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| Laura on snowmachine with Buddy |
1) Last winter, my husband experienced chest pain for several days. He feared that he was experiencing a cardiac issue and was, therefore, not confident about snowmachining to town to reach a doctor. Fortunately, we have an annual subscription to a Life Flight company. For the first time, Bryan called them, described his symptoms, and 45 minutes later, a helicopter pilot and her two burly medics landed on our remote lake to whisk him off to a regional hospital.
Three EKGs later, the doctors told Bryan that he did not have a cardiac problem and, in doctor language, told him to go home and suck it up. A friend snowmachined him home. To my relief, insurance paid for the life flight ($24,000).
2) This winter, my back most molar started to hurt and over three days, grew very painful. Clearly, I required either an extraction or a root canal. I found an emergency dentist in Wasilla who could see me on short notice. Unfortunately, we were in the midst of a three day snowstorm of wet, heavy snow! We did not trust our old, narrow, 660 cc snowmachines to deliver me safely without bogging down several times along the route.
So Bryan called a reliable and resourceful family that we have engaged over several years for many reasons, including to build about half of our 8 buildings, haul in supplies in March, and sell us delicious frozen chickens. In fact, we had a delivery date scheduled shortly for fuel. He asked if they could move up the intended date in order to take me with them on the back haul. Sure enough, the very next day, the intrepid son and daughter, Anson and Oceana (probably in their early 20s), arrived, coated in snow, but without the expected load of gasoline. The snow they traveled through was so wet and heavy that it grabbed their skis and tread, adding weight to the machines and belabored the engines. So they left the sled loaded with 200 gallons of gasoline (about 1600 lbs) on the Susitna River rather than hazard getting stuck on the steep and sinuous woodsy trails to our home.
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| A freight hauling sled |
We stowed my small overnight bag and then I clambered up onto the comfortable rear seat (with heated handlebars) on one of the two, powerful 900 cc vehicles.
The first half of the trek was gorgeous. In fact, Anson and I both used the phrase, “Winter Wonderland.” Young spruce trees bowed low under the weight of the snow. The ancient, twisted trees of the boreal forest suggested fanciful forms, like hunched gnomes and ballerinas with arched arms. One upturned root ball looked like a rabbit profile. Other trees, buffeted by wind, careened into others, forming bridges and tripods. The narrow trail veered left and right, up and down, following a series of little reflective markers nailed into trees. In the dense woods, we traveled at about 10 – 12 mph and were protected from the wind. On the flats (ice covered lakes and snow covered bogs), we sped up to 25 mph through snow and sleet that pelted our faces.
Two hours later, in the waning light of afternoon, we encountered the first little cabins, dotting the ridge above the river, as well as a moose resting out of the wind. My competent team of snowmachiners hitched the sled of gasoline to one vehicle, and then tethered the two machines together to power the load uphill out of the river valley. We managed each hill this way.
Overflow, which is a thick layer of slushy ice water on top of the lake ice (and insulated by the new snow) encumbered our passage across a broad lake that we know is fed by springs. Oceana dropped me off at the far end of the water way, to shed some weight, and then she and her brother tied the two vehicles together to pull the heavy sled fast and hard through the water to an elevated shore. There, Anson lay on the ground to scoop out wet snow clinging to the skis and tread. A very large moose, which I did not see when he was still, caught my eye as he lumbered away from the noisy engines.
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| Our plane in overflow on the lake. |
After 3.5 hours, I saw, through the sleet and darkness, the first fence and telephone pole I had seen since my prior trip to town in September. We skirted a small natural gas plant where gas lines from the Cook Inlet connect to other gas lines on this side of that waterway. Shortly thereafter, we stopped abruptly because a moose was resting in the middle of the hard packed snow trail. He or she reluctantly moved a few feet so we could pass, and then quickly returned to the marginally warmer spot. Finally, we reached Anson’s home, from which his parents kindly drove me to a friend’s house to spend the night before my much needed visit to the dentist the next morning. He extracted the tooth and its roots in a noisy/scary but pain-free procedure.
Because Anson had out-of-town friends visiting the following week, he could not take me home right away. So, since I was on the road system and could get to the airport, I booked a last minute flight to San Francisco where I was able to visit my father, sister, and brother. During that week, the Alaska night time temperatures dropped enough to harden up the snow for a faster and easier return cross-country. When the snow was firm, I flew back to Anchorage, spent the night, drove 45 minutes north, spent another night, and finally rode home with Anson on a beautiful, sunny day, toward “My Mountain” which increasingly dominated my field of vision, welcoming me home. I arrived at 4.30 pm with a load of mail, lots of store bought food, one less tooth than I used to have, and great appreciation for the “can-do” attitude of Anson’s intrepid family.
All’s well that ends well.
