Four Degrees Celsius (10 page)

The men had cut holes in the ice that had frozen around the skis. Removing each undercarriage with the ski attached was difficult. Since a skin of ice would quickly form around the body of the plane, it had to be chipped off in successive stages as the plane was gradually levered up out of the water. However, they did succeed.

Once this had been accomplished, the black gang waited for the ice to become thick enough to support the use of a jack. Like their counterparts at Peechuk Point, they needed strong, stable ice. The mechanics were not idle during the wait, however, and continued to work on the engine. The propeller was removed from the engine, the engine dismantled, and all instruments disassembled. Working outside and with their bare hands, the group was exposed to increasingly colder temperatures and must have suffered intensely from the frigid Arctic air. The thinness of the ice made building any kind of fire too dangerous, and they could only thaw their freezing fingers by periodically burrowing their hands into the sleeves of their parkas. Not only were their hands frozen, but for the most part they stood in inches of icy water due to the action of the tide.
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Cruickshank calculated the temperature with the wind chill at -43°C, as the one half-bottle of rum in his pocket had turned to slush. The air was metallic with the smell of cold and freezing water, and the sounds of hammering and clanging echoed across the inlet. They didn't discuss their discomforts. All the men knew and understood that time saved in the biting cold would get them back into the air much sooner and could mean the difference between life and death for the men they were seeking.

Inside the house at the Dominion Explorers' base, mechanics worked to remove any trace of damage from the action of the water. They baked the magnetos in the oven for two days and thoroughly inspected each and every piece of the Pratt and Whitney engine. The force of the plane going through the ice had bent the propeller, so Siers decided to shorten both propeller blades by four-and-a-half inches.
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After this task, the propeller needed to be balanced. Shortened propeller blades would have a definite impact on the performance of 'SQ, but with Cruickshank's experience, he felt that he could handle the plane.
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While the engine was being repaired, the ice finally became firm enough to begin working on the aircraft. This would involve a tremendous amount of ingenuity. The tail of the plane was jacked up and placed on a fuel drum. Then the men took a three-by-six-inch piece of timber and placed it across the front of the undercarriage fittings of 'SQ. Once this was done they placed the jack (the only one they had) under the centre of the timber and raised the plane. Fuel drums were placed under the wings of the aircraft for support. Now the plane was exposed so that the undercarriage could be attached.
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When the plane went through the ice, it sustained a rip in the side of the fuselage, and Cruickshank had to repair it before he could fly. He came up with an inventive plan for patching the tear in the freezing temperatures. During his time with the RCMP in the Yukon, Cruickshank had learned to heat rocks in a fire and then add them to a pot filled with water to boil and cook his food. He decided to use the same technique. After heating several rocks in a fire, he then placed them in a can close to the plane to heat the immediate area, without putting the plane in danger. Then he heated the glue in another can. While the glue warmed, Cruickshank stitched a washed flour sack to the side of the fuselage.
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Once the glue had melted, he covered the patch with the sticky matter and with bare fingers worked the “dope” into the stitches and onto the patch. This proved to be most successful, and the patch cured, tightening the fabric to the fuselage of the plane.
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There was still work to be done on 'SQ before it could be air tested, but Siers was pleased with the ground testing of the engine and remained confident that Cruickshank would be able to fly the plane out.

Meanwhile, confidence was certainly lacking at Peechuck Point. The men were barely hanging on, and their raw nerves were revealed in a most acute state. Charlie and Jimmie had not returned and the men ate the last of the dog food and made a pot of “hot chocolate” using a single teaspoon of cocoa to a kettle of water. Pearce commented that one of the men was in bad shape with numbness in his arm and finger and a twitchy eye. The colonel was certain that strain was at the root of the problem and he ordered “strong emergency dope” to be dispensed.
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At 5:30 p.m. the colonel and Pearce crawled into bed. During the night, they lay in wakeful turmoil. Every hour or so the colonel got up to check on the patient.

