First Day at Tesh (December 5, 2011)

8:00 am – BANG…..bang….clang……whoooosh.

Heidi: “Sounds windy.”

Chris: “I’m going outside to fill up the snow bucket.”

[Bang goes door]

“HOLY *****!!!” [Muffled yell from outside]

[BANG]

[Crash]

Chris comes in, panting slightly.

Chris: “The wind whipped the bucket right out of my hand. I can’t stand up out there.”

Heidi: “Yikes.”

Chris: “We won’t be working today. I’d also recommend that you pee in a bucket.”

Heidi: “Yuck. I’ll take the risk on the spray zone. The key is orientation.”

Chris: “The key is staying upright!”

Hangin' in the cabin on a windy day

Leaving Lonely for Tesh (December 4, 2011)

Chris looking a trifle frosty


Sounds straight forward…..17 miles, a few hours of daylight, 3 GPS units. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, we woke up frozen. Heidi, particularly, was slow off the mark and even when she did manage to get up and into her super-suit (long underwear, down pants, long underwear shirt, merino wool, micro puff, giant Canada goose jacket, 3 toques, 2 pairs of mitts, 2 pairs of socks, Baffin boots, etc), she had to stomp up and down the 5000 ft runway several times before feeling returned to her extremities. She was essentially useless. Chris started to get things ready, and then had to take his own warm-up break. Basically, we used most of our ‘light’ (twilight) getting ready.

And so we started.

Problem 1: The GPS units were pretty much all popsicles and did not function well. We had to keep putting them in our jackets to warm them up.

Problem 2: There are NO landmarks and NOTHING to point toward when the GPS arrow is not arrowing.

Problem 3: We could see Lonely for over an hour. [Demoralizing.]

Problem 4: Not much snow on tundra = very slow progress. We were slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter.

One hour into the trip we stopped to stomp around and warm up.

Heidi: “Let’s take stock.”
Chris: “The GPS’s are barely functioning. We can point toward the sun-ish for about another 10 minutes. We can still see Lonely. I’m uncomfortable. Do you think we should go back?”
Heidi: [Thoughtful for several minutes]. “Probably. But I don’t want to. The lure of a warm cabin is simply too tempting.”

So, onward we forged. It was painful. We saw the tail lights of another snow machine going goodness knows where. Other than that, we saw very little. We lost some bags off the sled and had to backtrack. Heidi did step aerobics on the tundra while waiting for the retrieval mission to return.

The Borough cabin at Teshekpuk Lake is right beside the only feature – some cliffs. (A bank in any other topographical setting). Seeing those cliffs elicited a feeling of indescribable relief. Four hours after our departure, several stops, several course corrections, and 1 retrieval mission, we arrived. And the stove started.

SUH-WEET!

Arrival at Lonely (December 2, 2011)

So, after waiting a day or two in Deadhorse, Chris and I headed out to Lonely on December 2, 2011. Chris had flown out with Bob the day before to drop gear at Teshekpuk. They also flew over the route that we would be snow machining (Lonely to Teshekpuk).

Chris (yelling to Heidi over the noise of the generator as we were madly flinging gear around the hangar): “Just to warn you, it’s a little eerie. Flying, that is.”

Heidi: “What do you mean?”

Chris: “Well, it’s kind of like being inside a dimly-lit ping-pong ball.”

Heidi: “Surrounded by white…..sounds good. Can you see anything – textures in the snow or tundra?”

Chris: “Nope. Just white. Until you get to Lonely. Then you see a big radardome and a giant hangar.”

So off we flew. An hour later (Heidi was a Heidsicle), we landed at Lonely. Bob, not wanting the plane to sit for long at -30, quickly threw the engine cover on and we tossed stuff out of the plane. Bob took off.

And there we were. Lonely is an odd, odd place. It was quite pretty right when we landed. The sky was pink (as light as it ever got), and we could actually see a horizon of sorts. Lonely is an abandoned DEW line site and has supposedly been ‘remediated.’ I’m going to go ahead and call it random. In one building, which we called ‘disgusto building,’ there would be a wall ripped out, insulation down, light tubes taken out, and then a case of unopened Comet, a nightstand, and a closet with hangers in it. It was pretty eerie. The place was silent with the exception of a persistent and very rhythmic, “Clang……clang…….clang..” It sounded like an empty flagpole.

Chris: “Phew. This is like being in a creepy sci-fi movie.”
Heidi: [Surveying the scene] “What this adventure needs is a little more cowbell!”

