Four Degrees Celsius (8 page)

Knowing there was no possibility of fixing the damaged plane without parts and tools, the men continued to prepare the remaining four planes to fly out to Bathurst Inlet. The Fokkers 'SQ and 'SO had been changed over from floats to skis without problem, but the Fairchild had both main shock absorber struts missing, and the tail ski and tailskid had not been sent. Nevertheless, the mechanics managed to fashion struts from a radio mast.

Tommy Siers documented the work done by the mechanics during the wait at Baker Lake: “The mast was made of 3” galvanized pipe. The ends were heated and flattened, then a piece of keel strip was taken from an old motor boat and driven into the flattened ends and bolted into place and holes drilled for attaching to the machine.”
[5]
Since the mechanics couldn't find any large bolts, they used the standard hardware bolts, most likely made from softer steel. It was the only choice they had, but one that would present a grave problem in the future. Siers used an ordinary garden shovel for the tailskid, and they continued to do their best with what they had at hand, which proved to be remarkable in retrospect.

It wasn't all work, however. The men did take time to play a few rounds of darts during some well-deserved down time. Nadin fashioned a dartboard out of a large tree trunk. He cut a two-inch piece off the end of the trunk, about the right size for a board, and with soft wire sectioned off the dartboard and numbered the sections. He then crafted darts using round pieces of wood, fitted with salvaged gramophone needles. Nadin then found a way to make feathers out of paper. Such pastimes provided a welcome distraction from the problems they were facing.
[6]

While the mechanics were working on the aircraft, Cruickshank and the other pilots continued hauling gas on Dominion Explorer dogsleds to a small lake about one mile away, where the ice had formed a good, solid base. This ice would allow the planes to take off with lighter loads from Baker, land on the solid surface of the smaller lake, and then load the planes for their flight to Bathurst. But they still needed a takeoff runway to accommodate ski planes.

Dog teams like Cruickshank's were the primary means of transporting goods in the Far North. Travel by dog team is anything but easy, and no matter how well-trained the team is the musher can be subjected to “decisions” made by the dogs and be tossed or taken for quite the ride.
Karram Family Collection.

Finding a suitable place for this runway was another challenge. Cruickshank measured and marked off an area behind the Révillon Frères Trading Post. The area was littered with small stones, which could create a hazard for the skis, so the men worked for hours with pickaxes and shovels to make a runway passable for the aircraft. Although he wasn't sure that it would even be used, Cruickshank wanted the men to be active and have something to do in light of the fact that freeze-up had not yet taken place. A purpose-driven man, Cruickshank knew the importance of keeping busy. His goal was to keep the men occupied both mentally and physically to prevent any further loss of morale.

As anticipated, despite the hard work and clearing, the makeshift runway strip remained unsuitable for takeoff. The temperature had been dropping during the day and the broken ice that had been driven in towards the shore during the storm on the 17th, once frozen solid, again produced a very rugged but thick surface on which to take off and land. Cruickshank decided to try a second runway on the shore of Baker Lake, so once again all hands then went to work with ice picks, shovels, and axes. Once this was complete, the search team was then able to taxi the planes over to where the gas had been cached. Cruikshank's diary entry, dated October 21, 1929, Baker Lake, noted: “Got SO over today and gassed up all machines. Test flew SQ. Running quite reasonable. SL brought over, [but] rudder does not seem to be properly adjusted. Expect to leave for Bathurst tomorrow. All machines tested.”

Cruikshank used the wireless to notify Western Canada Airways of their imminent departure for Bathurst Inlet. On October 17, 1929,
The Northern Miner
reported on the actions of the rescuers, whom they labelled “Canada's Wild Geese.” In the article, these men were portrayed as engaging in work that called for nerve, expertise, and courage. Canada was enthralled with the accounts of the group of Canadian men who were part of an effort that was unique in the world, pilots who had to rely on their skills and resourcefulness, rather than solely on their equipment.

