Frostbitten

A man takes a wrong turn and runs out of gas in the middle of a frozen wilderness.

With the heater blowing in my face, it was easy to forget that it was forty degrees below zero outside. A thick ceiling of gloomy clouds blotted out the sun’s warming rays and gave the dismal, frozen wasteland a more foreboding atmosphere. There was at least a foot of snow, and even with four wheel drive, I found it difficult to drive in a straight line without skidding off to the side momentarily.

I made a wrong turn somewhere, that much was clear. My goal was to get to the base camp before nightfall. The others were on their way as well, and would be eager to get started, and I wouldn’t want to keep them waiting. I had all the ropes and harnesses for the spelunking expedition, and they brought the food, icepicks, medical supplies, etc. It would seem they’d need to be patient, though, because I needed to find my way out of here first. It was nothing but rolling white hills and spruce trees for as far as I could see. The scope of this wilderness, so vast and untouched, made me a little restless.

I had driven a good piece into this empty land before I realized that it had been too long since I saw another settlement. There was supposed to be a trading post and gas station, but evidently I went the wrong way, and did not want to turn back for a while in fear of turning around and going the wrong way should the trading post be just a little farther ahead. So, for the better part of three hours, I had driven into this place, and now the return journey would be a further waste of time. I was annoyed with myself, as, undoubtedly, my fellow explorers would be as well, but what’s done is done.

I had not been watching my gas. My mind was preoccupied with my current whereabouts and I had not entertained the idea of becoming stranded out here. When my gas-guzzler suddenly came to a sputtering halt, and I saw the needle hovering over the E, my heart sank. Around me, for miles and miles and miles, was a perfect wilderness, a total wasteland, isolated and frozen. There were no signs of life; no wolves, rabbits, elk, or birds, just spruce trees and snow.

The reason for such an absence of animals was instinct. It was frightfully cold, forty degrees below freezing, and they knew better than to be outdoors. I knew it was bad to be outdoors as well, but I had less of a choice in the matter, for I could not burrow into the snow and await better weather. My jeep, with an empty tank, wouldn’t be going anywhere. I fished my cell phone out of the center console and checked for a signal. Of course I wasn’t expecting reception out here, but I had to at least try, and sure enough, I had no signal. The only alternative that left, and a most untasteful one at that, was to trek through the wilderness until I came back to the main road. My original plan was to delve into an icy cave in a land not unlike this one, so I brought warm clothes. With a thermal shirt, thick sweater, insulated jacket, wool socks, hefty mittens, and an ushanka hat, I figured that even a long walk through this territory wouldn’t be more than mildly uncomfortable. I was a pretty athletic guy, thin but lean and muscular, and I was accustomed to physical endurance. The cold would be the worst of it, but it wouldn’t prove too bad.

I grabbed my map, a few granola bars, and a book for tinder. Without the heater, the interior of the car was already beginning to chill. I swung open the door and stepped out and was astonished at the vicious slap of the cold. In an instant it burned my naked face,and my confidence waned. I put the velcro strap from my jacket over my face and pulled the hat down lower, and the moment passed. I looked back on my jeep, unwilling to leave it behind in case I couldn’t find it again later, but faced with little choice, I moved on. I followed the tire tracks. Over time, I grew bitter from my situation. Why didn’t I refill my tank earlier, or carry spare fuel? How did I even get here? Where was the wrong turn that led me to this place?

With every step I took, I had to pull my foot from the snow and practically wade through more snow to move on. It slowed me down considerably and made the process more exerting. My body temperature jumped from the exercise, and I began to sweat a little. This was relieving, for if I was sweating, then it couldn’t be that cold out.

Twenty minutes later, I was shivering. My body heat rose to my skin and evaporated with my sweat. The layers of clothing trapped a lot of it near my skin, but I was losing heat still. I began to regret my earlier confidence. With many miles still to go, it was bad to be getting chilled now. I decided to rest every once in awhile, so I wouldn’t work up a sweat and freeze myself quicker. Finding a nice spruce tree to lean against was easy. As I settled myself down, I spat onto the snow, and then, noticing something odd, went to touch it. What had been warm fluid in my mouth two seconds before was now frozen solid. Seeing that happen caused a mild prickle of fear to run down my spine. I decided to keep going then.

As I resumed my course, my stomach began to grumble. I took a granola bar from my pocket and tore the wrapper with my teeth. It was too difficult to hold with the mittens on, so I removed one. By the time the snack was finished my hand was aching tremendously from the cold. It reminded me of a story I read once, “To Build a Fire” by Jack London. The character in that took off his mitten to eat and his hand had gone numb instantly. Albeit it wasn’t minus seventy-five degrees out here, but it was just as scary. I hurriedly put my mitten back on and clapped my hands together violently until I had complete sensation in it again.

Glancing back, I could no longer see my jeep. It had been several hours since I left it behind, and at some point it had vanished behind a hill or a patch of spruce. I yearned for a heater, and an actual road with other people. Several hours of walking, and I had nothing to show for it. The wilderness still stretched on endlessly as far as I could tell. The sun never broke through the clouds, not even once, and damn was it cold. It was impossible to tell without a thermometer, but I was certain that the temperature had dropped to at least minus fifty, maybe less. The warm clothing was beginning to fail me, and a deep chill was settling on my body. Hypothermia hadn’t set in yet, but sooner or later it might.

