Margaret Haffner - Snowblind

‘Yes.’

Wordlessly Jeff handed over his book, and pointed at the rock face.

Simon outlined the features Jeff had indicated along with a couple of other subtle differences. In a matter of five minutes the job was done. Still without a word being spoken, Simon returned the sketchbook.

The geologist studied the drawing, then, looking Simon straight in the eye for the first time, he said, ‘Thank you. It’s perfect.’

Motioning Simon to follow, he clambered a few feet higher to a wide ledge and then turned to offer a hand to his companion. Simon didn’t need the help but took it as a gesture of peace.

‘Can you do the same for this section of the rock?’ Jeff asked, indicating a roughly square area about a yard wide.

‘No problem.’

‘Would you label the sketch F-133?’

Simon nodded. He accepted the book but declined the pencil. ‘I carry my own,’ he said, pulling a stub from his pocket.

Gradually their tension eased, and by the time Simon had made six sketches conversation came easily. Jeff gave Simon an elementary geology lesson of the area. ‘The rocks talk, Simon, if you’re only able to hear them. I can look around and know how this land has changed over the millennia. I can tell this part of the world was once a tropical sea, once a beach. For a long time it lay crushed under millions of tons of ice, and when the ice melted it took tens of thousands of years for it to bounce back. In fact the land here’s still rebounding.’

It was late in the day when they gathered up the equipment and split the thirty pounds of rock samples between them. By the time they reached the lake, Viola and her musk oxen were specks in the distance so they were able to take the short way around.

‘You were here last year?’ Simon asked as they climbed yet another hill on their route back to camp.

‘We all were, except you, of course.’

‘Who was radio operator?’

‘Phillip Loew. We’ve all returned except him, though I guess he’s still here somehow.’ Jeff smiled a tight smile.

‘What exactly happened to him?’

Jeff shrugged—no mean feat with the heavy pack. ‘No one’s really sure. It was last September … We were all going about our business as usual when an unexpected storm hit. Wally and I holed up at the IBP station—those two quonset huts on the horizon. The others were close enough to camp to get back. All except Phillip. We never saw him again.’

‘I assume you searched …’

‘Naturally. But the winter had come to stay and conditions were difficult. The RCMP searched too, and when they couldn’t find him they insisted we leave immediately.’

Conversation ceased while they forded an icy stream. Jeff wore waterproof, insulated boots, ideal for the terrain. Simon looked at them enviously. The squelching sound he made as he walked attracted Jeff’s attention. Clucking his tongue, he scolded, ‘That’s no way to operate here. You’ll end up with frostbite at the very least. Tell you what: I’ve a spare pair of boots exactly like these. If they’ll fit you can have them.’

‘If necessary, I’ll amputate my toes to make them fit. Thanks.’

Trying to ignore the pain of his blistered feet, Simon again turned his mind to Phillip’s disappearance. ‘Wally and Joan didn’t like him … ? Phillip, I mean,’ he asked.

‘No one did,’ Jeff replied with a short laugh. ‘He was a pain in the ass. A real know-it-all.’

They laboured up the endless succession of low hills and forded the icy streams between. From one rise he spotted Anne in the distance, leaning on a pole. Her drooping posture suggested she was as tired as he was.

‘I’m surprised you came back to the same spot after such a tragedy.’ Simon returned yet again to the missing man.

‘I didn’t want to, but not because of squeamishness. I’d rather expand my studies to another site. However, I was overruled.’

‘You’re a civil servant, aren’t you? What are you doing in this university crowd?’

‘Habit, I guess,’ Jeff replied. ‘I hooked up with the bunch from Bellwood College years ago when I couldn’t get travel money from the Geological Survey of Canada. It’s much cheaper to piggy-back on an existing expedition than to mount your own.’

Simon manœuvred his rifle from one hand to the other. He was certain it was gaining weight. ‘You don’t have a gun with you. Didn’t Colonel Fernald say we were to carry one at all times?’

‘It gets in the way. I have an arti-sim in my pocket. I’ll put my faith in that.’

‘Viola has hers,’ Simon commented.

‘Sure, but she’s following those damn musk oxen all the time. I avoid anything on four legs.’

Dressed again in warm, dry clothes, Anne crouched at the side of the pond and packed up the wet things Joan hadn’t been able to carry. A whole day wasted! Only two sites chosen in twelve hours and her meters weren’t installed yet. In earlier years she and Tony worked eagerly together, choosing sites they used jointly. It had been one of their dreams to work together. But even last year, the collaboration was half-hearted on Tony’s part. The decay in their relationship began before that. But exactly when, and why?

Sniffing dolefully, Anne began the trek back to base camp, her mind two years into the past. How happy she and Tony’d been up until then! She conducted her research in an annexe attached to Tony’s lab and spilled over into his territory, but he didn’t care. In fact he joked to the other faculty members that his wife was better known than he was and the wrong one was getting paid. Somewhere in that year something went wrong. Tony changed.

After his radio check that evening, Simon emerged from the tent to find Joan in a foul mood and cursing Wally Gingras with every breath. The man wasn’t there to defend himself.

‘That prick!’ Joan steamed.

‘What did he do?’ Viola asked.

‘He won’t collaborate with me, that’s what! Here I am, studying bacteria on this godforsaken island and he won’t even let me sample one of his dung heaps!’

‘There’s no shortage. Use another pile,’ Simon said flippantly.

‘It’s not the same. He’s going to have all kinds of data I need … breakdown rates, compositional profile, and so on. But will he share his data? Oh no. I told him I’d be happy to put his name on any papers I wrote but he still said no.’

‘You know he never co-authors papers,’ Viola pointed out reasonably. ‘He’s a loner.’

‘Well, it’s a pretty silly attitude if you ask me.’

‘I don’t know. He’s famous in his field so he must be doing something right,’ Jeff threw in as he joined the group.

Joan grunted ‘Of course you’d defend him instead of me …’ She stomped off in a huff.

Eric and Wally didn’t appear for the evening meal. Viola and Simon tried to keep a conversation going but finally subsided in defeat. Joan and Jeff spent their time glaring at each other while Anne and Tony sat apart from the rest, speaking to no one, not even each other. Compared with what was to come, it was a convivial evening.

CHAPTER 3

Polar Bear Pass was experiencing unseasonably warm weather, the temperature frequently reaching two or three degrees Celsius. It was a comfortable working temperature for most purposes and Simon was anxious to put the mild spell to good use.

‘The coast is only about six miles from here, isn’t it?’ Simon asked one night at supper.

‘About that,’ Viola agreed.

‘Think I’ll go have a look tomorrow.’

‘You only have twelve hours between radio checks and it’ll take you three or four hours to get there and the same to get back,’ Eric warned. ‘Hardly seems worth it.’

‘That still gives me a few hours to spend there. I want to see some belugas or seals or something like that.’