Winter's Fury

Another picture, perfect day on the chilcotin landscape had me resting on my back country skis with eyes transfixed on the spectacle before me. Snow devils like tornados sucked snow from the surface of the airfield and spun the frozen pelts like coton candy. Whisps of snow tumbled from the vortex scattering through the clear, crisp air. I watched intently, as two snow devils combined and danced across the frozen landscape.

With my left foot I pushed off and began gliding through the fresh fluffy snow that had fallen overnight. A light glide downhill brought me up short at a sharp turn in the trail. I took a moment and stepped my skis back onto the trail and set off once again with a swish, as my skis glided across the well packed trail. A winter storm warning had been issued for later that day, so my intent was to get out, and enjoy the morning's sunny skies.

I glided effortlessly along the trail, as I breathed in the fresh mountain air. Ah, I thought to myself what a beautiful day. Then the track veered suddenly to the right, as I followed the contour of the mountainside. Startled out of my reverie I squatted lower over my skis and hurled down the hill. At the last second possible I managed a short hop and came to rest at the bottom of the steep incline. Phew, that was close I almost collided with a huge fir tree. A little shaken by the prospect of breaking a leg or my neck I took the moment to relax, and enjoyed a bite from one of my Nature Valley oat and honey bars and had a sip of lake water from my canteen.

As I set off upon the trail once more I heard the distinct cresendo of wolves far off in the distance. A true wilderness experience it never occured to me that the wolves might actually follow along hidden just out of eyesight. Out here in the bush I was in my element a place I felt most at ease with the wild creatures of the frozen north. Born during the long snows moon probably had something to do with the fact.

My destination lay on the far side of Chaunigan Mountain. I was headed to Five Mile Meadow in the hopes of capturing some of the wild Chilcotin horses on film. The last time I had been out in that direction I was on the skidoo with its loud noise. Today, I hardly made a sound at all, as I swished across the snowy surface of the forest on my back country skis. I skidded to a stop removed my feet from the bindings and hid both skis and boots at the side of the trail. Put on my snow boots and unslung my snowshoes from my backpack for I would have better mobility, as I stalked the mob of wild horses.

Snowshoeing across a wide expanse of the meadow brought me to a ridgeline where I quickly packed the snow, lay a small ten by ten tarp and proceeded to lay down for just over the lip of the ridge I saw a small herd of horses. Excited, I brought my camera to bear, and snapped away.

Each and every time one of these scenarios presented itself I found my adrenaline coursing through my veins. Here, I lay in the middle of the wilderness far from anyone else all by my loneself, and had the opportunity to view nature at its best.

The horses of Spanish descent roamed the Brittany Triangle and were rarely seen. I thanked my lucky stars and continued to watch, as the horses pawed through the snow to the grasses below. I marvelled at a horses's ability to survive in such a stark landscape, as a forest fire had ravaged the area in 2003. That and the clear-cut logging techniques used by some logging companies. It was sad to see their territory dwindling and all for the greed of money.

Before I knew it the weather had turned dark and ominous; black clouds now filled the skyline to the west. I quickly packed up the tarp and snowshoed across the meadow, gathered up my skis, and began the steep ascent on snowshoes rather than skis.

A stiff wind blew huge snowflakes overhead then all of a sudden the wind began to howl through the treetops bringing with it a sheet of white snow. I donned my googles and pushed on up the steep incline. I was still a good ten kilometers from my cabin when the storm hit with its full fury. I could hardly see the trail before me, as the snow blanketed the trail. A shudder ran up my spine. Had I waited too long to depart back home?

I would find out what kind of mettle I was made of on my trek through the ever increasing wall of white. The snow was getting deeper by the moment, as I trudged on up the backside of Chaunigan Mountain. It was hard to tell where the trail lay, as it was impossible to recognize any of the usual landmarks. I snowshoed on intuition alone praying that I was headed in the right direction. Think, I told myself stay calm, do not panic if the area ahead was clear of trees I should be headed up the trail.

Well for one thing not a soul knew where I was, so there would be no rescue. It truly was all up to me determined, and being the independant type had its challenges, and today was just one of those days. I put my mind at rest and directed my attention to the trail, and finding my way back to my cabin on the east side of Chaunigan Lake.

A bit of blue sky caught my attention, as suddenly there was a lull in the storm. I was able to see a few landmarks and thank heaven for I had veered off my course and followed another trail. I quickly stepped around and made my way to the original trail. Then as the sky darkened and the wind began to howl the storm sent a new wave of blinding snow in my direction.

I was almost to the top of the trail when I heard a snap followed by a groan, as a tree somewhere to my right began to topple. I prayed the tree would miss me. I stood stock still and waited my heart pounding in my chest, as the tree fell before me. I was struck by a branch and thrown backward my legs pinned under the tree-trunk. I closed my eyes and wondered how I was going to get out of this jam. Again, I talked to myself just think there has to be a way. Then I remembered earlier that day I had added a handsaw to my pack. I unsnapped the straps of my backpack and wiggled about until I had the saw out before me. Now, came the difficult part first I needed to prop myself into a seated position, so I could start cutting through the branches closest to me. Once the branches were cut away I could see better what my predicament was, and focused on a plan. First, I needed to rest for a few minutes and gather my strength before attempting a cut through the pine trees trunk. It was extremely awkward, but hell I would die out here probably freeze to death over the course of the night if I did not get out soon.

The snow piled higher around me, as I sawed through one side of the trunk then tried to push the cut end, but after a few minutes decided it would be better to make another cut just to the side of my left leg. The first cut had been awkward, but the second looked near impossible, as I was right-handed and that cut needed to be done with my left hand. Determined, I gritted my teeth and began slowly. It was awkward at best, but as the minutes progressed I saw I was making headway with every inch a godsend. Finally, the pine tree was cut through and I pulled the two foot section out and threw it through the air to fall heavily into the snow. I moved my legs and feet thanking the heavens neither my legs or feet were injured. I had been lucky once again, as I stood up gathered my pack and skis and struck out for home.

From there it was easier to snowshoe for I had crested the ridge and was making my way downhill towards Chaunigan Lake. I was elated. Another hour and I should be seated in front of my woodstove.

The wind continued to whip frozen pellets against my face, as I bent my head and trudged on through the ever increasing snowfall. Step by step I told myself nearly exhausted from my ordeal I finally made it to the beachhead.

Wide open and without any cover the wind whipped a tyrant of ice pellets like little needles against my face. Just a little further, I said to myself... just a little further. I kept on saying to myself one step at a time, as I trudged on and so encouraged myself to make it across the open area in front of the rustic cabins. At long last I could see the lodge and just beyond my cabin.

I had placed my snowshoes and skis beside the door then stepped into my cabin and was greeted by both my dogs Jenny and Maggie. Exhausted, I took a few minutes to start a fire in the woodstove and change my soaked clothes before I collasped on my bunk and fell asleep.

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Author's Note: This is another of my real-life adventure stories and happened during the winter of 2014-15.

If you enjoyed the read stay tuned for more real-life adventures of the famous Chilcotin artist and storyteller Wolf Spirit.

I appreciate and am grateful if you would share my stories with family and friends.

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