I laugh out loud at myself.The sound gets swallowed by the constant howl of wind.Off balance?I’m about to haul my ass up on this fucking steep roof again, in the dark, in a snow cyclone.
Off balance is off the menu.
I strap on the snowshoes and turn on my headlamp.It isn’t doing me any favors, unfortunately.The light just creates a white, glittery curtain in front of my eyes, and I have to squint to see where I’m headed.But it’s better than stumbling around in the blackness.
I tell myself to keep my mind off my girl troubles.
My trapped-in-a-blizzard-with-a-beautiful-girl troubles.
I slog through the snow, grumbling to myself because I know I’ll have to shovel this path on my way back.It’s the only access to where my tether and anchor system is located.
And the snow’s up to my mid-shins again.
This storm is fucking nuts.
A contingency plan is essential.If the shack collapses, we’ll need another shelter.I decide that I’ll start working on a snow cave next, close enough that I can maintain a pathway, but far enough away that if the cabin collapses, the cave won’t get crushed.
But first things first.
I reach the tether system, remove my snowshoes, and attach the mountaineering cleats to my boots.Next, I attach the tether and test the safety line before I start climbing, hand over hand.
I dig my cleats into the snow-frosted exterior of the shack walls and pull myself up on the roof.I reach down and grab the long-handled snow rake from a drift.
I begin the tedious process of removing snow.I start with clearing each of the bottom corners, which allows loosened snow to drop to the ground instead of piling up.Then I work my way around the entire roof surface, scraping off the top few inches from the entire roof.
Then I start all over again, removing more.
I’m about halfway through my second round when a squall slams into me.I steady myself on the line and keep going, knowing that this wind will take me out if I fail to give it the respect it warrants.
I prefer not to fuck with nature if given the option.
Sure, I’ve been trained to handle the worst of what the environment can dish out.But if I have any choice, I’ll take the nastiest, most vile human opponent over the wild, random brutality of Mother Nature any damn day.
I work as quickly as possible, one bit at a time, locked in place with spikes in the ice and tether around my waist.As I go, I inspect the roof for any new damage.I don’t see anything, but then again, I can barely see my gloved hands in front of my face.
After about an hour, I’ve managed to remove eight inches or so of new snow.It’s still the heavy, wet variety that could spell disaster for this little surveyor’s shack.If I had to guess, I’d say this stuff weighs well over ten pounds per square foot, and that’s a lot to ask of this stack of toothpicks.
For now, the roof seems as secure as the first time I climbed up here, though I can’t be certain in the darkness.I’ll return again in the morning for another go-round.
Without warning, the wind blasts directly into my back.The impact slams me onto the roof.The rake sails through the air.
Time to wrap it up.
I climb down the way I came, retrieve the rake, take off the cleats, and put on the snowshoes.Then I dig through a drift until I find the wide snow shovel and get to work.
If the snow keeps coming down at this pace, I’ll be faced with a mess in the morning.I’m thinking four feet of accumulation with drifts much higher.
I’ve seen that kind of snow before—Wyoming and southeastern British Columbia come to mind.But the worst blizzard by far was the one we encountered on a rescue operation in the Hindu Kush mountains of Afghanistan, where the temperatures got close to forty below and more than twenty feet of snow dropped in a twenty-four-hour period.A lot of innocent people were hurt that day.
So yes, this storm is bad, but it’s good to remind myself that it could always be worse.
I make steady progress shoveling the pathway and tossing the gathered snow aside.I’ll have to make sure I keep the front door area clear, so that we can exit if necessary.
Not that we’d get very far.
Now for the contingency plan.
It’s damn near impossible to gauge distance in this dark, swirling mess, but I think I make out the mound that was once my ATV.So I trudge in that direction, keeping my head bent down against the wind as I carve out a walkway with the snow shovel.I work until my back and arms burn, and I find the perfect spot.
