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 had been vacationing from our jobs on the Ashland Oil & Refinery Co. of Canton, Ohio. Stories of pictographs—American Indian image writing—had attracted us to Missinaibi’s shores. Our purpose was to get 16 mm. coloration 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 stored Jerry’s spouse and two daughters and my spouse and three younger women at residence.
Touring in primitive areas was a well-known expertise to me. For the previous 22 of my 42 years, holidays and every other spare time I might wangle away from the each day grind have been invested within the open air.
Within the early years after I’d spent a hitch within the U.S. Marine Corps, my curiosity in looking huge sport had led me into distant areas of Canada and the West. Considered 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 residence whereas I toted a digicam 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 particular person I’ve ever recognized. He was a photographer in his personal proper and had paddled the canoe and assisted me with the large digicam chores through 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 choose 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 looking. With the world to ourselves, we would have a possibility to movie some wildlife in addition to the pictographs.
The intense round glow of our fuel 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 deliver. We had no premonitions of hazard. But earlier than the top 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 quick 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 digicam 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 have a look at promising pictograph areas on the primary arm of Missinaibi. In our eagerness to get out on the lake, we forgot our primary survival gear, which was nonetheless packed within the van. Forgotten additionally was my common follow of leaving beneath the windshield wiper of the van a notice explaining who we had been, the place we had gone, and once we anticipated to return.
As we left the cove close to our campsite and entered the waters of the primary 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 perfect marker.
We had no thought the place we’d discover the pictographs, so we cruised southwestward alongside the south shoreline and scanned the rocks intently. After touring about 10 miles we got here to the mouth of the Whitefish River. At that time, Jerry stated, “If 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 line with our map, we had been Fairy Point, on the junction of Baltic Bay and the lake’s principal arm.
Once we first sighted Fairy Level the climate was nonetheless closely overcast and wet. A lightweight breeze stirred up somewhat chop of waves about three to 5 inches excessive. It was nothing to be involved about, so we crossed the lake to have a detailed have a look at Fairy Level.
We had approached to inside about 50 toes 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 expecting pictographs. Our backs had been towards the southwest, the route of the prevailing wind, when catastrophe struck.
My first indication of hazard got here when a savage gust of wind hit us broad aspect. Its drive snapped some lifeless limbs from timber that grew on prime of the cliff. The wind was adopted immediately by a wave three to 4 toes excessive. And whereas we had 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 supplied 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 had 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 sporting life jackets. I had at all times thought of 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 had been filled 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 exhibiting above the water. The load of the outboard was an excessive amount of for the built-in stern flotation chamber of the canoe.
We acquired little or no assist from the small uncovered a part of the canoe’s bow. Waves by then had been operating 4 to 6 toes 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 with the canoe, additionally clinging to the bow. Quickly the six-gallon fuel can, which was nonetheless tethered to the motor by the fuel line, floated up out of the canoe, and Jerry tucked it beneath one arm for added assist. I nonetheless held the paddle beneath one arm.
Once we capsized, we each had been closely dressed for chilly climate. I used to be sporting hip boots, lengthy underwear, total pants, heavy shirt, lined jacket, hat, gloves, and a two-piece rainsuit. Jerry was dressed equally. As quickly as I went beneath, my boots stuffed with water and slipped off. I instructed Jerry that I had misplaced my boots, and he replied that his mountaineering sneakers had given him some hassle once 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 toes hit the shoreline rocks I discovered that I had no management over any of my limbs. My arms, legs, knees, ankles, every little thing collapsed as if made 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 once we spilled; I didn’t expertise the identical type 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, however it 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 triggered a robust undertow that acted on the submerged stern of the canoe and held us a relentless 50 toes 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 succeed in the motor.
We had been within the water for about 20 minutes once 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 means 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 regarded for positive as if we’d be blown to the rocks, however on the final minute the wind and beneath 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 hand over,” I replied. I sensed that Jerry had misplaced all hope of being drifted to shore. I, too, was very near giving up.
Jerry instructed me then that his fingers might not grip the canoe. So I shoved the canoe paddle across the bow and thru the deal with of the fuel can after which reached round Jerry and grabbed one finish of the paddle with my left hand. In that method I might maintain him tightly to the canoe and in addition extra simply maintain my head above water.
We floated that method 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 instructed me that he would moderately take his possibilities attempting to swim for shore than die helplessly like this. Our state of affairs regarded hopeless, so I instructed him I’d go along 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 had 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 fuel can, permitting it to drift free. I hoped that we might every maintain on to an finish of the paddle and, with the fuel can within the center to offer us assist, might make it to shore. However earlier than I might swim out from the canoe to hitch Jerry, he started swimming throughout the waves. I grabbed the paddle on each side of the fuel can deal with and tried to catch as much as him, however the can was so buoyant that the wind stored 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 methods on me,” I assumed. “He’s holding his breath and he’ll reappear someplace quickly.”
