DARKNESS HAD FALLEN on the rugged Missinaibi Lake space of northern Ontario by the point we had unloaded the van and arrange camp on the lake’s edge. The day was Thursday, September 30, 1971.
My companion, Gerald L. Julius of Massillon, Ohio, and I have been vacationing from our jobs on the Ashland Oil & Refinery Co. of Canton, Ohio. Experiences of pictographs—American Indian image writing—had attracted us to Missinaibi’s shores. Our aim was to get 16 mm. colour footage of the pictographs for inclusion in an Ontario nature and wildlife movie that I used to be making.
Though our households typically accompanied us on filming journeys, college necessities had saved Jerry’s spouse and two daughters and my spouse and three younger women at house.
Touring in primitive areas was a well-recognized expertise to me. For the previous 22 of my 42 years, holidays and some other spare time I might wangle away from the day by day grind have been invested within the outside.
Within the early years after I’d spent a hitch within the U.S. Marine Corps, my curiosity in searching large sport had led me into distant areas of Canada and the West. Certainly one of my most memorable journeys was a prolonged jaguar hunt into the jungles of Brazil with the late Al Georg, out of doors author and handgun fanatic. Nevertheless, throughout my latest backcountry journeys my weapons had gathered mud at house whereas I toted a digital camera and commenced a brand new avocation, the filming of wildlife and nature scenes.
Our Missinaibi Lake enterprise was Jerry’s first style of actual wilderness, however, at age 28, he was an previous hand at tenting. As a youth he had climbed to Eagle rank within the Boy Scouts, and he was nonetheless energetic in Scouting. Jerry’s love of nature surpassed that of any individual I’ve ever identified. He was a photographer in his personal proper and had paddled the canoe and assisted me with the large digital camera chores in the course of the latest filming of an Ohio nature film on the Ohio River and a few of its feeders.
Earlier that day, we had stopped briefly on the Ontario Division of Lands and Forests workplace at Chapleau, 55 miles south of Missinaibi Lake, to select up maps. There we realized that though moose season was about to open in that a part of the province, the Missinaibi Lake space can be closed to searching. With the realm to ourselves, we’d have a possibility to movie some wildlife in addition to the pictographs.
The brilliant round glow of our gasoline lantern highlighted tracks of bear, moose, and wolves within the sand close to our tent as we ate a midnight meal earlier than handing over. Jerry and I felt at peace in Missinaibi’s wild and delightful setting, and we talked eagerly of discoveries that the following day would possibly carry. We had no premonitions of hazard. But earlier than the tip of the following day, Jerry can be lifeless and I might be engaged in a life-or-death battle to return to civilization.
We awoke at dawn, Friday October 1, to the sound of rain spattering on canvas. A look outdoors the tent revealed a darkish overcast of clouds that just about dragged on the encompassing hills. Since we had eaten late the earlier evening, we determined to skip breakfast in favor of a short scouting journey on the lake. We unloaded my 17-foot aluminum canoe from the van, carried it to the lake, and clamped a six-horsepower outboard to its sq. stern. The day was too darkish for digital camera work, so except for life cushions and paddles, we took with us solely maps and binoculars.
Our morning canoe run was to be solely a fast take a look at promising pictograph areas on the principle arm of Missinaibi. In our eagerness to get out on the lake, we forgot our fundamental survival gear, which was nonetheless packed within the van. Forgotten additionally was my normal follow of leaving underneath the windshield wiper of the van a word explaining who we have been, the place we had gone, and after we anticipated to return.
As we left the cove close to our campsite and entered the waters of the principle lake, I looked for a landmark to assist our return. On the slender entrance to the cove stood a gnarled, wind-battered fir tree, a super marker.
We had no concept the place we’d discover the pictographs, so we cruised southwestward alongside the south shoreline and scanned the rocks carefully. After touring about 10 miles we got here to the mouth of the Whitefish River. At that time, Jerry mentioned, “Whenever you movie from the canoe this week, you received’t have the ability to run the outboard too. Let me deal with the motor now so I can see the way it works.”
We went ashore, and Jerry took over the motor whereas I sat within the bow. Then we continued on down the lake. About 14 miles southwest of our camp we noticed a excessive rocky cliff jutting into the half-mile-wide lake. The cliff appeared like a logical place to search for the pictographs. In keeping with our map, we have been taking a look at Fairy Level, on the junction of Baltic Bay and the lake’s important arm.
