Racing with Argos

After the disappointing routing news, I now had no choice but to face off against this menacing storm named Argos. I headed out across Idaho and the skies were cloudy, overcast, and threatening but up ahead, towards the northern horizon, where I was headed, I could see some breaks in the clouds, even an occasional patch of blue sky.

Earlier that morning, after the news was received about the routing, I stepped back to the bed, closed the curtain behind me, knelt down, and poured out my heart to the God I love. I asked for safe travels, and if it were possible, that the storm be stayed on my behalf. After all, I recalled, Jesus had calmed storms before. I placed my trust in Him. In my heart, I sensed fear and trouble ahead, but I watched the blue sky on the horizon, and continued to hope.

My route took me through eastern Idaho, and towards Yellowstone Park. The interstate gave way to a 4-lane divided state highway, then 2-lane rural highway which began to climb up into the mountains, and there, it began to snow. The further the road took me into the mountains and trees, the harder the snow began to fall. Company policy stated that anytime the surface of the road was covered with snow or ice, it was a requirement to chain up, all tires on the two drive axles of the tractor, and if necessary, two of the tires on the trailer. I had chained one tire under supervision once or twice, as part of my training, but to chain up an entire rig would be a new, and no doubt difficult exercise, especially if done on the side of the road, in the blowing and freezing snow.

I had checked road conditions on the Montana website at the last town in Idaho where I still had internet connection on my phone, and it showed that Highway 87 in Montana was completely snow covered. These were chaining conditions. The highway I was on in Idaho continued to accumulate snow which was falling faster and faster until it was almost difficult to see more than about 50 feet ahead. I slowed my speed to compensate for the reduced visibility and deteriorating highway conditions. I began to realize that perhaps I wouldn't need to wait till Highway 87 to figure out if I needed to chain or not. I may have my answer right here on Highway 20. I kept looking for a space to pull off to the side of the road where I'd have enough room to put on chains. There were a few that I passed, but because of the poor visibility in the snowstorm, I didn't see them in enough time to pull over and stop.

Finally, up ahead I could see what looked like a single, solitary gas station by the side of the highway. No town was visible, just this one gas station. But, I had seen it in enough time to stop, and so I did. I jumped out of the truck and ran over to the building near the gas pumps, hoping that someone was around. It turned out to be a tow-truck company specializing in towing big trucks. I went inside and asked them about Highway 87. Was there a pass there? If so, was it steep, and are there places where I can pull over and put on chains? The guys were very helpful and said that there really are no passes on Highway 87, and that I should be okay.

While this information was helpful, I still wasn't 100% convinced of what I was getting into. It's one thing to head into danger, it's another to head into danger, not knowing exactly what lies ahead. Then, up ahead, there was a pullout large enough to pull into and install chains, and in the pullout were two snow plows from the Idaho Dept. of Transportation, and the two drivers were standing outside of their trucks talking. I pulled up along side them, and rolled down the passenger window. If anyone should know what Highway 87 was like, it should be the snowplow drivers shouldn't it?

I explained my dilemma, and they said that they had just plowed the Idaho side of 87 and that I should be fine. They also said that they had seen Montana plows out as well. I explained the company policy about chaining, and one of the drivers asked me if I was loaded. Yes, I explained that I was heavy. “Then, you won't have any trouble, and you won't need to chain,” he said with a confident smile, “Put that truck in gear and get going!” Maybe the Lord of storms hadn't stayed this storm as I had asked, but he did send me an angel.

Soon, the turnoff for 87 came up and I took it. It was obviously a much less traveled road. However, just as the snow plow drivers had promised, the road was clear and mostly dry. Then, up ahead the road began to ascend a small hill. My stress and fear returned far too easily, and I began to wonder what was on the Montana side of this highway. Then, with perfect timing, we crested the hill and all at once, were greeted with a sign welcoming me to Montana, a big huge chunk of blue sky, and a perfectly dry road. My encounter with the storm notwithstanding, my prayers had been answered. I had made it through the mountains safely.

As I made my way down through the mountain valleys on the dry pavement, my fears eased, but I knew my next routing would connect me to I-94 at Bozeman, Montana. Immediately east of Bozeman, I-94 crosses a small pass, really nothing much in the world of mountain passes, but big enough nevertheless, to warrant a Chain Up area, and a Chain Down area on each side of the pass. This was my last mountain pass to be worried about. As I approached Bozeman from the south, I could see that the storm had reassembled, and a major snow squall had filled the valley just west of Bozeman and was headed for the mountain pass. I arrived at I-94 at the same time as the storm, and together we raced east toward the pass. Even though the truck is governed at 61 mph, I had my foot on the accelerator, hoping to somehow coax just a few more feet of distance between me and the storm. But there was one more problem: My clock was down to 1 hour. If I continued to drive for more than the next 60 minutes, I would have an Hours of Service violation. In our company, this is a problem. This only made the race with the storm all the more intense, because if I had to stop here, now, and chain up there was no way I could do that and make it over the pass in an hour. I'd be stranded alongside the road.

I-94 entered a canyon which became more and more narrow and then swung to the left to go over the pass. I checked in my rearview mirror. I was ahead of the storm by about 10 miles now. Finally, we crested the pass and started down the other side. By now, the clock was down to 38 minutes when I saw a rest area up ahead. The rest area was far enough down the other side that we would be out of the mountains. I pulled into the rest stop, set the park brake, and shut off the engine. In the mirror, I could see that the snow was just cresting the pass. We had won the race.

Over the pass at Bozeman, MT with Argos storms right behind.