Four Degrees Celsius (11 page)

Just one day earlier the Domex men and their Inuit companions had made themselves ready to attempt the crossing. They had not slept. With the security of stable land a distant memory, they had listened to the cacophony of hammering and scraping as the ice shuddered beneath them, propelled by shockwaves all night long.

November 3 was a frigid day, with a temperature measuring -33°C. After breakfast they loaded the sleds and harnessed the dogs. Their only concern was being able to cross the perilous ice as quickly as possible. Here patience would not be an asset. As Peary said, “A man who should wait for the ice to be really safe would stand small chance of getting far in these latitudes. Traveling on the polar ice, one takes all kinds of chances. Often a man has the choice between the possibility of drowning by going on or starving to death by standing still.”
[5]

Sea ice, with its high salt content, is the most flexible of any type of ice. Fresh water, when frozen, sets like glass, but a thin layer of frozen seawater has a rubbery consistency and flexes under any type of weight, be it a plane, human, sled, or dog. On this undulating surface they were off and running, and within minutes the air pierced their lungs as they gasped for oxygen. Breath curdled heavily on the fur of their parkas, and soon there was an inch of frost covering their clothing. Sweat-soaked garments became an icy armour, but nonetheless they ran. Conditions were deplorable, their vision suffering, and yet they ran and ran in a vast, icy cloud, making their way around ice hummocks. All while the ice was moving under their feet.

Polar explorers have written of the strange optical illusion that occurs at the frozen ends of the earth. The whiteout is a phenomenon that even at mid-day may prevent a man from seeing dangers right at his feet.
[6]
In total whiteness depth perception is lost. Conditions like this made the crossing shockingly unreal; the horizon disappeared and the men lost all orientation. They continued the race of their lives, with an icy blast gnawing at them and a desperate determination to survive.

They suffered intensely. The jagged ice upset the sleds time and again and the dreaded ice hummocks forced them well off course. Collapsing fragile ice caused them to stumble and fall, and arms and legs felt like they were being torn loose from their joints. Violent trembling from sheer exhaustion seemed to beat the life back in them, or perhaps they were pushed by the necessity to get out of the wind and fine snow that continually bit at them. The two groups lost sight of each other and the first team disappeared into the white nothingness. Waiting for the second to catch up was not an option. Each footstep was one closer to Cambridge, or so they hoped, but each one more painful than the last. They continued placing one foot in front of the other thousands upon thousands of times. Mind and spirit dissolved and they ran on pure adrenaline. Their only awareness was of sound — panting dogs, groaning ice, crunching footsteps, and their ragged, rasping breath.

With the exception of the exhausted colonel, who rode on one of the sleds for part of the way, the group raced across the wavering ice that was pitted with porous, green slushy spots. Pearce wrote that his second wind passed without recognition and he was on his fifth by mile two. Toes, faces, and fingers were frozen. Surface water worked its way into their footwear, and socks were soon frozen to their moccasins. The twelve miles stretched into thirty as they worked their way around the floe ice, but they dared not stop.

A weary and motley Dominion Explorer expedition arrives at the Baymaud.
Provincial Archives of Manitoba, Canadian Air Lines Collection #2130.

The last thirty-mile dash over barely frozen sea ice from Dease Point to Cambridge Bay was successful — the moment the men had longed for! Hope had turned into realization. The first Domex team arrived ice-shelled and sweat-soaked alongside the
Baymaud
, the ship that Roald Amundsen had used for his Arctic exploration in 1918. Pearce was in this group and his anxiety about being taken in because he smelled of seal oil was dispelled. The residents at Cambridge were the first English-speaking Europeans they had seen in fifty-six days, and these hospitable and kind people gave no indications that the smell of seal oil was anything but normal. Emotions ran high — a mingling of exhaustion, elation, relief, and gratitude. A combination of reuniting with those who had been aware of the lost party and the world-wide attention the search and rescue had received humbled the men. All of a sudden they were thrown into the spotlight of fame and glory, all of which was unnerving. Along with joy were doubts and fears — the second team had not yet arrived at Cambridge Bay.

It was a worrying next few hours as the group waited for the second set of travellers. In their physically exhausted state, the new arrivals were almost sick with apprehension. Some wanted to leave the sanctuary of the settlement and go out and search for them, but the unstable ice conditions rendered this impossible. Darkness, both physical and emotional, began to grip the small community. The first team feared the worst, thinking their colleagues had been swallowed into the abyss — how could they have become separated and left them out there?

