No dolphins. Only snow. And baby.

Maybe it was when we came upon a crevasse on the logging road—a thin fissure where a creek cut through the ten feet of accumulated snow—and instead of abandoning our snowmobiles for our snowshoes and humping up the last steep mile to the survey-site, Kelly’s work-mate convinced us that if we shoveled more snow on the one narrow and slanted snow bridge that spanned the creek we could drive our snowmobiles over it. It was late afternoon with the snow coming down, there was no cell service, and we were many, many snowy miles from our vehicle.

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