the sunlight. Even in March the sun was strong enough to burn things on the pack ice, and one had to guard against snow blindness. Sparkling cross-lights glanced off every snowflake on the surface, leaving the surroundings glittering with a brilliance that scorched eyes in minutes. Without sunglasses, a person’s eyes started itching and oozing, then reddening and swelling until he or she went blind. He slowly fell asleep.
Crunch. Rip. He quickly woke from his nap and saw something white flash by his eyes. What in hell was happening? The airplane bounced and he heard its fabric rip again, then the back window break, two feet from his face. He sat up and looked. White hair all around—then black claws swiped at him and shredded his parka. He screamed and hurled himself forward over the pilot’s seat. Why had he forgotten his rifle on the wing strut? Where in hell was his Uzi? Then he remembered it was in the baggage on the ice, left there to make room for him. The paw slapped at him again, and this time he felt his whole back sting. He screamed once more. His only chance was in starting the airplane.
Next, he heard a loud roar. Was it the bear? Couldn’t be. He looked to his left and saw Simon coming head-on withhis Cub going full blast. My God, why hadn’t his friend simply grabbed his rifle and shot the bear? Then his mind pictured the awful danger of that tactic. What if his friend missed or the bullet blew through the bear ? The gunshot might have killed him.
But two airplanes and a polar bear crashing together was no less dangerous, and he had to start his Cub and get out of the way. His hands flew around the cockpit—mixture control, master switch, throttle, and starter button. At least the bear had stopped clawing at him. He glimpsed the monster dropping onto all fours and gaping at the oncoming airplane as well. No wonder Simon had chosen to let the bear live. It had a tracking collar around its neck. They would be found out if they killed it because the Russians had tagged it for research.
Vrroooom. Suddenly, the Cub’s engine caught. He shoved the throttle wide open and shot forward, leaving Simon’s airplane and the polar bear behind. Circling on the open ice, he looked back, then shook his head in disbelief. Now the bear was chasing Simon. He stomped the right rudder, skidded the airplane around, and took off after the bear, taxiing up on its rear end with his prop. The bear looked back, jumped off to one side, and came at him again. Adding power, he circled once more on the ice and laughed despite his bleeding back. He easily left the bear behind, then watched Simon, blowing snow like a whirlwind, come after the polar bear a second time. Finally, the bear got scared and ran for the nearby pressure ridge.
Simon and he chased after the bear, side by side, roaring along in their airplanes. After a short distance they turned back, taxied to their baggage piles, and shut down, both still laughing despite their close call. One never knew what to expect in the Arctic.
After climbing out of his airplane, Simon yelled, “You were screaming like bloody murder, and I thought you were a goner.”
“Look at my back before you laugh at me much more, because you may have to suture the claw marks the bear left on me. Damn, that was close, and how did you know I’d get my airplane started in time?”
“I saw you dive over the seat and guessed you’d get out of the way at the last second, and I meant to miss you the best I could anyway. It looked like the bear would back off when he heard me coming. God, you should’ve seen the look onyour face.” Again, Simon laughed, though he also stepped over and whistled. “Jeez Maria, did your parka ever get messed up and I see some blood. Now everyone will wonder what happened to you when they see you without a shirt. Better let me bandage you up.”
Moments
Crunch. Rip. He quickly woke from his nap and saw something white flash by his eyes. What in hell was happening? The airplane bounced and he heard its fabric rip again, then the back window break, two feet from his face. He sat up and looked. White hair all around—then black claws swiped at him and shredded his parka. He screamed and hurled himself forward over the pilot’s seat. Why had he forgotten his rifle on the wing strut? Where in hell was his Uzi? Then he remembered it was in the baggage on the ice, left there to make room for him. The paw slapped at him again, and this time he felt his whole back sting. He screamed once more. His only chance was in starting the airplane.
Next, he heard a loud roar. Was it the bear? Couldn’t be. He looked to his left and saw Simon coming head-on withhis Cub going full blast. My God, why hadn’t his friend simply grabbed his rifle and shot the bear? Then his mind pictured the awful danger of that tactic. What if his friend missed or the bullet blew through the bear ? The gunshot might have killed him.
But two airplanes and a polar bear crashing together was no less dangerous, and he had to start his Cub and get out of the way. His hands flew around the cockpit—mixture control, master switch, throttle, and starter button. At least the bear had stopped clawing at him. He glimpsed the monster dropping onto all fours and gaping at the oncoming airplane as well. No wonder Simon had chosen to let the bear live. It had a tracking collar around its neck. They would be found out if they killed it because the Russians had tagged it for research.
Vrroooom. Suddenly, the Cub’s engine caught. He shoved the throttle wide open and shot forward, leaving Simon’s airplane and the polar bear behind. Circling on the open ice, he looked back, then shook his head in disbelief. Now the bear was chasing Simon. He stomped the right rudder, skidded the airplane around, and took off after the bear, taxiing up on its rear end with his prop. The bear looked back, jumped off to one side, and came at him again. Adding power, he circled once more on the ice and laughed despite his bleeding back. He easily left the bear behind, then watched Simon, blowing snow like a whirlwind, come after the polar bear a second time. Finally, the bear got scared and ran for the nearby pressure ridge.
Simon and he chased after the bear, side by side, roaring along in their airplanes. After a short distance they turned back, taxied to their baggage piles, and shut down, both still laughing despite their close call. One never knew what to expect in the Arctic.
After climbing out of his airplane, Simon yelled, “You were screaming like bloody murder, and I thought you were a goner.”
“Look at my back before you laugh at me much more, because you may have to suture the claw marks the bear left on me. Damn, that was close, and how did you know I’d get my airplane started in time?”
“I saw you dive over the seat and guessed you’d get out of the way at the last second, and I meant to miss you the best I could anyway. It looked like the bear would back off when he heard me coming. God, you should’ve seen the look onyour face.” Again, Simon laughed, though he also stepped over and whistled. “Jeez Maria, did your parka ever get messed up and I see some blood. Now everyone will wonder what happened to you when they see you without a shirt. Better let me bandage you up.”
Moments
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