Finally, three hours later, the anxiously awaited second team pulled alongside the
Baymaud
and was greeted with joy, solicitude, and hot food, in that order.
[7]
The inhabitants of Cambridge Bay were only too happy to accommodate the weary group. The Hudson's Bay men, RCMP members, and Canalaska
[8]
trading staff, began serving up potatoes, jam, marmalade, bread, cake, and cheese. Euphoria permeated the air at Cambridge Bay as all indulged in the much-deserved celebrating.

For the first time in almost two months, the Domex men slept on beds with clean sheets and blankets. Each household community welcomed two or three men. Don Goodwin and Tommy Thompson stayed at the Hudson's Bay house with Mr. and Mrs. George Clark; Alex Milne, E.A. Boadway, and Stan McMillan were with Corporal Frank Belcher and Constable Robert Milne of the RCMP; and Colonel MacAlpine, Major Baker, and Richard Pearce were on the
Baymaud
, attended to by Ian McKinnon and Mat Shand. The Inuit were swiftly building igloos this night, no doubt delighted to be on stable land. Food was served continuously, to the great relief of both the Domex men and the Inuit and their exhausted and very hungry dog teams. Inside or out, everyone slept like the dead.

Fittingly, MacAlpine and Pearce stayed aboard the schooner. The Hudson's Bay Company had purchased the
Baymaud
three years earlier and she had sailed from Vancouver to Cambridge Bay in June 1926 and had remained there — frozen in the ice. The
Baymaud
had been used variously as a machine shop, storage facility, and wireless station from 1926–27. During that time she transmitted weather reports, the first sent by radio from Canada's Arctic coast. But, unfortunately, in 1929, the wireless had not been in operation for over two years. Now MacAlpine and Pearce were finding refuge on this very same ship.

The colonel wrote messages for Pearce to type on the
Baymaud
's typewriter to be sent to family, Western Canada Airways, and the Dominion Explorers' headquarters. Every time Pearce's frostbitten fingers struck the keys pain shot through him, but he persisted with the task, knowing that the information would be of great relief to family and friends.

November 3, 1929

Pearce's Diary, Cambridge Bay

After midnight came the first real bed since August 25th, with something soft underneath the body and a covering of dry, clean blankets. Just before going to bed, the Colonel, Bob and I cleaned up three tins of tomatoes. Mat Shand, in charge of the Baymaud, told us that all the Colonel had eaten for supper was six eggs, a liberal helping of bacon, bread and other things, and three-quarters of a raisin pie. His second meal at the Hudson [
sic
] Bay house later in the evening was equally modest… half-way through the night, Baker and I awoke, had another meal, and to help pass the time, this diary was resumed. Then I climbed into Bob's bunk and we ate a pound of chocolates between us.

Standing on the ice alongside the Baymaud in Cambridge Bay, with the Domex men eagerly await pickup. This was a long-anticipated day!
Courtesy of Western Canada Aviation Museum.

The messages were given to Ian McKinnon, the Hudson's Bay Company's clerk aboard the
Baymaud.
He immediately set up his small amateur radio using the high masts of the schooner as aerial hook-up to send the great news of the safe arrival of the MacAlpine group to the Outside. He was unable to make contact with Winnipeg, Toronto, or family members. Fortunately, the faint message he kept trying to send was picked up by Ross Smythe, a McGill University student and the wireless operator living aboard the Hudson's Bay Company's SS
Fort James
at Gjoa Haven on King Wiliam Island, about 315 miles away. Smythe then sent the messages to the Outside.

On November 4, an anxiously awaiting country heard, “MacAlpine and party found. All well. Located Cambridge Bay.”
[9]
A nation rejoiced.

The Northern Miner
's front-page edition printed the news on November 7, 1929. The story captured the highlights of the extraordinary adventure and told of the harsh conditions, including bone-chilling gales, meagre food supplies, struggles against physical weakness, and loss of weight. And yet the Dominion Explorers had made their way to safety, high above the Arctic Circle with a very happy outcome. The story also praised the search and rescue pilots for their determination during the search and praised them for the advancement they have made in opening the North. The story claimed that the men had shown the Arctic could be conquered!

The news now had to reach the searchers at Burnside River before they began the flight south from the Arctic. The SS
Fort James
had a large radio set, and Smythe became the messenger sending word to anxious families, Dominion Explorers company officials, the media, and the Hudson's Bay Company Hood Trading Post at Bathurst Inlet.

