As I snuff the candle out, I pause momentarily to count the matches once more. This has become somewhat of an obsession of late. . . Count the matches, wrap them securely in plastic (double bagged) and then put them in my pocket only to take them out an hour or so later to repeat the nervous, obsessive ritual. I’m not really sure if it is insecurity, hypothermia or a little of both.
I have been hiking through the Alaska wilderness for 3 full days now, and it has been 5 since I was sitting in Anchorage, eating breakfast and discussing our fishing trip with my friends from work.
While it had merely been a trip back home for me, this was Bill and Donny’s “trip of a lifetime.” They had been fascinated with fishing Alaska for years and when I started with the company recently it had been the catalyst they’d both been waiting for to make them act on their dream. I still can’t believe that I buried them along with our pilot, somewhere far behind me in the wild.
We were after big lake trout and the brisk fall season was ideal for our intended prey. What no one, not even our pilot had probably suspected was a storm like the one that had downed the plane. This was evident in the lack of winter survival gear in the aircraft. No one who was an Alaskan pilot would have been so unprepared normally, but it was so early in the fall. . . . . .Doesn’t matter now. At least I had matches and they were dry. . . . But it is so cold, so very cold. I am frozen to the bone and have been since the crash, I have all the clothes I packed but I am painfully aware that I am not prepared for the situation I am in. I was prepared for fall weather, nothing like this. The landscape is covered with snow. Deep snow, and now that it has stopped the temperature has plummeted to probably 5 degrees and has stayed there.
My light jacket, hat and gloves afford little protection against the wind and the boots whom I am wearing do not work well for hiking thru the drifted snow. I would need snowshoes or ski’s to make any type of real headway out here. My clothing is water resistant and somewhat blocks the wind but I am so, so very cold. I do not allow myself to dwell on the constant urge to stop and sleep. Even when I have a fire I barely rest, I cannot. I know too well the signs of hypothermia and how easy it is to just close your eyes and drift off. Many have succumbed to it, and been found frozen stiff, bore away on dreamy tides, “sleeping” with a satisfied smile still froze on their lips.
I glance over my shoulder, responding to the familiar feeling of something watching and see the wolves again. They have been following me for about a day and a half. We are rivals the wolves and I. They don’t get close enough to be unnerving, but they do come near so I can see the evidence of what is surely my future in their eyes. It’s a waiting game that their kind has played for centuries and they know the outcome. I am unprepared, un-insulated, and weak and half crazed. It is only a matter of time to the wolves.
I stop for the night as once it is dark it is pointless to keep going. Time for a good fire and a little rest. Than I’ll be up and walking again after a bit, can’t get too comfortable. I need to figure out something for food, because there is none left. I’m getting weaker and without food it won’t be long until I become food for the wolves.
Stop. Get some wood together, really small stuff for tinder and then a little larger to put on once a blaze is going. So cold, so very, very cold. OK now that that’s done I need to hollow out an area for the fire to set in for a windbreak. Got going good, now a little of the bigger wood . . . . . and some more. OK!! Heat boy nothing like it. Got my little pan of snow on to melt and just enjoy the heat of the fire for a short while.
Nothing like a fire. Makes me think of camping and Boy Scouts when I was younger. Thanksgiving and Christmas, and the other trips I’ve been on over the years in the outdoors. We humans need heat and fire, it is vital to us. We’re not like the wolves that have the thick coats to protect them. I don’t see them right now but I know they’re not far. . . .
Just a little sleep here by the fire and I’ll be refreshed as usual. I’ll get out of here, I will. It’s not too late in the year and it could be worse. I don’t know how far I have to walk to get somewhere but I’ll get out. . . . . . . . I’ve still got some matches, and that’s good. I’ll make it. . . . .