to remove the blade from the arms were unsuccessful as years of pounding had permanently joined them into an unbreakable piece. Our solution was to stand the blade on its end with the two side bars still attached and drive the D-7 into the gap between the arms. The result was a load that not only fell within normal size restrictions, but also provided an unusual appearance as a quick glance made you think the dozer was on its side.

This is my technical diagram of the dozer loaded on the truck

Since this trip was scheduled for early winter, we had to be prepared for whatever the road could throw at us. In addition to our usual tire repair equipment, jacks, and tools, we included a set of tire chains for the drive wheels. We also packed a good supply of warm clothing and footwear, which was fortunate as Alaska and Canada were experiencing a very early, intense dose of snow and cold. In our ignorance, we left "warm" New England lacking all of the winterization equipment used on the currently popular TV show. Live and learn. We also packed a Coleman stove, food, and miscellaneous pots and pans in the sleeper area, thinking we could eat on the move, saving time and money. It was a creative concept, but it did have a downside. The entire kitchen package did provide food on the run and some entertaining moments as we passed through toll booths with the stove flaming and dinner cooking. The bad part? It rattled every time we hit a bump, and there are a lot of bumps on that route. It was an innovative idea that didn't make it to my third and final trip the following spring.

This is a picture of an actual D7 Caterpillar.

On a Thursday night after supper, we left Massachusetts packed into the truck, proudly towing our heavy equipment behind. I drove until midnight, which brought us to Pennsylvania. The next morning the dozer shifted a bit while one of the others was driving. When we stopped to reposition it and tie it down more firmly, we noticed that the left front tire was soft. When we broke the tire down we found a sharp stone in the tread that had cut the tube. As we entered Ohio, it began snowing a bit but there was no accumulation and it eventually turned to rain. That evening we noticed a cut in the valve stem on the left drive wheel. We happened to have a spare wheel for this instance, so we merely had to change it, which was good because it was snowing again. Before the trip, our mechanic, Gordon, had suggested we stay dirty so we would look like heavy equipment haulers. So far we were succeeding at that. Later that evening I was driving through Chicago and we commented on the foul smelling air from the city. Then it got more personal as we realized the smell came from our smoking CB radio. The next morning we were in Minnesota, which had suffered a blizzard with 80 mph winds the previous day. Timing is everything. After stopping for a rest and shower at some friends' home, we headed out on I-94 west through North Dakota. We had planned to take the more southern route to get better weather, but the spacing on the concrete created a rhythmic pounding that made it feel like my ribs were banging against each other when I tried to sleep in the bunk. After hearing enough of my complaints, we took an exit to check on alternate routes. A trucker who drove those roads regularly to Prince Rupert told us the northern route was about 220 miles shorter and the roads were better. With the help of divine guidance, we had just taken the right exit for that route and were headed in the correct direction. As we approached the Canadian border, there was more snow but it wasn't heavy until we were almost into Canada. We pulled into the border station a little after 2:00 AM, pleased to be making progress. It wasn't until that point that we discovered we needed a $2,500 bond to bring the dozer through Canada. Now how do you get a bond like that at 2:30 in the morning? We called the local agent, woke him up, and then walked over to this office, gave him $50, and returned to the border point with the critical piece of paper. We kept driving right through the night in hopes of outrunning the snow. We succeeded at that, but it turned cold, dropping below zero. At that point we thought it was really cold, with a strong wind whipping across the prairie. Along with the cold weather, we had also picked up some bad fuel so the truck was running poorly and down on power. We ran 50-55 mph in 9th gear all day long, burning through the load of bad diesel fuel. Passing through Saskatoon, people on the streets all ran and looked very cold. Not a very alluring sight!

