Flight To Pandemonium

by Murray, Edward

  “Cap, who said anything about a cold fireplace?” asked Tony doubtfully.

  “Any of you looked at our woodpile recently? We’ve used more than half. We’ve burned all the hardwood and snag wood and old spruce isn’t worth much.”

  “Naw, I haven’t paid much attention,” replied Mac, “I suppose it’s time for that awful job again. But I’d rather have a cold fireplace than go out in this weather.”

  “If there’s good chord-wood on the barge, we’d be way better off with that,” replied Tony. “But we’ll need thick ice to haul it here.”

  “I’m for procrastinating until then,” replied Mac.

  Another week passed without Pappy and Hirsh returning. Meanwhile, cold weather thickened the ice on the lake. Mac thought such cold conditions might encourage Pappy to land on the lake with skis… if he and Hirsh could put them on somehow.

  Thinking of thick ice prompted Mac to renew discussion of firewood. “That load of firewood on the barge might last us all winter. When will the ice be thick enough to go get some? The wood is split and bucked up for us. We should check it out before cutting any more crummy spruce wood.”

  “We waited too long to float it out, so now we have no choice but the hard way… load it all on sleds by hand and haul it around the lake. Maybe Ahtna can tell us when the ice is ready,” replied Jack.

  The marooned barge had frozen solid within its willow bog. With no hope of freeing the monster, the four men made dozens of sled trips rescuing firewood.

  Even though the boats weren’t necessary until spring, Tony feared their aluminum hulls would be irreparably damaged by ice heaving. They rescued only one; the second was swamped with snow and ice, solidly imprisoned in the willow thicket. Tony saw cut the ice surrounding the stern in order to rescue the outboard motor.

  With lights and full use of the kitchen, Judy and the Captain prepared a surprise breakfast of moose strips and hot cranberry cornbread. Judy explained that she was using the last of the seasoned moose as a hearty introduction to a day…outdoors… to be devoted to fishing on Old Man Lake with Ahtna.

  Tony cut ice holes where Ahtna suggested conditions might be best to catch fish. They tried hand lines and ice plugs from the outfitting room. But the day was a bust without a single strike. Ahtna explained the season was still too early for ice fishing.

  Mac realized the day of fishing was sort of a reminder. No one had entered the freezer since it had been filled with twenty five quarters of caribou. Was a curse hovering inside? They had months of stored food but no one wanted to be the first to confront the phantom of the bats.

  That evening during the ‘very last’ spiced moose dinner, Jack said he wanted an honest discussion with everyone about procrastination. He began in matchless fashion.

  “I want y’all to hear me out before the fur rises on your backs, and I’m talkin’ ‘bout myself as much as anyone.

  “Things have a way of happening ‘round here real untimely and causing us grief. I think we don’t face things squarely. Maybe the Good Lord has been lookin’ out for us, but Tony thinks He favors folks who look after themselves first.

  “Seems to me we haven’t been doin’ that… like trying to save the barge and the boats after they got iced in… goin’ huntin’ just a day before that storm… and dodging cleaning out that freezer… and what happened with our friends disappearing without help. Nobody’s fault especially, but we need to get our… ah, act together.

  “I remember Onita talked about growin’ food in the spring, but we’ve never mentioned a garden again… and we should. I’m sure y’all got things in the back of your mind we’re not dealin’ with, but I got one to start.

  “Tony and I have been talkin’. Tomorrow we’re gonna set up that Weber on the wharf and have us a caribou roast. Then we’re gonna have a nice dish of chocolate ice cream apiece and brew a pot of that coffee.

  “Then we’re gonna break some ice… and try that lantern trick at night until real late and see if that catches fish on this lake. Then if we’ve turned that curse loose again by doin’ so, we’ll know by then and die doin’ something useful. We’ve gotta get this monkey off our back. Stalling is gettin’ in our way.”

  Silence followed, then Judy spoke up, “Jack, you’re actions affect all of us. Don’t you think we should agree first?”

