In 1985, my late buddy Dudley and I, fresh from the 207-mile Iditaski Marathon in Alaska, flew north to Wabush (Anglicized Cree for “snowshoe hare”) for the annual Great Labrador Loppet. I was there also to cover the World Cup nordic races for the Dartmouth Alumni Magazine; Dartmouth had several alums skiing or coaching. And Dudley could never resist another adventure. So off we went.

Our first impression was the snow. Lab City is a company-planned and -built town of mostly one-story ranches. The snow was drifted up over the eaves of most of them. Drifts everywhere! The town office and the enclosed shopping mall had tunnels leading to their entrances, and there was another large tunnel where tractor trailers (which arrived by train from Sept-Iles) could back in to unload. I noticed right away that a lot of the local automobiles had long orange extension cords looped over their rear view mirrors and an unusual number of dents in the front fenders. The snowbanks were so high, it was impossible to peek around the corners at intersections without sticking the front of the car out, and cars coming from either side often couldn’t stop in time. I was bunking in the basement of a family home, and had no idea whether it was night or day unless I looked at my watch – and even then wasn’t always sure.

The World Cup skiers had been in Europe all winter on thin snow shoveled onto the trails by volunteers and soldiers. I spoke with an interpreter the day after their chartered jet arrived in Wabush. He said, “Never before have I heard, in so many languages at once, ‘Look at all the [deleted] snow!’”

All the stars were there – Billy Koch, who’d designed the racing trail for the local Menihek Ski Club; Pierre Harvey, the Canadian champion; some really tough-cookie Russians; the Swedish phenomenon, Gunde Svan (his supporters, in every cluster beside the trail, chanted, “Gunda! Gunda!”); and the US ski team, identically togged in bright blue Lycra. I pre-skied a round with the late Al Merrill, the legendary Dartmouth coach, who, though fourteen years my senior, easily kept ahead of my best efforts on my beautiful racing skis, observing laconically, “The older you get, the better equipment you need.”

The Russian won the 50-kilometer race on the hilly Koch Trail. A couple of days later, it was Dudley’s and my turn, on a pretty flat course over a few frozen lakes, 25 kilometers to Fermont, Quebec, and back. We skied at our usual agitated trot past hundreds of little black spruces about four feet tall. When I remarked to a local skier beside us that it looked like a Christmas tree farm, he replied, “Right. In the summertime, all about eight meters high.” A few kilometers before the turnaround checkpoint in Fermont, we spied the US team coming back toward us. They broke out of the bush and onto the lake about half a kilometer away, skating in perfect unison in their bright suits and approached like a great, undulating blue snake. The music from “Chariots of Fire” sprang to my mind. Their skis hissed past – some of them waved a pole – and Dud and I were left to our reality.

There was a celebratory banquet that night at the ancient-looking Wilfred Grenfell Hotel in Wabush. An open bar and entertainment from the Great Labrador Grand Band; and the inimitable Jackrabbit Johannsen, then 107, said the grace in Cree before the banquet. Gunde Svan and the Norwegian women’s champ danced the lively ones, and I swear they touched the floor only every thirty feet.

If I ever get to go back – and I hope to – I want to take some time to visit Fermont, As its name implies, it’s linked like Lab City to iron mining. Its most striking feature is a single building 1.3 kilometers long and fifty meters high, situated to block the prevailing wind from the individual houses in its shadow. Its complement of shops, markets, and services (including a commuter bus from the basement to the mine) makes it possible for les habitants to spend the entire seven-month winter indoors, if they wish.

This year’s Great Labrador Loppet (the 45th) will be on Saturday, April 4. Visit the Menihek Nordic Ski Club website and get all the details for enjoying a ski as long as you like, on more snow than you’ve ever seen, in a crowd of very friendly, happy people, in beautiful interior sub-arctic Newfoundland.