Arctic Outhouse, Flipped Snowmobile and Return to Civilization

Sunday, 18 April 2010 16:15 Written by Levon Sevunts

I woke up in the igloo feeling refreshed, but desperately wanting to pee. The temperature inside the igloo was about –5C, outside it was –20C and still windy. That's the downside of winter camping in the Arctic: even for a short trip to the outhouse you have to put on boots, gloves and a tuque. There is not enough space inside the tiny plywood structure to wear a parka, so I left it in the igloo and darted for the outhouse. As I ran, I realized that this must be the world's northernmost outhouse, certainly Canada's northernmost outhouse. So here's a picture of it.

Canada's northernmost outhouse on Ward Hunt Island. Photo by Levon Sevunts

Two nights of sleeping outside were starting to show on my winter gear: my parka had become damper, and much, much colder, the same was true of my down mitts, my tuque and my Baffin boots. I couldn't even pull on my gloves, they were frozen solid. For the first time during this trip I started to feel really cold. I realized that I had to dry up my gear.

Again my thoughts turned to Tom Smitheringale. I just couldn't imagine how he'd managed to go stay warm and dry during his 49-day trek to the North Pole. I shivered as I imagined how cold he must have felt with just a tiny gas stove to cook his food and really no way of drying his clothes and the sleeping bag.

I grabbed all my gear and headed for the Weatherhaven tent that housed a large group of Rangers. The Weatherhaven always had an oil heater going and was so warm inside you could stay in your T-shirt.

But I couldn't let the cold get to me. So I decided to fight fire with fire, or in this case cold with cold. I stripped to my waist, picked up my towel and stepped outside. I scooped up fresh snow and rubbed my face, my neck and torso. A group of Canadian soldiers stood nearby wrapped up in scarves and balaclavas, looking at me in utter disbelief. They must have thought that I had gone nuts. But snow rubbing is an old technique I had learned during my compulsory military service in the Soviet army. When done right it's actually quite beneficial for health: it gets your blood flowing and strengthens your immune system.

By late morning the sky started to clear up and Maj. Luc Chang, commander of the 1 Canadian Ranger Patrol Group (1CRPG), informed us that the Twin Otter plane from Alert would be able to pick us up by early afternoon and take us back to Alert. It finally looked like we would be leaving Ward Hunt Island.

The Rangers invited us – photographer Dave Brosha, myself and Capt. Trevor Henderson, the military public affairs officer who was babysitting us – for a short ride on snowmobiles to explore the island.

I had driven snowmobiles only twice before, but the prospect of exploring the island was too much to resist. My new friend and igloo bunkmate, Ranger Paul Guyot, from Fort Simpson, Northwest Territories, went through the basics of operating a snowmobile with me again and off we went. As the most inexperienced rider I was put in the middle of the pack, as Paul kept turning to look back at me to make sure I was OK.

Levon Sevunts on snowmobile

The Rangers' ability to operate snowmobiles in this environment astonished me. There I was, hanging on for dear life – feet planted firmly in something that looked like giant stirrups and hands clasping the steering – trying to control the unruly beast, but Paul and the others were able to climb and descent steep slopes, turn back to look at me with one knee on the seat, making it look so easy.

It was one of the most exhilarating rides I've ever taken; it was a combination of majestic Arctic scenery and an adrenaline rush as I was trying to climb or descend hills on the snowmobile.

Ranger Pete Brokking taking in Arctic landscape. Photo by Levon Sevunts

Midway through the ride, I started to feel more comfortable on the snowmobile and picked up more speed. I had to climb a hill to follow all the others. It looked innocent enough, I had already gone up and down much steeper slopes. What I didn't realize was that for a few hundred metres I had to go not straight up the slope but somewhat sideways. Before I knew it, the snowmobile veered aside from underneath me and as I tried to correct it, I felt it tilting ever so slowly sideways. I had just enough time to jump aside as the snowmobile rolled on its side.

Ranger Robert Cheater from Faro Yukon rushed to my help. Together we flipped the snowmobile back on its skis and Robert showed me how to lean into the slope to keep the machine from rolling sideways.

My little misadventure was amply rewarded when we reached the top of the hill. With my hands still shaking I reached for the camera. You be the judge.

View from the top of Ward Hunt Island. Photo by Levon Sevunts

We made it back to camp just in time. In the distance we could make out a tiny shining speck. It was the Twin Otter coming to take us back. We piled our gear on wooden sleds called qamutiks and drove a few hundred metres to an improvised landing strip – really just a piece of smooth enough ice. As the Twin Otter unloaded barrels of extra fuel for the camp, I had just enough time to get Paul and Pete Brokking's emails, promising them to keep in touch.

We shook hands and one by one climbed into the belly of the Twin Otter. About an hour later we saw Alert from our windows. It felt like returning to civilization. And civilization at this point for me was a hot shower and meal, anything but the army rations we'd been eating the last few days.