November 1, 1929

Richard Pearce's Diary, Peechuck Point

It is 6:00 am and all is well. Charlie just barged in, left us a package of tobacco and told us he had brought fresh fish, flour and more sugar. He has gone off to bed but has left some flour. We asked him about the trip across the straits and he and Jack said they would feed us up and push off tomorrow. Our pipes came out and up went a smoke barrage. This is the first tobacco we have had for several days. Last night was tough. The herrings did not go very well. Alice is making tea and has mixed some flour for bannocks. We haven't tasted flour for a long time. The bannock was good, although seal oil was used for grease. Charlie decided not to go to bed and came back to our igloo to tell us that the Eskimos at Dease Point heard an aeroplane but could not see it. We figured that must have been the day before yesterday, but are not sure.

Feasting began and anticipation ran high. Charlie told the group that he passed a very big polar bear during his return to Peechuck Point. Polar bears are one of the greatest dangers to Arctic travellers since they are not choosy about food. Being the top predator on the ice, whatever they find they will eat, including humans. This would be another concern as they began their crossing, but the excitement remained. Charlie finally determined that the ice was strong enough and promised they would start for the Hudson's Bay Post at Cambridge Bay the next day. It seemed to be a lucky omen.

“Brodie” Boadway shared the information that it would also have been his wedding day, so after the feast the men toasted him with coffee before climbing onto their sleeping ledge. Despite trying to get a good night's rest in preparation for the next day's journey, few slept at all. Thankfully, the patient was feeling better and he would be able to make the trip.

Everything seemed to be falling into place.

Arrival at Cambridge Bay

October 30, 1929

Andy's Diary, Burnside River

Dud weather, no flying today. Ice gave way under starboard wing of SQ. Had to make rafts of barrels and block her up again. Stripped down part of [the] engine and worked on mags [magnetos] etc.

At Burnside River work continued on 'SQ. Once the skis were attached, the aircraft was hauled manually over to more stable shore ice. A large tarpaulin was thrown over the plane's nose as a makeshift hanger, and, since the ice had now become thick and stable, a stove made from a small gas barrel was placed underneath it to heat the area where the mechanics worked. The job of assembling the engine, instruments, and propeller were next. The generator was ruined and the instruments were not functioning after their immersion in the water, but the assembly went on despite this. Cruickshank proposed to fly without instruments — no compass, turn and bank gage, pressure gauges, speedometer (needed for correct takeoff speed), nor temperature gauge. He would fly on one magneto, since the second had been destroyed during its icy immersion.

The Fokker Super Universal had two magnetos, and the pilot always made sure both were functional prior to takeoff. One was essential and the second was for backup. If one magneto quit, the second would keep the engine running. An “engine out” was something no pilot wanted to experience, since his airplane would become a glider. Cruickshank would be flying without the reassurance of a second magneto.

While 'SQ was being repaired, Spence and crew in 'CZ continued to fly searches during the later days of October, but upon landing at the Burnside base on the 31st his undercarriage collapsed. The ordinary bolts, which had been used to attach the undercarriage and skis to the Fairchild 'CZ at Baker Lake, had sheared off during what was a particularly rough landing. Luckily, Siers applied his ingenuity and resourcefulness once again to come up with a creative fix.

The men at Burnside lifted Spence's plane and placed the wings on fuel drums. Then, using a Pratt and Whitney crowfoot cylinder nut wrench, the mechanics began to work. The wrench was cut into a perfect length, filed to the correct diameter, and driven into the struts where the bolt had broken. This new “bolt” was then riveted over with a piece of sheet metal.

The plane, once repaired, was being overhauled for another search, but while that was being done, a deafening crash echoed through the air. 'CZ dropped heavily onto the ice once more as the second bolt added at Baker Lake broke. The black gang performed the same repair to the undercarriage and after both bolts had been replaced the plane had no further trouble.
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Bill Spence examines the collapsed undercarriage of 'CZ, its cantilever support coming dangerously close to touching the ice, risking damage to the wing.
Courtesy of Western Canada Aviation Museum.

