The plan for our return trip was simple. Under no circumstances did we want to spend another night at Lonely. One night in that freezer/sleeping accommodation was enough for us. On the day we were to return to Deadhorse, the plan was to get up at 4:30am, pack all our gear, load the sleds, and call the pilot at 7:00am to check on the weather. Then, if it looked like he could fly, we would drive to Lonely using a different (faster) route, put the snow machine back in the shipping container, and be ready to fly by 11:00am or noon. That would give us plenty of twilight to fly back to Deadhorse (as dictated by US Government flight contracting rules).
On the appointed day, we got up at 4:30am, after a night of sleeping on minimal padding, as Heidi had so skillfully packed the super thick Thermarest pads into packages that were half the size any mere mortal could have achieved! We ate a quick breakfast and had everything packed and ready to ride at exactly 7:00am. Chris called Deadhorse and was given the go-ahead. Yes, it looked good for flying.
We climbed on the snow machine and headed north. This time, we lashed everything down with ropes so that there was NO CHANCE anything was going to fall off (not that this had happened previously – ahem). As it had snowed a few days while we were at the cabin, many of the troughs that had made travel so slow coming to the cabin had filled in, and the going was surprisingly, suspiciously smooth. We stopped a couple times to walk around and warm up. We finally realized at one point that travelling was so easy we could abandon our complicated path and just drive directly to Lonely. We did that and arrived at Lonely at 10:30am, as the twilight started to lift. We very skillfully packed (manhandled) the snow machine back in the CONEX, reinserted the puzzle-like mass of gear on top of the snow machine, and called Deadhorse to announce our readiness to fly. [Note: As we approached the buildings at Lonely, we saw a polar bear track that appeared to be relatively fresh. This sighting raised the vigilance level to an all time high].
Chris: “Hi Mike, we are all ready to go.”
Mike: “Ah, what’s the weather there?”
Chris: “Looks good. I can’t really tell the ceiling because everything is white, but it looks high, winds are less than 10 and straight down the runway.”
Mike: “Oh. Well, the fog just moved in here and we can’t fly. Call me back in an hour and we can see how it looks, then.”
Chris: “Okay. Talk to you then. “
The above conversation was repeated an hour later.
Then, at about 2:00pm, the following conversation occurred:
Chris: (tentative and pleading tone) “Mike, how does it look?”
Mike: “Uh, Chris, I know you want to get out of there, but it isn’t going to happen today.”
Chris: (imagining days of this weather) “What other options do we have? Does ERA have helicopters in town right now?”
Mike: “Well, they do, but you would be looking at about $8000 to make the flight.”
Chris: “Okay. We will call you in the morning.”
Mike: “Okay. I’m sorry. Have a good night.”
Dejected and horrified by the thought of another night in that freezer of a control tower, Chris relayed the news to Heidi. Together, they talked about all the alternatives.
1. We could unpack the snow machine. Load one sled with just the essentials and drive back to the warm and comfortable cabin. That would be a couple hours of unpacking the snow machine and about three hours of travel. Followed by three more hours of travel and repacking the snow machine tomorrow.
2. What about the Borough search and rescue helicopter? Could it come get us? Any more than one night in this freezer would certainly constitute an emergency. Really! [This was Chris’ idea. Heidi stubbornly and steadfastly maintained that we did not need to be searched for nor rescued].
3. We could just make the best of it and figure out a way to make it through the night.
After a few minutes of discussion, we settled on option 3. But, we had two different ways to make it more comfortable.
Heidi [marching up to Chris with a small avalanche shovel slung over a shoulder] “I’m going to dig a snow cave.”
Chris: [thinking Heidi’s idea will never work] “I’m going to try to fix the heater so we can heat the control tower a little.”
Heidi: [thinking Chris’ idea will never work] “Go ahead. We can both work and let’s see who has the better option in the end.”
Chris: “Isn’t a snow cave just going to be as cold as the air around it?”
Heidi: “You doorknob. Didn’t you dig snow caves when you were growing up?” [As she finished asking the question, Heidi was struck by images of little Chris playing on the sandy beaches of Southern California.] “Oh, right. You grew up in California.”
Heidi then began to explain the basics of snow cave construction and bragged up the snow cave that she and her cousins built one year as kids growing up in Saskatchewan. Chris was certain that she was slightly exaggerating as it included a curving staircase and was claimed to have plenty of headroom that allowed even an adult to walk around comfortably. In Chris’ mind, he saw a room with Roman pillars and red velvet curtains…certainly this was a hoax.
Heidi edit: No hoax!! I’ll find a picture of the staircase and pillars, oh ye of little faith! No curtains, though. And it did take a week.