  “You wanted us to talk about things first, so I’m doin’ that. I wanted to just go open the door, but Tony talked me into this. Someone has to make the first move. That bug will get loose eventually if it’s still festering in our freezer. What if the power fails or we run out of fuel? Not even the doctors could control it… you said so yourself. Either open up that freezer or leave this place and look for another.”

  Ridiculous, thought Mac. After listening to Jack, Judy glanced at Mac.

  Judy said, “I think we ought to have caribou roast for dinner tomorrow night… with ice cream for dessert… in the dining room.” After a pause for reflection, there were nods around the table.

  “What’d I tell you, Jack?” said Tony.

  “Sounds good to me! I hate fishin’!”

  48

  Yukon River Bridge, December 15th. Six weeks confined in the tiny cabin passed uneventfully. But the days dragged tediously for the men. The highlight of their day was cutting more deck firewood. Group walks provided necessary exercise for everyone, but the days blended together unchanged. To relieve the boredom, Christie created a competition. The first among them to spot any change at all in their surroundings would win selection of the evening menu... all choices being limited to three. Piquk usually won, her eyes well accustomed to following tracks and changes in her surroundings since childhood. She could track a wolf across hard ice or where a snowshoe hare had hidden in the snow.

  Each morning, the men gazed to the far side of the river hoping for a day to go exploring without fog. Their highlight was the day they surprised a bull moose browsing willow along the frozen riverbank. Lazlo and Christie dressed the animal, and handed two prime cuts to Ernie to prepare an informal Christmas dinner. No one knew the date exactly; they sensed the season should to be at hand.

  Their ample supply of food made hunting seldom necessary. Moose appeared almost daily along the river. Wolves occasionally prowled the cabin, but they would never have suspected their presence without Puppy’s bristling alert. Bears were hibernating. Winter had settled in. Life was boring.

  Piquk announced that she needed a wolverine pelt to trim the hood of all their traveling garments. She taught the men how to modify two bear traps tailored for wolverine. Having lived her entire life at Stephen’s Village using family trap lines productively, she knew the animal’s habits. On a bright winter day, she and Ernie set out for the day to find wolverine sign and lay her traps.

  Christie suspected that Piquk had other motives. She wanted Christie and Lazlo to have time alone. After Piquk and Ernie departed, the couple renewed their passionate lovemaking. Christie told Lazlo she was pregnant. He proclaimed he was truly delighted and looked to share a new life eagerly with mother and child.

  Piquk returned grinning and teased Christie to reveal full personal details. She revealed little but only that in their shared native language.

  Clear weather stirred Lazlo and Ernie to cross the river. They loaded the sled with chainsaw, hatchets and rope for cutting snags. The order of the day was to first go exploring, and then cut wood. Packing lunch, they set out beneath the bridge where they halted. Vigorously jumping up and down on the ice, they felt encouraged the unyielding ice might support the weight of a truck.

  From a natural beach, they climbed the far bank and found the road blocked with vehicles extending beyond sight. Countless refugees had been following the only road north seeking safety of the wilderness. The pipeline road was so tightly congested with vehicles that no car had managed to turn back around.

/>   “Well, that’s that, I suppose,” said Lazlo.

  “Fine by me! After my experience, I’m not about to travel on foot again,” said Ernie.

  “With a deuce, we might even forge across country… but I can’t say where we’d go exactly,” replied Lazlo. “South of here, there’s only Fairbanks.”

  “Only two choices, the road or the river. But, let’s not argue all that again; let’s cut firewood.”

  The pair searched the beach downstream around a broad bend before finding a stretch of tall snags worth harvesting. They worked continuously felling, cutting and stacking wood on the beach until a welcome morning coffee break.

  They sat chatting with the quiet interlude without the racket of a chain saw when both heard the unmistakable sound of an airplane. Flying low directly above the bridge, it circled widely moving downriver toward them… a classic Beaver floatplane brightly painted red and white with broad skis attached to floats. Lazlo and Ernie ran onto the river ice hoping they would be more visible and waved vigorously as the plane passed overhead. The Beaver circled back headed toward camp, but then turned south over the bridge and disappeared over the treetops.