With all the work that was going on, Cruickshank commented, dryly, that planes flying in the Arctic should carry toboggans to assist in hauling tools and equipment around camp. His November 3–4, 1929, diary entry, written at Burnside River, recorded that: “'SO, 'CZ and 'SL made flights, 4 hrs 35 min, and filled in country between Ellis [Ellice] River and Coast. [The following day] three planes searched towards Coronation then southwest along Burnside River. Have flown 5,000 miles west of Pelly by search planes to date.”

Clouds blocked the searchers from flying over the Cambridge Bay area and to the north coast of the Kent Peninsula. Instead, they flew in the direction that the weather permitted and scoured the area around Burnside Valley, then southward to the Back River. Although they were doing all that they could, Blanchet wrote in his log that he found the situation discouraging and his hopes for success were ebbing.
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Throughout the weeks of the search, the rescuers had experienced the vagaries of the Arctic climate. Nature's hostility had been shown in full force, yet these tireless men were committed to do a job and made no complaints. Soon, however, the choice to continue the search would be out of their hands.

Whether they succeeded or failed, the men and their planes would need to fly back to Winnipeg before the worst of winter set in. Dwindling fuel supplies and daylight were also issues. Since the rescue operation had begun, each day had become shorter by seven minutes, so that the searchers and the Domex men had lost almost five hours of daylight since September 27. The sun rose at 9:30 a.m. only to set again before 4:00 p.m. The daylight they had was taking on the quality of milky-blue dusk, with the sky barely distinguishable from the earth. With the monochromatic landscape and the men being immobilized by clouds and continuously confronted with bone-chilling cold, it's easy to imagine how they could readily fall into frustration and despair. Yet they did not. Soon the Arctic darkness would take hold, and the sun would only be a soft pink glow to the south. As the daylight hours declined, so too did their options. The lengthening shadows of night only seemed to emphasize the loneliness of this barren place and the seeming futility of their mission.

On November 2, 1929, the Domex men and their Inuit guides began the crossing of the ice towards Cambridge Bay. In 1909, Robert Edwin Peary, the first European to reach the North Pole, described ice travel in this area. “Beyond the glacial fringe is the indescribable surface … of the tidal crack, that zone of unceasing conflict between the heavy floating ice and the stationary glacial fringe … Here the ice is smashed into fragments of all sizes and piled up into great pressure ridges parallel with the shore.”
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There is little to suggest that conditions had changed in the intervening years. The currents deep within the Arctic Ocean caused the newly frozen ice surface to vibrate and reopen. The surface was pitted and unstable, but with a sense of resolve the men began their long awaited journey, with the Inuit leading the way.

November 2, 1929

Pearce's Diary, Peechuck Point

What a tough day! We spent hour after hour trying to pick a course through a large ice floe, wandering this way and that to find the best going. Sleds were tugged and pushed over ice hummocks that we initially thought were impossible to cross. More than once we tumbled into holes between ice cakes. It was all nerve-wracking and tiring … Narrow leads of unsafe ice had to be crossed, but before we ventured on them the Eskimos tested them with spears. Alice, the wife of the Eskimo with whom the Colonel, Baker and I were traveling, took her boy of three after he had been tossed from the sled several times, stripped him naked and tied him on her back under her clothing. This did not stop her from continuing a man's share of the work of urging the dogs and helping tug the sleds over the most difficult spots … Once while crossing weak ice, apparently frozen only the night before, she broke through to her knees. Instead of trying to scramble out — which would probably have meant that she would sink deeper — she lay flat until one of the Eskimos rescued her … Alice changed into dry clothing out in the open without any apparent great discomfort, although the temperature was well below zero. At 4 p.m. we struck thin ice. The Eskimos could find no way to cross it. It was then a matter of parking for the night on an ice floe, hoping that in the morning the going would be safe. Some of the party feared that the strong wind then blowing would carry the floe down the straits and perhaps break it up.

