It’s never been a better time to be an off-road truck enthusiast. There are more choices than ever before, and American automakers produce three of the most capable trucks: the 2017 Chevrolet Colorado ZR2, 2017 Ford F-150 Raptor, and 2017 Ram 2500 Power Wagon. But which one of these factory off-roaders is best? We took ’em to eastern Canada to find out.
I lay on the ground, defenseless. Blood dripped down my forehead. I knew the next assault was coming. I could hear the bastards coming before I could see them.
Minutes earlier, five words had just changed our—my—entire morning: “The Ram has a flat.” It was a Tuesday somewhere along a rutted two-lane gravel road in the remote Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador. We were 75 miles from our origin that day in Port Hope Simpson and 75 miles (and an hour and a half of driving) from the can’t-miss ferry from the Labrador mainland to the island of Newfoundland.
The timing of the flat was, to use polite language, really inconvenient. We pulled our Ram Power Wagon onto the shoulder, parked our companion vehicles next to it, and rushed our tire change. But we were not quick enough to avoid the merciless cloud of mosquitos, horse flies, and black flies that emerged from the undergrowth. To them, DEET was not repellant but perfume. And I was their lunch date.
Welcome to the Trans-Labrador Highway.
Fellow editors Scott Evans and Miguel Cortina, videographer Cory Lutz, photographers William and Jessica Walker, and I were taking the three baddest off-road pickups through some of the most grueling conditions in North America. And the TLH, as it’s called in shorthand, is our not-well-beaten path across this frontier.
To be clear, “highway” is a generous term. This road lays claim to some of the longest unpaved, pothole-laden stretches of road on the continent. Inclement weather is frequent, but traffic is scarce—save for the occasional moose or bear. Fuel stops at frontier villages pop up every 150 miles or so, hospitals maybe twice that. There’s no cell coverage; the Mounties will loan you a satellite phone at each end of the road. In other words, you’re on your own.
This passage would test the mettle of our trio of tough trucks: the Chevrolet Colorado ZR2, the Ford F-150 Raptor, and our disabled Ram 2500 Power Wagon.
Each is the most capable off-road truck its respective Detroit maker builds, and each brings unique capabilities. The Chevy is a Frankenstein’s monster of locking differentials for rock-crawling along with Baja-bred suspension wizardry. The high-flying Raptor is designed for going fast where things shouldn’t be able to. And the Ram—well, it’s got a freakin’ winch hanging off its front bumper. Our top pick would have to be unstoppable off-road, and because half of off-roading is getting to the trails in the first place, it would also have to be great on-road.
Our brutal testing across the Canadian wilderness would be the ultimate way to determine who deserved to be crowned King in the North. —-Christian Seabaugh
Jour 1: Québec City à Barrage Daniel-Johnson
About 380 miles and eight hours separate us and our scheduled stop by the Daniel-Johnson Dam (formerly Manic-5) in northern Quebec, and I’m eager to get at it, so I snag the keys to the Colorado before we pull out of our hotel lot. I hadn’t driven the ZR2 before today, so I’m eager to see how it stacks up against the Z71.
Five minutes down the road, our engines not yet warm, Will gets on the radio. “Let’s stop at Starbucks.” Today was going to be a long day.
Five coffees and one tea later, we’re cruising along the St. Lawrence River. Its stormy blue waters stretch as far as we can see, like we’re on the edge of the world. As we leave the city farther behind, the flat terrain morphs into rolling hills and then bluffs as we follow the riverbank.
The easy driving gives me time to take stock of the ZR2. I miss the diesel our Z71 long-termer had; it was perfectly matched to the truck. Our ZR2’s V-6 is less refined. It fights with the eight-speed auto like an old married couple; the V-6 wants to sing, but the auto wants to keep it quiet.
Evening approaches as we pull into a gas station in Baie-Comeau. Soon we’d head north to our motel at Manic-5 in the middle of the Quebecois woods. That should be one of the few signs of active civilization we’ll see for the next 24 hours.
