So off we went to the cabin to make one last stab at it. No sooner had we finished the getting-in, the propane turned on, the water tank filled, the fire started in both stoves, the roof raked, the bridge shoveled and had settled in for a hot cup of tea, Dan looked out the window and asked, Is that a snow flake. Sure enough, a snow flake it was, followed by one or two more, then 5 or six and by the time the water was hot and the tea poured it was coming in full force fluttering down in the feathery way it has when it comes softly. Pleased. We were at the cabin, the perfect place for watching the snow transform the country into a wonderland of white.
And then it kept coming all through the night. In the morning the snow machines and everything else had disappeared under a good foot of it. Still it came all through the day and that night as well, and when it finally started to slow and let the sun through we were sitting under 22 new inches of it.
So much for ice fishing. We reraked the roof, reshoveled the bridge and strapped on the snowshoes to repack the trails. Because the cabin sits on a long bench between two ridges that follow the creek, all the trails away from the cabin begin more or less with an uphill climb. In fresh snow the track can spin digging the machine into a hole so when new snow is deep the prudent cabin dweller always packs it down by snowshoe first. Normally this is an arduous task, like exercising on an elliptical trainer and doing it with weights on, but this snow was so feathery you could just plow your snow shoes into it and watch it settle softly in the trail. Then tromp down on it on your way back down hill.
That done we were happy to leave the rest of the snow grooming for the next day giving the snow more time to settle and set up.
Out early before the sun warmed too much, Dan ran the trails first by snow machine, found it easy going, hooked up the drag and reran it for a good even finish.
Now the trails couldn’t be more perfect for skiing and I was anxious to get on them but Dan still had ice fishing on the brain. I watched him set off again to pack the trail to the lake thinking I should go with him, noticing he didn’t have his hat, realizing he couldn’t hear me call after him with his ear protectors on.
Two hours later, back from a beautiful, perfect ski, through the white-laden trees, under a sky so deeply blue its almost violet, feeling the first hints of warmth back in the northern sun, I’m surprised not to find Dan with his usual query "Where were you". I dismissed the flicker of concern. An hour later, still no Dan, worst-case-scenario wouldn’t stay squelched any longer. He ran into a tree and hit that head that didn’t have a hat. He rolled the machine on a side hill and is lying under it. He got stomped by a moose. He drowned in the lake. Ridiculous I decided, the lake ice is way too thick for that.
There is only so long one can sit and fret before finally forced into action. I decided I would have to go after him if he wasn’t back by 5 oclock. Then I realized I couldn’t start the machine left sitting in the yard, too hard to pull the cord, thought about going after the young trapper, Jordan, up the creek to start it but would have wasted an hour if he wasn’t there after I hiked all the way to his cabin and back. So dug out the snowshoes, dug out the pack, dug out the first aid kit, although had no idea what I would do with it, packed the cell phone for 911, made some tea and as the kettle began to whistle and the clock began to bong the sound of a snow machine came through. Back on the dot of 5, not a minute to soon or to late.
Rushing out with “what happened” all over my face I’m met with “I hope you didn’t send Jordan after me” and real relief when I said no, why. He’d never find me I have so many trails all over the place.
Dan’s story
The lake sits at the bottom of four hills that descend from bench to bench and Dan being cautious checked to be sure he could get back up the hills after each section of the trail. Finding no difficulty, he headed out on the lake to pack a good staging area to set up for our next day’s ice fishing trip. As soon as he got on the lake he was turning around to get off it. Some internal warning telling him something was wrong. As he came out of the turn and headed back to shore the machine began to drag, slower and slower, Dan using all his snow machine savvy to keep it going forward. No use, he was stuck. He looked behind him to see his trail filling with water. Overflow. A good foot of it under the snow. He realized what sent him quickly back to shore was the sight of two low spots out in the middle of the lake that shouldn’t be there. He knew something wasn’t right.
Sometimes you can just plow through overflow but this was too deep and too thick with sluch. The 2 feet of snow we just had weighed on the ice pushing it down just enough to force lake water up over it. You don’t know its under the snow until your stuck in it. Dan got right to work, strapped on his snow shoes and packed down an area to stand on around the machine so he wouldn’t be wading in water. Then he shoveled snow into the watery spots and packed that as well to keep the water from seeping through. So far so good. The front end of the machine, the skis, were still on top of the snow. Also good. All he had to do was flip the back end out of the machine up on top of the snow he had packed, normally an easy task for Dan, but not this time. He couldn’t lift it. The undercarriage was full of heavy slush like wet cement. It wasn’t going to budge.
Around to the front of the machine to pull it forward also normally an easy task for Dan but the most he could do with all his strength was inch it forward an inch or two and then have to some how keep it from sliding back into the hole. He had about 50 feet of this back to shore, a bit daunting, but leaving it to go get help wasn’t an option. Left too long the machine would freeze in the slush and then getting it out would be twice as hard. He called out for help to Jordan or any one who might be wandering around in the wilderness which happens more often than you would guess but no response. So on he pulled. He could have used a come-a-long but he doesn’t carry one with his gear. Once he got the whole machine out of the hole up on the snow he was able to turn it on its side and clear the slush from the undercarriage. After that the pulling went a bit faster. He thought of starting it up and riding the rest of the way to shore but the thought of getting bogged down in overflow again nixed that idea.
After well more than an hour, back on shore his sense of triumph lasted all of one minute as the machine balked at mounting the short rise off the lake. He had to circle around, turn the machine with more tugging and barely made it on the second attempt. Reality time. The overflow had wet the track so much it was too slick with an icy coating. If he couldn’t make it up that short rise how would he get up the four hills to the trail home? He would have to find another way. The elevation he was now at had a long gully that led to an old cat trail to the tracks. If he could make it there he could follow the tracks to our main trail and have an easy ride home. Dodging willows and alders he finally made it to the cat trail only to find it thickly over grown with birch and spruce. He could chain saw his way down the hill but that would take time and it was beginning to occur to him I might be planning a rescue. He was anxious to get home. He began exploring the ridge that ran above the creek back and forth in and out of alders and spruce. Either there was no good way down to the creek or where there was, the creek was wide open. He knew of section where the creek was wide and flat and probably would have good snow cover but the ridge was particularly high, the brush on the other side of the creek particularly thick. He went for it any way, used the chain saw to cut a tree on the edge of the ridge then flew down the hill almost vertically, shot across the creek almost airborn and crashed through the brush on the other shore. From there he was home in five minutes.
Ice fishing will have to wait until next year. Before the day was done Dan was already planning a halibut fishing trip instead.