July 16, 2005 --Saturday
| Car Crash Above the Arctic Circle |
| Copyright 2008 by Lewis Harris. All rights reserved. |
It's 8am on a cool, cloudy Saturday morning at mile 175 on the Dalton Highway.
I'm sitting on a somewhat uncomfortable guardrail, my thumb at the ready. I'm
hoping to hitch a ride up to the Arctic Ocean and then hitch back south all the way
to Anchorage, a distance of about 1100 miles. It will probably be a slow go. The
mosquitoes are out in force, but there is a breeze, which helps.
I'm sitting on a somewhat uncomfortable guardrail, my thumb at the ready. I'm
hoping to hitch a ride up to the Arctic Ocean and then hitch back south all the way
to Anchorage, a distance of about 1100 miles. It will probably be a slow go. The
mosquitoes are out in force, but there is a breeze, which helps.
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Later--
It's 2pm now and I'm already in Deadhorse. I've
come pretty far in just a few short hours. Too far.
The Dalton Highway is about 400 miles of rough
road and not designed to be traveled quickly, but
it's hard to be a backseat driver when you're
hitch-hiking. I'm at the Arctic Caribou Inn and I've
signed on to the bus tour which will carry me the
last few miles to the Beaufort Sea at the edge of
the Arctic Ocean. For security reasons, private
vehicles are not allowed down the last stretch of
road, which passes through the oil fields at
Prudhoe Bay.
It's 2pm now and I'm already in Deadhorse. I've
come pretty far in just a few short hours. Too far.
The Dalton Highway is about 400 miles of rough
road and not designed to be traveled quickly, but
it's hard to be a backseat driver when you're
hitch-hiking. I'm at the Arctic Caribou Inn and I've
signed on to the bus tour which will carry me the
last few miles to the Beaufort Sea at the edge of
the Arctic Ocean. For security reasons, private
vehicles are not allowed down the last stretch of
road, which passes through the oil fields at
Prudhoe Bay.
Later--
Well, my fingers are frozen. Pretty remarkable for an
afternoon in mid-July. The wind blowing off of the Beaufort
Sea was bone chilling. I left the bus and walked the desolate
spit of land down to the waters edge. I elected to poke a
finger into the water rather than immerse myself entirely. A
few of the folks on the bus stripped and plunged into the sea
for a brief instant to become members of the "Polar Bear
Club" or some such thing. I'm sure they'll be happy in the
future. They seem pretty miserable at the moment.
Well, my fingers are frozen. Pretty remarkable for an
afternoon in mid-July. The wind blowing off of the Beaufort
Sea was bone chilling. I left the bus and walked the desolate
spit of land down to the waters edge. I elected to poke a
finger into the water rather than immerse myself entirely. A
few of the folks on the bus stripped and plunged into the sea
for a brief instant to become members of the "Polar Bear
Club" or some such thing. I'm sure they'll be happy in the
future. They seem pretty miserable at the moment.
And now I'm back at the Arctic Caribou Inn, which is part of the
industrial oil-company sprawl that is Prudhoe, AK, here at the
northern terminus of the Dalton Highway. I've had a spaghetti
dinner and now I'm a hitch-hiker on the go, go, go. My
benefactor today is a 26 year old military man on a whirlwind
tour of Alaska. He drives a bit fast for my taste, but beggars
can't be choosers.
industrial oil-company sprawl that is Prudhoe, AK, here at the
northern terminus of the Dalton Highway. I've had a spaghetti
dinner and now I'm a hitch-hiker on the go, go, go. My
benefactor today is a 26 year old military man on a whirlwind
tour of Alaska. He drives a bit fast for my taste, but beggars
can't be choosers.
Later--
Wow!
I've been in a semi-serious car wreck! I hope that I'm
okay. Time will tell. My head took a slight beating,
but I don't believe I lost consciousness, and nothing
feels cracked or broken. My thigh feels bruised and
my neck is stiff and my skull feels as if someone
went at it with a ball-peen hammer. My pupils seem
to be contracting and dilating properly. I need to
watch out for the next 4-6 hours or something. It's
10pm now, about 2 hours after the accident. It's
funny that I started out at Coldfoot this morning and
now I'm right back here this evening...One long,
eventful day under my belt. Barring any health
problems, it's been a good day.
Wow!
I've been in a semi-serious car wreck! I hope that I'm
okay. Time will tell. My head took a slight beating,
but I don't believe I lost consciousness, and nothing
feels cracked or broken. My thigh feels bruised and
my neck is stiff and my skull feels as if someone
went at it with a ball-peen hammer. My pupils seem
to be contracting and dilating properly. I need to
watch out for the next 4-6 hours or something. It's
10pm now, about 2 hours after the accident. It's
funny that I started out at Coldfoot this morning and
now I'm right back here this evening...One long,
eventful day under my belt. Barring any health
problems, it's been a good day.
