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Outside Magazine September 2002

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Let's All Chill (Cont.)

THE WEATHER CLOSED in just as our helicopter was landing back at Barneo. I was shocked that it could fly at all, but as Børge reminded me, "They are Russian."

We were stuck at Barneo for days, waiting for the weather to clear enough that the jet from Spitsbergen could land. We were caught in a furious Arctic storm. ("If the ice cracks under the tent," Børge said casually one afternoon, "just run. Don't try to save anything.") We all slept in a big Russian military tent with a kerosene heater. We read, played cards, ate, and slept. And drank. French wine and Russian vodka—quite a bit, actually.

On our last night, the usual after-dinner drinking turned into a party that went on for eight hours. Brigitte hung towels over the windows and we lit candles and soon it felt just like our own very special, very selective Arctic nightclub. U2 was on the boom box, and we all started dancing and suddenly it seemed very hot and layers of clothes began to come off—lots of layers, since we all had a half-dozen or so. We were sweating, and the men were shirtless and the women mostly, too, though some wore bras or Norwegian fishnet underwear. We laughed and danced and toasted and then we all dashed outside. Half naked, we pranced in the Arctic, then scrambled back inside to start it all over again. Gradually, we staggered back to our tents, dragging our clothes.

We were still sleeping the next afternoon when one of the Russian airport personnel burst into the tent. "Come now! You must help with the runway!"

Everyone at Barneo was turning out to form human lines that would mark the runway for the pilot. "Line up!" the Russians shouted. "Every 20 meters!"

I was standing there, huddled in my huge down coat, when I heard the plane. I looked up and suddenly it exploded through the clouds, so close that I think I saw tire treads. In a flash it was past, screaming down onto the ice.

"Excellent!" one of the Russians declared, slapping my back, as we hurried to the mess tent. My heart was still pounding. "Now we must drink vodka!"

And so we did.

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