❄️ Nearing the summit of Vindskarð Pass — “The Wind Notch”
❄️ The Storm: Day 3
The wind had eased enough that the storm’s mood was a little more contemplative, as if assessing its next move. The climb out of Norðvik had been long and sustained. Visibility had opened enough to travel, but the terrain remained cloaked with fresh snow and deep wind-blown drifts.
The hunde in the lead would need to remain cautious, optimising for speed over safe arrival.
General Jake “Ice-pick” Husky, the Arctic Division Commander, had taken immediate and direct command of the rescue. Huxley was not only a well-respected Arctic expedition commander but he was also a personal friend. The two old war dogs, kriegshunde, shared a long and colourful history.
The sled dogs pulled smoothly, not too fast and not too slow. They had been moving like this for hours. The three teams steadily clocked off each waypoint, bringing them a little closer to their planned rest stop, a bivouac site where they would drop most of their heavier items, a small marked cache of vital supplies: shelter, food, and medical. The supplies would remain ready and waiting for their return to the lee of the pass. Following a brief rest during the darkest hours, the teams would soon crest the pass and then make the shorter, steeper, switchback descent into the glacial valley below.
❄️ Day 4
Shortly after sunrise, the summit of Vindskarð Pass — The Wind Notch — rose ahead, a narrow gap between two towering mountain peaks. It created a natural funnel where the wind always blew straight through from the valley beyond.
Behind Jake, two sleds followed in line. Erik “Snow-Hook” Halvorsen, the First Field Lead, rode on the second, with Sanna “Pulse-Check” Korhonen, Medical, on the third. Her sled rode considerably higher and lighter, now that the heavier medical gear had been safely stashed at the bivouac.
Jake adjusted his stance carefully as they began the final climb up to the pass. He encouraged his team to keep moving forward.
Jake: On by!
The teams crested the pass and took a brief pause, checking their rigs and ganglines before they began the steep descent.
At the summit, Jake lifted his head. A new and unfamiliar scent was on the air. Erik and the dogs had sensed it as well.
He didn’t react immediately; he simply paused and sniffed the air again. It was still faint, yet it was decidedly out of place.
He sniffed again, and there it was, something decidedly organic.
Erik: You smell that?
Jake cocked his head sideways.
Jake: Yeah.
Jake called again to his team.
Jake: Line out!
The lead dogs moved forward, keeping the gangline tight.
Let’s go!
The valley opened below them, a long glacial bowl leading toward the cwm at the head and the location of the TA-3 camp. The wind flowed directly down it, carrying with it the unfamiliar scent that grew stronger the closer they got.
Jake had an inkling of what it might be, but the scent was out of place. It smelt like—
an offal pit.
They kept moving.
TA-3: Research Drilling Station, High Arctic
❄️ Day 4
The wind continued to ease, which in turn brought about a welcome window in the storm.
Gradually the camp came into view. At first it was only shapes, then came the details. It did not look right.
The tents and structures were partially buried with lines under strain or completely snapped. Snow had drifted in large piles against the windward sides.
And there was something else.
A dark disturbance replaced what was once the drilling site and borehole, with the visible twisted remains of metal amid still rising puffs of steam.
And all around, organic material lay thick, and pungent.
Jake: Easy!
His team instinctively slowed as they approached.
Whoa!
His team came to a halt just outside the main tent, with the others pulling up alongside. Their eyes and noses took in the devastating scene before them.
Huxley stepped out, his orange and blue jacket making a clear contrast against the snow.
For a few moments, the two hundel simply looked at each other.
Jake gave a short nod.
Jake: Marvin.
Huxley: Jake.
That was all.
Jake’s brief was short and clipped.
Jake: We don’t have long.
We’ve only got one tight window.
Storm’s not yet done, a secondary front’s on the way.
We scoop and run. One run only.
Huxley: Understood.
Time had now become a precious resource.
Inside the tents, the temperature had dropped considerably. The inhabitants’ breaths came in foggy bursts, and condensation had started to form on the walls.
Lucas sat wrapped in a thermal blanket, with his shoulders hunched, and his breathing shallow and fast. Rebecca stayed close beside him, rarely leaving his side.
Eugene hovered nearby, barely able to contain his concern for his friend.
Eugene: He’s been like this for quite a while now.
Rebecca didn’t look up, nodding slightly, acknowledging Eugene’s concern.
Rebecca: You’re right, Gene. He has.
Sanna moved in quickly, a medical backpack in her paw, and knelt beside Lucas. Her assessment was quick and precise. Airway: open. Breathing: shallow and fast. Circulation: pulse elevated, skin warm to the touch, high fever.
Sanna and Rebecca exchanged a brief handover.
Rebecca: His breathing has been getting shallower, and its rate has been increasing over the last few hours.
Sanna: He’s going to need oxygen. I have one small bottle with me and we have more available on our way back.
Lucas managed to make a weak smile.
Lucas: Does… that oxygen… smell better… than the air… around here?
I think… Eugene farted.
His words came in short, clipped bursts as he struggled to catch his breath.
Sanna noted all of this but she didn’t respond.
Sanna: We keep him warm. Upright as much as possible. Oxygen. I’ll get a line in.
Rebecca gave a small nod of acknowledgement. She felt relieved that more advanced medical help than she’d had available was now finally here, as it had been a long and worrying night.
Outside, the discussion on available load space had already become tense.
Jake stood with Huxley and James.
Jake: Passengers only. No extra load.
James didn’t hesitate.
James: We can’t leave the core samples. That material is irreplaceable.
Jake met his gaze and motioned his head towards the assembling crew.
Jake: So are they.
A tense pause.
Huxley stepped in, not to take command, but to mediate a solution.
Huxley: One field crate. Small. Acceptable?