Later--
It's almost midnight now. I'm tremendously sleepy. I should
be. I didn't slept well the past few days in anticipation of
the trip. I'm afraid--or at least concerned about going to
sleep so soon after the trauma to my skull. But if I was
truly in a bad way, could I be writing these lines? I keep
thinking of Jeff bridges at the end of "Thunderbolt and
Lightfoot". What a day! What a day! And what will I
remember most?
The land was beautiful, sparse, and austere. The sky and
mountains had the look of staged sets, a sprawling
cinema-scope backdrop. The play of light and shadow
over the Brooks Range Mountains was incredible.
Today was a whirlwind. I caught a great ride, but it was
too fast. I got picked up at mile 175 on the Dalton
Highway. We went all the way to the Arctic Ocean and
almost made it all the way back. We made it just beyond
mile marker 177, about two miles north of Coldfoot. The
driver lost control of the vehicle. We slid through the
gravel and spun, doing about 60 mph or better. The car
flipped and we rolled, tumbling and crashing off of the
highway. But we walked away from the crash, both of us,
with no major or even minor breaks, no blood, no limping. I
was definitely banged up a bit. My head received a few
blows. I'm sure I'll have a myriad of aches and pains when
I wake up tomorrow. I'm tired. Tired.
And a very lucky fellow.
It's almost midnight now. I'm tremendously sleepy. I should
be. I didn't slept well the past few days in anticipation of
the trip. I'm afraid--or at least concerned about going to
sleep so soon after the trauma to my skull. But if I was
truly in a bad way, could I be writing these lines? I keep
thinking of Jeff bridges at the end of "Thunderbolt and
Lightfoot". What a day! What a day! And what will I
remember most?
The land was beautiful, sparse, and austere. The sky and
mountains had the look of staged sets, a sprawling
cinema-scope backdrop. The play of light and shadow
over the Brooks Range Mountains was incredible.
Today was a whirlwind. I caught a great ride, but it was
too fast. I got picked up at mile 175 on the Dalton
Highway. We went all the way to the Arctic Ocean and
almost made it all the way back. We made it just beyond
mile marker 177, about two miles north of Coldfoot. The
driver lost control of the vehicle. We slid through the
gravel and spun, doing about 60 mph or better. The car
flipped and we rolled, tumbling and crashing off of the
highway. But we walked away from the crash, both of us,
with no major or even minor breaks, no blood, no limping. I
was definitely banged up a bit. My head received a few
blows. I'm sure I'll have a myriad of aches and pains when
I wake up tomorrow. I'm tired. Tired.
And a very lucky fellow.
July, 17 2005 --Sunday
So far, so good. It's just after 6am, about 10 hours after the crash. I slept maybe 4 hours. My
left thigh is sore and the right side of my head is tender to touch, but I don't feel too bad. I've
taken some aspirin. If I had a concussion or head injury that was going to amount to anything, I
guess I would know it by now, right? The crash yesterday seemed too intense, too severe and
drastic to be able to walk away from scott free, but it seems I have. Hopefully, I'm not jinxing
myself to think so.
So far, so good. It's just after 6am, about 10 hours after the crash. I slept maybe 4 hours. My
left thigh is sore and the right side of my head is tender to touch, but I don't feel too bad. I've
taken some aspirin. If I had a concussion or head injury that was going to amount to anything, I
guess I would know it by now, right? The crash yesterday seemed too intense, too severe and
drastic to be able to walk away from scott free, but it seems I have. Hopefully, I'm not jinxing
myself to think so.
The driver definitely had a bad case of leadfoot, traveling much too fast for the road conditions.
I commented on his speeding several times and related expensive, bad-luck car stories that I'd
heard from the Dalton Highway. I even mentioned the parable of the Tortoise and the Hare, this
about an hour before our loss of vehicular control. "Sure...the rabbit is fast," I said, "but the
tortoise GETS THERE!" I didn't press my point hard enough, though.
We were less than two miles from Coldfoot when the SUV fishtailed around a gravel turn. The
rear of the vehicle swung away to the left and we hurtled sideways off of the right side of the
road. The wheels dug into the dirt as we slid down the embankment and connected with the
slender trees. The car flipped over and landed on the driver's side blowing out the side
windows, front and rear. The driver called out "whoa!" or "here we go!" or something as we
went careening off of the road. I remained dead silent. More than anything, I felt a sense of
disappointment. It seemed a shame that I was going to have to sit helpless and await my fate as
this sudden and unpleasant situation unfolded.
I commented on his speeding several times and related expensive, bad-luck car stories that I'd
heard from the Dalton Highway. I even mentioned the parable of the Tortoise and the Hare, this
about an hour before our loss of vehicular control. "Sure...the rabbit is fast," I said, "but the
tortoise GETS THERE!" I didn't press my point hard enough, though.
