Part I: November 1999

Winter Arrives

We stayed in town for a couple of days and felt the temperature plummet to -35oC. It was during this time in town that I realised my wife had made quite an impression on the local gents in my absence. In a town of four men to one woman a Galapagos Marine Iguana, female or not, would make a fine mate. Consequently, Bridge had stirred up the sort of testosterone only seen in professional wrestling. Bridge tried hard to introduce me to some of the local colour as we ran into them around town but all they said was, 'oh, you're the guy we've got to kill'. This was not the sort of adventure I really needed. These men were hard, rough and used to fighting to survive. I, on the other hand, was soft, cuddly and used to surviving by putting it on plastic.

We couldn't wait to get out of town and into our cabin, and luckily the last couple of days at 30 below were just what was needed. It slowed the river enough to jam the ice burgs together on a slow bend just south of the town. As soon as the ice looked passable, Boris and I made our way out of town on foot towards the ice jam, while Bridge stayed behind to work.

I had never seen anything like it. Huge chunks of ice 4 to 6 feet thick were crushed together rising out of the river like mountains. Open patches of dark water steamed like hot springs in a chilling turmoil. I picked my way carefully across the jam using an axe to test the thickness of the ice while Boris scrambled with shaking legs behind me. Sometimes we had to jump, from one burgh to the next, to avoid deep holes where water churned below.

After realising that the ice was, in places, thick enough to saunter over Boris's enthusiasm grew and while I took my time to find a firm footing, Boris charged across the river with tail and ears flapping as if waving farewell to a loved one in a rapidly departing train. Inevitably he disappeared, helped by the force of gravity and the sort of stupidity you find in a professional bungee jumper. I found him whimpering at the bottom of an ice crevice, his head was below his backside and his tail was the only thing I had a chance of grabbing. Swallowing my anger, I choked out a 'good boy Boris!' which encouraged him to wag his tail. I grabbed it and hauled him out screaming like a newborn. He again took off, apparently deaf, and I was left shouting into the cold.

I finally made it out of the jam and onto the shore ice on the other side. We had to follow the shore for about a mile and then cut up through the woods where a creek joined the river. The shore ice was flatter and much easier going, but then I heard a crack. I looked down and all around my feet large white cracks shot out in all directions. I began to worry and shuffled my feet further apart only to see more cracks appearing. It was at this moment Einstein (aka Boris) decided to return with his ears flapping and tail still wagging. Only good at hearing the dull chime of his food bowl, he ignored my pleas to 'stay', came running up and promptly sank through the ice, taking me with him.

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