The four remaining planes — the Fokkers 'SQ, 'SO, and 'SL, and the Fairchild 'CZ — were now ready to fly to the Arctic coast. Cruickshank was not happy about leaving Vance and Blasdale at Baker Lake, but until parts arrived for the damaged plane, they would continue to work on 'RK. It was some consolation to know that they would have both company and warm shelter with the other men living at the trading post. The searchers packed up their kits, loaded the four planes, and prepared to head northwards towards Bathurst.

Meanwhile, October 21 at Dishwater Point began with dashed hopes. The departure date the Domex men had awaited for weeks had finally arrived, only to be delayed yet again. The thought of staying on in the collapsing sod house was more than they could bear. Baker decided a bribe might just be what was needed to get the Inuit to leave Dishwater Point. He asked Pearce to get the rifles and ammunition, and presented them to the Inuit.

Harnessing the dogs and loading last minute provisions on the sleds. The rifle, given to the Inuit, is propped up against an igloo.
Courtesy of Daryl Goodwin.

From the time of the arrival of the Europeans in the North, guns were a sought-after possession for the Inuit. The caribou migrations had been changing and game was not as plentiful as it had been, causing the Inuit to begin to change their subsistence way of life.
[7]
The relentless hunt for game such as caribou, muskox, fox, and Arctic hare, more easily killed with guns, made gun ownership very desirable. In fact, the Arctic fox was the standard of value for trade, and twenty Arctic fox skins were worth one rifle. Trading skins for items such as flour was becoming increasingly popular, and hunting with a gun enabled the Inuit to more easily provide for his family.
[8]
An Inuit with a rifle was a hunter in the new world.

These gifts had the impact that Major Baker was hoping for, and by 8:00 a.m. the men had packed up and were ready to go on their trek to Cambridge Bay. Three dog teams, each with an Inuit guide and his wife, took charge of the Domex men. The howling excited dogs settled down once their masters called them to work. Fifty-nine days after the Dominion Explorers had taken off from Winnipeg on their journey in search of minerals, their efforts were now focused on a journey that they hoped would bring them home. The going would be anything but easy.

October 21, 1929

Richard Pearce's Diary, en route to Cambridge Bay

We are about 25 miles from the old mud shack, camped opposite the end of Melbourne Island. We found out that dog-team travelling is not like it appears in the movies, with speeding dogs carrying mushers along. The real stuff is largely hard work, real hard going when the snow is a little soft … The boys are feeling muscles they never knew they had and the Colonel had to lean on me for a few minutes tonight to get rid of a cramp in the leg. The Eskimos built snow igloos and put them up in no time. While the temperature in them must be kept below freezing, they are quite comfortable … This will have to be all for tonight as I am too tired to write more.

The group, though exhausted, was pleased with the distance travelled. Dashing behind the dog teams, over a surface that was anything but even, left them completely worn out, bruised, and feeling unmercifully battered. The dwindling Arctic light made it difficult to discern the ridges made by the blowing snow, and the men stumbled and fell throughout the day. Pearce commented, “Three weeks ago we could not have done it. However, we are doing the very thing we have wanted to do for weeks, and a little tired feeling is not likely to stop us on our way to the post.”
[9]
All continued to be busy until the igloos were constructed and the dogs had been tended.

The building of an igloo is a remarkable feat. The very idea seems strange in itself, as the materials used to protect from the storms and cold are the same materials made by freezing temperatures and driving snow. Yet the Inuit had been building igloos for shelter since their life was established in the land of snow and ice, and they went about their task efficiently and quickly. The igloo is built in a spiral, out of 24x14-inch blocks, each weighing about thirty pounds. Not any type of snow will do. The blocks must be cut out of a drift that is firm enough to be handled by the builder, then placed in a spiral manner, each block having two weight-bearing edges. A snow knife, with a very long and extremely sharp blade, is the only tool needed.
[10]
The blocks are cut vertically into the drift, and the depression created by the removal of the blocks will be the main room of the igloo, giving the family inside enough headroom to stand. Each block is fitted closely and made secure with a very sharp “pat.” The walls rise at an astonishing rate and remain secure regardless of the slope, because of the dense consistency of the snow. The flat-lying blocks forming the top require extra attention and shaping, and the key block at the very top is fitted snugly to close the igloo. If the igloo is not being built just for the night, the builder may use a clear piece of ice for a window.
[11]

