Lost, Alaska

One day my teaching partner George and I decided to go down by the beach and look at the pack ice forming on the Bering Sea.  The snow-go, what they called snowmobiles up there, was to small for the two of us, so we hooked up a dog sled sort of thing.  George being the younger and more athletic stood on the back like he was driving a team of malamutes or huskies, I drove.

We cut across the tundra and because I was fully clothed in Arctic gear I found it difficult to keep an I on George.  I was able to turn my head just far enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, so really all was well.

We made it to the beach without incident, dismounted and walked out onto the ice and marveled at all the structures that waves and freezing cold produced. We went out as far as we thought safe and then realizing we did not have a rifle and a Polar Bear had been reported a few weeks earlier, we decided to return and began our trip back to the village.

We followed the coast line which we knew would take us back to the village but after travelling for awhile I got bored and tired of the monotonous journey and decided to use dead reckoning.  I cut across the sand dunes, around and between piles of snow and ice and just wove my way through the maze.  I was not concerned about George because I could see his shadow in front of me.

Eventually I got through the the dunes and made what I figured was a bee line to the village. The sun had changed directions and there were no more shadows but the tundra was flat and little could happen to George. My dead reckoning was good because I soon saw the village just a little south of where I thought it should be.

We entered the village and the natives we passed on our way back to our abodes seemed a little more friendly than normal.  They kept waving and yelling out something I could not understand because of the roar of the snow-go.  I smiled and waved back. 

I pulled up in front of George's place, shut off the engine, dismounted, turned to talk to George and ...no George.  My stomach turned over.  I hurriedly unhooked the now empty sled, tried to figure out where I had lost him and if I could retrace my path.

As I was winding my way back out onto the tundra through the village I saw George.  He was smiling and un hurt.  He told me that he had tied his left leg onto the sled when we hit the village ice roads because the sled was whipping around and he was afraid of losing his balance.  The sled did go side ways on the ice and he lost his footing and was dragged down the icy road for aways.  He said the natives were yelling and waving at me to stop but the noise of the snow-go was to great and I had not hurt them. He was eventually able to get his knife out and cut the rope thus freeing himself.

 For some reason George never again invited me to drive his snow-go.