Once we first sighted Fairy Level the climate was nonetheless closely overcast and wet. A lightweight breeze stirred up a bit chop of waves about three to 5 inches excessive. It was nothing to be involved about, so we crossed the lake to have an in depth take a look at Fairy Level.
We had approached to inside about 50 ft of the rocks when Jerry noticed a pictograph and pointed it out to me. At first I might see solely different and colourful moss, lichens, and ore outcroppings. Then I noticed the drawing, a stick determine of a person. As we drifted slowly alongside the face of the rock wall, drawing after drawing grew to become seen.
For a number of minutes we rocked gently alongside, utterly absorbed in awaiting pictographs. Our backs have been towards the southwest, the course of the prevailing wind, when catastrophe struck.
My first indication of hazard got here when a savage gust of wind hit us broad facet. Its drive snapped some lifeless limbs from bushes that grew on prime of the cliff. The wind was adopted immediately by a wave three to 4 ft excessive. And whereas we have been wallowing within the trough of that wave, a much bigger one slammed into us broadside.
The canoe capsized.
We had spilled at a distant, uncovered spot on the lake. The wind and waves that hit us had greater than 10 miles of open water over which to construct drive, and Missinaibi’s canyonlike environment had funneled the storm instantly upon Fairy Level. Even when we had seen the storm coming, we couldn’t have run for shore at that time. The rock wall provided no handholds, and the waves would possibly simply have overwhelmed us unconscious on the rocks.
The seconds that adopted our spill into Missinaibi’s bitterly chilly waters have been confused. Jerry and I surfaced at about the identical second. My paddle had been swept away, however Jerry’s was simply coming by me, so I grabbed it. Our life cushions—Jerry had been sitting on his and mine had been mendacity on the ground of the canoe behind me—hadn’t been tethered to the canoe, they usually had been whisked out of attain by the wind earlier than we might battle again to the floor.
WE WEREN’T carrying life jackets. I had at all times thought-about them a should when canoeing white-water streams, however life cushions, which fulfill the authorized requirement on most waters, had at all times appeared to be safety sufficient for lake journey.
The overturned canoe acted as if it have been stuffed with air. It twisted and turned within the thrashing waves and was very troublesome to carry on to. When the trapped air lastly escaped from the hull, the canoe settled stern-first and floated in a vertical place with solely six or eight inches of the bow displaying above the water. The load of the outboard was an excessive amount of for the built-in stern flotation chamber of the canoe.
We bought little or no help from the small uncovered a part of the canoe’s bow. Waves by then have been operating 4 to 6 ft excessive and breaking over our heads consistently. I wound up straddling the keel of the canoe with my fingers hooked over the bow. Jerry was on my left along side the canoe, additionally clinging to the bow. Quickly the six-gallon gasoline can, which was nonetheless tethered to the motor by the gasoline line, floated up out of the canoe, and Jerry tucked it underneath one arm for added help. I nonetheless held the paddle underneath one arm.
Once we capsized, we each have been closely dressed for chilly climate. I used to be carrying hip boots, lengthy underwear, general pants, heavy shirt, lined jacket, hat, gloves, and a two-piece rainsuit. Jerry was dressed equally. As quickly as I went underneath, my boots full of water and slipped off. I informed Jerry that I had misplaced my boots, and he replied that his climbing sneakers had given him some hassle after we spilled however that they didn’t appear to be weighing him down now. We didn’t attempt to strip, as a result of our garments appeared to be no further burden and I doubt that we might have shed them within the savagely churning waves.
When my ft hit the shoreline rocks I discovered that I had no management over any of my limbs. My arms, legs, knees, ankles, every thing collapsed as if fabricated from rubber, and I needed to lie there on the water’s edge.
In minutes the icy water began to take its toll on us. Jerry started to have extreme abdomen pains and cramps. He should have swallowed quite a lot of water after we spilled; I didn’t expertise the identical form of agonies till about 12 hours later. Our fingers quickly grew to become insensitive, clumsy hooks. Our limbs wouldn’t transfer with out deliberate effort, after which solely in sluggish movement.
The chilly water additionally took a psychological toll. Though we didn’t panic at any time throughout our ordeal, our pondering was typically muddled. Our power dissipated quickly.
At first we thought that the wind would quickly blow us to shore the place we might refloat the canoe, but it surely was to not be. The Baltic Bay arm of Missinaibi funneled the wind alongside it’s size in order that we drifted parallel to the shore. Additionally, waves breaking alongshore brought about a robust undertow that acted on the submerged stern of the canoe and held us a relentless 50 ft or extra offshore.
