Note: This is the first part in a series describing our adventures on the trip south.
Our last morning in Yellowknife started well enough. The Hubby and I got up early, fed the children, then washed, dressed and diapered the brood. I started packing everything in sight in the hotel room while Hubby dragged luggage and backpacks and cooler and squeaky toys down to the Bratmobile.
We finished packing; we checked out; the children said good-bye to each Yellowknife landmark as we passed. It was 9 a.m.
"Good-bye, family centre! Good-bye, park! Good-bye, Co-op!"
We turned onto the highway. We started the big drive. And then Hubby noticed a sound. A strange, whirring sound. It was coming from the back, right-hand side of the minivan.
"There's something wrong with the back right-hand tire," he said.
We started discussing what to do. Should we turn around now, or get it fixed in High Level? Were we safe?
And then Hubby said, "Cin, where's the laptop? I don't remember packing it in the minivan."
We turned the Bratmobile around and headed back to Yellowknife.
"Hello, Co-op! Hello, park! Hello, family centre!" A. announced cheerfully.
Back at the hotel, Hubby tore apart the hotel room and found the laptop. I had put it in a "safe place" and promptly forgot about it.
From there we headed to the Chrysler dealership. The mechanic, after listening to our sob story, brought the van in right away (bless him). Sure enough, the bearings in our right back wheel were worn out.
We went to lunch while he doctored up the van.
Finally, repairs complete (thank goodness for our extended warranty!), we all piled back into the minivan and headed to High Level.
It was 1:15 pm. The drive to High Level is eight hours. I was trying my very best to be grateful we had caught the problem with the wheel and not left behind our computer.
The boys took to driving fairly well. Baby N., however, decided about two hours in that the trip was a plot to kidnap her and sell her to a baby-slavery ring. She screamed almost nonstop, unless she was sleeping or had my nipple in her mouth.
About that nipple: in order to nurse her while the two of us were safely belted in, I had to remove my shoulder strap, lean forward and dangle the breast over her car seat. That involved pushing my right ribs into the hard plastic of her seat, sometimes for hours on end. I still have bruises on my ribs from the five-day ordeal.
We reached the ferry across the Mackenzie River in the late afternoon. Break-up of the river ice had happened only a week before, and the boys were amazed at the giant slabs of ice floating around the boat. We snapped the picture above, one of the few we took on the road.
We finally arrived in High Level around 10 at night. After some Daddy-Sons wrestling, we all hit the beds with a resounding thump.
I went to sleep thanking the kids' guardian angel I forgot the computer. The mechanic said if we hadn't have turned back, we would certainly have broken down on the road before Fort Providence. And there is NOTHING on the roads between towns in the Northwest Territories: no houses, no garages, no gas stations. Nothing.
No comments:
Post a Comment