Once the igloo was finished, the Domex men removed all traces of snow from their clothing before entering the dwelling. This task was achieved by beating the parkas with a stick. Inside their soundproof and insulated igloos they chatted about the day's accomplishment while the evening meal was being prepared. The foremost part of the igloo was used for cooking; the Coleman stove was lit and the food was pooled. Trout, dried salmon, a little bacon, and “other odds and ends” added together made a fine, hearty, and enjoyable meal. Once the evening meal was finished and cleaned up, it was time to settle in for a well-deserved rest.

The back of the igloos consisted of a ledge built out of snow blocks. This ledge was the sleeping platform for the men. Since cold air falls, the ledge kept the sleeping bodies at a warmer elevation. The Inuit laid out willow mats and skins to cover the snow ledge, and this became the beds on which the bone-weary bodies slept, their heads toward the centre of the igloo, again to keep a distance from the frozen igloo walls.

Just before they went to sleep, a
kovik
was passed around. This strange implement, the Inuit version of a chamber pot, was made out of a muskox horn and resembling a dipper-like utensil. It was used by one after the other, and the contents were dumped in front of the sleeping bench, where they disappeared into the snow.
[12]
A seal lamp was left burning during the night, which cast dancing shadows on the icy walls and produced a sense of comfort. The trek was calculated to take three days and two nights.

Both the Domex men and the searchers flying under Cruickshank's direction had made their moves. Both their efforts would be thwarted.

Crash of G-CASQ

October 22, 1929

Richard Pearce's Diary, en route to Cambridge Bay

Our igloo caved in this morning with the warmer weather and we had to stay in bed while the Eskimos repaired it. There was snow everywhere, but it was all carefully cleaned up … We started off at 9:45 and had good going for only a few miles, after which it got soft. It did not take long for the dogs to play out and we stopped at four, after covering only eight or ten miles. We went up a high hill and saw open water in the straits. We will have to stay where we are until the weather becomes colder and a crust forms on the snow … The Eskimos tell us we would be able to make the post from here in one day, and we hope to start again in the morning. We are tired, but anxious to move to the post.

The weary travellers again were at the mercy of the weather. They were a desperate group that had felt the adrenaline rush when they left Dishwater Point, but now their hopes melted just as quickly as the ice. October 23 dawned warmer than the previous day. The Eskimos told the Domex men to remain in bed, which they heartily agreed to do. One of the igloos caved in for the second time in two days, creating the necessity to build another. Their coal oil, which was used for cooking the food, was running out and the prospect of eating raw, cold food again was a dismal thought. Things were not looking good for the trek to Cambridge Bay.

The Dominion Explorers take a well-deserved pause during the long journey to Cambridge Bay. An Inuit child rests on top of the komatic, a sled used to transport goods in the North.
Courtesy of Daryl Goodwin.

To their delight, the 24th was colder and the Domex men and the Inuit were on the move once again. This day, however, turned out to be a difficult one. The group hit upon great walls of ice, several feet in height, which made progress almost impossible. Soon, the dogs were completely exhausted, and the men had to haul the sleds over the rough terrain. Their clothing became soaked with sweat, which froze once they stopped moving. Despite the icy blasts buffeting the exhausted group, they managed to cover twenty-five miles. After darkness fell, the Inuit constructed igloos again, a feat in itself for the speed and precision with which they completed the task, and they settled in for the night in relative comfort. Tea helped wash down the meager rations of fish both raw and boiled. The colonel, however, only ate a piece of chocolate the size of a quarter. Dinner was eaten in bed, to offset the chill of wet clothing. They also took their boots to bed with them, in an attempt to dry them out.