Twice I attempted desperately to swim down and detach the motor, however within the chilly water I couldn’t maintain my breath lengthy sufficient even to achieve the motor.
We had been within the water for about 20 minutes after we drifted away from the steep rock wall at Fairy Level. Jerry determined to attempt to swim to shore. He had gone solely a brief distance by way of the four-to-six-foot waves when he realized that he couldn’t make it. He began to return to the canoe, so I swam out and prolonged the paddle to him. He grabbed it, and I pulled him again to the canoe.
AFTER THE ABORTED swimming try, we clung shivering to the canoe for about one other 40 or 50 minutes. Then the wind started to push us towards a small rocky level. It seemed for positive as if we’d be blown to the rocks, however on the final minute the wind and underneath tow mixed forces to show the canoe apart. We floated previous the rocks.
“The wind isn’t going to blow us to shore, is it?” Jerry shouted.
“No, however don’t quit,” I replied. I sensed that Jerry had misplaced all hope of being drifted to shore. I, too, was very near giving up.
Jerry informed me then that his fingers might now not grip the canoe. So I shoved the canoe paddle across the bow and thru the deal with of the gasoline can after which reached round Jerry and grabbed one finish of the paddle with my left hand. In that approach I might maintain him tightly to the canoe and in addition extra simply maintain my head above water.
We floated that approach for practically an hour. By then we had drifted north alongside Baltic Bay about three-quarters of a mile and had been within the water for practically two hours. The chilling water had turned Jerry’s face purple, and our our bodies had practically reached the restrict of their endurance. Jerry informed me that he would reasonably take his probabilities attempting to swim for shore than die helplessly like this. Our state of affairs seemed hopeless, so I informed him I’d go together with him.
Communication was always troublesome. The wind snatched our phrases away, and even with our faces solely inches aside we might barely hear one another. Our jaws have been so chilly that they hung slack. We couldn’t get our lips collectively to type sounds correctly. Thus, we might set up no particular plan for our try and swim for shore.
When Jerry indicated that he was able to swim, I launched my grip from one finish of the paddle and unhooked the gasoline line from the gasoline can, permitting it to drift free. I hoped that we might every maintain on to an finish of the paddle and, with the gasoline can within the center to offer us help, might make it to shore. However earlier than I might swim out from the canoe to affix Jerry, he started swimming throughout the waves. I grabbed the paddle on each side of the gasoline can deal with and tried to catch as much as him, however the can was so buoyant that the wind saved blowing me farther away.
Jerry swam strongly for 3 or 4 minutes, then rolled over on his again and floated. I assumed that he was going to make it. He appeared a lot stronger than I used to be, and I used to be satisfied that he would get to shore and I wouldn’t. As I rose on a wave, I noticed him spit water. Then, as he rose to the highest of a wave, he turned face-down. When he dropped into the trough, he sank from sight.
Jerry was gone. He had made no battle, had proven no panic. At that second I imagined that if drowning was like that, it couldn’t be too unhealthy.
Mentally I used to be already in unhealthy form from our ordeal. And when Jerry slipped beneath the waves my thoughts actually went haywire.
“He’s simply taking part in tips on me,” I assumed. “He’s holding his breath and he’ll reappear someplace quickly.”
I started wanting throughout within the waves for him, however whilst I seemed I knew that it was loopy.
When Jerry drowned I wished to let go of the gasoline can and die with him, however one thing inside wouldn’t let me do it. I saved swimming, and about 20 minutes later I reached shore about 50 ft east of the place Jerry had gone underneath.
When my ft hit the shoreline rocks I discovered that I had no management over any of my limbs. My arms, legs, knees, ankles, every thing collapsed as if fabricated from rubber, and I needed to lie there on the water’s edge. Once I tried to rise up on my fingers and knees, my wrists and elbows would give out and I’d bang closely down onto the rocks. The very best I might do was to achieve ahead, seize a rock, and slide myself up on shore a bit at a time.
Once I lastly managed to tug my self up on shore I discovered that I used to be nonetheless clutching the gasoline can as if my life trusted it. I set the can down on the rocks and handed out.
I DON’T THINK I used to be out longer than a couple of minutes. Once I got here to, I noticed that if I have been to get again to civilization alive I’d need to hold the canoe in sight and get it again to shore. There was little hope of outdoor assist, and I used to be too exhausted and sick to hike by way of 30 or extra miles of rugged bush nation to return to the van. With out meals, sneakers, or matches for a warming hearth, I’d have little probability to outlive.
