1-7-2012

Those who know me think I can be kind of whiney.  I’ve complained about it to them several times but it doesn’t seem to change their biased opinion.  I think the problem is that they are just unconcerned about my circumstances.  The harder I try to explain how miserable my situation is, the more they seem to become disinterested.  And sometimes irritated.  And a few have become violent. 

All of that leads to this:  it’s cold.  It is not the “I think I’ll need a jacket this morning” kind of cold.  More like “I think my liver is frostbitten, and not in a good way” kind of cold.   For the past three weeks we’ve been living in the underside of zero.  We have not been warmer than -20 for the past two weeks.  The coldest so far this year for us has been -40.  Luckily for us, most of this time has been during our winter break, so we have not been required to be outside.  But I did have to venture out to get our snowmobile.

Monica on her first drive.

We ordered our snowmobile last fall, but it had to be ordered from the factory so its journey took awhile.  In fact, it arrived just after Christmas.  They flew it in on a freight plane to Emmonak, which is about 20 miles away.  The only way for me to get to Emmonak was to walk (nope), fly (too expensive), or hitch a ride with someone else on another snowmobile.  I chose the latter because I am lazy and cheap. 

I rode on the back of Joe Strongheart’s snowmobile to Emmo.  The trail is mostly on top of the Yukon River, even but winding.   The temperature was -20, making the ride brutal.  I am lucky I invested in quality cold weather gear.  The only part of me that got really cold was my face.  I had a fleece balaclava that covered my face, but it didn’t really keep the wind out.  I had to keep my head down most of the way to keep from getting frostbite.  This was not going to work on the way back when I had to drive, so I bought a neoprene facemask for the trip back home.  I didn’t have any frostbite on my face after I got home so I know it worked.

My fingers and hands did get cold.  I was following Joe on the way back and was scared of losing him if I didn’t keep up.  Being out on the tundra, there are no landmarks to use for references.  Just follow the trail.  Or in my case, follow Joe’s taillight.  I didn’t want to fall behind for another reason.  Joe is Yu’pik and has lived here his entire life.  I did not want to look like a wuss by stopping because my fingers were cold, so I pushed on.  Well, we made it back and my fingers were not injured permanently.  The next day, I was complaining (I get it) to Joe’s wife about my sore fingers from the cold the day before.  She looked at my snow mobile and showed me where the switch for the hand-grip warmer was located.  So, we both learned something that day: I learned how to keep my hands warm while riding and she learned I was an idiot.  I think she was leaning toward that direction to begin with. 

Some people I know will think I’m complaining about the cold.  I think I am just stating the facts as they are, in an unemotional manner.  Sort of like a snowmobile operator’s manual.  It’s -38 and I don’t want to walk to the post office.  We have to walk because it is too cold for the snow mobile to start today.  Now that is whining.  But I don’t care because it’s cold.