Saturday, January 07, 2012

Our Transportation Plan Backfires on Us (written by Chris and edited by Heidi) (December 10th)





[BANG. POP. Rev….BANG.]

Chris: “Go ahead and shut it down.”

Heidi: “What’s going on? Did I break it?”

Chris: “I’m sure you didn’t break it, but I’m not sure what is wrong.”

We had just finished fishing at a spot that was only about 1mile (1.6 km) south of the cabin and Heidi had driven the snow machine until we came to a stop just at the lake’s edge at the cabin. The snow machine started back-firing and wouldn’t go any further. Heidi made a few suggestions/questions about what it might be and then quickly surmised that Chris needed some time alone with the uncooperative snow machine. She went about the task of hauling gear the 100 m or so to the cabin. Chris raised the cowling and started poking around to figure out what the problem could be. Perplexed, Chris called a friend in Anchorage.

Chris: “Hi, Paul. I’ve got a little problem with the snow machine. Can you help me?”

Paul: “Sure, what…”[dead silence as the sat phone dropped the call]

Chris goes through the 2-minute drill of dialing the phone and waiting for the satellite. This happens three more times.

Paul: “I know. Satellite phone dropped us. So, what’s up with the snow machine?”

Chris: “Well, it was functioning perfectly and then began backfiring and won’t make enough power to move. But it seems to idle okay. “

Paul: “Have you been running in a lot of blowing snow?”

Chris: [Picturing the view we had on the ride back the night before in a 30 knot crosswind when we used the direction of the snow to aim for the cabin – this is actually another anecdote*.] “Uh, yeah, we don’t do much else.”

Paul: “Well, I bet you have carb ice then. “

Chris: “Ah! That makes sense.”

Paul: “What’s the temperature right now?”

Chris: “Hmm…I’m guessing it’s minus 20 today.”

Paul: “Ohh…it’s going to be hard to get that warm enough. “

So, carburetor ice (or carb ice) can block the flow of fuel to the engine, which can kill it. In our case, Paul (who owns this snow machine and one just like it at home) thought that we picked up some of that blowing snow, which was now coating the inside of the carb. Sounded reasonable.

To get the carburetor warm enough to melt the ice, Chris decided to wrap the cowling with his down sleeping bag, build a snow berm to block the wind, and let the machine run until everything got warm enough to melt the carb ice. Then, he put some duct tape (can’t have a bush repair without duct tape) over the cowl openings in the hopes that we could get a little warmer running temperature. After about an hour, his sleeping bag was completely saturated in hydrocarbons (luckily he had a clean one in the cabin, otherwise he would have asphyxiated while sleeping) and the surface of the cowling was warm to the touch. Great. That carb ice had to be gone.

Chris hopped (well, waddled, let’s be honest – he was wearing a LOT of clothes) on the snow machine, gunned it and drove around for about 200 meters, when…

BANG. POP. REVVVVVVV….same thing all over again

[Insert foul language of your choosing that Heidi could hear from inside the cabin]

At this point, Chris came into the cabin for a snack and a warm-up. Heidi was packing. She looked up when Chris came in the door and quickly surmised that asking any questions was unwise. There is a natural division of labour that evolves during field trips, usually based on ownership and/or experience. For instance, Heidi was in charge of all things gill net during the summer sampling. The gill nets were hers, and she nets a LOT. Chris has more experience with motors, planes, snow machines, etc, and the machine belongs to Chris’ friend. When the person ‘in charge’ of a certain piece of equipment is facing a potentially trip-threatening problem, it is generally wise to shut the **** up until your assistance is requested.

Heidi’s brain to Chris’s brain: “Can we bring the snow machine inside?” (This was communicated by Heidi looking contemplatively at the door, not by speaking).

Chris: “I thought of that and measured. No dice.”

Heidi: “Rats and squirrels, as they say.”

Chris: “Let’s pour boiling water on the carb. That will do it.”

No. It didn’t.

Okay, another hour under the sleeping bag and a large tarp.

Nothing. Same problem.

Paul was called again.

Paul: “Wow. Let me think. The carb is attached to a black rubber boot with a spring clamp. You could remove that and look in the carb to see if it is clear or if something has lodged in there.”

At this point, Chris was stressed. Here they were with a snow machine that did NOT machine over snow. He had to fix it so they could take it back to Lonely. Tomorrow. And we still had to move a bunch of fuel and equipment over to the other cabin. Also, the machine was borrowed! We couldn’t just abandon it at the cabin until Spring. Although, Chris thought, if he didn’t get it running, he might just have to do that and arrange for us to get picked up here. Oh…that was not good. [Heidi edit: This would be a MAJOR loss of Alaska man-points. Also, we left the CONEX at Lonely looking locked, but not locked because the lock had frozen solid and we were too frozen solid to thaw it out and lock it before we left. Also, our snow machine helmets were there. We couldn’t get them on when we left Lonely, because they were frozen solid. Heidi chose not to remind Chris of this.]