I seemed northward alongside Baltic Bay. Within the distance I might simply make out the bow of the canoe. It floated two or three ft larger now that it was relieved of our weight, and the wind was transferring it alongside a bit quicker, maybe just a bit slower than a person would usually stroll.
I rose shakily to my ft and, utilizing the canoe paddle for a crutch, pulled myself alongside from tree to tree. I fell many instances and had hassle protecting the canoe in sight as a result of lavatory and different bush obstacles prevented me from following the shoreline.
I had little hassle strolling within the bush. I had no sneakers on, however my ft have been nonetheless so numb from the chilly water that I felt no ache after I stepped on rocks or sticks.
Once I lastly caught up with the canoe, I seemed down and found that I used to be utterly bare. Whereas working my approach by way of the bush, attempt ing to meet up with the drifting canoe, I had unconsciously eliminated all my clothes. I finished and compelled myself to relax. I would wish clothes for heat, and my automobile keys have been in a pocket of my trousers, so I retraced my steps for about half a mile and retrieved all my garments.
I dressed and once more struggled by way of the bush to meet up with the canoe. By then I wasn’t positive if I used to be forward of or behind it. Lastly I noticed it out within the lake and labored my approach by way of the bush till I once more was forward of it. I discovered a rocky level that jutted into the lake 15 or 20 ft, and went out on the rocks to attend.
BY THEN the hour was about 3 p.m. The solar was breaking by way of the clouds, the wind was dying down, and the waves have been smaller, about three to 4 ft excessive. I sat down on a rock.
“I’ll simply sleep right here within the solar a short time,” I assumed. I dozed, however earlier than I fell right into a sound sleep I noticed that it was the unsuitable factor to do, so I sat up and waited for the canoe to float close to.
On shore close by was a dry cedar log about 12 ft lengthy. I made a decision to make use of it as a float after I went after the canoe. Because the canoe got here close to I once more stripped off all my clothes. I had a chunk of twine that had been used as a belt for my rain pants, and I tied one finish of it to the log to make use of as a tow line.
I feel the toughest factor I had to try this day was to reenter the lake. I eased into the water and, with the log for help, swam to the canoe. Swimming was a lot simpler with out my heavy clothes.
Tying the twine to the bow of the canoe was troublesome. My fingers have been numb, and after I did reach attaching the road a giant wave got here alongside and smashed the bow of the canoe into my groin, driving me underwater and knocking the wind out of me. I assumed I used to be lifeless, however lastly I struggled again to the floor.
Once I had recovered from the blow, I labored my option to the tip of the log and commenced to tow it to shore. My progress was sluggish and exhausting, however lastly my ft touched backside. Once I turned to look, the canoe was nonetheless out within the lake; the twine had snapped. I knew that I needed to swim proper again out to get the canoe or I might by no means once more have the power or the center for it.
I circled, pushed the log into the water and headed out once more. This time I caught my finger by way of the canoe’s bow ring and swam slowly for shore, pulling the half-submerged craft behind me.
The strict of the canoe started to tug on backside about 15 ft from shore. I labored about two hours attempting to get the water out. First I needed to pry the sunken craft partly out on the rocks. Then I used the paddle to splash out sufficient water in order that I might pull it farther up on shore. The canoe was about half emptied when a giant wave got here alongside and stuffed it once more. I needed to begin throughout. Once I might attain the motor, I eliminated it from the strict and dragged it up on the rocks.
At about 5 p.m. I had all of the water out of the canoe. I pushed out into the lake and tried to paddle southwest, again towards Fairy Level. A powerful breeze was nonetheless blowing up from the purpose, so I made no headway. Exhausted, I lay down within the canoe to attend for the wind to drop. I instantly fell asleep.
It was practically darkish after I awoke. The lake had calmed and there was solely a slight breeze. Once more I started paddling towards Fairy Level. It was all I might do to maneuver the paddle by way of the water. I’d paddle for 10 or 20 seconds after which move out. It took me till 9 p.m. simply to make the brief distance to Fairy Level.
After I’d rounded the purpose, the breeze was at my again. By then I might paddle for a couple of minute at a time earlier than falling exhausted on the underside of the canoe.
All in the course of the evening it rained. The evening was chilly, and I wrapped my rain pants and parka round my ft for heat. Alternately paddling and sleeping, I continued on down the lake. I might sleep till the canoe blew onto the rocks. Then I’d resume paddling.