We gas up and swap trucks. As I turn the Power Wagon onto Route 389, we say au revoir to cell service and bonjour to dense woods and a beautiful, twisty ribbon of asphalt. The highway was built primarily to service the dam 136 miles north, but tonight it’s ours. To my surprise, the Ram holds its own, easily keeping up with Scott in the ZR2 at the front of the pack. The Ram is surprisingly nimble, and its Bilstein-backed suspension helps keep body roll minimal, allowing me to carry far more speed through corners than I thought would be possible.
We reach the motel as the stars begin to light the inky sky. A photo diversion into a muddy meadow had eaten a huge chunk of our time—just as the local bugs had taken a huge chunk out of us. The lone restaurant is closed, so we gather in Miguel’s room for cold cuts. I’d bought a bottle of maple-flavored whisky from a provincial liquor store. It seemed authentically Canadian at the time, but it smells like a sad Denny’s. It tastes even worse. We drink it anyway.
Tomorrow we hit dirt. —Seabaugh
Jour 2: Barrage Daniel-Johnson à Labrador City
After last night’s inelegant repast, we need an early breakfast. It’s a good thing we don’t sleep in; two motorcyclists who’d just come over the TLH warn us that the stretch of highway between Labrador City and Happy Valley-Goose Bay is paved, but the gravel stretch afterward is brutal. Oh, and the bugs only get worse. Great.
Today is supposed to be the short day, just 230 miles of gravel and five hours to Labrador. But we spot a pool-sized puddle across the road to splash in. Then we discover our voices echo off the Daniel-Johnson Dam’s massive concrete face. We giggle. Will lets out a scream. Two figures appear at the parapet. Time to go.
Canada’s Trans-Labrador Highway would test the mettle of our trio of tough trucks.
Rolling down the loose-packed gravel of Route 389, the Chevy and I are flying along. Off-Road mode and 4A allow just enough slip to get the ZR2 moving quickly down the long straights and tight switchbacks. Ahead of me, bare, gray mountains poke out from a sea of green. The panorama is beautiful, though the trucks behind me complain that my rooster tails are eating up the view. Suckers.
DAM After hundreds of miles of dense spruce, Manic-5 appeared around a corner. Around another, we were in the middle of nowhere again.
Having a little fun in an abandoned quarry in the @chevrolet #Colorado #ZR2 #MTonTLH ???? @jlw_photo
A post shared by Motor Trend Magazine (@motortrend) on Jul 8, 2017 at 3:43pm PDT
At the Manicouagan Reservoir, the ringworm-shaped lake that feeds the dam, we pull into an empty quarry to test off-road settings in a controlled environment. Miguel in the ZR2 and Scott in the Raptor set up an impromptu course for their Baja-bred trucks. They drift around obstacles and a sand bowl that wouldn’t be out of place in the desert. I try playing along in the Power Wagon, but it’s having none of it. It can drift a little, but it doesn’t like it. Locking the rear diff doesn’t help, either, because you have to be in 4Low to do so. It prefers to grip and go, so I make my own fun and spend the afternoon driving up and down steep rock walls and over boulders.
Once we’ve had our fill, we peel out and get back onto the road, which now alternates between short strips of pavement and long, wet stretches of dirt. As we approach the Quebec–Labrador border, Miguel calls out on the radio. “The Colorado’s tire is losing air.” The right front tire is down 10 psi, but it has no obvious puncture. We air it up, roll into Labrador City, and check again. Still losing air. We decide to deal with it in the morning. —Seabaugh
Day 3: Labrador City to Happy Valley-Goose Bay
The ZR2’s tire has lost 10 psi overnight. The air jack pops the truck up, and the spare tire rack in the bed makes for the quickest tire change I’ve ever done. No tire shops are open. We decide to press on, spareless, and hope for the best.
Route 389 follows what has to be an old mule trail, but the Trans-Labrador Highway is mostly straight with long, sweeping curves and pavement in good condition. I’m disappointed by that last part. It is, frankly, boring driving, so we seek out a dirt road heading into the trees. A few big puddles and a couple turns later, that dirt road opens up to the massive power lines that shadow the TLH and the clearing that cuts below the lines as far as we can see. The access road is a muddy mess. “The Power Wagon might make it, but …” Christian trails off. My money is on the lighter ZR2. We give up and head back.
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