BURIED IN A BLIZZARD
A trip to the northern side of the Stanovoi range of
mountains--Nijni Kolymsk, the most-feared convict
station--Sledging by light of the aurora--Lost in a blizzard
on the vast tundra--Five days in a snow dugout--I earn a
reputation as a wizard--Back at Chrisoffsky's.
In order to reach the northern side of the Stanovoi range of mountains
it was necessary to make use of one of the few passes that are to be
found. At an elevation of nine thousand feet, we succeeded in
accomplishing the passage, and found ourselves on the head waters of
the Kolyma River. The name as given in that locality was more like
Killamoo than Kolyma. Due north, far across the wastes of snow, was
the town of Nijni Kolymsk, the spot most dreaded by Siberian convicts.
This station is used only for the most dangerous political prisoners.
About their only occupation is to gather hay and pick berries in
summer. Provisions are carried to them in the summer by a man-of-war.
None but Russians in authority are ever allowed near the place. The
natives could give me very little definite information about it. They
had strict orders from the magistrate in Ghijiga not to approach this
convict station.
We swung to the northeast and east, which course would bring us back
to Ghijiga. Wherever it was possible we examined the float rock and
sunk shafts to determine whether any of the precious metal was hidden
away in the mountains or beneath the waters of the streams. As we came
back over the mountains our course lay over the head waters of the
Paran River, which runs southeasterly and enters the Okhotsk Sea. We
passed over the divide between this and the Ghijiga, and tried to
steer a straight course for Chrisoffsky's house. Here we came to a
stretch of tundra two hundred miles wide. The snow was hard and the
going very good. We struck the trail of a number of "dog" Koraks who
were, evidently, bringing in their furs. The tundra was as level as a
floor, and the driving was so easy that it was possible to sit and
doze while the dogs sped over the white expanse.
As it was now December the nights were made bright by the light of the
aurora, while at noon the sun just shone, a red disk, above the
southern horizon. This is the month noted in that region for its
severe storms. The days were mostly overcast. The second morning after
we had started out across the tundra a light flurry of snow blew up.
Chrisoffsky shook his head and said it was going to storm. We were
just half way across the bare tundra, the worst place possible in
which to try to weather one of these storms, because of the utter lack
of fire-wood. Chrisoffsky called back to me that he was looking for a
_porgo_, which, in his dialect, means a blizzard. About noon the storm
struck us with full force. I was continually standing up in the sledge
to catch a sight, if possible, of some trailing pine where we could
make an excavation and find fire-wood; but it was all in vain. At last
the dogs lost sight of the trail and could follow it only by the sense
of smell. When the snow came down so heavily that we could hardly see
our leading dogs, we halted to let the others catch up with us. With
our snow-shoes we dug down six feet to the ground, making an
excavation that was, roughly, eight feet square. Placing the three
sledges around the edge of the hole, we banked them in with snow. Then
we took a tarpaulin from one of the sledges and with walrus-hide rope
improvised a sort of roof over our dug-out. The dogs, after washing
themselves, dug holes in the snow and settled down comfortably to
sleep. They were almost immediately covered with snow. At this time
the thermometer stood thirty-five below zero. We could not tell
whether it was actually snowing or whether the snow was only being
driven by the wind, but at any rate, the air was filled with it and
the prospect was anything but exhilarating. We lined the bottom of the
hole with furs, got out our sleeping-bags, and prepared for a long
siege.
