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| Laura on snowmachine with Buddy |
A frequent question we are asked about living a 3.5 hour
snowmachine trek away from the nearest road is, “What do you do in a health
emergency?”
Well, now, after two health-related evacuations, I can answer that question.
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
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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.
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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.
