.jpg)
Chapter 10 - The Cave on Thomas Lake
As we continued our progression towards efficiency when winter camping, Thomas Lake became a favorite destination. The Forest Service had established a winter trail in the mid-1980’s that made a flatter and more direct route than the one we tried to follow years earlier. Taking off from Snowbank Lake, we would ski to the portage into Disappointment Lake. About three quarters of the way down that lake we would intercept the winter trail with a quick hop over a bit of high ground to a beaver pond. From there, the travel followed a series of flowages through Kobe and Alworth Lakes. At Alworth you had a choice. Turn north towards Ima Lake or continue through the woods to Thomas. With good trail conditions, we could get to Thomas Lake in three hours. If the snow was deep and we had to break trail, it could take up to six. We had started pulling sleds and with that advancement our trips became much easier. In some ways, many of our trips now became “routine”.
My buddy Tom, Ross Petersen and occasionally my brother-inlaw Todd usually made up the group that went in. Most of the time in the early days we had the lake to ourselves. Later, as more mushers became active, we would have to share. Some years we would go in for the trout opener on January 1st, other years we would go in over President’s weekend. Starting in the middle 80’s, Martin Luther King Day was established and gave us a three-day weekend in late January to make another trip. In 1989 we decided to take advantage of that.
Ross, Tom and I started across Snowbank shortly after 6:00 in the morning. Like so many of our trips, the temperature was well below zero. The day was starting to lighten up and there was a slight breeze hitting us from the north as we hit the large part of the lake. My wool sweater wasn’t enough of a windbreak to keep me warm. You can normally generate enough body heat by skiing and pulling a sled to stay comfortable with just a sweater or light jacket – even when 25 below or more. Not this day. The cold pierced through me and I couldn’t keep my hands warm inside the chopper mitts that I wore. I stopped and opened my sled for another layer before continuing.
The trail itself was good. We made great time to Disappointment Lake and before we knew it, had bridged the high ground to the first beaver pond. Looking across the ice we saw a tent and about six sled dogs staked out alongside it. Tom looked at the thermometer outside of his pack and it read –30 F.
Tom took the lead, with me in the middle and Ross bringing up the rear. The ice looked sketchy.
Patches of dark, yellow snow indicated slush patches here and there. Tom would skirt one, and then another. I was watching my ski tips when something caught my attention and made me look up.
There was Tom, up to his knees in water with broken ice all around!
Seems there was double ice and he had sunk down to the bottom level. He quickly started sloshing towards shore and hopefully to safer ice. Miraculously, his sled floated on top of the water and everything in it stayed dry. Tom was not so lucky!
Ross and I back-pedaled and found a route around the open water. Of course, now we had quite the dilemma. We had to make many decisions in a short amount of time – not the least of which was how to get Tom dried off. We were about halfway to Thomas Lake and had to decide whether to keep going or turn back. Tom said, “this might be the only chance I have to go camping this winter”. He was all for going on.
The ice along the whole flowage was now suspect, so I volunteered to follow the trail for a bit and see if conditions were going to improve. If they did, we might continue. If they didn’t, we would turn back.
The ice looked good down the flowage for the next quarter mile or so, and we decided to continue. Tom wasn’t completely dry yet, but close enough. He didn’t change his socks, though.
He only had one extra pair along and figured he wanted to have one dry pair in case he went through again. He skied the rest of the way with wet socks in high-top leather boots. We headed on down the trail.
We passed by the tent with the mushers and the staked-out dogs. They were some guys from Embarrass who had traveled in the previous evening, intending to go all the way to Thomas Lake.
Their sled had broken through the ice in the dark. Not wanting to continue until they could see what they were dealing with in the morning light, made camp.
The tent was set up on the ice, and soon after, water flooded their shelter. They spent a terrible night trying to stay warm. A smoky fire outside their tent attested to the fact that they had trouble finding dry wood in the dark. They were headed back home and wished us luck.
Within a couple of hundred yards after leaving the pond, a sled dog came racing by us! One of the staked-out dogs had broken free and decided to follow. We turned and took him back to the mushers. They appreciated us bringing the dog back and told us that if he got away again, to hook him up to our sleds, use him during the trip and drop him back off at their place when we got back.
