Once a few years ago I went out trapping as I did every winter. The day I left town the wind was calm and the sky was clear but the air was cold. I packed a sledful of supplies which I pulled with my snow machine, planning to be gone for a couple of weeks. My trapping cabin wasn't much to rave about but it served its purpose. It was located about fifty miles away from town in the middle of nowhere, but the snow-covered trees and frozen meadows made it probably the best place to run a trap line.

When I first got there everything was quiet. The cabin was just barely visible because of all the snow that had fallen over the course of the winter. I busied myself shoveling out the doorway and around the cabin, then I carried in my supplies and built a fire. The rest of the day was spent resting and preparing the things I would need to trap.

By nightfall the wind had picked up. At the time it didn't seem like a problem, but when I awoke the next morning I found that the gentle evening breeze had turned into a full blown storm. Visibility was zero zero, so I didn't even bother to go outside, deciding to stay inside, protected by my sanctuary. Finally after six hours of powerful gusts the wind began to ease, and since I still had a few hours of daylight I made up my mind to get at least a couple of traps set.

It didn't take me long to get out in the field, and I ended up setting the whole trap line. It was a big mistake. What was actually going on was a battle between a powerful low and a high pressure system and I had no idea that the storm wasn't over.

It was dark long before I got the last trap set, and I noticed the wind was starting up again. In an attempt to get back to my cabin before the storm hit, I rushed and I lost the trail. I could feel myself filling with fear, but not long afterward I found the trail again. It was nearly blown over, though, and this scared me even more. I had at least five miles to travel before I reached the cabin and the wind was howling and thick snowflakes whipped my face. I knew I was lost and that I had to stop before the situation worsened. I tried to get to the river, but didn't make it and ended up sleeping under my snowmachine.

When the snow finally stopped blowing I looked around and had no idea where I was. My clothes were wet and I was cold, so I found a spot to make a fire, and this became my camp for another night. When I woke up the next day I heard snowmachines. A few minutes later my uncle and a few of his friends pulled up. I was saved!