We were less than two miles from Coldfoot when the SUV fishtailed around a gravel turn. The
rear of the vehicle swung away to the left and we hurtled sideways off of the right side of the
road. The wheels dug into the dirt as we slid down the embankment and connected with the
slender trees. The car flipped over and landed on the driver's side blowing out the side
windows, front and rear. The driver called out "whoa!" or "here we go!" or something as we
went careening off of the road. I remained dead silent. More than anything, I felt a sense of
disappointment. It seemed a shame that I was going to have to sit helpless and await my fate as
this sudden and unpleasant situation unfolded.
The SUV continued its roll. As the roof impacted with the earth, I was alarmingly aware of the
proximity of my head to the ground. I was aware of the unnatural nature of this juxtaposition
while sitting in a car, and at that moment, upside down, suspended in my seat belt, watching the
world spinning through the spider-web cracked windshield, I remember having the distinct
thought: "This is a serious car accident."
I was painfully aware of my head impacting with the car interior, and thinking, "This is not a
good thing." I remember thinking that the seat-belt was working quite well, and I was happy with
it. I was aware of looking about with a dread curiosity, expecting the roof and sides of the
vehicle to implode inward, crushing us. I felt myself willing the car to retain its shape, to not fold
inward and crush my legs and other things I treasured.
The car thudded jarringly on the ground, against the ground. The sounds of cracking and
splintering came as we crashed through the thick-limbed bushes. Beyond the windshield, the
world seemed to spin forever. I felt like a time traveler strapped in an experimental machine,
hoping to land somewhere where I would find myself alive and in one piece.
And then the vehicle thudded right-side up, rocking onto its tires, trembling, coming to a halt. All
was quiet, except for the rear windshield wiper which shushed dryly back and forth against the
dusty back window. I glanced over at the driver who was covered in pebbles of shattered glass,
but appeared conscious and unhurt. I reached and felt my legs. I felt along each of my arms.
"Are you alright?" the driver asked.
"I don't know," I said. I felt along my neck and skull. I probed, feeling for cracks and checking for
blood. My head hurt, but it was in one piece. I turned my neck this way and that.
"Are you okay?" the driver asked again.
"I think so," I said. "It's too soon to say. How are you?"
"I'm fine," he answered, off-handedly. After all, he was a twenty-six year old soldier; some kind
of Special Forces guy or Ranger. He looked like Conan the Barbarian, and had never been hurt
in his life. He probably thought he never would be.
We clambered from the car, both doors opening with little difficulty. I unloaded my backpack
from the dusty vehicle. Earlier I'd felt I should've gotten out of the car and caught another ride.
Had it been a premonition or only common sense trying to have its say?
The guy was definitely a poor driver.
But we survived. Walked away from the crash with only a few knocks and bruises.
And it was a rental.
proximity of my head to the ground. I was aware of the unnatural nature of this juxtaposition
while sitting in a car, and at that moment, upside down, suspended in my seat belt, watching the
world spinning through the spider-web cracked windshield, I remember having the distinct
thought: "This is a serious car accident."
I was painfully aware of my head impacting with the car interior, and thinking, "This is not a
good thing." I remember thinking that the seat-belt was working quite well, and I was happy with
it. I was aware of looking about with a dread curiosity, expecting the roof and sides of the
vehicle to implode inward, crushing us. I felt myself willing the car to retain its shape, to not fold
inward and crush my legs and other things I treasured.
The car thudded jarringly on the ground, against the ground. The sounds of cracking and
splintering came as we crashed through the thick-limbed bushes. Beyond the windshield, the
world seemed to spin forever. I felt like a time traveler strapped in an experimental machine,
hoping to land somewhere where I would find myself alive and in one piece.
And then the vehicle thudded right-side up, rocking onto its tires, trembling, coming to a halt. All
was quiet, except for the rear windshield wiper which shushed dryly back and forth against the
dusty back window. I glanced over at the driver who was covered in pebbles of shattered glass,
but appeared conscious and unhurt. I reached and felt my legs. I felt along each of my arms.
"Are you alright?" the driver asked.
"I don't know," I said. I felt along my neck and skull. I probed, feeling for cracks and checking for
blood. My head hurt, but it was in one piece. I turned my neck this way and that.
"Are you okay?" the driver asked again.
"I think so," I said. "It's too soon to say. How are you?"
"I'm fine," he answered, off-handedly. After all, he was a twenty-six year old soldier; some kind
of Special Forces guy or Ranger. He looked like Conan the Barbarian, and had never been hurt
in his life. He probably thought he never would be.
We clambered from the car, both doors opening with little difficulty. I unloaded my backpack
from the dusty vehicle. Earlier I'd felt I should've gotten out of the car and caught another ride.
Had it been a premonition or only common sense trying to have its say?
The guy was definitely a poor driver.
But we survived. Walked away from the crash with only a few knocks and bruises.
And it was a rental.