In the morning, problems with the cooling fluids of the engines and power steering - thickened, froze. We lost about an hour warming it up with a burner. In the evening we sat with Andrew (he was baptized into Andrey Evgenievich), Maxim and Zaitsev. We drank a sip of vodka, ate nelma stroganina. Without this simple and healthy food, it's even scary to think what could have happened to us, scurvy, and in general utter savagery with the final loss, as a consequence, of human appearance.
During the meal Andrew and I discussed the problems of school education, whose method is better, Montessori or Steiner, mentioned Irwin and Mallory, who disappeared on the slopes of Mount Everest in 1924, in general, there was no shortage of topics for gentlemen sitting in a nomadic caravan in the middle of the icy desert. We were very lucky with Andrey Evgenievich (Andrew), a former racing driver who perfectly understands the technique and the difficulties with the operation of nodes at low temperatures. We are standing opposite the Bello Strait, the key in the entire Northwest Passage. Just 35-40 km to the east, at the other end of it are two huts of the Hudson Bay Company, Fort Ross. But, we are in a hurry, maybe next time we will go there to touch the history. We are looking closely at the satellite images sent by Emil, we will go to the darker zone to measure the thickness of the ice, in case it’s suddenly thinner. There we went. Measured. 173 cm. Thus, to at least approximately determine the thickness of the ice from the image is still for us to learn and learn. Black zones are water. But with dark gray – a complete ambush, whether it is smooth, without hummocks, or its other thickness. The place of Ford's death is still about 80 km away.
About four o'clock in the afternoon we arrived at the scene of the accident. There is a narrow strait between the islands, a kilometer and a half, and there is a strip of thin (15 cm) ice in it. In my opinion, it is not easy to understand and explain where this trap came from and how it was formed. It could be the current that washed the ice from below. The car is lying shallow, at a depth of about eight meters, perfectly visible. We took pictures of it, and drove up to the surviving pickup truck. We fiddled with starting the engine, refueled and set off on its way. THe green car was ahead, followed by red with a radar on the tail and then a Ford. After some bickering, we decided to split heroism with Andrey Evgenievich. First me, then him. So another work day passed in troubles and worries.