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WINDBOUND AT TAKU BAY

It was a beautiful September morning. The leaves had already turned their bright fall colors, and our first snowfall could take place any day now. For those of us who lived in the remote wilderness along the border of the Yukon, it was that time of year when we began the welcome, though arduous, task of hunting for our winter supply of meat.

We needed enough to carry us through the cold winter months and on into the spring. Consequently, each fall I made it a practice to drop a bear and a moose. From the bear we'd carve steaks and roasts and also render about twenty pounds of the body fat into snow white shortening. It was a commodity my wife didn't want to be without because she vowed that it was better than Crisco when it came to baking. She regularly used it to bake at least fourteen loaves of sourdough bread every week. The Moose would provide us with steaks, roasts, backstrap, 150 pounds of mooseburger and a sizable supply of delicious jerky.

Of course other types of large game were also available such as mountain sheep, wild goats, and caribou, but moose was our main table fare. But to vary the menu during the year, we'd also supplement our food supply with grouse, quail, trout, grayling, and of course salmon. In fact, when the salmon were running, you could approach just about anyone's cabin and you'd smell the aroma of smoked salmon coming from their smokehouse. And quite often when visiting bush folks you'd find a plate or two of smoked salmon and jerky for family or guests to enjoy much like we serve chips and dip here in the states.

One morning I decided to rise early and paddle across Taku Bay to see if I could locate a moose for our winter food supply. Putting a few home made buns in the pockets of my Levi jacket, and securing my rifle to one of the canoe thwarts, I headed for the opposite shore. Once across I began to climb the timbered slope and spent the rest of the day scouting for game, but had no success. I did see one bear, but he was too high up the mountain, and later two wolves momentarily appeared about thirty yards behind me. We both saw each other at the same time, and I'm sure they were as surprised as I was. They quickly spun around and vanished into a nearby thicket.

As evening approached I decided that I'd best retrace my steps and paddle across cross the open water of the bay before nightfall. A good plan….but things definitely didn't turn out that way.

Returning to my canoe I began to paddle for the opposite shore. The water was relatively calm and everything looked good until I'd gone approximately 100 yards. Suddenly without any warning a strong wind began to sweep down the mountain slope and out onto the Bay. In a matter of minutes the calm waters had grown dangerously choppy. In no time at all the waves became so large in size that the canoe was beginning to rock uncontrollably. It was quite clear that even though the shore I'd just left was only a relatively short distance away it was impossible to even think about turning around and heading back. Tying my Stetson down tight, and making sure my survival kit was securely on my belt, I began moving to the center of the canoe where I positioned myself as low as possible. Then quickly lashing my rifle to the thwarts, I began furiously paddling on a diagonal course slanting into the oncoming waves. My only option was to try to make it to the far shore.

Not more than five minutes went by before the waves had risen to a dangerous height, threatening to capsize my canoe and throw me into the ice cold water. As it was, the freezing glacial water was splashing into the canoe and soaking me to the skin. The wind and the icy water were now my greatest concern. I've always been a strong swimmer, but I knew that survival time in those waters was estimated to be only twenty minutes….and that was only if you were floating. Swimming would only serve to hasten hypothermia. Nevertheless, still trying to keep paddling, I fumblingly loosened the leather laces n my boots. If I was thrown into the water I wanted to be able to quickly slide my boots off.

Bracing for what was to come, I paddled with all my strength, but in spite of the backbreaking effort my teeth were chattering and the biting cold wind seemed to be cutting right through me. I knew that if I didn't maintain a course that quartered into the wind I'd capsized and be in a fight for my life.

How long I paddled, I wasn't sure, I only knew that I didn't dare miss even one stroke, or the waves would turn the canoe broadside, and I wouldn't be able to prevent it from capsizing. In the meantime the wind and the waves were driving me farther and farther away from my cabin.

Trying to battle the elements seemed to be a futile struggle and sometimes I was just standing still, paddling in one place. Every inch of progress had to be fought for, until my arms and shoulders felt as if they just couldn't possibly make the effort to dip and pull that paddle even one more time…but somehow they did. And the whole thing just seemed to go on and on. Finally, at long last, I could see that I was beginning to near the opposite shoreline. I prayed that I could hold out long enough to reach the shore and that I wouldn't hit a submerged boulder before I could get in close enough to go over the side and drag the canoe ashore.

It was almost dark when I finally was able to wade ashore and beach the canoe, pulling it part way up into the bushes. I knew that I needed to find a campsite and get a fire going as soon as possible. Shouldering my rifle I began to look around for someplace nearby that would be a suitable shelter from the chilling wind. As I began to examine my surroundings I immediately found unmistakable signs that a large bear was frequenting the area. And there wasn't just one sign, but numerous indicators that one or more bears were frequenting this place. I knew, however, that I had no time to look further; I was just too cold and worn out. Walking back perhaps forty yards, I found what I needed…a shallow depression about fifteen yards across…a place that was out of the wind and one that would permit me to build a fire. It would supply the windbreak I needed.