Morale perked up when they awoke to a very cold day. It was a day of much-needed loafing to recuperate and to gain strength for the next part of the journey. Some of the members climbed a snowdrift to survey the crossing and were delighted to see a frozen strait. Jack brought out some tobacco, which the men agreed was the absolute worst ever. As they discussed their situation they reflected that their Inuit caretakers certainly had their best interests at heart when they refused to attempt an earlier crossing, as the outcome could only have been a disaster. The subject of a search was also not far from their minds, and the men held out hope that rescue planes would be coming soon to meet them at Cambridge Bay. Weather, however, was not being kind to the search teams either.

On October 22, the men at Baker Lake made final preparations for the trip north to Bathurst Inlet. They had agreed that if the waters were still open at Bathurst, they would attempt a landing at Burnside River at a Domex prospecting camp established the previous summer. If waters were still open at Burnside River, they would find some small frozen lake nearby to land on and set up a base until the river was frozen. The flight would be a risky one, as they would be flying with skis, sooner than normal judgment would permit, over both open waters and thinly ice-covered lakes. An emergency landing could be hazardous, not only for the pilot and crew, but also for the other fliers who would come to their aid.

The air fleet, with extra cans of gas, is ready for its flight to Bathurst Inlet.
Courtesy of Western Canada Aviation Museum.

The throb of the engines shattered the Arctic stillness as Cruickshank, Spence, Hollick-Kenyon, and Brown started their engines. Running an airplane in the Arctic deep freeze was truly an art form, particularly the warm-up. The frigid temperatures could easily cause the metal on the planes to become brittle, making it imperative to give each plane sufficient time to warm up. Despite modern technological innovations, this problem has not yet been completely solved. Even now, if the temperature of the engine is insufficient, cracked cylinders, oil starvation, and ruptured seals can occur. The last thing any of the searchers needed was another aircraft out of commission.

Once all the pilots had checked their planes, Cruickshank, Hollick-Kenyon, and Brown took to the air safely, but Bill Spence was not so lucky. As he taxied, he bounced heavily on a frozen drift, and lost control of his plane, smashing a tail ski.

Cruickshank banked his plane and looked down to make sure all the aircraft had safely taken flight and immediately saw that Spence had hit trouble. The planned flight came to an abrupt end. The pilots landed their three aircraft and promptly tied them down at the edge of the shore. It was good fortune that spare parts could be pulled from Vance's plane, and all hands set to work, removing a skid and tail ski from 'RK. They hoped that the replacement parts would remain stable for the next landing.

Cruickshank noted in his diary that the engineers also created some parts to make the necessary repairs to 'CZ. The work on Spence's plane halted the flight for the remainder of the day, a source of frustration for the searchers. They had no choice but to but spend another night at the Baker Lake base.

A dense fog hugged the ground for the next two days, once more delaying the flight to Bathurst. Often mist or fog could change to heavy, wet snow, which would not only obscure the ground but block visibility for the pilots during flight and landing. This type of snow pattern was often low and drifted erratically with the variable winds.
[1]
There was nothing they could do but wait.

Finally, on October 25 the weather permitted the journey northward to Bathurst. After circling the post, the four pilots set their course and climbed to five thousand feet in formation. Flying was good for some time, but they soon sighted a swirling great cloud field ahead, so each one dropped to one thousand feet, hoping they would be able to fly under the dense cover.
[2]
Within minutes there was zero visibility:

October 25, 1929

Andy Cruickshank's Diary, Baker Lake to Burnside

During our flight to Bathurst we ran into bad fog conditions. At times our machines were not in sight of each other although only a few yards apart. I strongly recommend that under no circumstances should aircraft try to fly through fog in formation, and only under exceptional circumstances should any pilot fly anywhere in the Barrens unless the sun is visible … Spence flying on my left very close, disappeared in dense cloud. Last I saw of his machine was Spence cutting across my bow at about 20 yards ahead climbing fast. I dived to miss him and landed at once on a nearby lake. Took off later to look for other machines but couldn't see more than 200 yards. Decided to wait till morning….

