"Lost" in a Blizzard

Last weekend I took my snowboard (a mini snowboard, a little bigger than a skateboard, one you don’t have to have all the bindings and boots with) out to the airport to have some fun. As always I jotted my roommate a note telling her where I went and when she could expect me back. I “snow-skated” for about twenty minutes then decided to go for a hike. I didn’t want to walk the half mile back to the house just to drop off my snowboard, so I carried it. It was a really windy day, probably 30 mph gusts, so I wasn’t planning on going out further than a mile. So I had a set goal - my GPS would tell me when I reached a mile - and then I’d turn around and go back. I didn’t have snow shoes because it’s too inconvenient to carry both those and a snowboard, so it just took a little longer than it usually would. 

I finally hit the mile mark and turned back to the village. The wind started picking up and the snow was blowing right in my direction, so I pulled down my snow goggles, pulled up my face mask, and kept walking. That wasn’t anything new to me. When you’re out on the tundra, there aren’t many landmarks to keep you on the right track, but being only a mile out, I could look up and still see the airport. But I kid you not, the sky was blue one minute, and within the next, a blizzard was there. The airport was gone, I couldn’t see anything within 10 feet of me. It came on so fast I never had time to dread the possibility of not being able to find my way back. But now that I was in the middle of it, I knew I had to get back fast. I looked at the GPS, knew I had to walk northeast for .85 miles, and be there within 30 minutes before my roommate would start worrying. 

I was dressed properly and I wasn’t cold - when it’s super cold out the skies are clear - someone explained to me once that the clouds tend to act as a blanket. So I wasn’t cold and I didn’t have hypothermia or frostbite this time. I really wasn’t at all worried about my wellbeing - my main worry was that Naomi would panic and send someone out to search for me, which wasn’t necessary. I didn’t want anyone to think they had to take a risk on my account - I fully take responsibility for my actions and I feel that if I get myself in a situation, I should be the one to get out of it. So anyway, worrying about what Naomi was thinking, I tried to pick up the pace by jogging. Which was quite difficult. Jogging in snow against what was now probably 40 mph winds and snow blowing at you,... just doesn’t work out so well. But it was slightly quicker than walking, so I kept it up. Fighting the wind is tough, and I kept having to look down at the GPS to make sure I was still going in the right direction, because I had absolutely no visibility. 

[At our next poker night we were talking about this latest adventure and Paula said “so you were lost?” I replied, “well, no, I wasn’t lost, I just didn’t know where I was.” Which got some laughs. I mean, I had my GPS, I knew the direction I needed to go. I just didn’t know exactly where I was in all that whiteness.]

I couldn’t see the building anymore but I kept walking in that direction. Without snow shoes it’s very frustrating walking in snow, especially when you’re trying to move as fast as possible. Sometimes you fall through to your waist and have to dig yourself out, sometimes you sink down to your knees and take giant steps for what seems like forever. Fortunately I’ve done this enough that I was in shape at least, but I was still tired.

After a while I kind of wished I had chosen to leave the snowboard home instead of doing both that and the hike, because there’s simply no easy way to carry a snowboard in a blizzard. Holding it comfortably was stalling my walking due to the friction with the wind, but carrying it vertically was just too awkward with a GPS in the other hand. I was getting closer but the weather was worse. I put my hand up probably a foot in front of my face and couldn’t see it. I was impressed with the blizzard before this moment, but after not being able to see my hand made my adrenaline rush more. I needed to get there fast. I thought about the teenage boy in a nearby village, only a month earlier, walking home in a blizzard and they found his frozen body the next day a mile and a half away from the village. 

So with that thought fresh in my mind, I ran as fast as I could, trusting my GPS to lead me to the small locked storage building that sits at the end of the runway. At this point I had decided I just needed to see something familiar, and when I do, I wouldn’t leave it until the blizzard passes. I kept going, suddenly climbing a steep hill, going full speed, and reached a landing. I bent down to the ground and realized I was on the runway! Now I know this is illegal, but I couldn’t have cared less at the time. No plane would land in this anyhow, and I didn’t want to leave a path that would take me to safety. Plus I was thankful I could run on solid ground again. I ran for some time, and then became stunned to hear a plane flying overhead. I still couldn’t see a foot in front of me. 

As much as I doubted the plane would land, I for sure didn’t want to get run over by it if for some chance it did. I quickly tried to calculate the time it took for a pilot to circle around and land, then realized I didn’t even know how much further it was to the end of the runway.

