The Alaska Story - Part 6

Waugaman Village Part 2

Although I’d been in the water only a few minutes I’d floated at least 200 yards, probably further. As I sat on the bank I was aware of things going on around me. People were talking, the river was still thundering in my ears, drowning out sounds. I was very cold, as cold as I’ve ever been. For several minutes I just sat there and stared into space.
Husband stretched the elastic cuffs on my snowboarding shell. Water poured out from inside my sleeves. My backpack had somehow been removed from my back. I heard my brother tell me to get up and walk around. He was very concerned about hypothermia. I hadn’t given it a thought, but judging by my complexion it was apparently a legitimate concern. The color had washed out of my face and supposedly my lips had a purplish hue. There was an abandoned trailer near us and Husband ran inside to find anything that would help. He found nothing. David explained that although he and Mary had also fallen in, they were able to get out of the water quickly and without getting soaked. Miraculously this meant that Mary still had dry clothes in her pack, which she was bringing to me. As difficult as it was to walk, I did. My body revolted in every way imaginable. All of the muscles in my body were involuntarily twitching in a desperate attempt to warm me up. The human body is amazing that way. It will do almost anything to keep itself alive. I was so cold it was painful. I can’t describe how awful I felt at that moment. I was terribly embarrassed that this had happened and felt a deep responsibility, as if there were something I could have done to prevent it.
Everyone’s focus had quickly shifted to finding shelter and warmth. While Mary dressed me in warm clothes Husband, Nate and David walked back to the backpacks they’d dropped talked about what we should do. They decided that we should keep walking and find the closest phone to call Sue. She was planning on driving to Chuck and Karen’s in a few hours to make dinner for all of us, and we thought that given our present state she wouldn’t mind coming a couple of hours early. After getting the dry clothes on, Mary and I made our way to Husband, Nate and David. My usual chatty demeanor had changed significantly. I could hardly squeak out a word. I felt very detached from my body, as if I were watching events unfold without actually being part of them. As we neared the men I overheard them discussing how they would carry my pack. I immediately put that idea to rest. I refused to allow them to carry my pack, I wasn’t injured. Sure my shoulder was killing me, and I’d just floated down a creek/river, but other than that I wasn’t hurt. I still had the strength to carry my own pack and I didn’t want to further burden my companions. When I’d convinced everyone that I was still capable and able to hike we started out to find civilization.
We managed to find the road we’d driven on when we started the trip. There was an eerie silence hanging around us. Nobody knew what to say. We just walked through the rain and I think we were all trying to collect our thoughts and ourselves; trying to process what had just happened. Walking down the gravel road I watched the four people in front of me. I had no words to thank David for saving my life, which is what he did. I did say “Thank you, David. You just saved my life, I think,” just after he pulled me out of the water, but that didn’t seem adequate. I imagined what it must have been like for my husband and my brother to watch the scene unfold. As my brother later described, it was like watching something out of a horror movie. My feeling of detachment was still present. In fact I remember walking down the road, but I was watching myself. It was as if I was behind my own body watching things happen.
After a half hour, maybe 45 minutes, we arrived in at least a form of civilization. We were very close to a coal-powered electricity plant and an RV/motel campground. All of us remembered what Dusty said about people from Healy so we were very nervous about talking to anyone. Apparently Healy was not an especially friendly place, so we cautiously examined our options. In the end we decided to see if anyone was home at Waugaman Village, the RV/motel campground.
Nate and either Husband or David walked timidly to the front door and knocked. A man with dark hair, a mustache, blue shirt and trucker hat answered and immediately his eyes widened. Nate gave him the Reader’s Digest version of what we’d been through and asked to use the phone. The man, who’s name we never learned but we nicknamed him “Deer-in-the-headlights Man”, stepped back inside and closed the door without a word. Our hearts sank somewhat and we turned toward the power plant thinking that would be our next stop. As we started preparing ourselves to continue our journey the door opened and Deer-in-the-headlights Man told us to come inside.
We were led into the front room of what seemed to be a house. The front room clearly served as someone’s office, and there was a kitchen just off the front room. Deer-in-the-headlights Man occasionally walked up and down some stairs in the back, although that section of the house remained hidden from us. A large desk, scattered with papers of varying size, was centered in front of the front room window. At the desk sat Eds Waugaman, owner of Waugaman Village. Eds’s face beamed with a friendly smile as he inquired about our predicament. As we told him our story he chuckled often and the smile never left his face. As I studied our host I realized that he bore a striking resemblance to John Denver. So much so that I began to wonder if John Denver was actually dead. Perhaps he just needed to get away and flew all the way to Alaska. Whoever he was, Eds was quick to offer me a blanket, fresh out of the dryer, to warm up. He also made a pot of coffee and brought out some cookies. People in Healy aren’t so bad! Hanging on the walls throughout the office were hunting pictures in which Eds was ever-present. One depicted a dead grizzly with paws at least as big as my head. The pictures were fascinating to see. This was a true wilderness man, like Grizzly Adams, minus the bear.
As we were warming ourselves and I was finally beginning to feel normal, Eds regaled us with stories of his own. Apparently the surprise storm had stranded several dozen climbers on Denali and they had to be rescued by helicopter. And earlier, just that day, Eds had rescued his friend from the river rising to rapidly around the friend’s truck. What started as a hunting trip ended in a flooded truck and a grateful friend. Nate took this opportunity to get on the two-way radio and attempt to reach Dusty, Annie and Nick. After several attempts it was clear they were still out of range. Calling Sue was truly a last resort. We were sensitive to the fact that calling Sue would compromise Dusty’s ego, but we weren’t sure how long it would take them to pick us up. We couldn’t very well wait with Eds all afternoon, and no one wanted to keep hiking in the rain, so Nate called Sue. After explaining what happened and where we were, Sue said she was on her way.
We cleaned up our dirty cups and I folded my borrowed blanket. David and Mary were going to wait at Eds while Sue dropped Nate, Husband and I off at Chuck and Karen’s. We expressed our deepest thanks to Eds for taking in five soaking, tired travelers and waited for Sue outside. While I know I’ll probably never return to Waugaman Village I also know that I’ll never forget the kindness and the smile of Eds Waugaman. As Husband, Nate and I piled into Sue’s car I took one last look into the wilderness we’d endured and thanked God for my life.