Once the Hood Trading Post picked up the message from Smythe, it was sent to Colonel James K. Cornwall, a field manager who had established the Dominion Explorers base at Burnside in 1928. When the good news reached Bathurst, Cornwall was at a camp about thirty miles south of Bathurst Inlet. The message was sent on to him and he immediately sent Kingmeak (an Inuit runner with him at the time) and his dog team to Burnside River to inform Cruickshank.
[10]
Kingmeak travelled the distance in ten hours, racing through the Arctic night to reach the Burnside base at 7:30 in the morning. He arrived just as the planes were being warmed up for their last search flight.
[11]
Kingmeak shouted above the engine roar “They fine 'em! They fine 'em!”
[12]
He passed a piece of paper to one of the waiting searchers. It read, “Schooner Fort James at the Magnetic Pole reports message from the
Baymaud
at Cambridge Bay on November third that the lost party had arrived there on this date from Dease Point.”
[13]
The searchers Cruickshank and his men were elated.

The economically driven decisions to return the planes from the Arctic would, instead, become a humanitarian flight, bringing the lost men back to civilization. Brintnell would get his planes back and the rescuers would succeed in their quest. The rescue pilots changed their flight plan to head to Cambridge Bay via the Hood Trading Post to pick up the Dominion Explorers and begin their evacuation from the Barrens. From there it would be a four-day trip back to Winnipeg.

But the force of nature that, according to
The Northern Miner
had been “conquered,” had other plans for the intruders of its territory.

Evacuation Planning

November 5, 1929

Andy Cruickshank's Diary, Burnside River, Arctic Circle

At 7:30, a native arrived just as machines were ready to leave. Bringing news that the lost party were at Cambridge Bay. Machines immediately left for Cambridge Bay.

'SL, 'SO, and 'CZ, all of which had been fuelled and warmed up for the search towards the Coppermine, taxied out on the ice, and took off for Hood Trading Post. The post was north of Burnside River and offered a location that would give the planes a head start to Cambridge Bay the following morning. Getting away as soon as the sun rose in the Arctic sky was important, since the pilots, crew, and weary travellers would need a quick turnaround from Cambridge Bay to head southward before darkness. Since there was a wireless at the HBC Hood Post, the searchers could be in communication with Mat Shand aboard the
Baymaud
at Cambridge Bay and get accurate and updated weather forecasts.

The three planes landed at the trading post, and each aircraft waddled over the rolling snow contours. The sound of the motors broke through the stillness, humming where the surface was smooth, and growling where extra power was required to climb a drift. Once the planes came to a stop and the engines had been shut down the men were welcomed into the post for the evening.

It was only once there that Spence, Hollick-Kenyon, Brown, and their crews heard about the media reports that had captivated both national and international attention for the past months. Reports were in all the major newspapers and been broadcast over radio stations for weeks, and now congratulations were pouring in from all over North America. The news, however, did not travel in a straight line, nor very quickly. These messages were going via the
Fort James
at Gjoa Haven, then phoned in to Cambridge Bay, and forwarded to the Hood Trading Post. Optimism had remained high that the Domex men would be found alive, but divine intervention was also welcome — even churches as far away as Salt Lake City were broadcasting prayers for the safety of the “brave Arctic fliers.”
[1]
When word finally reached Outside, relief on both sides of the 49th parallel was palpable. It was at the Hudson Bay's post that the searchers heard of the Great Stock Market Crash, which had occurred on October 29, 1929, less than a week before.

Energized by skyrocketing stock prices of the early fall of 1929, the Domex prospectors had left to scour the Arctic for minerals, which would in time possibly become mines. In their absence, the country and the rest of the industrial world economy had begun a collapse on a scale never before seen. MacAlpine's Dominion Explorers stock had tumbled from its $14.67 share price to a mere 50 cents since Colonel MacAlpine's disappearance. Despite this drastic plunge, on the whole, Canada's economy would in fact be somewhat cushioned from the disasters that befell other countries because of the insightful vision of the founders of Domex. Dominion Explorers' Falconbridge and Eldorado Silver were two mining developments, whose success during the Depression would help support Canada's economic stability through that dark period.

The newcomers to Hood Post were stunned by the events that had been unfolding during the last few days. They couldn't help but wonder what the future held for a bush pilot. However, daily “news” often lost its significance during time spent in the Barrens. In this harsh landscape a person's relationship with nature is far more intimate than news of events, however cataclysmic, in distant Outside cities. Living by the rhythms of the land required their attention to the present moment rather than being distracted by news that was out of date by the time it reached them. The men turned their concentration once more to the job at hand, then rested up for the flight out to Cambridge Bay scheduled for daybreak.

