Northern Exposure

I trudge  through the soft snow…

. . . PUSHING MY FAT BIKE over what remains of the Iditarod Trail, now largely obscured by wind-driven powder. Under the veil of another long night, a halo of light spills from my headlamp, illuminating tracks left by both stragglers and the Arctic wildlife lurking unseen in the shadows. The light plays tricks on my weary mind, animating every tree into something more ominous. The world is odourless and silent, save for my frozen boots crunching and twisting in the loose, sugary snow.

Little do I know that my Spot tracker – responsible for transmitting my position, and my only connection to the outside world – has recently packed in, the batteries drained by the frigid -40°C temperatures. Those anxiously following my progress online from the