My flight has been cancelled.
I won't reach Deadhorse today.
Now it's absolutely certain that I'll lose a day's hunting.
When I looked out of the window this morning I knew that there'd be a problem; the smoke and fog was swirling about far more intensely than it had been over the last few days. At 6.10 am, after a hurried breakfast, I take the hotel bus to the airport. We drive slowly, and the headlights cut through the smoke. I try to pretend that everthing's OK, but, as I stand in the departure lounge I have grave doubts. Soon a woman wearing a yellow waistcoat arrives, and in a loud voice announces that Alaska Airlines has cancelled its flight to Deadhorse because of adverse weather conditions, and concerns about the safety of the passengers and the plane.
It sounds like a death-sentence as I listen to it.
I won't forget the next one and a half hours for the rest of my life. I doubt if there are many people working at Fairbanks Airport that I did not speak to during that time. That's another problem; when I'm in a stressful situation - and this is one - I forget all my English. They all say something different; they all send me in different directions; they all give different advice, but I try not to lose my temper.
Pushing my huge bags, I run like crazy from one clerk to another, and from one official to another. I go from office to office; everyone is explaining, telephoning, using their radios, and making new arrangements.
The situation is worse than I thought.
The predominant wind-direction has changed. I can see the location and path of the smoke on a monitor in front of me. The major part of the smoke-cloud is just about to arrive. They say they'll transfer my ticket to tomorrow, but when I ask if they'll be flying then, they just shrug.
The departure lounge is full of ram-hunters, and wherever I move I trip over a gun-bag. They, like me, are also trying to fly north, to go hunting in Brooks Range, and want to reach their camps via Deadhorse.
The lucky ones can fly to Anchorage this morning, and get to Deadhorse by the afternoon plane, thus avoiding the worst smoke around Fairbanks. Unfortunately, I don't have a seat on this flight, but I have been put on stand-by. This means that if any passenger doesn't turn up, I can take his place. This way, even though I might be a bit late, I can still reach Deadhorse today. Needless to say, everyone turns up, so there's no room for me.
Chapter II.: Hunting in the Alaskan Arctic
Page 3
I'm beginning to wonder if Deadhorse even exists. Perhaps they've just made it up, and it's only a ghost town, which I'll never reach.
All us hunters, that are stuck here, start to get to know each other, and share the general jobs that we have to do. I'm now being helped by Tom Wimberly, who puts forward my points of view during the discussions and negotiations. I'm relying on him completely, as I've absolutely had enough over the last 1hr 30 mins. They keep making alternative suggestions, but I only want to know one thing: how can I get to Deadhorse today?
Of course, no-one can answer that.
Suddenly, Tom comes up with an idea: we should hire a car and take the Dalton Highway to Deadhorse. This is it; this is the answer!
It will be a long and tiring journey, but that won't matter if we can finally get there! Tom starts calling car rentals to find a suitable four-wheel drive vehicle for the journey.
But the Dalton Highway has been closed.
The smoke is so thick, that even driving has become dangerous.
Alaska has shown me its uglier side today, and even the best technology cannot help. All the money we've spent, all the plans we've made and all the energy we've expended are no use against the forces of nature.
I've decided to fly back to Anchorage today. From there I'll stand a much better chance of reaching Deadhorse tomorrow than if I spend another night here. I write to Cabela's about my new plans, and ask them to tell Greg about the changes. Now I'm sitting in the airport cafe waiting for 12.00. We are praying the flight to Anchorage will be able to leave.
Damned smoke.
Alaska Air Taxi Office
Deadhorse