With no time yet established for us to fly to Pingo Lake, we treaded water (figuratively) for another hour or so, taking advantage of the National Park Service ranger’s hospitality. While we waited, Geoff made a reconnaissance trip to the Bettles Lodge to check their offerings; Matt and Brian prepared sandwiches for lunch on the porch. We appreciated we had a place to wait that was dry and mosquito free. However, the cool temperature, high humidity, and the fact that we were not generating any body heat just sitting and standing around, made us think about where else we could hang out to pass the time. All of our warmer layers were in the pile of dry bags in the back of the Brooks Range Aviation pickup, which had been moved to their hangar. As a result, after finishing lunch, we planned to make a beeline to Beetles Lodge; where Geoff promised we would find an espresso machine and a small lounge next to the registration desk.
Located at the south end of the airstrip, we squished our way across the rain-soaked ground to the lodge, serenaded by sled dogs in a nearby dog lot. Before heading inside, I took time to admire the flowers in a large rectangular wooden box at the corner of the lodge as well as several hanging baskets on the front. The splashes of color offered by pink and purple petunias and red, orange, and yellow snapdragons, brightened what was otherwise a dreary, overcast and rainy day.
The lodge, constructed of logs from locally-felled trees, is on the National Register of Historic Places. It has provided accommodations and food for people traveling to Bettles for 71 years. The staff was welcoming and understood our situation. We were certainly not the first group to have a flight out Bettles delayed by the weather.
Immediately claiming an assortment of wooden chairs, some of them rockers, we pulled them into a circle around a small table loaded with books and two mosquito zappers. It proved to be a warm and comfy refuge, while we continued to wait for word of our flight. Our appreciation for their hospitality was expressed with purchases of espresso, tea, beer, and other drinks, in addition to items in the small gift shop.
As the day wore on, a few other planes from Fairbanks, all flying via Instrument (rather than Visual) Flight Rules, landed in Bettles for a brief stop. The weather was also complicating their plans to fly into Gates of the Arctic National Park. In the meantime, Matt continued checking on the status of our flight to Pingo Lake; it was still a “no go.” After wondering what would happen if we were stranded for the night in Bettles, we learned that the owner of Brooks Range Aviation had offered to let our group of ten stay in their airplane hangar. As the afternoon wore on, that possibility was becoming more real. If that was to be our fate, then staying in the hangar was a more appealing option than setting up tents outside in the rain. At least our tents and the rest of our gear would stay dry…for the time being.
There were two, nearly identical, metal airplane hangars adjacent to the north end of the airstrip. The primary difference between them seemed to be that the giant door on the front of the reddish-brown hangar we would be using, had been removed for the summer. While the missing door did provide an unobstructed view of the airstrip, there was no way to keep mosquitoes out. This is why it was likely there were two large colonies of cliff swallows with several dozen mud nests in the metal rafters just inside the front opening of the hangar. When the swallows were there, the nests were best viewed from an angle. Sitting or standing underneath them was not advised….
The cavernous hangar was filled with a potpourri of vehicles in various stages of repair…or disrepair and miscellaneous machinery, in addition to multiple racks of tools, parts, and gear. Local residents popped in and out both on foot and on motorcycles to work on projects. The hangar also included a kitchen area (like you might find in a mechanic’s garage) and a bathroom with a flush toilet, hot running water in the sink, and a shower of questionable cleanliness. A far cry from camping in Gates of the Arctic National Park, we were nonetheless grateful to have a place to keep us and our gear dry.
As the afternoon wore on and it became more likely we would be staying in Bettles overnight, we welcomed the opportunity to stretch our legs and explore more of villages. Decked out in rain gear, we sauntered north between birch and spruce trees, down the rain-soaked gravel road, dodging mud puddles along the way.
Our walkabout took us past the Bettles post office, volunteer fire department, Alaska Power and Telephone office, and the local clinic, which was accented by three containers of colorful flowers out front. We also passed several homes, one of which displayed a “Black Lives Matter” banner under the front window and an American flag by the front door. Turning around at the end of the road, we retraced our steps back to the hangar. That was the end of our day’s exploration.
In the late afternoon, we were not surprised when Brooks Range Aviation confirmed what now seemed inevitable; namely, we would not be flying to Pingo Lake today. Swallowing our disappointment, we gathered around Matt and Brian, who were in the back of the pickup sorting through personal and group gear. Now that that decision had been made, it was time for us to gather our stuff and claim a “nesting spot” inside the hanger for the night. For the first time since arriving in Bettles, everyone was filled with purpose. There was a frenzy of activity as the group spread out looking for just the right place to spend the night. This necessitated avoiding any large grease spots or swallow poo on the concrete floor and then sweeping into a dust pan, any objects, such as welder’s flux, metal shavings, nails, and gravel that could tear a tent, or even worse, puncture an air mattress. Next came the task of figuring out how to put up the Alaska Alpine Adventure (AAA)-provided tents before diving inside to inflate air mattresses and liberate sleeping bags and other gear from stuff sacks and dry bags.
It also when members of our group began teasing us about the yellow, North Face VE-25 tent we brought for the John and me.
After Matt and Brian set up the cooking gear and camp stoves in the kitchen area and began preparing dinner, we were drawn out of our tents like moths to light. Scrounging around the hangar to find every available chair and makeshift chair, we sat in a semi-circle facing the cooks. Dressed in warm coats and hats to keep the chill of the hangar at bay, we eagerly awaited our hot dinner to be dished into our AAA insulated mugs.
After filling our bellies, most of the group made one final trip to the lodge for a nightcap. By 11:00 p.m., everyone had retreated into their respective tent for our first night north of the Arctic Circle. It was indeed a much different experience than we had expected when we signed up for our trip, and was not how we imagined our first day would end. Rather than being lulled asleep by the sound of the water coursing down the Noatak River, we listened to the snores of our fellow adventurers, which echoed in the metal hangar. Instead of being awakened during the night by the howl of a solitary wolf or the sound of a bear exploring our camp, we were jarred awake when an air compressor kicked on around midnight.
John and I were surprised and dismayed to find the cold of the hangar’s concrete slab seeping up through our state-of-the-art air mattresses and down sleeping bags. We were uncomfortably cool throughout the night, which made us wonder if we had made a big mistake when we left, back in Anchorage, the emergency blanket that we usually put underneath our air mattresses….