I was mostly worried about the time. The worry of disappointing my group had completely left my mind by now. The biggest danger was sunset. It being winter, the sun would set early, and it was undoubtedly late afternoon by now. If it was already this cold out, I didn’t even want to imagine how bad it would be late tonight, and the way things were looking, I would still be out here come nightfall. It was imperative that I found some kind of shelter and built a fire. As I walked, I kept an eye out for a cave or anywhere that wasn’t totally out in the open, but no such spots could be found. The sun was setting, though. The depressing grayness of the landscape faded slowly to black, and the frigidity grew worse. I couldn’t tell if the temperature was falling rapidly or if it was my internal temperature that was, but I suspected it was both. I decided a fire in the open was better than severe hypothermia. I was already drowsy and shivering.

It wasn’t difficult finding wood. Branches of all sizes had fallen from the spruce trees after sustaining tremendous amounts of snow and wind. It was too cold for the snow to melt, so the branches were all dry. I created a foundation using the worst of the wood to keep the melting snow from putting out my fire and then got to work setting up small twigs, bark, and pages from my book. A wind was building up, making it difficult to handle the paper, so I rolled it up and tucked it under the wood. I knew to keep it small at first and build the fire up slowly, so I only included the small branches and lots of tinder. I started to grow euphoric and optimistic. The fire would warm me and I would sleep my exhaustion away, to get up in the morning refreshed and ready to continue. I was certain I could make the main road by tomorrow afternoon, definitely.

It was the most soul-crushing defeat I had ever experienced. It was the single worst moment in my entire life. At first I didn’t really comprehend what was happening, and I had to double-check and then triple-check, but it was true. The matches weren’t in my pocket. Not in my jacket pockets, not in my pants pockets. I couldn’t remember if I grabbed them or not when I was leaving. I could recall taking the map, and the granola bars, and the book, and I thought I remembered taking the matches, but the memory was really fuzzy at that part. Regardless, the matches weren’t on me, and were either resting in my jeep or in the snow somewhere, having fallen from my pocket. It was equally hopeless either way. I couldn’t make the hike back to the jeep, and finding the matches in the dark would be harder than finding a needle in a haystack.

It was like watching a knife as it plunges into your throat, or hearing the gunshot that blows apart your head. I knew I was going to die at that point. It was an alien thought: I’m going to freeze to death. It bounced around in my mind for awhile, growing meaningless as I repeated it over an over. Finally it sunk in. I was going to die.

I’m not going to die. A surge of confidence floods my system. Maybe I just dropped the matches someplace nearby. As I jump to my feet, I fail to notice that I had stopped shivering. I did notice, however, that I had absolutely no feeling in my hands and feet. I clapped my hands as hard as I could, waiting for the sting, but it didn’t happen. My hands were thoroughly numb, and I had no control of my fingers. They were practically stuck in place. I then tried to stomp, but to no use. I got the same results. My optimism disappeared in the blink of an eye, and my reality sunk in. Brief moments of clarity, I recalled. Your brain functions begin to shut down, confusion and amnesia sets in, but you may experience occasional moments of clarity. Enjoy it while you still can, buddy, because you’re never gonna see the outside of this place again. I never took the matches. That much I know now. I remember thinking only of the long walk ahead, of the miserable cold, and only grabbing the map, food, and book. It was a minute lapse in judgement that produced dire consequences. A thoughtless mistake that signed my death warrant before I was even aware of the danger I was in.

I walked. My mind wandered, thinking of random things; family, food, cars, movies, dishwashers, and other senseless items and places. Half an hour later, I couldn’t even remember my own name. The fatigue I felt in my limbs made me want to collapse and lie down. I didn’t even know where I was walking to anymore. I actually had taken off in the wrong direction, leaving the jeep tracks far behind, though even if I was aware of my blunder, it wouldn’t have mattered. My fingers and toes had succumbed to frostbite, turning blue, and if I was capable of feeling anything it probably would’ve been terribly painful. The cold had penetrated deep into my body. If someone were to check my pulse, they wouldn’t be able to find one, or if they did, it would be very hard to detect. My breathing slowed. In truth it was negative sixty-eight degrees now, and made worse by the wind, which had become steady and fierce.

Eventually, I collapsed into the snow and just laid there. I didn’t know how long I was there, or even if I was conscious at all. The sun rose in the East and I sat up when I saw the light. My mind had returned to me again, and I was aware that I was living my final moments. I read somewhere, long ago, that hypothermia victims often tore off their clothes in their final moments because their capillaries would suddenly widen, producing a false feeling of scorching heat all over the body. I’m glad that never happened to me. I hated the idea of somebody stumbling across my corpse naked. The thought struck me as funny, so I chuckled, but the laughter sounded so dry, hoarse, and doomed that it filled me with dread. I looked around, at the endless snow and trees, with mountains way off in the distance. The clouds were gone, and the sky was a deep purple color. The East was bright blue, and the sun could barely be seen climbing the horizon. The sun had failed me. I couldn’t be angry at it, though, for that would’ve been a childish reaction, and besides, it was my own foolishness that left me here. So, I just admired the beauty of it and thanked my lucky stars that I was coherent enough to enjoy it. At some point I passed away. One instant I was alive, drawing breath, with a beating heart in my chest, and the next, it all stopped.