At this point the wind was picking up and visibility was dropping. Chris was concerned about a bear sneaking up on Heidi and eating her as she was digging. Chris repaired the heater (which was no simple task), but it was useless. Although it ran just fine, it didn’t even put out as much heat as a small hair dryer. Chris was dejected and walked out to concede defeat. Heidi was digging away, as happy and absorbed as a six-year-old making sand castles on a beach in Hawaii. This only served to make Chris feel more dejected.
Chris: “Geez. This wind is crazy! I can’t see very far. I’ll sit out here and watch for bears.”
Heidi: “Okay! You better call and reschedule our flights!”
Chris: [Does she have to sound so frickin’ happy? This chick is nuts.] “Okay.”
The next 20 minutes were spent making sat phone calls to Alaska Airlines to reschedule. The first was dropped just as the agent pulled up Chris’ reservation. The second (again including about 5 minutes of music at $2 a minute) was successful in getting Chris’ reservation changed. Then, the call got dropped again. A third call: more music, followed by an agent who was not as friendly. He got Heidi rescheduled, but wanted a credit card number to pay a $50 change fee. What? This is crazy.
Chris: “Are you serious? Just use the card that it was booked under. That is what the last agent did.”
Agent: “No. I cannot do that. You have to give me the number.”
Chris: “ It is -35 and windy, I’m watching for bears while my colleague digs a snow cave that we have to sleep in tonight. I can’t exactly just reach into my back pocket to get my wallet.”
Agent: “I’m sorry, sir. I need the credit card.”
Chris: [Digging under two layers of clothes to get his wallet]. &*@($ @#$@# &*%
“When you get home. I want you to go to Google maps and Google “Lonely, Alaska”. Then, as you go to sleep in your warm house, I want you to imagine me freezing in a snow cave. Here is the number….”
Agent: [Giggle] “Okay, sir. Thank you very much.”
Chris: [after hanging up] “JERK. “
At this point, Chris gives in to the snow cave construction, grabs the other shovel and starts helping. We spent another couple hours working on the snow cave. Unfortunately, Chris got so excited and had so much fun that he let himself get too active and started to work so hard that he got sweaty (not a good thing when you have to later slow down and it is so cold). We realized after the cave was 90% done, that as the wind was increasing, we should have put it in a slightly different location on the drift. The wind was blowing across the opening and depositing snow. Looking around, Chris noticed that an upwind barrier might cause a vortex that would scour snow from the opening. He tried to construct such a barrier…but it wasn’t successful. In the end, he was able to scrounge some metal roofing that we put across the opening of the cave.
At about 9:30pm, we went in to an abandoned building just in front of the snow cave to get ready for the night. We left our parkas in the building and took refuge in the snow cave. It was perfect. There was room for two large thermarest pads and two sleeping bags. It was a tight fit getting situated. Chris got in first, took off his boots, and got in his sleeping bag. Heidi followed and did the same. As Chris settled in, he realized that it was very warm in the cave. He couldn’t see his breath.
Chris: “Damn! It is nice in here.”
Heidi: “Doorknob.”
Warm as TOAST
We could hear the increasing wind blow across the opening. Although Chris expected a restless night (like we had experienced in the control tower) it wasn’t to be. Chris woke at 2:30am and checked his watch. Next thing he knew it was 7:30 the next morning and he could have easily (and very comfortably) relaxed for another couple hours. When Chris went to get out of the snow cave, however, life was not so relaxing. The snow had drifted in the hole, and packed in right down to Heidi’s toque. Chris was concerned the entire hole had sealed solid and that they were stuck. [Sidenote: Chris is claustrophobic]. Chris checked the satellite phone for a signal before panicking. No, one could not phone from inside the snow cave.
Written by Heidi in between asterisks
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Heidi had roused herself enough by this point to note Chris’ concern. Swallowing her own, she said, “Don’t worry, I brought the shovel inside in case we need to dig ourselves out. Could get a bit tight, though. Try pushing on the door again.”
Chris pushed. It didn’t budge.
Heidi: “Sit on your bum and kick.”
Chris: “It won’t work!! Relax, okay, just relax, Chris.” [Heidi’s concern grows over Chris talking to himself]
Heidi: “Chris. Look at me. Sit down and kick.”
Chris: “It won’t work!!”
Heidi: “Take one breath. Now sit. Good. Now kick!”
And the door gave in, luckily, as Heidi was not entirely sure where they would have put the snow in the event that they had to dig out. She chose not to mention this.
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Chris: “Heidi, you were right. I like this snow cave sleeping!”
Chris’ wife upon arrival back in Anchorage: “Good thing you took a Canadian!”
Heidi: “Good grief.”
We’ll tell you all about flying back to Deadhorse with contaminated fuel in the next installment!
The Door, after 1 hour of blowing in the next morning. You can imagine what the 10 hour blow-in looked like!