As quickly as I could manage, I gathered a pile of wood and started a fire. Then, stripping off my boots and all of my clothes, I hung them on the surrounding limbs and bushes to dry. Sitting as close as possible to the warmth of the fire, I began checking through the gear I had with me and found that my survival kit was all intact. It only contained a few items, but I knew they could make the difference and would be enough. I had my razor sharp hunting knife, fire starting materials, a whistle, compass, small flashlight and a folded poncho. In addition to that I still had my rifle, seven cartridges, and wonder of wonders, a package of cocoa and two bread buns that had been kept dry in a small plastic bag. Smiling at my good fortune, I was thankful that I had all the makings necessary for a home away from home.

The wind was still blowing hard and I knew I couldn't paddle against it. There simply wasn't any way of returning to our warm, cozy cabin and neither was there any way of telling how long I might be wind-bound. I also knew that back at our log cabin my wife, Kay, and our three girls would be extremely worried because I should have been home hours ago. If our son, Flint, had been at home, he would have known what to do, but at the time, he was in Anchorage, Alaska. Kay was well aware of the numerous things that could go wrong when you're alone in the bush. She also knew that even if I had dropped a moose, I'd have field dressed it, returned home and then gone back the next day to begin packing it out. Something had to have gone wrong, and she knew it.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that she'd think I was still directly across the inlet, instead of on the same shore as our cabin, but much farther to the north. Because of this, anyone sent out to look for me would search across Taku Bay where I'd started out...a long way from where I was now located.

Still shivering uncontrollably, I prayed, "Lord, please take care of Kay and the girls and somehow help them not to be unduly worried. And Lord, somehow, some way, help me to get back home as soon as possible. And if Kay gets someone to come looking for me, help them to somehow look in the right place."

After several hours had gone by I was still huddled by the fire, figuring that Kay would get word to our nearest neighbor, and that they'd be looking for me at first light. I also told myself that anyone out on the water would see my bonfire and know where I was. What I didn't know was that they'd already been searching the Bay for two hours trying to find me, and the bonfire I'd built wasn't the least bit visible to anyone on the water. In fact it wasn't even visible from the beach only forty yards away.

As I sat there still trying to absorb as much heat as possible, I suddenly heard a familiar sound , and even though it was just barely audible above the noise of the wind and the waves slapping the shoreline, I recognized it immediately. It was the familiar sound of a boat motor that belonged to another bush family that were our nearest neighbors. I figured he'd seen the fire and was lying offshore waiting for me to come to the beach. Taking my survival whistle, I blew repeated blasts as I jerked on my Levis and my boots. Then shouting over and over, "Hang in there, I'm on my way!" I gathered up the remainder of my clothes and, of course, my rifle and headed for the shore.

I arrived just in time to see their boat starting to pull away. Waving wildly, and firing my rifle I got their attention. It took another thirty minutes to go back, put out my fire and then try to push and paddle my canoe out to where I could pull alongside their boat. Next, working together, we managed to put my canoe on top of his boat's canvas cover. And then, amid a lot of backslapping, laughter and wisecracks we headed for home.

Grinning broadly I asked him and his wife, "How much did Kay have to pay you to come out of your nice warm cabin to look for me------and for crying out loud, what took you so long? I was just getting ready to take a leisurely swim back home when I saw that you'd seen my bonfire and were waiting offshore!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "We didn't see any bonfire."

I said, "You're kidding me. You had to have seen it."

"No way-----that shoreline was black as pitch, and we'd been cruising the Bay for a good hour or so. We never once saw any fire."

"Well, I guess you just must have been close enough to have heard me blowing my whistle and shouting."

"Look Pal, we never one time heard anything above that wind. And we sure didn't hear your voice or any whistle."

"Well then you must have glimpsed my canoe."

"Sure didn't."

"Well then, in all these miles of shoreline that you covered, why did you stop offshore at this particular place that was only 100 yards from where I was camped?"

I noticed that by this time that both my friend and his wife, both seemed to have grown somewhat quiet. "Phil, so help me we had no idea whatsoever that you were there. We'd prayed earlier and asked the Lord to help us find you, if you were anywhere along the shore. But after unsuccessfully scanning miles of that black shoreline, we figured that you must still be somewhere back in the bush. We thought we'd have to come back and try searching again tomorrow. But just as we were preparing to go back home, Laurie suddenly said, 'Honey, wait a minute. Stop the boat right here.' I said 'Why'? And she said, 'Because I just got a feeling that we're really close. I know that sounds silly, but please, just stop now!' So I did, but try as we might we still were unable to see or hear anything. So finally we just sat and talked a little bit about what might have happened to you. At last, just as we were starting to head on back, we heard your gunshot, and then barely made out your figure as you moved on the shore. Preacher, I'm tellin' you, there just can't be any doubt about what made us stop there. None a'tall."

"You sure do keep that guardian angel of yours a workin' overtime!"

And there wasn't any doubt in my mind either, about what caused them to stop in that precise location.....not to this very day.

Posted by cdrnorth at October 17, 2005 10:30 AM

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Posted by: Elena at December 3, 2005 9:19 AM

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