That evening we passed through Edmonton and headed into the Rockies. I had been driving for a while as we approached the Canadian Rockies, headed straight west toward Prince Rupert and the Alaska Marine Highway. My first clue of a challenge was light flakes of snow as we hit the foothills. A few moments later, the snow had begun to stick, coating the road with fresh snow. Up ahead a trailer truck lay on its side, blocking the road, a quick victim of the early storm. As I drove along the edge of the road past the wreck, I sensed that a severe driving spell lay ahead. Being the most experienced driver, I continued at the wheel as the snow became steadily heavier and we headed right into the heart of the storm. Soon it was time to stop and put our winter chains on the truck. They provided sure traction for the drive wheels at the expense of added noise and rougher ride. The chains were only on the one axle, so the tires charged with steering and braking lacked that advantage. Obviously travel was slow but we kept doggedly on in pursuit of our destination. As the snow fell heavier, visibility became more and more limited, falling to about 20 ft. at times. Signs were covered with snow, making it difficult to navigate. At the same time, traffic became significantly lighter and we noticed a total absence of snow plows. Here we were working our way along the main route through western Canada in a major snow storm and nobody was clearing the roads. Pretty soon we were on a lonely, barren road, heading up a steep hill in the dark. It looked like we were driving up somebody's driveway, nothing like the main road we thought we should be on. It was so deserted we assumed we had taken a wrong turn in the last town. With a sharp drop-off to my right, I found a small dirt road on my left to back the truck into, sliding at every move, but allowing us to retrace the ten miles to the town and check our route. As we retraced our steps we actually brushed off each of the signs, looking for that major, well-plowed road that would lead us safely through the Rockies. Noting that it was 2:30 in the morning, we knocked on the door of a home with the lights on. The owner was up watching TV and was kind enough to talk with us, telling us we were indeed on the right road. You just don't know who you might meet in the middle of the night! Unfortunately, our newly-confirmed route turned out to be the same one we had been on before the time-consuming backtracking. So now we were cold and wet from clearing signs, more tired, and driving through even deeper unplowed snow. If you look on a map, you would guess that a trip through the Rockies takes quite a while, even in good weather. After 8-9 hours behind the wheel, I handed over the wheel to Mark so I could catch a nap, but the roads were terribly slippery. Because I was comfortable driving in these conditions, I took the wheel again, staying at it until morning when we began to come out of the mountains. Arriving in Prince George at about 7:00 AM, we had made reasonably good time in spite of the conditions, but the rig was about a ton or so heavier due to the snow clinging to the truck. The men operating the weigh scales were familiar with that problem and we had no weight issues (we had started out at about 63,000 lbs. gross weight with full tanks of fuel). After picking up some fuel and a good breakfast, we headed out on roads that were now plowed, and I climbed into the sleeper for some much-needed sleep. Later in the day, my rest was suddenly interrupted by the incessant blaring of the low air pressure warning from the brake system. I slipped my glasses back on and peered out through the windshield, where I saw the road disappearing quickly beneath us as our speed continued to build from 70 mph upward. Mark had missed a shift, leaving us coasting in neutral down a long, steep (fortunately straight) stretch. Constant use of the brakes had brought our air supply to a dangerous level. If the pressure dropped below 60 psi, the brakes on the drive axle would lock up, throwing us into a high speed skid. Fortunately we were able to slow down and get it into gear before reaching the dangerous curves. About 4:00 PM Dave was driving along RT 16 near Hazleton when we heard a loud hiss coming from the left front tire. We parked right there, put out flares, and started working on the tire as it was cold and soon to be dark. We used our last two patches on the tube (making a total of about eight). When we put it back together it still leaked, so I stopped a passing school bus and asked about a place to buy a tube. The driver offered us a ride, so Dave and I went with him, leaving Mark with the rig. After telling him about our trip, he told us he was a Christian, active in the Salvation Army. He gave us a new tube and some more patches and invited us to his house for dinner. When we got on the bus with him the radio was playing the Simon & Garfunkel song, "Bridge Over Troubled Water." That song has always brought back special emotions since that day. Did I mention we still looked grubby?

Notice the date on this postcard and the date of the postmark.

About 7:30 in the evening, after a wonderful family-style dinner, Dave started driving and took us to Terrace, then I drove the last 90 miles to Prince Rupert. The truck route in Terrace was hilarious--a nice pot-holed dirt road that eventually petered out and turned across a field back to the main road. The truck route was appropriately named Keith Rd. After that little treat, we were faced with flashing lights highlighting the "fair condition" of the remaining road. It was also foggy and raining, construction sites were common, lanes were only eight feet wide, there were numerous fallen big rocks on the route, narrow wooden bridges, and cliffs overhanging the road. After averaging about 25 mph for that segment, we pulled into Prince Rupert at 1:30 in the morning. We drove straight to the ferry terminal and put our truck in line for the morning ferry, thankful for safe travel and a chance to rest. After that draining stretch, we all looked forward to the luxury of the free hot showers on the ferry, the good food, and the chance to enjoy scenery and conquer the miles while just sitting there. As an insight into the wilderness character of Alaska at that time, I mailed a letter on the ferry on 11/25/75 that didn't reach my folks in Florida until 2/4/76. Speed was not a priority back then.