Cruickshank, although remaining at Burnside to complete the repairs on 'SQ, had organized the airlift out of Cambridge Bay. He arranged for the Domex men to be divided between the bases at Bathurst and Burnside River until plans had been finalized for the trip Outside. The plan would prevent overcrowding at both locations and give the Dominion Explorers more spacious accommodations and much-needed extra food.

Since responsibility for both the safety of the aircraft and the route out rested on Cruickshank, he began his thoughtful evacuation planning. He was reluctant to head south via Hudson Bay due to its shroud of fog banks that could rest on the waters for days on end. He preferred to go out through Fort Reliance and Cranberry Portage, even though this route would take the airmen and their passengers over the open waters of Great Slave Lake, a concern since the planes were ski-equipped. But this route would also take the pilots further away from Baker Lake, where Vance and Blasdale were awaiting parts for the damaged 'RK. He mulled this over while continuing to assist with the engine assembly of 'SQ.

At Cambridge Bay, waiting for evacuation plans to unfold, the Domex men could finally assess their health situation. They were frostbitten and malnourished. During their weeks of limited food intake and caloric shortfall, their bodies had begun to digest themselves, drawing on precious fat reserves in an attempt to stay alive, which, in turn, reduced their tolerance to the cold. That, compounded with extreme physical activity and dehydration, resulted in a susceptibility to poor circulation. Also, since the body's natural tendency is to pull blood from the extremities towards the heart and lungs, supplying them with critical nutrients, if permanently constricted, the cells in these blood vessels could burst and form small clots.

All the men suffered from frostbite to some degree, but it became apparent that Don Goodwin was in serious condition. Both feet were frozen, one worse than the other. There was the very real possibility that he might lose it. During the last night on the ice, Goodwin had not mentioned his footgear was soaked through. He had continued to run with the rest of the group, without referring to the condition of his feet when they settled on the ice floe. This lack of comment may have been a result of severe frostbite. Once frostbite has penetrated to the third layer of the skin, feeling is lost in that area. There have been reports that an area “bitten” hard feels wooden. Pearce, however, once he saw Goodwin's white-purple foot, recalled the anguished look on Goodwin's face as they made their final thirty-mile dash, and noted in his diary that he had wished that Goodwin had made mention of his discomfort. It was urgent that Goodwin be seen by a doctor.

The other members of the team had frostbitten fingertips and noses, and the average weight of the men was 110 pounds, down from 150 pounds. Colonel MacAlpine had lost seventy pounds.
[2]
Scurvy was another problem. Their teeth were loose and in desperate shape with fillings falling out due to the diet they had been forced to eat for the past two months. With attentive care and good food the men began to regain their strength, although their stomachs reacted violently to the food they were now eating. This back to normal diet was supplemented by vast quantities of Scotch. In two days the eight men helped to consume Cambridge Bay's year's supply of alcohol.

Most of the members of the team relaxed while they waited for an airlift out. The Inuit women washed and scrubbed the men's clothing and hung them to dry in the various houses at Cambridge Bay. Major Baker even managed to have a bath, the first one in two months.

The colonel continued to keep Pearce busy writing and sending messages to the Outside. He sent a wire to the Dominion Explorers headquarters in Toronto:

All personnel both planes safe STOP Please rush advice all concerned STOP Subsequent to leaving Lake Pelly a chapter of unlucky incidents including snow storm and no safe landing forced us far north of our course and landing at first opportunity unanimous decision account gas supply was to hit for Arctic coast STOP We landed at Eskimo Tent in vicinity Dease Point and again on account unfortunate incident combined gas supply insufficient for one plane to reach trading post STOP All other plans to reach post proved futile on account open seas STOP There was no alternative but to wait until we could reach Cambridge Bay over ice on the sea STOP With bitter disappointment but with resignation to the inevitable we began the fight for food and preparations against the climate and have just reached Cambridge Bay over the ice STOP Overshadowing our own troubles was the worry of those at home and hazards of those who might blindly search for us STOP Official report of details will follow…. MacALPINE

In his communications role, Pearce had heard about the various searches that would be implemented once the air search had been called off and the search planes headed south. An Inuit communication line had been set up by Colonel Cornwall, manager at the Hood Trading Post at Bathurst Inlet. He had promised a hefty reward to the Inuit who was able to provide news of the lost Domex men. Cornwall had heard rumours from the Inuit of planes heading over the Ellice River areas and wanted to get information himself from the Inuit settlements. He also had wired the RCMP at Cambridge Bay to send dog teams along the Queen Maud Gulf (on the northern coast of Nunavut) as soon as the ice was stable to investigate the possibility of the men being stranded somewhere on the Gulf shores. Pearce later learned that the crossing Dominion Explorers made on November 3 was one of the earliest ever recorded since Europeans had arrived in the North.