We didn’t figure to have to deal with that, so we took off. Half a mile into it, here comes that dog. Ok. I hooked my sled up to his harness and he sat down and cried! He wasn’t going to pull it!
I unhooked him and we did our best to shoo him away, but he was adamant he was going along. We didn’t want to add another mile to the trip. Tom swung his ski poles at him, but he’d duck, run fifty feet away and then run back towards us again. Not knowing what else to do, Tom opened a pack on his sled, took out his axe and started walking towards him. As the axe was raised, the dog finally got the message and turned back to the rest of the team. No harm, no foul!
Finally, we could continue our journey. Normally, on these trips, we would stop every hour or so to drink some water and energy up with some GORP or a monster cookie. Tom was still damp and cold. When we tried to stop, his shivering bothered me, and he couldn’t stand for long before the cold set back in. For him to keep warm we had to be on the move.
No water, no instant energy the rest of the way in.
We had slowed down considerably. The trail was good, but we just didn’t move as well as we should have. Lack of hydration makes my legs burn and not want to work. We finally got to the lake and headed directly to our normal camping spot. It was already taken. A canvas wall tent with a twenty-pound propane tank sitting alongside was set up and plopped right where we normally put ours. We continued to the lake’s far side, towards the island with the high vantage point looking north and a campsite on the south. It was late in the afternoon and starting to get dark. The temp had hardly risen during the day and felt like it was going back down fast. Tom was on the verge of hypothermia, and we were all suffering from dehydration. Those conditions do funny things to the mind, and we were in trouble. We had a difficult time making any decisions, and to me, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The snow was deep, and we couldn’t decide on where to put the tent.
“Should we put the tent here?”
“No” “Should we put the tent here?”
“No” Things were getting serious!
Tom finally wandered down the west side of the island towards the summer campsite and after a bit yelled to us, “Hey I found a cave!” Indeed, he had! The wind had carved out an open area next to the cliffs beside the island.
Tucked behind some boulders was a sea cave diving several feet back into the rock wall. The floor was snow free and made up of fine gravel. We threw a tarp down on the floor, hung another over the opening, slung our sleeping pads and bags onto the floor and crawled in out of the wind.
There was room for all three of us - barely. Ross is 6’6’’, Tom’s a hair over six feet and I’m 5’8”.
Part of the cave had a ceiling of about four feet, the rest was just over two. The big boys were able to get side by side under the high part. I slept with my nose almost touching the rock above me. But, hey – it could have been worse!
We lit a candle in the back and spent the night.
In the morning, the temp outside the cave was –25 F. Inside it was plus ten. With our good down bags, it was cozy. Tom was the first up and before anything else, put out a couple of lines. All Ross and I could think about was getting some breakfast rustled up and some calories in. Tom’s a fisherman before anything else!
We had survived, but not without cost. All three of us had terrible dehydration headaches that lasted throughout that next day. Tom took off his boots with his wet socks and found half-dollar sized patches of skin missing from high on both heels – down to the muscle. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have to slip into those boots to ski out the following day. Tom said, “It will only hurt for a few minutes and then will go numb”. He’s one tough dude!
The wind blew all day. We hid behind some huge boulders with a fire and took turns peeking around the corner to check flags.
A lot of that trip remains hazy, but as I recall, the fishing was rather poor. Seems we only caught three or four trout over the day plus the couple of hours the last morning that we fished.
We spent a second night in the cave – there was no better place for us to be. The trip out on day three went well, but some of my headache remained. The weather warmed a bit and the wind died down. True to Tom’s prediction, by the time we left Thomas Lake his heels were numb and allowed him to ski without the pain he was to endure for days after he got home.
Winter trips are filled with dangers that aren’t a factor during warmer months of the year. You can make a lot of mistakes when the temps are in the 70’s and 80’s and come out smelling like a rose. Make a small mistake in the winter and it could be your last.
We were as close as I wanted to be with this one.
A couple of summers later, Tom and I took the kids into Hatchet Lake, with a day trip to Thomas. I had to show Matti and Kaija the cave that saved our lives on that winter trip two years previous. It was great to see it again.
I hope to visit it sometime in the future. I have fond memories of many of the places I’ve been in the north country. I am more than fond of this one. I am grateful.