Despite opposition, the Inuit sensibly called a halt to the trek. Thousands of years in the North had taught them the wisdom of survival even when it meant delays. Shelter was a priority. Igloos needed to be built to protect the group from the biting wind. During construction, Pearce's frozen moccasins slipped and he crashed into the side of an igloo, causing it to collapse. The normally patient Inuits' tempers were also starting to fray. New blocks needed to be cut and it wasn't long before the weary group was settled down for a very nerve-racking night on the ice floe.

The powerful movement of the Arctic Ocean current, called the Beaufort Gyre, was at work beneath the little camp. Below the shivering men, the ice also shivered. Moving ice is dangerous ice, and, with nothing under them but frigid water up to thousands of feet deep, should a lead (crack) in the ice pack reopen without warning, everything would be swallowed into the black depths below. This was not the only way they could die on the ice. The active current working under them could carry the group on their small chunk of ice further away from Cambridge Bay. Ice floes have been known to travel up to twelve miles per night. Not only would they lose what progress they had achieved, but also their chances of staying alive since their food rations were so limited. These terrors were not far from their minds.

The dogs were another concern. These animals had worked as hard, if not harder, than the men and they needed attention. Driving dogs requires a fine balance and it is not for amateurs. The Eskimo dog has been bred by the Inuit to go for long periods of time without food, but the harder the dogs are pushed, the greater the risk of burnout. This made it essential to keep the dogs motivated, not only through encouragement, but also thorough scrupulous attention and care. Paws had to be checked throughout the day for any snow buildup or cuts from shards of sharp ice. As the Polar explorer Tom Avery wrote, the willingness of these animals to continue running through such a desperate environment may just put a human's suffering and discomfort into perspective.
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After all, the dogs slept outdoors.

Bright-eyed and ready to go, the huskies wait for direction.
Courtesy of Daryl Goodwin.

All through that night the ice cracked and groaned with its piercing, almost haunting sounds of agony. The men were agitated and restless. Despite exhaustion, sleep did not come easily. All were aware that death is a natural companion in the North, yet none dared mention the very real possibility that a lead would take the little group whole into the jaws of the Arctic Ocean abyss. No matter how well prepared they were or how carefully they planned, nature had the ultimate control.

In the fading light at Burnside River, the rescue team was facing critical decisions. With limited fuel remaining, the search could only continue with dog teams led by members of Dominion Explorers from the Burnside base, while the pilots and their crews would head back to Winnipeg. To end like this was devastating. Throughout the search the pilots and their engineers had remained optimistic. Through wind, ice, and snow they had battled over rugged terrain, waited out storms, made repairs to their aircraft, all the while searching the Barren Lands and along the Arctic coastline for thousands of miles. Yet now it was to end, but not because of weather or lack of optimism. It was a business decision.

Cruickshank decided that they would fly one more search on November 5, weather permitting, and then begin the flights back home as instructed by Brintnell. This was a difficult pill for the men to swallow. They had been risking their lives over the past several weeks to save those of MacAlpine and his men, but Western Canada Airways was getting impatient, and they wanted their planes back on normal routes. The company had been losing revenue with their fleet of aircraft engaged in the search. The harshness of the situation was apparent. Physically the men were able to endure, at least for a little longer, but they had no choice but to listen to the manager of WCA. Ironically, they were being torn out of the North for the same kind of financial reason that had propelled the Dominion Explorers into the Barren Lands so late in the season.

The sky on November 4 was black and unreadable. There was heaviness among the men as they sat down for dinner, possibly for the last time before they would pack up to head back Outside. The gloomy weather was mirrored in the men's grim expressions. There were no card games to lighten the spirits. Instead they focused on their last search, which would be towards the Coppermine River, one of the destinations planned on the Domex route.