In order to take off the carb boot, Chris had to work bare handed. That meant, he could do a few minutes at a time and, then, had to revive his hands in his jacket. Off came the boot (being VERY CAREFUL not to lose the spring or any of the other small bits in the pitch dark). Chris stuck his head in the cowling and eased the carburetor over to look inside. Nothing. No ice, no foreign objects, just a perfect looking carburetor.

Damn.

Dejected, Chris went back to putting the rubber boot back on the carb. The boot was attached between a black plastic box and the carb. As Chris was reattaching the spring clamps, he realized that the black box was held together by two bolts that also held a solenoid to the spark plug and one of the nuts was missing and the other was very loose (resulting in a faulty ground to the solenoid – and hence the misfiring which resulted in the backfiring.) ARGH!!!! Why didn’t he notice something so obvious? [Heidi edit: Seriously? You think this was obvious? Please.] Chris rummaged around and found a wing nut on one of the ice fishing tip-ups. With that in place and the other nut tightened…everything ran perfectly!

We ended up losing a day due to this little incident. However, it happened within 100 m of the cabin. Clearly, karma was on our side. The day before, we were over 20 miles from the cabin and it was -30 with a 30 knot wind. The day before that we were 20 miles from the cabin and Heidi got so cold that she had to stamp up and down a patch of ice for 20 minutes while singing Christmas carols to herself. This could have been MUCH worse.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
*Anecdote. Driving back from fishing on that day (we refer to it as “that day”, as it was colder and windier and scarier than any other day), Chris stopped for the 20 millionth time and said, “Heids, we’re just not making any progress. The GPS won’t run for any longer than 10 minutes, and there is no good light today and no landmarks. We’re all over the place. It worked okay when you were sitting backwards and could steer me by staring at the moon, but you can’t see that anymore, either.”

Heidi: “Wait for the GPS to warm up. Then when we’re running again, memorize the angle that we’re crossing the blowing snow at. Memorize where it’s hitting your face. Then hold that angle. Hopefully the wind doesn’t shift.”

Chris: “Ah, blonde Inuit, how in the hell did you come up with that?”

Heidi: “Driving on the south Saskatchewan prairie. When it’s blowing snow, which is 4 months of every year, and it’s night, you often can’t see the road for a few seconds at a time. But the road is straight, because it is the prairies. So I memorize how the snow looks to avoid the ditch.”

Chris (working his frozen thumb back into the trigger position): “Huh. Sounds reasonable.”

Good grief.

Tuesday, January 03, 2012

A typical day fishing (December 6-9, 2011)

[Slam goes front door]

Chris: “I think it might be warmer outside. I took my hands outside of my mitts to refuel the stove and they don’t ache. My hands, that is.”

Heidi: “Sweet. Let’s catch some fish!”

[15 minutes of dressing later]

[20 minutes of packing later]

[1.5 minutes of last-minute babybel-cramming later]

[30 minutes of snow machining later]

Heidi (yelling): “All I can smell is exhaust. Also, I’m starting to lose feeling in my right foot, despite foot warmers and these $200 boots.”

Chris: “Same here.”

Heidi: “They’re supposed to be good to -100C or -148F.”

Chris: “Thus, we can only conclude that it is below -148F. I hate it when that happens.”


[2 minutes later, after Heidi does windmills, karate kicks, and otherwise stomps around to get warm, and Chris warms up the GPS, we resume our positions on the snow machine]

[Repeat 30 minutes of snow machine, 2-6 minutes of warm up, several times]

Chris: “We’re here. Let’s drill some holes. Of course, this would be easier if we hadn’t broken the auger. I was told not to buy Eskimo augers.”

Heidi: “Why did you buy one, then?”

Chris: “They didn’t have any Jiffy augers in Anchorage. I would have had to go to Wasilla.”

Heidi: “Where the heck is that?”

Chris: “It’s where Sarah Palin is from.”

Heidi: “Okay, well, we have most of an auger. And we can operate it, as long as we divide the labour into holding the auger and operating the throttle.”

Chris: “This would also be easier if my thumb wasn’t permanently frozen.”

[After drilling holes, Heidi and Chris stare at each other]

Heidi’s brain to Chris’ brain: “So……who’s going to take off their mitts and put the bait on the hooks?”

Chris’ brain to Heidi’s brain: “Someone also has to operate a pair of pliers. This will be next to impossible.”

Heidi’s brain and Chris’ brain: “Both will take mitts off.”

[35 minutes later, all tip-ups are set, and Heidi is jigging. Chris is going from hole to hole and slushing. Holes tend to freeze up quickly on this lake (quelle surprise)]

[20 minutes later, Heidi and Chris switch, without saying anything. Repeat several times.]


Heidi: “I think I’m hungry. All of my snacks are frozen in my pocket. Also, I don’t want to take off my mitt to get into my pocket.”

Chris: “I think the lake trout have been extirpated from this lake.”

Heidi: “Time to cut bait and return to the land of zucchini casserole and a stove???”

[Repeat most of first half of this post. Substitute playing tag for windmills and karate kicks]