Screw Pile Developments

❄️ Nearing the summit of Vindskarð Pass — “The Wind Notch”
❄️ The Storm: Day 3

The wind had eased—the storm’s mood a little more contemplative, 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 lead hunde would need to remain cautious—optimising speed over safe arrival.

General Jake “Ice-pick” Husky—the Arctic Division Commander—had taken immediate direct command of the rescue. Huxley was not only a well-respected Arctic expedition commander, but he was also a friend. The two old war dogs—kriegshunde—shared a long and colourful history.

The sled dogs pulled smoothly, not too fast, 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. 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.

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❄️ 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—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.

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 just sniffed the air again. It was still faint, yet out of place.

There it was—something decidedly organic.

Jake cocked his head sideways.

Jake called again to his team.

The valley opened below them—a long glacial bowl leading toward the cwm head where the TA-3 camp sat. The wind flowed directly down it, carrying with it the unfamiliar scent that grew stronger the closer they got.

Jake had an inkling, but the scent was out of place. It smelt like—

an offal pit.

They kept moving.

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TA-3: Research Drilling Station, High Arctic
❄️ Day 4

The wind continued to ease, bringing a welcome window in the storm.

Gradually the camp came into view—first the shapes, then the details. It did not look right.

Tents and structures partially buried with lines under strain or completely snapped. Snow drifted hard against the windward sides.

And something else.

A dark disturbance near what was once the drilling site and borehole. Twisted remains of metal, puffs of steam still rising, and all around—material, organic, and pungent.

His team came to a halt just outside the main tent, the others pulling up alongside. Their eyes and noses took in the devastating scene before them.

Huxley stepped out, his orange and blue jacket contrasting against the snow.

For a moment, the two hundel simply looked at each other.

Jake gave a short nod.

That was all.

Jake’s brief was short and clipped.

Time was now a precious resource.

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Inside the tents, the temperature had dropped considerably. Breaths came in foggy bursts, condensation starting to form on the walls.

Lucas sat wrapped in a thermal blanket, shoulders hunched, his breathing shallow and fast. Rebecca stayed close beside him, rarely leaving his side.

Eugene hovered nearby, his concern for his friend barely contained.

Rebecca didn’t look up, nodding slightly.

Sanna moved in quickly, medical backpack in 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.

Lucas managed a weak smile.

His words came in short, clipped bursts as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sanna noted but didn’t respond.

Rebecca gave a small nod, relieved that more advanced medical help than she’d had was now finally available—it had been a long and worrying night.

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Outside, the discussion on available load space had already narrowed.

Jake stood with Huxley and James.

James didn’t hesitate.

Jake met his gaze and motioned his head towards the assembling crew.

A tense pause.

Huxley stepped in—not to take command, but to mediate.

Jake held Huxley’s gaze for a moment—calculating weight, time, and distance.

Jake gave a small nod.

Decision made—no further discussion.

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Loading began without delay.

Matthias and Markus assisted, working efficiently despite the cold. The selected field crate containing the core samples was secured onto Erik’s sled—lashed tight at the front.

Passengers were assigned quickly—distributing the weight as evenly as possible.

Three on 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 weighed in at a stocky 120 kg. Even with 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 along her frosted fur.

Nyra nuzzled under his chin and licked his face. That was all he needed to know.

Then two more on Erik’s sled—Matthias, James, and the crate.

Lucas was assisted carefully onto the third, supervised by Sanna. He was in the middle, supported and sitting upright, Rebecca close in behind him. Markus took up the front position.

Sanna passed an IV bag to each of Markus, Matthias, and Eugene.

The three hundel then checked over their rigs, ganglines, and dogs one final time.

They were heavy—but still workable.

Just.

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The drivers mounted up. Their commands were short.

The dogs leaned forward, lines tightening, the runners biting 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.

The heavy sleds cut deeply into the fresh snow, the dogs working harder, 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.

The teams turned sharply to the right.

At the next turn, the teams continued the serpentine climb to the left.

Three in a line, the sleds followed, each call deliberate and clear.

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Lucas coughed—a deep, rasping, painful sound.

Rebecca leaned in, adjusting his position.

Rebecca checked his oxygen mask, then the IV line—the bag warming against her body.

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The pass loomed ahead once more.

The wind picked up again as they climbed, pushing behind them—willing them to leave, every metre gained a test of handler, rig, and team.

Jake only looked ahead—right now there was one goal only: the top.

They would make it over.

They had to.

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At the bivouac camp, the late evening sun dipped below the horizon. The weather window was holding, and now, 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.

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Eugene, now genuinely 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.

Lucas didn’t answer.

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James and Elena were conferring quietly.

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Matthias and Markus were helping Erik check the rigs and feed the dogs.

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❄️Vindskarð Pass — “The Wind Notch” Bivouac
❄️ Day 5

Following a few short hours of darkness, the sun rose again.

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.

James was about to protest when Jake continued.

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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 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.