The Whiteout Effect: Rescue Me!

PROLOGUE LOST IN A WHITEOUT Day 6 Snowfall rates begin to taper off, but strong winds continue to cause drifts and blowing snow. Road crews work to clear roads, but progress is slow. Residents in affected regions are advised to hunker down, avoid travel. Snowmobiles in the backcountry. I felt like we, as hardworking first responders, earned a thrilling adventure. Sure, the storm was big. But I still believed the media hype was making the “epic blizzard” bigger than life itself. Maybe the reports increase ratings, I thought. Or fresh powder is a lure for tourists and snow-loving folks. “Is it still dumping, Mike?” I asked the South Shore local firefighter on my cell phone while viewing on the TV the storm update alert for Greater Lake Tahoe region. “Bijou Pines looks like a white winter wonderland,” he said. “Not a mega MONSTER dangerous storm.” Truth be told, it had snowed an additional two feet at lake level in some regions, and more. The rumor among locals was, we were coming to an end to the snowfall in a day or two. The online media still flaunted shocking headlines of “12 Feet of Snow Headed Toward Tahoe!” Here come the tourists, I thought. More gridlock. More spinouts. I knew the drill. No matter. We were taking our epic day trip to the backcountry. As hardworking first responders, we deserved a break. A small, sensationalized Sierra storm wasn’t going to stop our getaway. We’ve had bigger storms. “Locals ride out here at Christmas Valley and Hope Valley in the backcountry, so we should find some trails we can use,” I said. “I’m not an adrenaline junkie—maybe a tad—but this is my type of adventure,” Mike added. The plan was to load up the sleds and head out. I was packing my rucksack just to have a few extra dry socks, gloves, paracord, and ski masks. Skyler was running through the house; he was barking and smiling. I suppose my energetic pup was picking up on my energy and sensed he was tagging along. The sound of truck tires on fresh snow grabbed my attention. Mike. Right on time! I grabbed my jacket and rucksack and called out for Skyler. “ALEX,” Dad yelled from the kitchen, “if it starts looking bad, you both get home right away. Don’t wait it out, you hear?” “Copy that, Dad.” I saluted, closing the front door. I could feel myself slightly tense but excited to spend the day with Mike and Skyler. Finally! After a grueling week of incoming calls at the Winter Haven Fire Station, a snow day was welcome. We both had waterproof gear, and layering was always smart in this climate. Whistle, maps in case of poor phone service, and plenty of water. And we completed a quick maintenance check on both sleds. Coolant levels, check. Belt tension, check, and plenty of fuel. Putting our phones in waterproof bags and snugging them close to our chests for warmth—check. On my rents’ property, I took off in front, leading by a good stretch, not taking notice of the drop in temperature and the winds picking up. Clouds covered the sky in dark-gray layers thick enough to block the sun. A heavy snow began to fall, so we stopped to check the GPS. Looking ahead, I could no longer make out any trails. I checked Skyler and took a few sips of water while Mike was holding his phone upward, trying to get service. Pulling my phone out, I hollered back at him, “No signal either, Mike!” First responders know how to deal with emergencies. That’s what we do. It was a storm, for God’s sake, not a nuclear meltdown. We decided to keep going even though the trails were covered in deep snow, deeper than I’d seen for a long time. Heading north, we covered quite a bit of ground, fighting the strong wind gusts that kicked up. Coming around a bend, I started to smell something burning. I stopped in my tracks, only to notice a smoke billowing from my snowmobile. Quickly turning the sled off, I saw that Mike was whirling around and heading my way. Mike stopped and walked over to me, and Sky still snuggled in my jacket for warmth. “It might be the oil ratio, but it’s new,” I said to Mike as he looked puzzled. “It’s dark smoke, Alex. It could be engine or fuel issues,” Mike muttered. The smoke dissipated, so I tried to start the sled. NOTHING! I adjusted the choke, trying again. NOTHING. “Mike, I think the battery is dead.” I sighed. He continued to try to start the old snow scooter with no luck. “Look, mine is running. Jump on and we’ll come back for your mobile.” We looked up and amid our surroundings, with a growing realization visibility was down to almost zero. The wind was violent now, swirling the snowdrifts around us, and I could feel the cold hit my chest, forgetting my jacket was semi-open for Sky. But he had jumped out into the snow. Excitement and fear hit me. I didn’t see my Aussie on the snow-covered ground. “Mike, where’s Skyler?” I said, panicked. Mike was squinting his eyes trying to find Skyler. Slipping our goggles back on to block the wind blowing snow in our faces, my heart skipped. “SKYLER!” I yelled as loud I could. I yelled again, but with the gusts so strong now, I couldn’t hear anything. “Oh no,” I said softly. I could see the sky and landscape blended together. “NO!” I shouted in fear, anger, and dread. “Mike, we’re in a whiteout, Mike.” I panicked. “We’ve got to find Sky.” Swallowing hard, trying not to cry, I continued to shout my dog’s name. No fluffy Wiggle Butt. No fluffy canine. My dog was MIA. The horizon was white. All white.