Our first task was to find Chris’ colleague’s CONEX, unpack it, and extract the snow machine. This turned out to be a little more time-consuming than anticipated (as is everything at –stupid degrees Celsius), and started with the lock being frozen solid.

Heidi: “Too bad we don’t have a propane torch. Not that it would work at –30.”
Chris: “We’ll have to light the MSR stove.”

Turns out, matches don’t like -30, and white gas doesn’t like -30. Heidsters also do not like -30, but we knew this in advance and planned for it.
Several minutes later, the lock was thawed out.

Heidi: “Let’s take stock.”
Chris: “I am going to hold up this ridiculously heavy door and frame. You grab that 4x4 and wedge it underneath bit by bit as I lift the frame higher.”
Heidi: “Good plan. Wait. What if we get crushed?”

We were not crushed, but we could have been by the leaning tower of field gear Pisa that threatened to avalanche out as soon as we had the front open. After about an hour of meticulously removing a jumbled jigsaw puzzle of action packers from the CONEX, we could see the snow machine, and lift it out. AND it started on the second pull. Clearly, higher beings were on our side.

Until, of course, the snow machine refused to move anywhere. Turns out, the belt does not engage when the machine is that cold. Apparently higher beings enjoy amusement. We spent 20 minutes trying to start the machine for the second time. By the time it was running and moving and the sleds were hitched together, it was getting dark. We decided that it would be better to stay at Lonely than to snow machine in the dark to the cabin.

Ah, fools we be.

Chris recounted the experience to Mike via satellite phone later in the week.

Chris: “Yeah, we have a plan that will avoid the need to stay at Lonely another night.
Yeah……that was TERRIBLE!”

The good parts were: 1) zucchini casserole; and, 2) hand and foot warmers. That was all.

Waking up dark-circled and chilly on the morrow, we found that our sleeping bag torsos were covered in ice from breathing inside the bags (yes, we know, winter camping instructors). At this point, Heidi allowed that yes, wearing part of a dead seal and a dead otter on her head was indeed warmer than not. Chris was pondering at this point if it would have been: a) more comfortable; or b) less comfortable, if we had lit a bunch of pallets on fire in the hangar and attempted to sleep there.

And so it began…….Mike, Bob, and Jesus H. Dog

We can’t make this up. 70N Aviation, who flew us from Deadhorse, AK, to Point Lonely, AK is composed of Mike, Bob, and Jesus H. Dog (all pictured below). Upon arriving in Deadhorse and phoning Mike for a ride, we were enthusiastically greeted by a golden lab that we recognized from the summer.

Chris: “What’s the dog’s name?”

Mike: “Jesus H. Dog.”

Mike has a long beard, hip glasses, and lives in a seacan (CONEX for you Americans out there) beside the unheated hanger. Bob (owner) lives in a Winnebago parked at the back of the unheated hanger. Jesus H. Dog LOVES playing fetch with sticks. Sticks are thin on the ground up here (particularly in winter), but this dog can find the smallest sticks imaginable.

Mike and Bob are great. They managed to get us out to Point Lonely, AK, and back. Thank you, Mike, Bob, and Jesus H. Dog.

Seriously?

The plan

So, some of you may be wondering what in the heck was up with field work on the north slope of AK in December. Back in July, a group of us, including USGS folks and Nancy and I, went to Teshekpuk Lake, AK to catch lake trout. We were foiled. Big time. Those nefarious LKTR completely evaded our attempts to capture them. So, we had the bright idea that we should try ice fishing. Part of the problem with Teshekpuk Lake is that it is HUGE, and it is difficult to get to some spots on the lake from where the research cabin is located without a lot of fuel, a pretty big boat, and a lot of luck. Travelling on the ice would surely be easier, non?

Ah, yes.

The easiest thing we have ever done.

The plan was for Chris (USGS) and I to charter from Deadhorse, AK, to Point Lonely, AK. Point Lonely is an old DEW line station with a nice airstrip, and some other USGS folks have equipment there that they kindly allowed us to use. The plan was to snow machine from Lonely to Teshekpuk and go ice fishing. Why now? In the dark? Well, we thought there would be too much ice in April. Like, a LOT too much ice. And the ice was late coming on this year. Hence December instead of November.

'A' on the map is Deadhorse. 'B' is Point Lonely. 'C' is Teshekpuk.

Easy, right?

What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

I should mention that this plan was a lot easier than earlier iterations of plans, including 60 mile snow machine rides and self-propelled transport.