I started trying throughout within the waves for him, however at the same time as I regarded I knew that it was loopy.
When Jerry drowned I needed to let go of the fuel can and die with him, however one thing inside wouldn’t let me do it. I stored swimming, and about 20 minutes later I reached shore about 50 toes east of the place Jerry had gone beneath.
When my toes hit the shoreline rocks I discovered that I had no management over any of my limbs. My arms, legs, knees, ankles, every little thing collapsed as if made from rubber, and I needed to lie there on the water’s edge. After I tried to stand up on my fingers and knees, my wrists and elbows would give out and I’d bang closely down onto the rocks. One of the best I might do was to succeed in ahead, seize a rock, and slide myself up on shore somewhat at a time.
After I lastly managed to pull my self up on shore I discovered that I used to be nonetheless clutching the fuel 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. After I got here to, I noticed that if I had been to get again to civilization alive I’d should maintain 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 means of 30 or extra miles of rugged bush nation to return to the van. With out meals, sneakers, or matches for a warming fireplace, I’d have little probability to outlive.
I regarded northward alongside Baltic Bay. Within the distance I might simply make out the bow of the canoe. It floated two or three toes increased now that it was relieved of our weight, and the wind was transferring it alongside a bit sooner, maybe just a bit slower than a person would usually stroll.
I rose shakily to my toes and, utilizing the canoe paddle for a crutch, pulled myself alongside from tree to tree. I fell many occasions and had hassle conserving 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 toes had been nonetheless so numb from the chilly water that I felt no ache after I stepped on rocks or sticks.
After I lastly caught up with the canoe, I regarded down and found that I used to be utterly bare. Whereas working my method by means of the bush, strive ing to meet up with the drifting canoe, I had unconsciously eliminated all my clothes. I ended and compelled myself to settle down. I would want clothes for heat, and my automobile keys had 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 means 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 method by means of the bush till I once more was forward of it. I discovered a rocky level that jutted into the lake 15 or 20 toes, and went out on the rocks to attend.
BY THEN the hour was about 3 p.m. The solar was breaking by means of the clouds, the wind was dying down, and the waves had been smaller, about three to 4 toes excessive. I sat down on a rock.
“I’ll simply sleep right here within the solar a short while,” 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 toes 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 bit 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 believe the toughest factor I had to do this day was to reenter the lake. I eased into the water and, with the log for assist, 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 had been numb, and after I did achieve 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.
After I had recovered from the blow, I labored my solution to the top of the log and commenced to tow it to shore. My progress was sluggish and exhausting, however lastly my toes touched backside. After 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 guts for it.
I circled, pushed the log into the water and headed out once more. This time I caught my finger by means 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 pull on backside about 15 toes 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 crammed it once more. I needed to begin throughout. After 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 means of the water. I’d paddle for 10 or 20 seconds after which cross out. It took me till 9 p.m. simply to make the quick 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 through the evening it rained. The evening was chilly, and I wrapped my rain pants and parka round my toes 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 maintain the canoe headed northeast by means of the night-shrouded lake towards our camp. At a while through the evening I crossed the lake and hugged the south shoreline, realizing that if I had been to seek out the tiny cove that held our camp I’d have to remain very near that shore. I regarded intently 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 stored ingesting 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 acquired 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 little thing that the bears had not ruined. At that second, though I had discovered my method 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 every other time, was the straw that just about broke my again.
Sick, exhausted, and aching throughout, I selected the drier of the 2 sleeping luggage, crawled into the van, and tried to sleep. Then I grew to become violently in poor health 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 seen a radio antenna exhibiting above the timber simply off the primary highway. I drove onto a small highway main into the bush and located a Division of Lands and Forests outpost on the shores of Incorrect Lake. I roused the only 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 needed 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 instructed them in regards to the accident and requested them to inform the police. I additionally instructed 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 highway on their solution to the lake.
About 9:30 a.m. I resumed driving towards Chapleau. On the highway I used to be met by Cpl. H. N. Allan and Constable R. M. Morrison. I instructed them roughly the place Jerry had drowned and that I had left the fuel can on the shore about 50 toes east of the spot. They stated they’d 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 toes of water, 15 toes from shore and about 55 toes west of the gas-can location. His physique was absolutely clothed apart from one glove.
THE OFFICERS stated 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 beneath. The lengthy hours of immersion in chilly water and the pressure of swimming absolutely clothed by means 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 strategy 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 supplied little assist and wouldn’t be blown or pushed ashore, and by the lack of untethered life cushions and the shortage of life jackets. It was the absence of straightforward survival objects akin to 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 mountaineering 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 might 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 subject. This textual content has been minimally edited to satisfy modern requirements.
