Great White North

This area is experiencing an Arctic cold front. Temperatures are predicted to dip to 10-degrees by morning. It may snow again Tuesday through Wednesday. Meteorologists say that this may be the longest cold spell in western Washington since 1990. However, it’s nothing compared to our first winter in the great white north. That was an extraordinary winter for us, and one for the B.C. record books. The Arctic outflow in late November 2006, was the earliest extreme-cold temperatures since 1896, and the heaviest November snowfall on record. After it was all over I wrote:

I think we have passed some kind of test. No one is asking us anymore if we are going to head south for the winter. I imagine a few of the locals have lost bets on our staying power; thinking that anyone from south of the border is a hothouse flower sure to succumb to the first touch of cold. Winter has not officially arrived, yet we have already survived a full-blown Arctic outflow that sent temperatures plunging to twenty-two degrees below zero, and with four to five feet of snow on the ground. Weather forecasts included wind-chill data, and warnings about being outside. Neither of us has ever experienced cold like this, or knew what to expect.

When the frigid Arctic air swooped down, the creek froze, turning the dam and intake filter into a crystal waterfall covered in frozen snow. Bob made many trips to the dam, trying to break up the ice with a metal rod, ending up with frostbite on two fingertips (now healed). The farther below zero the temperature fell, the harder it became to keep the cabin warm. The woodstove couldn’t keep up with the loss of heat through the single pane windows and drafts. Just the act of opening the front door would drop the inside temperature by several degrees. I tacked plastic to the inside of the back windows, and pinned wool blankets over the other windows at night. I rolled a flannel blanket in front of the door to cut off the cold draft. We put on wool long johns; even wore them to bed.

We took turns throughout those nights, getting up to keep the fire going. Even so, the cabin’s one water pipe froze and we had to resort to melting snow for water. First we set a couple of buckets of snow in the bathtub, expecting it to melt – it didn’t! So we filled large kettles with snow and put them on the woodstove, yielding about an inch of water for each kettle of snow. Thank goodness we had the outhouse to use, a little nippy at twenty-two below zero… three sides, no door, moose antlers for decoration… but with a beautiful view of snow-draped trees. We shared it with Tucker, the red squirrel who uses the roof rafters for one of his food caches.

After six waterless days we resorted to driving sixty miles to check into a motel, where we luxuriated in hot showers, ordered pizza, and watched a little TV before returning to the cabin by nightfall. We always had power (our own), even when Kitwanga didn’t, and eventually we got the water pipes thawed out. (written December 2006)

There are times when public utilities and conveniences come in handy. Here in Bellingham we don’t have to get up in the middle of the night to keep the fire burning in our natural gas fireplace, and there is no need for melted snow water or an outhouse. But I wouldn’t have missed that northern experience for the world. It tested us well… and what memories!

... P. L. Morningstar