**The Last Run to Snap Lake**
Vložit
- čas přidán 25. 08. 2024
- *The Last Run to Snap Lake*
The engine roared beneath me as I guided the heavy semi-truck onto the ice road. The endless expanse of frozen water stretched out ahead, a bleak, white desert under the dark winter sky. My cargo, 52,000 liters of diesel, weighed heavily on the trailer, but the weight on my mind was heavier still. Snap Lake Mine was closing after this season, and this would be the last run.
I’d never driven a rig on a frozen lake before, and the thought of all that diesel behind me, over ice that could crack with the slightest mistake, gnawed at my nerves. I’d heard the stories-the groaning ice, the bitter cold, the way the horizon could disappear in a blink, leaving you lost in a frozen void. But nothing prepared me for the brutal reality of it.
The thermometer on the dashboard flickered, then held steady at -55°C. The cold was like a living thing, clawing at the windows, seeping into every gap, and threatening to overtake the heat blasting from the vents. Outside, the air sparkled with ice crystals, tiny shards of frozen water hanging in the stillness, catching the weak light of the sun that barely hovered above the horizon. It was a beauty I could barely appreciate, with the constant fear of the ice beneath my wheels and the darkness encroaching on all sides.
The road from Yellowknife to Snap Lake Mine was a lifeline, but today it felt like a noose. The weather was unpredictable, shifting from clear skies to a blinding whiteout in minutes. The truck's tires crunched over the ice, each sound amplified in the silent wilderness. Every few kilometers, I’d feel the rig shudder, the engine threatening to stall as the cold worked its way into the mechanical guts. The heater fought a losing battle, and the cold crept in, making my fingers stiff despite the thick gloves.
I pulled over more times than I could count to check the truck. Each time, stepping outside was a battle. The wind cut through my gear like a knife, the cold so intense it burned. Five minutes outside felt like an eternity, and I could barely breathe, the air freezing in my lungs, each breath a struggle. I checked the fuel lines, wiped away frost from the mirrors, and every time I climbed back into the cab, it felt like escaping death itself.
The mine was hours away, but the drive felt endless. The thought of turning back crossed my mind more than once, but I couldn’t. This was the last delivery, the final lifeline to a mine that would soon be swallowed by the winter and forgotten. There were men waiting there, relying on this fuel, and I couldn’t let them down. But the fear grew with every passing mile, as the truck fought against the cold, and the road grew darker.
The light was fading by the time I saw the dim glow of Snap Lake Mine on the horizon. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. A gust of wind caught the truck, sending it skidding, and for a moment, I thought the ice would crack, that I’d end up beneath it, entombed in that frozen grave. But the tires caught, the rig steadied, and I pressed on, inching towards the mine.
When I finally rolled into the yard, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the world in darkness. The men rushed out to unload, their faces gaunt with cold, but there was a strange light in their eyes. This was the last time they’d see a truck here, the last time they’d fight against the winter for this dying mine.
As I climbed out of the cab, the cold hit me like a wall, but I didn’t care. I’d made it. The last delivery to Snap Lake was done, and with it, a chapter of my life closed. The mine would be gone next season, buried under snow and ice, just another ghost in the wilderness. But for now, we stood there, watching as the fuel was offloaded, the engines running against the night, the crystals still hanging in the air like memories, frozen in time.
And then, as the last of the fuel was pumped out, I climbed back into the truck. The return journey loomed ahead, but it was different now. The mine behind me was already fading into the darkness, but I knew I’d never forget that drive, the cold, and the way the ice whispered beneath my wheels, telling the story of a place soon to be lost forever.
ان ساءق و أحب كل ماهو ساءق يا مكان و ارواع
Сміливі ви драйвера! Молодці!
This makes me miss the road up there. Been 2 years since I have done it. Might have to make a trip of it.
Ke chulada ha de ser emocioné conducir así.
I just got home from putting a road into snap lake over the portages. Going back up in 2 weeks
Is snap lake mine reopened again ? Or the road is for something else?
@@Iceroadtrucker mine is closed, we're going to be getting equipment in to clean it up, everything is coming out.
Ok then thats what i thought. Thanks bud.
I always imagining myself running the ice roads.
Found it interesting that at @ 2:42, there's 3 trucks (2 empty) within @ 120' of each other. I would've been worried about multiple waves under the ice. Nobody else seems to be.
One empty called turn and burn and the other one was coming in. A bit close to each other but we all survived.
لا إلهَ إلاّ الله ♥الله أكبر. روعه روعه روعه
🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷🚛🚛🚛🚛
I want to do this. Started trucking because of this
wow thats a noisy truck
Hello hello is my mame Jimmy sudamericano ecuador
Cezky.preklad
I don't get it either cuome this filmed in alsak and we were 17 I'm 28 now
Американцы нормальные пацаны,такие же.ребята.
No Americans here for the most part all Canadians.
The amount of fuel humanity burns for useless shit is mind boggling.
People want diamonds and when there's a demand there's money