DAY FOUR: A Whole Lotta White

Far Western Alaska to The Arctic Ocean

My overnight in the Inuit village was an unforgettable experience. First off, it was the first night I ever spent with a Warmshowers host. The family's Alaskan shower wasn't very warm, but their welcoming smiles were. They shared their food, they shared Inuit lore, they included me in their rituals, they taught me many arctic survival skills, and they played some pretty funny practical jokes on me--like when the eldest son said, "if you want to be an honorary native Alaskan, you must cut a hole into the Bering Sea ice and jump into it."

I said, "yes, I DO want to be an honorary Inuit." So I spent the next hour chopping into the thick ice. Then I stripped down to my underwear and did a perfect swan dive into the frigid water. The shock of cold I felt upon entry cannot possibly be described by any words in the English language. When I surfaced, I calmly said the following:

"AHHYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIKILLMENOW!"

Here comes the funny part. After scrambling to get out of the icy water I discovered that my practical joker hosts had hidden my clothing.

After a few minutes of intense shivering and no feeling in my arms and legs, the matriarch of the family showed some mercy and brought my clothes back. I laughed in appreciation of the humor. "That was a good one, dudes," I said. When I regained my composure, I added, "but now that I've immersed myself into the frigid Bering Sea, I'm an honorary member of your traditional Alaskan family, right?"

"Ooooh, except there is one problem," said the village elder.

"What's that?" I asked.

"That wasn't the Bering Sea. The Bering Sea is over there."

Dammit all, I could not believe I fell for that trick. I saw Prince pull it off in his movie Purple Rain. What I didn't expect was that my hosts had seen it too.

************

Being on the shores of the Bering Strait, I was perfectly positioned for my crossing into the Asian continent via what I hoped would be a completely solid ice bridge. I gazed out there as I stepped off the land and onto the sea ice. Things looked pretty good so far.

I can see Russia from here. It's over there beyond the sea ice.

No matter what anybody might have told you before, rest assured it's not easy to pedal a bike over snow-covered ice. Nevertheless, I've been claiming to be a tough guy for several years now. This is not the time to wimp out.

It took what seemed like forever to ride to Russia. That country's shores never seemed to get any closer. Finally, though, I felt like I was almost there. You cannot imagine how disheartened I was when I came upon open water a mere two hundred yards away from the world's largest country.

I had already felt the stinging pain of ice water this morning, so I was not about to throw The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong onto my shoulder to walk across thin ice, nor was I interested in swimming my bike across open water.

My only option was to turn right--northward--and ride to the Arctic Ocean. I knew it would be colder up there, but at least I was reasonably certain it would have more secure ice.

Okay, what other choice did I have? It was either ride north to frozen freedom, or ride south to, like, California and ride in an airplane to Russia.

I've got to admit, that the eternally white landscape had me totally disoriented. I had no idea where I was most of the time. My only relief from whiteness was when I came upon a building out in the middle of absolute nowhere. It looked like a workshop or something like that. And a guy came out of the building to greet me. He welcomed me inside for milk and cookies. Only when he introduced himself and did I realize where I was.

It was a great Cycleblaze meet-up. With his cycling knowledge, Santa Clause kindly gave me precise directions to the Russian border by way of the Arctic Ocean. I will be forever grateful.

It was still early, so I turned down Santa's offer to let me spend the night in the workshop with his elves. Instead, I excused myself and continued cycling to Russia. I had a bit of a bone to pick with Mr. Putin.

The bad news about my decision to keep riding was that it got colder and colder. The good news is that I remembered the lessons I learned from my Inuit hosts last night. Specifically, the igloo building tutorial.

I've always been a quick learner. I built my own igloo in the harsh Arctic Circle and that probably saved my life.

I made a video from inside my shelter. Please forgive my whining about such a miniscule thing as 20-degrees-below-zero temperatures. I'll live through this, as long as the polar bears don't find me.

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	8
Comment on this entry	Comment	9

Scott AndersonHow did that oak leaf get up there inside your igloo?
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Nancy GrahamYou are making good time across the white. I must say that I am only slightly surprised that you would mistake a lake for the sea! But then again, everything so white, I guess that would present the challenge. Those Inuits are indeed hospitable and helpful. Igloo building is a true skill.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Gregory GarceauTo Scott AndersonI, uh, um, er, . . . I, um, can't exactly explain that. Would you believe a powerful wind blew a few of them over from Russia? Yeah, that's it--the leaves tumbled their way across the ice and snow for many hundreds of miles.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Gregory GarceauTo Nancy GrahamYeah, I can't believe I made that mistake either. Thank you for providing me with that "everything was so white" excuse. I'll use it when my friends start making fun of me for my stupidity.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Scott AndersonTo Gregory GarceauYes, of course. I’m sure that must have been it. Much more plausible than my own first assumption, that you carried it in your pocket the whole way to use as a test for attentive readers. A real round- the-worlder wouldn’t carry the extra weight for such a frivolous reason.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Nancy GrahamTo Gregory GarceauStupidity? What is stupid about riding your bike across a frozen lake to complete a round the world tour in the frozen season??
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Ron SuchanekWow! This is true adventure.
Shackleton was a soft-handed, pampered tenderfoot compared to you and The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Gregory GarceauTo Ron Suchanek"Shackleton? Bah, humbug." The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong said that, not me. I thought the dude was a pretty brave adventurer.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Mark BinghamIt's a good thing you brought your Lucky Leaf with you (wink, wink) or you would never have survived the night!
Reply to this comment
1 year ago