So I didn’t give it any more thought. I immediately turned and ran sideways, tripped over a huge hunk of snow on the side of the strip, stood up, and just jumped off and rolled down the slope. The plane never did land but at least my heart wasn’t pounding like crazy. I was close, but I didn’t want to rest until I reached the storage building. I got up and continued to run. My legs were burning, but eventually I finally started climbing another hill and found the building. I went to the back of it, out of the pounding snow and finally out of the ridiculous wind. I was so exhausted that I immediately dropped the snowboard and just crashed, panting from running and the adrenaline rush. 

I knew I had to make a few phone calls. I called Naomi and she didn’t answer... called another teacher, no answer. I called Grant, and his wife answered. I explained I didn’t need help, I just wanted to assure Naomi that I wasn’t lost out on the tundra somewhere. She told me not to try and go anywhere (I may be adventurous and risky, even stupid at times... but I knew I wouldn’t try and walk any further in a white-out blizzard.) Well, after about 5 minutes it started clearing up. I still couldn’t see the village houses, but after another 5 minutes I could make out the village, and I saw a familiar snow machine heading my way. Grant pulled up and said jokingly “I’m here to rescue you!” We got back and he wanted to hear the story, and he said it’s another one for me to write down. A couple of extreme adventures ago he said I should start writing my stories down.

Anyway... he dropped me off at the school and I started walking home and saw Naomi running out of the house with my note in her hand. She saw me and threw her hands up and started laughing. At least I know she cares enough to go get help! I changed clothes, had some coffee, and went to the school to grade some papers, and there were kids there for open gym. I walked in and they said “Kim! You got lost in the blizzard?” ....Of course everyone in the village knows after only 30 minutes. Well, another intense day, another day of thanking God for the time I’m still here. 

Over the summer I promised my mom I’d be more careful, and she replied “I know you will, but that won’t make you stop doing what you love.” I ache for her pain, but I knew she was right. It’s just who I am. I don’t intentionally look for danger, it’s just a dangerous place. It’s risky every time you go out, but I try to be careful in it. But you can’t live in fear of what might happen - you just have to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. I never underestimate nature, and I’m always grateful for coming back alive. But know that if something were to happen, I’d rather go out doing something I love than regretting watching an opportunity pass. That’s just my nature. 

An Epic Tale

I was bound and determined to go camping during the deep winter, but I’ve learned my will-power can only go so far when challenged by Alaska’s brutal environment. Last week, a couple days before I was to go out, I was getting in some last minute training and hiking before surrendering completely to 24 hours of pure pain. My plan was to pack everything I’d take on the camping trip and go out, set the tent up at the site, and then take it down and return - just to know for certain all will work out. But the snow machine decided not to work that day. 

Determined and prideful as I am, I hoisted the 50 pound backpack on my back and began hiking in another direction that was easier terrain for walking. I didn’t bring my snowshoes because I wasn’t planning on going out that far. So I trekked on, enjoying it as always, but that day it was -30 with a -60 wind chill. I made a mental note to throw an extra blanket in with the rest of the camping gear. 

I so enjoy my hikes that sometimes I lose track of time and distance, and that’s what happened. I noticed the sun was getting really low, and I looked at my GPS and sure enough I had already walked 2 miles. So I dropped my pack, got out my tent and set it up as quickly as possible. The wind had really picked up and I suddenly realized how cold I was. But I kept on, snapping the poles in place, focusing on doing this right, because it would need to be perfect in a couple of days. Well, one of the poles snapped into 2 pieces. I was so angry! I was so close! But I immediately began trying to find a solution, letting the broken piece hang and jamming the short pole into the snow. Eventually the tent did stand, although a little sloppy. But I did what I could with what I had. I snapped a few pictures then put the camera back in the pack.

By this time I was super cold. I stood up and almost fell over because I was so dizzy. The wind hadn’t let up since I stopped walking, so I figured I should take refuge for a few minutes inside before I unassembled the tent and hiked the 2 miles back. I sat there, finally out of the wind, but freezing nonetheless. I didn’t understand what made me so dizzy but it scared me a little because now I was so cold my fingers and toes were having spasms and going numb. So I crawled back out of the tent, turned around to take it apart, and I couldn’t even hold on to the tent. The dizziness was too intense, and now my mind was befuddled. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I grudgingly acknowledged that I wasn’t in any state to hang around there. My pride was hurt pretty bad - I never accept defeat, and that’s what it felt like. I know it was the smart move to make but all the same, I hated it. 

