Return From the North Pole

In last week’s blog I finished just as a crack in the ice approached our small plane. Our party (my two sons, Daveen, and I) quickly boarded our small, chartered airplane parked at the North Pole (actually, nine-tenths of a mile away), for the return flight back to the safety of the Canadian weather station base camp.  We managed to take off just as the ice crack extended dangerously close to our plane.

But our adventure wasn’t over. The flight back took eight hours and we needed to stop at a rendezvous site to refuel.  After refueling, the pilot told us that the ice pack was too bumpy for us to take off. He handed us all shovels so we could flatten the takeoff strip.  Unfortunately, we didn’t flatten it quite enough.

On takeoff we felt a large “bump” just as we became airborne.

Our pilot announced the bad news over the intercom. The plane’s hydraulic system had been knocked out which meant he wouldn’t be able to extend the flaps to slow us down or lower the wheels when we landed.  As we approached the weather station, he warned us we would be landing on a gravel runway with skis rather than wheels, and at a higher-than-normal speed.

“We’ll be fine,” he added.  That was certainly reassuring.

As our group leader I knew I was responsible for setting the tone, so I made it a point to remain entirely upbeat.  If this trip was to be our last, we might as well enjoy it.

Just before we landed the pilot instructed us to lean forward and hold our hands over the back of our necks.  Gee, I thought.  Just like a Boeing 737.

Crash. Thud.  Bumpity-bumpity-bump.  There was a loud cascade of expletives from the cockpit.

I’ve heard it said that a good landing is one you walk away from, and in that respect it was fine. For the passengers at least.  The pilot was a bit upset.  He told us that in ten years of Arctic flying he had never had an accident, and it looked like the plane would need more than $500,000 in repairs.

When we trooped into the weather station we were greeted with a festive lunch.  I wondered why I was so hungry.  And tired.  Then I realized – our adventure had lasted 23 hours.  The sun remained above the horizon the entire time, which meant that we couldn’t properly estimate the passage of time.

Would I do this again?  Maybe.  After all, I’m not even 93 yet.

But even as I write this a part of me is a little surprised I traveled to the North Pole in the first place.

Alan