This is the view waiting to board the ferry at Prince Rupert.

We continued on to Haines, where we unloaded the rig and headed out the Haines Highway to around Mile 20 where we turned left onto a side road, crossed the river over a solid steel bridge, and headed up the narrow road to the farm. We were met by the Jacobsens, who had just completed a small cabin on the edge of the property. Actually, it was just off the property, but they wouldn't know that for some time. In the meantime, we were in several feet of fresh snow and the thermometer plunged to 20 below at night. The new cabin was a luxury, except it had never been warmed up. We chopped a pile of wood and fired up the stove for comfort. The D7 came off the truck, we reattached the blade (no small task with snow all around and no equipment), and the farm was the proud owner of a key piece of equipment. With the cold weather we thought it would be a good idea to bring the four giant 6-volt batteries from the truck to the cabin so they wouldn't freeze. The bad part was we dropped one of the batteries, cracking it. We meant well. Next we headed back to Juneau to pick up Travis's Pontiac to bring it back to Massachusetts.

This is a picture of the MV Taku, one of the large ferries serving Prince Rupert (in warmer weather).

Arriving in Juneau, it was a continuation of the wintry weather we experienced in Canada and in Haines. Our plan was to leave the truck in Juneau and take the ferry to Hoonah for a visit. In Hoonah, the snow was about seven feet deep; it snowed every day, and the wind blew steadily from the north, making it look and feel like the Arctic Circle. We helped take down an old army tent that had been put up in the open area. Digging down to the tent pegs gave us an accurate measure of the depth of snow. We also tried a hike on snow shoes, a first for me. The old time bindings were not as effective as the products now available at LL Bean so occasionally a foot would slip out of the snow shoe and the next step would plunge through about 5 feet of snow.

Mike & Verna in Hoonah by the ferry terminal. Note the snow banks.

Clambering up on top of the snow, you would put the snow shoe back on and continue. Good experience. We returned to Juneau rested and refreshed. When we walked off the MV LeConte in Auke Bay, the trailer truck was no longer in sight. The Marine Highway officials said it had been parked in a no parking area, although no signs were obvious to us, so they had towed the rig to two separate areas. After reclaiming the truck, we headed for the dock where the Pontiac was parked. After hours of work trying to get it started, we finally gave up and pushed the car onto the flat bed for the trip South. Not until we arrived home did we find that the timing chain was broken, making the car totally undrivable until repaired. The next step on our journey was to board the Marine Highway ferry for our return to Prince Rupert and the drive through the Canadian Rockies.

Now veterans of the Alaska Marine Highway, we knew how to relax, eat, shower, and enjoy the stunning scenery. That stretch left us refreshed and ready to attack Canada. Fortunately the return trip through the Rockies featured much better weather and fewer problems. We had already faced heavy snows and survived. We thought we had faced extreme cold, and eventually thawed out. However, as we reached the plains in Canada, we ran into the coldest weather I have ever experienced: 40 degrees below zero. That was the temperature on the flatlands, but as you dropped down into the river valleys to cross over bridges, you could feel it get noticeably colder. This presented a new challenge to our driving. At this point, we understood why the local trucks had winterizing features that we didn't. Simple things like covers for the radiator (we improvised with cardboard), extra insulation, stronger heaters, etc. The first visual indication of the cold was the long exhaust trails the trucks dragged behind them as they shivered along the road. With the frigid weather, nothing responded at its usual pace. Shifting gears was a challenge as the lubricant turned to an imitation of wet concrete, making it that much more difficult to synchronize gear speeds between shifts. The air brakes also developed a magical pace of their own that encouraged generous spacing from other vehicles. When you pushed on the brake, there was no initial response, and then a few seconds later the truck would begin to slow. It also took several seconds for the brakes to release. As I drove through this section, I was wearing my pac boots with the luxurious felt liners. That was a great idea but when I was behind the wheel, I built up ice on the inside of the felt liners. During the day it was still bitter cold and again nobody was walking the streets as we passed through the towns. Even heading down into the Dakota's again the temperature was still well below zero, but our return to the states finally brought the warmer weather we craved.

It wasn't as glamorous as the TV version of Ice Road Truckers, but we had faced and conquered heavy snow, extreme cold, and odd-ball loads, and come out on top. As the episode on TV ends, I say to myself, "I could do that!" But I'd rather watch it on television.