  At the cabin, Christie and Piquk waved encouragement, but weren’t certain they could be seen. Christie observed the pilot to be a young woman flying alone. She was disappointed when the plane departed without acknowledging their invitation. In the future, she resolved to waive the stars and stripes to be sure the next visitor understood their message of welcome.

  The opportunity came as the men set out to bring home a load of firewood.

  49

  Old Man Lake, December 20th. Darwin’s strident barking brought Mac stumbling from bed to the windows. Pushing the sequence of dim buttons brought blazing light flooding the front veranda. Mac saw a grizzly bear standing on the woodpile peering into the lodge. Startled by sudden bright light, the bear leaped down, but in doing so, hurled a log into a large veranda window, shattering the glass.

  Darwin sprang through the opening, and chased the bear from the veranda. For a second time, Mac watched Darwin’s herding feat, bouncing off the backside of the bear while avoiding the quick backslash. He feared for the dog, but the bear never touched Darwin as he chased the bear beyond range of the lights. Shortly, he returned to the front door, panting and presenting his upturned rump, bum wagging for his reward. One sad day, Mac feared, that plucky dog was going to meet his match.

  In response to everyone’s surprise with the appearance of a grizzly bear in mid winter, Ahtna explained that the brown bear sometimes prowled for food in mid winter. Hearing that, bear proofing the windows with chain link fencing became a renewed priority. Days later, Mac thought the completed veranda window fence looked like a sad prison conception.

  Winter solstice prompted the companions to re-evaluate how well they were conserving their food. Spreading their remaining preserved food on dining room tables revealed that by storing everything neatly out of sight, they’d lost track of their consumption. Their preserves would be exhausted well before the end of winter.

  The bountiful supply of preserved berries liberally dished out at breakfast was nearly gone. Only canned goods, flour, rice and venison stood in good supply. Onita was especially disturbed by the scant remnant of small potatoes. She removed all remaining potatoes and paper wrapped them as root stock for spring.

  Their remedy for the remainder of winter was to record and ration everything remaining and rely more on hunting and fishing for their sustenance. Common sense dictated that every scrap of food be put to good use. Butchered bones and fat would be boiled and combined with table scraps making nutritious soup. Darwin could learn to eat frozen scraps like every dog of the north and not be given precious handouts under the table.

  The cringing discovery for Judy was that only two twelve pack rolls of toilet tissue remained for seven people all winter. She insisted that ten rolls be transferred to the infirmary and the rest be distributed equally for personal conservation… no more habit of Costco largess. Eventually everyone must learn the disagreeable eastern method of bathroom hygiene without benefit of either a western bidet or an eastern style plumbing fixture with faucet.

  Most of the medical dressings had been used treating Mac’s injured ear, the Captain’s hand and especially Ahtna’s bear injuries. Only Judy’s medical bag had stock… Neosporin, Ace bandages and Red Cross emergency kits remained from the fast and furious raid on the Palmer pharmacy.

  Thereafter, each night they addressed a new topic establishing priorities. Food was always of concern despite the store of caribou meat. Hirsh and Ahtna plotted locations on the library map to begin lake fishing. Weather brought unrelenting storms keeping them inside.

  Onita pressed doggedly for sensible plans to create summer gardens. Her family farmed in northern British Columbia on difficult ground rather like the Copper Valley. Growing conditions there always required an extra effort of spring preparation. Spring planting adapted to local weather would need everyone’s hand labor.

  Walking daily with Ahtna to strengthen his legs, Onita looked for suitable garden spots near the lodge. Covered with snow, nothing looked promising. She reminded everyone that their garden should be well established before the longest growing day of the year in June.

  Anxious to establish a greenhouse, Onita, Ahtna, and Mac toured the vast roof deck of the lodge. Designed for summer gatherings and evening recreation, the deck accommodated an outdoor dining plaza, two pickle ball courts, and spacious trellised garden bar. Open to the full sweep of the sun, Onita thought the roof deck was best for keeping sprouts warm throughout the day. Masonry deck pavers would help keep the greenhouse stable by dissipating warmth at night. Every potted seedling needed greenhouse propagation before planting.

