A Deadly Countdown Beneath the Ice: The Hidden Threat That Nearly Claimed the Ice Road Truckers Crew ❄️🚛

Season 12 of Ice Road Truckers delivered some of the most dangerous moments in the show’s history, but none were as alarming as the incident that unfolded on January 27, deep in the frozen Northwest Territories.

What began as a routine haul for veteran drivers Todd Dewey, Lisa Kelly, and Mark Kohaykewych quickly spiraled into a crisis that experts later described as “a catastrophic failure waiting to happen.”

The threat, invisible at first, moved toward the truckers like a ticking time bomb under the ice—silent, unpredictable, and potentially deadly.

The events began shortly before sunrise at a remote checkpoint near the Mackenzie River, where temperatures hovered at -45°F with wind chills nearing -60°F.

Crews had been warned of fluctuating ice thickness due to an abrupt warm spell earlier that week, but the road network still needed to be supplied, and the drivers agreed to push forward with extreme caution.

“We knew the risks,” Todd admitted later.

“But the job doesn’t wait.

People up there rely on us.”

Roughly 40 miles into the run, disaster struck.

Todd’s truck, hauling nearly 60,000 pounds of industrial equipment, began emitting a deep rumble that was not coming from the engine—it was coming from the ice.

At first, Todd dismissed it as natural shifting.

But within minutes, the cracks surrounding the truck widened, and the unmistakable thunder of moving water echoed beneath the surface.

“It was like the ice was breathing,” he recalled.

“And every breath sounded worse than the last.”

Mark, traveling several miles behind, received Todd’s frantic radio call.“Todd, talk to me.

What’s happening out there?”
“I think the ice is collapsing under me!” Todd replied, the tension unmistakable.“Kill the engine! Do not move until we get eyes on it,” Mark ordered.

Lisa, the closest driver to Todd’s location, pulled up slowly, maintaining a wide berth to avoid placing additional pressure on the compromised surface.

What she saw stunned even her, despite years of experience.

A fissure nearly 15 feet long had formed under Todd’s trailer, widening with every shift of weight.

Beneath it, a fast-moving current was carving the ice from below—an unpredictable, powerful force that could swallow a fully loaded truck in seconds.

With no time to spare, Lisa and Mark planned a daring recovery.

They anchored their trucks at safe distances and prepared winch lines long enough to reach Todd’s immobilized rig.

The storm intensified as visibility dropped to near zero, and gusts of snow blasted across the cracking ice.

“Every step felt like gambling with your life,” Lisa later said.

“One wrong move and you’re done.”

The recovery took nearly 45 minutes, though the drivers said it felt like hours.

As winches tightened, Todd’s truck crept backward inch by inch, groaning under the strain.

Several times the ice beneath Lisa and Mark popped loudly enough to freeze them in place.

Finally, with a final surge, Todd’s rig slid safely back onto thicker ice.

Moments later, one of the fissures collapsed entirely, swallowing part of the original track into swirling black water.

After the rescue, crews from the local ice monitoring team analyzed the site and confirmed the terrifying truth: a deep underwater channel had shifted days earlier, thinning the ice far more rapidly than expected.

Without visual indicators and with the storm masking sound, the drivers had unknowingly driven onto a geological fault in the frozen road—a true ticking time bomb.

That evening, back at the Yellowknife base, the drivers sat around the crew table in exhausted silence before Mark finally spoke.

“We dodged death today.

If we’d been ten minutes later, we’d be planning a memorial instead of a repair schedule.”

Todd nodded.

“This job teaches you respect.

Respect for nature, for the ice, for the people watching your back.

We only survived because we had each other.”

While Ice Road Truckers has showcased danger for more than a decade, this near-catastrophe shook even the most seasoned fans.

It served as a stark reminder that the Arctic roads, though built with precision and experience, are ultimately at the mercy of nature—unpredictable, unforgiving, and capable of turning deadly without warning.