Knowing I had to get home fast, I somehow was able to put my backpack on - I didn’t even try to close the top - and just walked as fast as I could. The longer I walked, the more I beat myself up... “I can’t believe I actually left that tent there and just LEFT! What the heck was I thinking?? When I get back I’m gonna get that dang snow machine working and go get it. Gah!” It’s not that I care that much about the tent, it’s just a matter of my pride getting the best of me. I couldn’t stand the fact that I surrendered, even through hypothermia. There were some hills I got stuck on - I sunk in, kept trying to climb, and would slide down. I had messed up with leaving the tent so I kept with the stupid hill and refused to let anything else get in my way. I was really mad, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I would run up the hill, slide down, and be like, “what just happened!?” But I would get right back up and try it again. Refusing to accept defeat, I finally got over the hill and kept going. My face guard was on but the wind blew right through it. It wasn’t long before my ear was burning, so I kept rubbing it, trying to warm it up. And to top it off, my brand new snow goggles were frozen and I couldn’t even see through them. Every step was an ordeal, especially toting a heavy backpack. But I was on a mission and that anger and determination is what kept me going.

The sun had set by now but I was still going to go back and retrieve the tent. I finally made it to the village, my eyes barely open from frozen moisture, my mind delusional, my body temperature lowered. I stumbled into the house and dropped the backpack. Naomi was there asking how it went, but it didn’t take her long to figure out something was wrong. My fuzzy mind was trying to focus on nothing else but fixing the mistake I made. I tried to walk over to get the snow machine key but fell over. I was in a rush and didn’t want to answer her questions, but she grabbed me and asked what I was doing. I finally told her I left the tent out there and I had to go get it. 

Obviously from her stance I wasn’t in any condition to go back out in the cold, but at the time I wouldn’t hear it. But when you can barely walk I guess the other person has the upper hand. She kept telling me no, I needed to sit down. And I would just say no, I have to go back. Bumping into walls, I made my way to the door and she actually went and stood in front of it, not letting me by. Looking back, I’m very thankful I have a roommate that would do that. I was exhausted, delusional, my ear was frostbitten, and I had a moderate stage of hypothermia. I finally dropped to the floor and started crying, still angry at myself for not being strong enough to finish the job, and angry at Naomi for not letting me go. She called someone to go retrieve the tent, which made me feel even more pathetic, but she was just being helpful. 

I’m not one that likes to accept help, and not at all one to give up - even in life threatening situations. I like to think of this as one of my strengths, but I also know this pride can be a weakness. As much as I hated to leave the tent and go back to safety, and even more so to cancel the camping trip, I know it’s the responsible decision. It hurts my pride, but at the same time I’m proud I can admit my limitations. I thought I was tougher than that, and boy, that’s a tough realization to come to. Everyone keeps trying to console me, explaining that many Eskimos, who’ve lived here all their lives, haven’t even spent a night out in deep winter. But that doesn’t make me feel any better about myself. I hold high standards and expectations for myself and I don’t compare them with others. I’m just me, trying to be the best I can possibly be, and push beyond what my body thinks it can handle, and if I come short of giving 200%, I’m incredibly upset with myself. I’m still going to go camping, but need to fix the tent and prepare better for the cold. I may hold off until spring, gradually working my way up and next year can give it another go. Anyway, until the circumstances are right, I’m holding off the camping trip. Thanks anyway for all the prayers! It took a few days to get to a normal mental state after hypothermia but I’m completely fine now. I’m so very thankful for all the prayers, please know that!

Camping

I’m finally doing it! Saturday, around noon, I’m going to put on my backpack, hop on my snow machine, drive out about 10 miles in the Alaska wilderness, snow shoe for a couple of hours, pitch a tent, and brave the ridiculously cold weather until Sunday afternoon.

Now I know most of you are probably thinking I’m crazy and that’s okay! I fully agree with you. But I’ve planned this trip, I’ve thoroughly prepared for it, and it’s something I feel like I have to do. I can’t come this far, live this awesome Alaskan adventure, get that close to the ultimate camping trip, and not take it. So I am. I’m a little bit nervous, but mainly I’m excited. I know it’s not going to be like any camping trip I’ve ever been on, and I’ve camped plenty.

Everyone keeps asking why I would want to do something like this, and all I can tell them is “it’ll be fun!” Now I’m not so naive that I actually believe it’s going to be fun. I’m anticipating plenty of pain and discomfort - I don’t even plan on getting a wink of sleep to be honest - I’m going to need to keep moving. But I still believe it’ll all be worth it. One of my favorite quotes says “Pain only lasts a little while, but regret stays with you forever.” And I know that if I don’t do this, I will regret it. It’s the ultimate adventure. So for the final reward of surviving the -60 degrees, strong winds, and fiercely vicious environment, I’ll be glad I did it. And that will make it fun!

