The wild-catting had begun. The powerful twin-engine Caribou fanned the snow behind it like it was a chopper ready to dust off. Easing off the brakes and edging the throttle forward, propelled the craft to where the pilot reached full throttle. The landing skis worked like a charm. The engine hummed–then whined. The cold, swirling air pushed the belly of the fuselage up into the air, as the ailerons redirected the wind flow. Eight thousand feet later, Walter leveled the craft off. Cutting through the air and accelerating to two hundred and seventy-five miles an hour while fighting a strong headwind: it would take the sleek, short-landing-area plane just twenty minutes to reach its…show more content… Then Luke, Eugene, and Kale offloaded the two snowmobiles that would be parked up against the front wall beside the door and covered with a tarp. During the coming storm, each man would take turns in cleaning the snow off of the tarp.
And then the snow came. The heavens bragged gales that pushed down from the upper reaches, and slapped against the front door like a wide pair of broad shoulders were slamming into it. Then came the ominous sound of thunder, right behind it the lightening: clapping again and again.
The snowmobiles had to be cleaned off every hour. Page and Walter made up some grub: fried canned potatoes and onions, and the New York Strips Walter got in Cheyenne. The fire began to crackle away, and soon the team was taking off articles of clothes and were becoming more comfortable by the minute. Luke was already in his hunting socks–going through his backpack to make sure everything was where it had to be. Page made a lengthy addition to his daily log–while Walter found himself discussing some of the finer points of the operation with Kale.