By 1 a.m. Saturday, I started to really feel stronger and will paddle for half an hour or extra at a stretch. I used to be in a position to hold the canoe headed northeast by way of the night-shrouded lake towards our camp. At a while in the course of the evening I crossed the lake and hugged the south shoreline, realizing that if I have been to seek out the tiny cove that held our camp I’d have to remain very near that shore. I seemed carefully at every little bay I handed.
Lastly I heard a roar of water off to my proper and realized that I used to be passing Whitefish Falls. I had paddled about 4 miles down the lake from Fairy Level. Satirically, after all of the water I had swallowed whereas within the water, I grew to become very thirsty and saved consuming water from the lake as I paddled.
Between 3 and 4 within the morning, greater than 16 hours after the canoe had capsized, I noticed the gnarled fir tree that marked the cove the place we’d camped. Wearily I paddled as much as the dock and bought out of the canoe.
As I walked from the lake towards the van, I sensed one thing unsuitable. Our tent was down. I unlocked the van and turned on the headlights. Then I might see that bears had ripped into the tent and had torn and mangled all our gear. Rain had soaked practically every thing that the bears had not ruined. At that second, though I had discovered my approach again to camp and eventual security, I used to be practically overwhelmed by the state of affairs. The bear raid, which I might have laughed off at some other time, was the straw that just about broke my again.
Sick, exhausted, and aching throughout, I selected the drier of the 2 sleeping baggage, crawled into the van, and tried to sleep. Then I grew to become violently unwell and vomited water and blood all through the remainder of the evening.
At daylight I loaded the canoe onto the van and commenced driving south towards Chapleau. About 9 miles south of our campsite at Missinaibi I observed a radio antenna displaying above the bushes simply off the principle street. I drove onto a small street main into the bush and located a Division of Lands and Forests outpost on the shores of Flawed Lake. I roused the one occupant of the outpost and located that he spoke solely French, however I lastly made it clear to him that there had been hassle and that I wished to make use of the radio to contact the provincial police at Chapleau.
The radio was already set on the frequency of the Lands and Forest workplace in Chapleau, so I informed them concerning the accident and requested them to inform the police. I additionally informed them that I wanted medical consideration. They radioed again that I ought to resume driving towards Chapleau and that the police would meet me on the street on their option to the lake.
About 9:30 a.m. I resumed driving towards Chapleau. On the street I used to be met by Cpl. H. N. Allan and Constable R. M. Morrison. I informed them roughly the place Jerry had drowned and that I had left the gasoline can on the shore about 50 ft east of the spot. They mentioned they might get a ship and search for his physique.
I continued on to Chapleau, the place I went on to the hospital. From there I known as my spouse in Ohio to inform her the grim information and requested her to offer Jerry’s spouse and household solace.
Cpl. Allan and Constable Morrison visited me at about 10 on Sunday evening. They’d recovered Jerry’s physique at 1:30 p.m. Sunday. He had been present in 50 ft of water, 15 ft from shore and about 55 ft west of the gas-can location. His physique was absolutely clothed apart from one glove.
THE OFFICERS mentioned that Jerry’s physique was present in a relaxed place, simply as after I had seen him slip beneath the waves. There was no indication of panic or battle, they usually speculated that he was most likely unconscious earlier than he went underneath. The lengthy hours of immersion in chilly water and the pressure of swimming absolutely clothed by way of turbulent waves towards the tantalizingly close to shoreline should have drained the final little bit of endurance from him.
Upon the officers’ arrival at Missinaibi on Saturday, the lake temperature was discovered to be 40°F. Wind gusts of the quickly advancing storm that had capsized our canoe on Friday had been clocked at about 35 to 40 knots by the Chapleau air base.
This has been a narrative of unexpected incidents, such because the unnoticed method of the storm and the capsizing in entrance of excessive cliffs that prevented us from swimming ashore earlier than the chilly water had weakened us. Our predicament was worsened by the motor-laden, vertically floating canoe that provided little help and wouldn’t be blown or pushed ashore, and by the lack of untethered life cushions and the dearth of life jackets. It was the absence of easy survival objects resembling sneakers, waterproof matches, emergency meals, and a compass that pressured me to reenter the lake, once more risking dying, to retrieve the canoe as a substitute of climbing out to security.
These circumstances may need been solely a nuisance at one other time or place, however they killed when woven collectively at Missinaibi Lake on that nightmarish day in October.
Ours could be the story behind most of the unwitnessed and unsurvived tragedies which have occurred on wilderness waters. I hope that others would possibly keep away from an analogous tragedy.
This story, Nightmare on Missinaibi, first appeared within the August 1972 challenge. This textual content has been minimally edited to fulfill modern requirements.