As we were without fuel, we had to eat cold food. Frozen reindeer meat
taken raw is not an appetizing dish, but this, together with hard
bread and pounded soup-ball, formed our diet for the next few days. As
we had but few fish left, the dogs were put on short allowance. In
this snowy prison we were held for four mortal days, and were obliged
to climb out every three or four hours and relieve the tarpaulin of
the weight of snow. Our furs were damp, caused by our breath, which
congealed and thawed again from the warmth of the body; to say the
very least of it, we were extremely uncomfortable. At last it got so
bad that I gave orders to burn one of the sledges, and that day we
feasted on hot tea. Our deer meat was all gone, so we stopped feeding
the dogs, and appropriated the remaining fish to our own use. The
result was that the dogs began gnawing their harness, and had to be
chained up with dog-chains which we carried for the purpose. The time
spent in our snow retreat was not entirely lost. To while away the
tedious hours I gave my arctic friends some lessons in astronomy,
using snowballs as object-lessons. It was not an ideal observatory,
but there was at least snow enough to have represented all the
heavenly bodies, down to fixed stars of the fourteenth magnitude. It
all began by their asking how God made the aurora. On the side of our
excavation I made a rough bas-relief of the great masonic temple in
Chicago. They looked at it very politely, but I could see that they
took me for the past master of lying. I told them all about elections,
telephones, phonographs, and railroads, and gathered from their
expression that they thought I had gone mad from the cold and
exposure. They looked at one another and muttered, "Duroc, duroc,"
which is Russian for crazy.
I also amused myself at their expense by the use of a compass and a
little pocket magnet; the latter I palmed and with it made the
magnetic needle play all sorts of antics. They asked what made the
needle move about continually, and I replied that it would point to
any place that I might designate, by simply requesting it to do so.
Chrisoffsky, the skeptical, thought he had caught me, for he
immediately asked me to make it point toward Ghijiga. Now I happened
to know about where Ghijiga lay, for just before the storm came on I
had caught a glimpse of a mountain near that town. So I put the
compass in my lap, palmed the magnet, and began muttering and waving
my hand over the compass. At the same time I repeated, in sepulchral
tones, the magic formula:
Ere eirie ickery Ann,
Fillisy follisy Nicholas John,
Queevy quavy English navy,
Stickelum stackelum Johniko buck!
The hand with the magnet was now in the proper position, and the
needle pointed steadily toward Ghijiga. Old Chrisoffsky sat with
amazement and fear pictured all over his face. He glanced over his
shoulder as if looking for some place to run, and exclaimed in a deep
and piteous tone, "Dia Bog!" which means, "O Lord."
After a long silence he asked me if the compass would answer his
questions as well. I said I did not know, but that he might try it and
see. Concentrating his whole attention upon the compass, he bent over
it and tried to imitate my motions, and asked the instrument to tell
him the direction in which his house lay. Of course the needle, which,
meanwhile, I had been causing to swing about in all directions, now
came to a standstill due north, directly away from his house. He
looked puzzled and said it must be because he did not understand the
wizard formula, and I promised to teach it to him at some future time.
I also performed some other simple tricks, which actually
frightened him so that for a time he went out and sat in the snow all
alone. I found later that my reputation as a wizard spread through
that whole district, and time and time again I had to go over these
old tricks before admiring audiences.
[Illustration: Mr. Vanderlip on March with Deer Outfit.]
During the night of the fifth day the storm passed and the stars came
out once more. Our bedraggled party crawled forth from our prison, and
harnessed up the weak, but willing, dogs, who seemed to know that we
were not far from home; for they tugged at their collars gladly, and
we were soon gliding over the snow.
Ten miles from Chrisoffsky's house we came down upon the wind-swept
ice of the Chorny Raichka, a tributary of the Ghijiga. From this point
the going was ideal. We had timber on both sides, but we did not stop
to build a fire. The dogs were very weak, yet they displayed wonderful
mettle, knowing they were near home. They went so fast that the
sledges were continually slewing about on the smooth ice in imminent
danger of capsizing; but they were steadied by a clever use of the
polka.
While still a mile from Chrisoffsky's, we saw women and children
running out to meet us. Because of the storm and the fact that we were
two weeks overdue, we knew that there would be anxious mothers and
wives in the little village. We came in with a flourish, a score of
children hanging on the sides of the sledges. We encountered a
terrific storm of kisses, which I evaded as best I could. Willing
hands unhitched the faithful dogs, and then we all went into the
house. The village was warned of our approach while still far away,
because each dog carried a little sleigh-bell on his back. The people
had heard the tinkling of the bells sometime before we had come in
sight.
To say that we fed off the fat of the land is literally true. Seal
fat, deer fat, marrow fat, blubber galore with cranberries, and tea by
the gallon. For once I gladly exchanged snow for vermin. Perhaps the
greatest comfort was the opportunity to wash my face and hands, which
I had not been able to do for seven days.