Zach Schulz
10/27/10
Period 3
Arctic Ride
Arctic Circle or bust! That was our mission as we set out that frigid December day. This would be a goal that very few people will achieve. At the tender age of six, I already knew that I was ready to make this northern journey.
The lobby was full of sights and sounds. The fire crackled and popped as the flames danced and sparkled as if they were fireworks in the hearth. Heat filled the small cozy room. The scents of the ginger snap cookies and warm cranberry tea floated through the air. I had lived on these cookies for days, but still, I filled my pockets. We had a long ride ahead.
One by one, the guides dressed us for the Arctic weather ahead. First, my feet were cushioned in woolen socks, and they worked upward until I had layer upon layer of cold proof, water proof and wind proof gear covering every inch of me. A helmet, scarf and goggles finished me off. Now I was ready for the great outdoors.
I stepped outside to the still dark morning. Who would have guessed it was nearly noon? Except for the thick cover of snow, it was hard to tell that it was cold, because my armor kept everything out. The sounds of the day were muffled by the thick helmet, so the scene of the snow falling, blanketing everything in sight, was peaceful and silent. I found my family, we located our guide, and we lumbered to our snow machine. We were ready to ride.
The river was our wide and snow-covered freeway. The ice was measured every day, and today we had 20 inches of solid ice below us, which made me feel safer. We moved along passing under bridges, and through villages at top speed. Our guide entertained us with tales of life in the Arctic, and helped us spot local wildlife like caribou, which outnumber humans in this region. Ice hotels dotted the riverbanks. They glowed like light bulbs through the translucent walls. Inside, tables, chairs and even beds made of ice made guests feel as if they were truly in a winter wonderland. I felt the wind as it slapped against my helmet, and was grateful for my layers of protection. We cheered as we watched a nearby dogsled race underway. The dogs seemed to fly as they heeded the call of the musher for speed. I think the dogs run not for the trophy, but for the chance to rest and warm up by the fire on a comfy bed.
At last, we came to a halt. We unloaded onto the frozen river. This crossing should be taken for the first time on foot, rather than at 60 miles per hours. We held hands and crossed together. It was only one step, but it felt like a milestone. We cheered and celebrated for a moment. I took off my helmet, and the cold air that swirled around me seemed to fit the name Arctic. The day had been long, and we were ready for the show. We sat on a blanket at the edge of the river, eating more gingersnaps and sipping more warm cranberry tea. The Northern Lights, as if on cue, dazzled with green, yellow and orange hues dancing in the sky. It was a great day, and as I looked up the river ahead, I could only think, next stop, The North Pole.