Once 'SQ had landed, Cruickshank and his crew went hunting. Semple was certain he could bring in some dinner, and although they saw no game, caribou and fox tracks were plentiful. Even though the hunt was unsuccessful, the men still enjoyed their bush rations, and, after this makeshift dinner, climbed into their eiderdowns and settled down for a night on the ice.

Cruickshank knew from his experience in the Yukon that camping on the ice, bizarre as it may sound, was indeed warmer than camping on terra firma. The water temperature below the layer of ice was about -1.1°C, whereas on land, the temperature of the ground could be as cold as in the -40s. Sleep was another matter. Because of the cold temperatures under the sleeping rolls, the men's body temperature would drop during the night, causing fits of shivering — a natural reflex in response to the temperature change. The reflex triggers the shaking of muscle groups around vital organs and creates warmth by expending energy, with heat being the by-product of the increased muscular activity. Shivering, of course, would also waken the outdoor sleeper. Once the body regulated its internal environment and caused his body temperature to rise, he would then, if lucky, go back to sleep only to be awakened again about two hours later when the core body temperatures had dropped once more to the point that causes the shivering. This sleep disruption went on all night long.

On October 26, Alf Walker and the others began the routine to get 'SQ ready for flight, a task made more challenging by the weather. In the Arctic freeze-up, the morning temperature was well below zero, and often the engineer would sleep with his flashlight to prevent the batteries from freezing. At this time of year every air engineer had to ready the plane for flight in darkness. Preparations took time and were anything but simple.

The air engineer's first job was to cut kindling and make a fire near the airplane. A tarp (the engine tent), which had been thrown over the plane's engine the previous night, provided a makeshift hangar. He would then light two heating torches, making sure a fire extinguisher was at hand, and begin the arduous and dangerous task of heating both the engine and the engine oil. Though fumes from the torches would quickly fill the space and his lungs, he had to keep alert and watchful in case an unseen drop of fuel should cause a fire, which within minutes could transform the plane into an inferno. Once the oil had been heated over the fire and the engine warmed, the engineer removed the torches and would quickly pour the oil into the tanks, pull off the canvas “hangar,” hand crank the engine, and, with fingers crossed, hope to hear the staccato roar of the engine. Next he would wait for the engine and oil to reach temperatures warm enough to permit flight. If the engine did not come to life, the oil would need to be drained quickly and the process started all over again.
[3]

Prior to takeoff, Walker also needed to inspect the plane for any damage or ice on the wings. Icing could easily spell disaster because ice formation on the edge of the wings hampers the lift of the aircraft and can result in a crash. The skis also needed special attention, as did an appropriate runway. A smashed ski would be critical since there were no spare parts to be had on this remote, unnamed lake. Luckily for Walker, both Semple and Cruickshank were also certified air engineers, and they helped him ready the craft for takeoff. Once the airworthiness was approved, they stowed their gear, climbed aboard, and taxied on the icy surface, polishing the frost from the bottom of the skis. Then Cruickshank opened the throttle and put the nose of the plane in the air. It did not seem to worry these men, or at least they did not express concern that they were flying solo, without assurance or help from any other plane or crew, if help was needed.

Within minutes Cruickshank spotted Brown, Hollick-Kenyon, and Spence just ahead. As it happened, the other three pilots had landed on a frozen lake not far from where Cruickshank and his crew had spent the night. Cruickshank increased his speed and took his place in the formation. For the next few hours the four pilots and their crew searched along the route to Bathurst Inlet.

October 26, 1929

Andy Cruickshank's Diary, somewhere above the Arctic Circle

The country was absolutely barren, not a living creature was seen during the entire trip. The terrain was of a rolling rocky nature with thousands of lakes, some of immense size. Twenty or so miles before reaching Bathurst Inlet the terrain changed and became a series of mountains of ragged rock of approximately one thousand to fifteen hundred feet in elevation.

When the pilots reached Bathurst they found only open water, making it impossible to land with ski-equipped planes. Flying south as planned, they located the very small Domex camp at Burnside River where they hoped that the ice would be strong enough to support the landings of four fully loaded planes.