The Eskimos think I’m crazy - no one I’ve spoken with has ever done it except when hunting. They only go out for their subsistence lifestyles, never just for fun. I respect their culture a great deal. But I know myself and it’s difficult trying to explain why I want to do this. I know I’m out-there adventurous and I enjoy living on the edge. 

They worry about the rabid foxes, wolves coming up, even a bear coming around - but honestly I doubt I’ll be bothered. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be prepared - I’m as prepared as I can be. The weather is my biggest enemy. Blizzards can appear out of nowhere - the skies can be blue one minute, and within the next 5 minutes it’ll be upon you and you can’t see an inch in front of your face. But you can’t control everything. Risk is part of it, and it’s what makes it exciting and makes you feel alive. 

Some of my colleagues have tried to talk me out of it, some have made me swear I’ll do it right, some have scolded (Yupik “Nunuked”) me for my risk-taking intensity, but they all understand how I am, and that even though there are plenty of dangers, I’m gonna see it through. I’m viewed as the young adventure-seeking teacher, and my principal tells any visitor exactly that when he introduces us. It’s all good and fun - we have some good laughs at my close calls but also look to make it right in the future. I’ve learned tons, mainly from my mistakes. One thing I like about living and working here is that you have to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. You’re given space to make mistakes, and you can either give up or become stronger by figuring it out and pulling through - whether that be in the classroom or stuck out in the tundra all by yourself. We care for each other, but we’re strong-willed too. I appreciate all their concern - it means a lot that they care enough to try and talk some sense into me ;-) - but I also appreciate them allowing me to carry out my adventures, make my own mistakes, and learn from them. My personal motto is “Don’t just go on an adventure of a lifetime; live a life of adventure.”

I’ll let ya know how it goes.

-Irrcinraq

Livin' it Up

Last Saturday, after a long day of work, Grant came by our cabin window on his snow machine and smiled really big, which told me he wanted to take me somewhere. So I ran out to warm up my snow machine, went and threw some warm clothes on, and went back outside. We were riding the 3 miles over to the abandoned village. It was Grant with his youngest son on one machine, Grant’s older son and a friend on a machine, and I was driving with a little 8 year old boy that wanted to go along for the ride. My snow machine has no shocks at all, which makes for a bumpy, wild ride. Plus, after the 2 blizzards, there are snow drifts everywhere, some over 6 feet tall. So you have to go fast in order not to get stuck. On a snow machine with no shocks and lots of snow drifts, you fly up off the machine like riding a bull at a rodeo. It’s important that you hang on tight - I’ve been thrown off 5 or 6 times and it can be a rough experience. There are no handle bars on the back “seat” for the kid to hold onto, so needless to say, I was a little worried. I told the kid to hold on tight because it was going to be a rough ride! But these kids have grown up riding snow machines and they are as comfortable on them as cowboys are on horses. 

Anyway, it was a fun ride, no one got thrown off, and we stopped periodically to look for foxes and other wildlife. Grant was leading, and I saw him stop up ahead and get off, but nothing was there. I had imagined there would be these old shacks, but there was nothing except for a wooden cross in the snow. Grant said the people of Newtok use to live here, but they had lots of trouble getting supplies there due to the terrain, so they relocated in 1959 to where we are now. When they lived there at the abandoned site, they still lived in sod houses. I wish I could have seen what it looked like back then! I hadn’t thought of bringing my camera, but there was nothing really to take a picture of. But I did bring my GPS, so I marked the spot so I could find my way back if I go again.

We headed back, this time with more luck of spotting wildlife - we saw a beautiful white ptarmigan walking probably 50 feet away and we stopped to watch it. It snowed the entire time, and my goggles broke on the return trip. So it was pretty crazy trying to see where I was going. As soon as I could, I ordered new goggles online. I hope they get here soon. But until then I’ve make do with duct taped goggles.

Our basketball team hasn’t been able to play games for 2 weeks because of the weather. The first time it was too cold to travel and the next cancelation was due to a blizzard. I don’t know yet if we’ll make those games up. 

As soon as my camping gear gets here I’m headed out - the planes have been on weather hold, but it’s gotta let up sometime. Please pray for safety and smart decisions on my part!