While waiting for the rescue aircraft to arrive from Burnside, Pearce had contacted his brother Norman, a co-owner and co-editor at
The Northern Miner
. Richard wired the story of their dramatic journey out to Norman for distribution to the media. Norman sold the story for $10,000 to
The Star
in Toronto and Pearce had the money divided among the Domex men, who were thrilled with their share. Richard Pearce was also offered $5 per word from, it seemed, almost every newspaper in the country.
[3]
With this kind of encouragement, he continued with his correspondence despite blood blisters on his fingertips. With the assistance of Ian McKinnon, Pearce was doing his best to reply to the incoming messages. The task seemed endless, but it was one he was skilled at, unlike building sod houses. Pearce did, however, decide to take some time away from the typewriter to view the spectacular show of the northern lights from the deck of the
Baymaud.

Others were watching this impressive display. From the ice at Burnside, Cruickshank gazed skyward at the aurora borealis. No matter how often he was treated to this incredible light display, he always stopped to appreciate it. As he watched, he thought of Esmé, as he knew she was just as awestruck as he when the brilliant lights began to dance. The silhouette of 'SQ against the light display was a stark contrast, and very modern, considering that aircraft had never been part of that world before. As he stood beside his plane and watched the lights sweeping the heavens, a sense of foreboding weighed heavily on his mind. The flights home, he feared, would be far from straightforward.

Weather was a constant question mark — fierce winds, fog banks, snow squalls, and extreme cold were ever-present threats. Fuel was nearly spent. Added to this was the burden of knowing that this was their last opportunity to see their mission through. Faced with these concerns and this undercurrent of dread, he knew how important meticulous planning was to their success. He knew what the Arctic demanded. A hurried dash south would not be in the best interest of the people whose safety was his responsibility.

His own plane alone was going to be a particular challenge for him to fly, but this he felt he could control. He would be flying without instruments, with a shortened propeller, and on one magneto. Siers, along with Cruickshank, had discussed the effects these emergency alterations to his plane would have on the safety, horsepower, and overall performance of the aircraft. They also discussed the weight capacity of the 'SQ. Siers doubted 'SQ could handle more than two passengers. This would present a difficulty in itself, getting all the passengers safely back to Winnipeg with four planes and one only able to fly with two passengers in as short a time as possible. From what Cruickshank had heard over the wireless, a total of twenty-two men needed flights back home as there were other passengers wanting a ride from the Bathurst Base. He contemplated calling in any available planes for assistance, but decided to wait to discuss with MacAlpine.

Mists closed in on the morning of November 6. The rescue planes sat at Hood Post, waiting for a break in the weather. It was an agonizing wait. The moment the mist cleared, the air engineers readied the planes and they were off, heading immediately for Cambridge Bay. Minutes later, they left the brilliant sunshine and flew into a cloudbank resting at ground level and were forced to land.
[4]
Landing blind, pilots and passengers were thrown from one side of the aircraft to the other as the planes struggled for stability. They waited for the skies to clear with engines running, consuming precious fuel.

Suddenly, a wind blew in from the north and cleared the fog. They were off again. Circling over the Queen Maud Gulf, they were dismayed to see ice floes piled haphazardly in such confusion that the three planes had no clear area for landing. They continued flying and finally located a smooth strip of ice between one of the many islands and the shore. They landed right near dog-sled tracks, which they suspected must have been made by the Dominion Explorers three days before. They waited again — so close to their destination of Cambridge Bay but pinned to the earth by the Arctic's atmospheric moods.

Once the clouds dissipated for the third time, the area was bathed in sunlight. Tiny ice crystals picked up by the fresh wind twinkled like magical dust, showing a softer side of this harsh environment. Into this crystal sky flew Hollick-Kenyon and Brown. But in his haste to take off, Spence forgot to select his full fuel tank. The aircraft the bush pilots were flying were equipped with two fuel tanks, one in each wing. The typical procedure was to run one tank dry at high altitude, allowing a switch over to the other full tank to maximize the range. Take-off was usually done on the fuller tank. Fifty feet up, Spence's engine cut and he was heading straight for Cape Colbourn Cliff. He had no choice but to hold his course and glide, hoping for the best. A pilot has very few options over an aircraft with an engine out at fifty feet. Bill Spence and Guy Blanchet watched in horror as the snow-swept rocky cliff loomed in the cockpit window.