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ANTONOV ON ICE: POLAR ADVENTURE FEATURES IMPROMPTU BIVOUAC BY BOB MARKS Somewhere very near the northern axis of the planet, a large blue biplane lies. Locked in an icy stasis, its large radial engine buried to the hub and lower wing encased in a sheet of ice, Ron Sheardown's Polish-built Antonov An-2 serves as a mute testament to the spirit of adventure. None of the five men who were aboard the Antonov on May 15th have a history of aversion to risk. Commanding the aircraft was the Antonov's owner, veteran Alaskan bush pilot and arctic aviation expert Ron Sheardown, with globe-circling Voyager aircraft and former Vietnam War F-100 pilot Dick Rutan in the right seat.Also in the aircraft were Alaskans Walt Parker and Jim Bowden, and Norwegian Jan Haugland. Flying formation with the An-2 was a Cessna 185 support aircraft crewed by Alaskan pilots Lee Wareham and John Pletcher. Part of the definition of adventure is a willingness to take a chance, and in this case lady luck played a big role. Having already stopped at the Pole the previous week as they flew from Barrow, Alaska to the Norwegian island of Spitsbergen, the team decided to give the top of the planet another look eight hours into the return trip. The procedure was for the lighter, ski-equipped 185 to land first, and test the thickness of the ice. From the air, the spot looked perfect - relatively flat and free of the greenish-blue hue that is the signature of thin sea ice. However, there was a light dusting of fresh snow that masked darker color underneath - an indication of thin ice. As the AN-2 touched down and rolled up next to the Cessna, John and Lee in the Cessna noted that the ice in the front of the Antonov's main wheels started rolling up - sort of like carpeting does when you scoot furniture on it. At this point, it was too late. It became painfully apparent that the ice was much too thin to support the big Russian Biplane. Simultaneously, the crew of the 185 became highly animated attempted to wave the An-2 off the ice. Sheardown, seeing the warning, turned the big Antonov to the right in an attempt to taxi back and take off the way they had landed. It was too late- the ice, possibly only 12 to 15 inches thick, gave way under the main gear, taking the nose of the airplane down with it in a small, short-lived blizzard of prop-smashed ice and water. Steam rose from the hot ASh-62IR radial engine as it began to sink into the sub-freezing 14,000 feet deep Arctic Ocean. Their decent into the icy depths ceased as the lower wing met the ice sheet and spread the load of the aircraft across a larger area, precariously supporting the biplane's weight- for the moment. Knowing that the airplane may just be slowed in a plummet to the bottom, the Antonov crew scrambled out through the aft left side door of the aircraft, grabbing a few items as they went. John Pletcher gave up the right seat in the Cessna to Walt Parker, the most senior member of the group, joined the group from the Antonov. Parker and pilot Warham took off to radio for help. The Cessna, with a large ferry tank taking up most of the cabin space and the bulk of its useful load, circled long enough to confirm that the An-2s ELT (Emergency Locating Transmitter) was functioning properly. Hearing the radio beacon's characteristic tone at 121.5 MHz, the Cessna headed to the, well, south toward Alaska, contacting a ham radio operator in Fairbanks. The ham contacted authorities shortly before 11:00 a.m. The timely call for assistance was most fortunate- en route to Deadhorse the 185 suffered an alternator failure, forcing Warham to shut down all non-essential electrical equipment, including radios. For a time, rescue officials feared that the Cessna may be lost also- Warham & Parker's arrival in Alaska some hours later quelled those concerns. As the Cessna was taking off, Sheardown climbed back into the unsteadily balanced, biplane to salvage what they needed out of the Antonov. Over the next half hour, the crew was able to salvage enough food, water, shelter, communications, and survival gear for about a month on the ice. Even with the airplane seeming ready to break through the fractured sheet and plummet to the bottom almost six miles beneath their feet, Sheardown and company pulled together for their collective survival. "When things happen, pilots just deal with them. There was a lot of work to be done, and you just dive in to do it because it means life and limb," said Rutan. With the immediate danger of losing their supplies in a sinking airplane past and warm in their survival suits, the pace slowed somewhat. Dragging the survival gear to thicker ice, the team set up camp for a rescue that could be days away. Some cut blocks of hard packed snow to construct a hut as a windbreak, stacked gear, or just relaxed for a moment. Rutan, using his boot, traced a large "SOS" by scraping away the thin layer of freshly fallen snow that masked the relatively thin blue-green sea ice beneath. He completed the traditional signal for assistance by drawing a smiley face in the "O". With the housekeeping chores completed, there was little to do but wait and pass the time. They drank coffee and water melted from the arctic snow using fuel from the Antonov- with the air temperature perpetually at or below freezing, dehydration is the most immediate danger in the arctic. Stories were exchanged, sandwiches eaten, and a sip of spirit was passed around. Rutan marveled in the beautiful, sterile surroundings. Echoing the words of an Apollo astronaut describing the stark lunar landscape, he called it "Magnificent desolation." Some fourteen hours after the An-2 fell through the sheet ice, First Air- a private company that specializes in arctic charter flights- landed a Twin Otter turboprop on skis on the thicker ice, to pick the adventurers. Weight and space was at a premium for the flight back to the Canadian weather station at Eureka- most of the gear save for personal effects and a sleeping bag per man was left behind. The Antonov, too, had settled- the seawater that had welled up through the punctured ice had by now frozen solid. The abandoned aircraft and campsite became a cause for first concern, then comfort for a pair of British Royal Marines a couple of hours after Sheardown and crew left for Eureka. After walking to the North Pole- a ten-week endeavor- the oblivious pair at first thought that the An-2 was their rescue plane that had crashed. As the Twin Otter arrived to pick them up from their adventure, however, the pair were happily drinking hot coffee and munching on food left behind by the Antonov's crew! The two teams met up later at Resolute Bay for what must have been some debriefing and story telling! Upon his return to his home in Mojave, California, Dick Rutan keeps his fighter pilot cool about the whole experience. "Adventure is the essence of life," he says. "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." And despite his living in the California desert for over twenty years, his arctic experience did seem to affect him in one way. Remarking on the somewhat average for this time of year 103-degree heat, he remarks, "My God, has it always been this hot?" |