Jake held Huxley’s gaze for a moment while he calculated weight, time, and distance.
Jake gave a small nod.
Jake: One crate.
The decision was made, and any further discussion was no longer needed.
Loading of the sleds began without any further delay.
Matthias and Markus assisted with the loading, working efficiently despite the cold. The selected field crate containing the core samples was secured onto Erik’s sled and lashed tightly at the front.
Passengers were assigned to sleds quickly, with care taken to distribute the weight as evenly as possible.
Three were assigned to Jake’s sled, Huxley, Elena, and Eugene.
There had been a brief, quiet discussion between Jake and Huxley about where he should sit; the hunde bull-dog was hefty, weighing in at a stocky 120 kg. Even with the two much lighter additional passengers, it was still going to be a big ask for Jake’s team of dogs.
Jake walked down the line of dogs still clipped, waiting eagerly on the gangline. He came to the lead dog, Nyra, and knelt alongside her, running his paw gently along her frosted fur.
Jake: Can the team do it, girl?
Nyra nuzzled under his chin and licked his face. That was all he needed to know.
Lucas was assisted carefully onto Sanna’s sled by James and Rebecca, supervised by Sanna. Lucas was placed in the middle, supported and sitting upright. Rebecca sat close in behind him. Markus then took up the front position.
Then two more loaded onto Erik’s sled, Matthias and James — along with the crate.
Sanna passed an IV bag to Markus, Matthias, and Eugene, one for each of them.
Sanna: Stick these inside your jackets. I need them kept warm.
The three hundel sled leaders checked over their rigs, the ganglines, and their dogs one final time.
They were going to be heavy, but it was still workable.
Just.
The drivers mounted up and their commands were short.
Jake: Line out!
Erik: Let’s go!
The dogs leaned forward, the lines tightening as the runners bit into the snow.
After a short downhill run back to the foot of the valley, the climb out began in earnest.
This was to be the hardest part of the return journey. As the heavy sleds cut deeply into the fresh snow, the dogs started working harder and their pace reduced. Jake chose his line carefully, the most gradual route upward, trading distance for reduced effort as they traversed back and forth up the steep switchbacks.
Erik: Gee!
The teams turned sharply to the right.
Sanna: Haw!
At the next turn, the teams continued the serpentine climb to the left.
Three teams in a line, with the sleds following, and each and every call, deliberate and clear.
Lucas coughed, a deep, rasping, and painful sound.
Rebecca leaned in, adjusting his position the best she was able.
Rebecca: Stay with me, kid.
Rebecca checked his oxygen mask, then the IV line and the bag warming against her body.
The pass loomed ahead once more.
The wind picked up again as they climbed, pushing behind them, willing them to leave, every metre gained was a test of handler, rig, and team.
Jake only looked ahead for right now, there was only one goal: the top.
They would make it over.
They had to.
At the bivouac camp, as the late evening sun dipped below the horizon, it turned the world a golden yellow and orange. The weather window was holding, and now that they were in the lee of Vindskarð Pass, the worst of the wind was behind them.
The tired crew and teams settled into their small tents for a few hours’ rest.
Eugene, now genuinely and openly concerned for his friend, checked in on where Sanna and Rebecca had set up a makeshift field hospital. Lucas’ breathing remained shallow and rapid, the oxygen mask fogging slightly with each laboured breath. He drifted in and out of alertness and sleep.
Eugene: You’re all good, mate. We’ve got you.
Lucas didn’t answer.
In another tent, James and Elena were conferring quietly.
James: What happened out there?
Elena: The cap blew.
Reckon we drilled straight through that frozen mammoth’s digestive system.
Hit a thermal pocket further down, the rising heat must have thawed everything out.
Pressure, gas, boom.
James: Helluva stink.
James made a brief gesture, squeezing his nose between his fingers.
Elena: Tell me about it.
Jake and his old friend had finally had a chance to sit down and talk properly.
Jake: I was worried about getting up the pass.
Huxley: We made it. We’re here.
Jake: Tomorrow’s easier; it’s all downhill.
Huxley: Just have to beat the weather.
Jake: It’ll be chasing us all the way into Norðvik.
Matthias and Markus were helping Erik check the rigs and feed the dogs.
Matthias: The dogs must be tired, will they be all good to run tomorrow?
Erik: They were born to run.
Markus: You guys are doing a great job, just wanted to say that we appreciate it.
❄️Vindskarð Pass — “The Wind Notch” Bivouac
❄️ Day 5
Following a few short hours of darkness, the sun rose again, and the camp was bathed in the peach and golden tones of the early morning light.
Thirty mounds of snow shook themselves free and transformed into thirty hungry voices, all awaiting their breakfast, the combined cacophony better than any alarm clock.
The sledders were already up, checking and readying their rigs.
Jake: We’re running as light as we can, we will leave anything behind that we don’t absolutely need.
James was about to protest when Jake continued.
Jake: Relax, James. Your crate comes.
The terrain gradually smoothed and flattened as the dogs dug in for the final homeward stretch. The closer they got to Norðvik, nestled in a deep inland fjord, the scent of the sea and its harbour willed their tired legs on.
The three sled teams pulled up and stopped right outside Norðvik Hospital. With Lucas’ condition remaining serious, both Sanna and Rebecca were relieved to finally deliver him into the expert care of the waiting medics.
Back at the Norðvik Arctic Research Base, the rest of the TA-3 crew were finally able to collapse into waiting beds, all completely shattered after the events of the last few days.
The leaden skies that had held their peace until now, released their fresh weight of snow over the sleeping crew.
Screw Pile Developments 
Huxley doesn’t say much but his words land.
I’m glad the internet doesn’t have smell.
You an almost see the wind howling through that ‘wind-notch’.