It's a Cold Dark Winter night in Fairbanks. It has been -40 for the last week or so as it is always -40 degrees or colder whenever a Fairbanksan tells a story about an adventure in the cold. Minus 35 isn't as dramatic enough for a good literary tale. My wife, Cindy, and dogs Duke and Jezebel are sitting around the warm living room feeling the claustrophobia that extended periods of cold and darkness tends to trigger.
I jump up from my warm couch coccoon and decided to go for a walk. Duke and Jez, being black labs, immediately jump to attention, being always up for any dumb adventure I might dream up. I think they just don't want to miss a good laugh that I so often provide with my misfortune. I proceed to but on the 23 layers of clothing required for such winter trips and then put their harnesses on them.
White frost paints my stiff beard as my two Labs and I make our way through the deserted Fairbanks streets towards the frozen Chena river. It is the dead of night air-born ice crystals distort the orange light glowing from the windows of neighbor houses as we make our way down back alleys as we work our way towards the trail that winds along the river towards the Community Gardens about a half mile away. The ice fog blankets all the land like a somber funeral shroud. We make it to the trail head and plunge into it, paralleling the river through the spruce and willow stands. We might be on the edge of town but the darkness gives the impression on being miles from anywhere. The dogs and I walk this trail often in the summer, taking side trips to the river's edge so they can chase beaver's in the water and I can scout for jumping Grayling. Suddenly, Jezz and Duke stop in dead alert. I squint through fogged glasses into the December blackness, trying to detect the cause for their alarm but only see white and the muted rainbows reflecting about in my crystalline glasses.
"Is there a Moose ahead?" Moose often wander into the neighbor from the river. I reach up to remove my glasses in hopes of improving my vision. The effort is futile as my uncorrected vision is as bad as my corrected vision through ice encrusted lenses. I can see no further ahead but I do manage to knock my fur hat from atop my head. I stoop over to retrieve my head gear and lamp. I worry that someone or something may have ventured onto the river and fell through the ice. There is a spot that never freezes thick just ahead. I know this because Duke managed to find it on a previous adventure and I had almost needed to invent some kind of rescue before he had manage to drag himself out of the icy water. Suddenly I hear a human voice yell:
"Help!!!" Come quick and piss on my hands!
At -40 degrees a cry for help, no matter how strange, demands attention. My heart pauses at thought that perhaps someone has ventured onto the ice and fallen through and is now delirious with hypothermia. My mind ticks through possible scenarios and required actions. I have a small length of rope with me in case I need to tie the dogs but it is questionalble if it is sufficient to carry out anything but the simplest ice rescue. Charging ahead I make out the blurred outline of a prone body in the snow near the river's edge. Brief relief at the realization that the person is not in the river is replaced by anxiety as I speculate why the person is laying in the snow screaming such a strange request.
I approach closer, until the prone figure is almost at my feet, but my opaque glasses still prevent a logical assesment of the situation.
"Quick! Piss on my hands to unfreeze my dogs tongue !"
Now I have lived in this odd state long enough to have heard some rather strange requests but this one takes me completly off guard. Again, I swipe off the blinders covering my eyes and discover a man lying at my feet with arms wrapped around a squirming dog. The Husky's tongue extends about six inches out of its muzzle and it firmly frozen to a metal fence pose embedded in the ground. Blood is streaming from the poor mutts frozen appendage and the man is struggling to keep the dog from ripping it from its own throat. Now the situation is clear! I do a quick status check on my bladder but am dismayed to discover that the cold and novelty of the situation has rendered it usless. Not to mention the 23 layers of clothing and shrivel effect of the cold.
"I don't think I have it in me." I reply to the man in the snow. "Let me tie up my dogs and I will see if we can't figure something else out."
Jezz and Duke are of course quite agitated by the situation but after a bit of a struggle I get them tied to a nearby tree.
Looking around I notice a house along the river with lights burning about a quarter mile away.
"Stay here. I'll run down to that house and see if I can get some warm water."
I take off at a sprint or at least what can be called a sprint when wearing heavy boots and full winter gear. The house turns out to be beautiful large house on the river. An ornate door greets means pulling of my stiff glove I give it a good knock, Soon muffled footsteps approac the door and when it opens I am met by the rather befuddled and obviously nervous stare of a young woman. I suddenly become aware of my strange appearance. Thick ice-cilcles hang from my scraggly beard and fur hat. My snow pants and parka are equally encrusted with powdery snow. When I attempt to talk I realise that my cold thickened lips fell like cucumbers glued to my face.
"Uhh uhh...do you think...uh... can I please maybe get a glass or cup of warm wather?" Puzzled eyes blink back at me. Determined to express the situation before the door slams shut again, I manage to stammer, " There's a guy down by the river with a dog that has its tonge frozen to a metal fence plole and I need it to get get the dog unstuck."
"Click." the door closes and I find myself standing out in the cold dark again. Unsure of what to do next I stand waiting. I'm preparing to walk away when I hear footsteps once again coming to the door. The door cracks open and a hand holding a red, plastic Solo cup gingerly reaches out. I take the steaming cup and for a brief moment contemplate how fun it would be to toss the warm water and watch it vaporize into instant ice-fog but remembering the importance of my mission I begin my trudge back to the man and his husky. The water slops out as I walk, freezing my gloves into iron.
Making it back to the man and his dog I pour the warm liquid on the dog's extended tongue where it does its work and un-freezes from the fence post. Being a typical husky he runs of for a good butt sniffing and romp in the snow as if nothing had taken place.
The man, now embarrassed from his strange initial request, tells me how thankfull he is that I came along. He had been lying in the snow for about a quarter of an hour and had just about given up on the possibility of anyone coming along. We parted ways and faded off into the milky fog.
At home I stumble into the living room shedding puddles of water and my 23 layers of winter gear. I pull the red Solo cup from my parka pocket which catches Cindy's attention.
"You've been out side drinking beer?" she asks with puzzled amusement.
"No. But I did answer a rather strange request." I replied.
I guess it was just another day in this strange place shimmering beneath the noon day moon!
