How’s your weather?
That’s a good question … We have found the weather this season to be quite unstable.
We have trapped on this line for over 25 years, but this year was the worst for unpredictability, hands-down. Trapping season starts Nov. 1, but the lake wasn’t even properly frozen yet; nor did we have enough snow on the ground to warrant heading out by snow machine. Alas, by the last week of November, we couldn’t wait any longer. It was high time to hit the trail.
The trail we use along the river is the one that wildlife have used for millennia. But, boy oh boy was that a bumpy ride, due to the trail being trampled down deep and the snow-machine skis falling into it at times. Hills were no problem, except one where the first sled’s track worked down to the bare ground and scraped on a slick rock and tree roots. Out came the winch (attached to the front end of the machine).
So now we had broken trail for the first time. The second time, we had to drive it with two snow machines because:
- the temperatures were up to 1 C for three days, which was too warm (we would have been soaking wet due to sweating and the snow melting on all our clothes),
- the snow hit the ground softly but relentlessly for three days,
- and the subsequent three days of -50 C saw us inside the cabin, not on a snow machine.
The third time we went was because it was frigid cold once again, for so long, just before Christmas (four days at -50 C), that we couldn’t leave. Then the weather forecast called for a bummer of 30 centimetres of snow, all at once. It was the orange warning bar, not the yellow one we normally see on the Ventusky website. Finally, the temperature let up for two days, so we went in order to be back before any more of that white fluff was covering the Earth.
Sure enough, staying overnight at the line cabin we were gonna close, there was 30 centimetres of fresh snow on the machines (and everywhere else) by the next morning. We were just glad the temperature didn’t drop again (one is content to be carrying a battery booster and a “quick start” spray canister).
Bring your chainsaw
The start of the season was exceptionally warm and, as we thought, a big and deep creek wasn’t frozen yet. Out came the chainsaw; we had to build a bridge. Other side channels had overflow on them, and the next creek was frozen but with broken-up ice panels. But we did get across.
When you break trail, there are probably trees across the way that you can’t ride over again … so a chainsaw is needed. At other times, flagging tapes are not visible, due to the sun having bleached them out or a branch obscuring them. It’s always interesting to note what tracks we see along the way (there were no wolverines and no lynx, but very many snowshoe hares and squirrels). Toward the end of December, the moose will have moved into their willow-rich winter quarters, and the wolves will be there too.
Riding at night
How did our snow machines handle the 30 centimetres of new snow? Wanting the day in front of us, we left the cabin at 9:30 in the morning, in complete darkness. The headlights were powerful and we felt like “night riders,” but instead of horses we were on motorized machines.
The mission was to get home. It was fun indeed and beautiful to see snow-laden pine trees swish by. That’s how I imagine the Yukon Quest to be, with running dogs at night—with two differences: you might smell a doggie fart, but no fuel exhaust; and there wouldn’t be any noise because the dogs run on fish and kibble—not on gas.
Two hours later and nearly one grouse for lunch (as one of these birds decided to sleep right on the trail under the snow and, of course, would fly up just in time so as not to get run over), it was finally light. We didn’t even need the winch that time because the trail underneath the snow was solid, due to the cold temperatures before.
Back home the next day, guess what I did? While Paul prepared the landing strip with the snow machine, for the plane that would pick us up, I shovelled the snow in the yard so that we could, once more, go to the outhouse and the shop while wearing Crocs on our feet.
No question that our muscles were sore, and sleep didn’t come easily, but it’s nice to know we made the right decision. Been there, done that—getting to the caved-in wall tent or searching for the trail half the night.
Our line is not closed completely, as we’re still trapping around the main camp. I do wonder, though, how much more snow we’ll be getting in the new year.
Sonja Seeber, Yukon Trapper