  Onita planned to use the deck’s ornamental masonry planters to grow early vegetables, especially tubers. The ball courts might accommodate the necessary framework supporting a glass enclosure for sprouting.

  But with crackling ice hard under foot, Mac doubted the windblown deck was suitable for sprouts. He thought preparing the loamy shoreline of the lake should be more productive. Adjacent to water, gardening would require far less work. Maybe the geothermal wharf could provide the heated boost for sprouts Onita thought necessary. They discussed other necessary duties, but as wintry weather provided daily excuses, so did procrastination.

  Even though they spotted only an occasional moose, Ahtna assured them that game still abounded. But the season should be nearly suited for ice fishing. Once free of fog, Ahtna asked Tony to bore a dozen widely separated holes in the ice cover of Old Man Lake. Having experienced ice fishing only once, everyone fumbled awkwardly, unsure of Ahtna’s verbal lessons, and only Tony caught fish. Jack refused to touch a fishing pole. Employing his own technique using baited nets suspended from slotted holes, he surprisingly caught more fish than Tony’s poles.

  When Ahtna redirected his morning exercise to the lake, his guidance improved their success. Only lake trout and grayling were active under the ice on Old Man Lake. Ahtna instructed the fishermen to abandon any auger hole which didn’t soon produce results and try a more distant hole. He demonstrated jigging techniques with lures and spoons and the use of ‘tilt-up’ flags attached to lines with baited hooks. The moving flag alerted “fish-on” and allowed each angler to work more than one hole at a time. Trial and error improved success… modestly.

  Early one morning, Jack and Tony joined breakfast flushed pink from their adopted duty of preparing the sleds for fishing. Jack said, “It’s twenty below out there and blowin’. How ‘bout we skip fishin’ today?” Jack would skip fishing every day.

  When Mac sat down to his journal, the Captain joined him and asked, “Did you ever come up with a date in that log of yours?”

  “No. It’s not a log, just a journal of thoughts. I lost track of time long ago.”

 
“Ah, too bad. Best I can make out, Christmas Day was either yesterday or the day before. Somehow we let it slip by.”

  Hearing that, Judy announced that Christmas dinner would be served that very evening. No gifts were permitted (they had little to give one another anyway), just to be dressed as colorfully as possible and prepared to sing.

  Mac’s first impression of the dinner table was that something was missing and then remembered… the table was two places short. The ladies and the Captain prepared a fine dinner but with more limited fare and far less sumptuous than Thanksgiving had been.

  The Captain led formal grace. He concluded the prayer with a fond remembrance for departed family and friends, and then looked up with horror - realizing Pappy and Hirsh were included. He stumbled through a psalm blessing the pair.

  Afterwards, Judy led them acappella in traditional Christmas carols; even though few could carry a tune, they sang energetically. With brandy, the evening wound down to quiet introspection… each burdened with memories of past seasons with family and of their missing comrades. Mac and Judy snuggled close together for emotional comfort.

  50

  Green Gulch, December 28th. Pug stood under the service portico of the powerhouse one last time pondering his departure. The winter day was insipid with low clouds offering no excuse for further delay. He had culled his backpack, carrying only survival essentials. He packed all his remaining food but knew it wouldn’t be sufficient without some good fortune along the way and shouldered his rifle.

  Escape from his isolated refuge was bound to be risky. He had only three realistic options. He could follow the road to the landing strip, then follow Quail Creek toward the Yukon River and maybe seek help from one of the scattered native villages. Or, he could follow the trail along Troublesome Creek, then cut across-country to the Dalton Highway and explore settlements near Livengood. Or… follow the transmission lines in the most direct path across the southern pass where they crossed the Elliott Highway to his cabin at Manley Springs. He had no plan whatever if the plague was still deadly there ... but at least he would die at home!