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surveys / lost
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Lost in the woods
Ever gotten lost? It can be a terrifying experience. In our July/August issue we tell the story of a boy who got lost in the woods of Nova Scotia and perished before searchers managed to find him. That experience led to an overhaul of how searches are conducted. Now, Nova Scotia search-and-rescue teams are among the most sophisticated in the world.
Tell us about your experience either as someone who has gotten lost or as a volunteer who helped out in a search. How did you get lost? What mistakes did you make? What was the most important factor in your rescue? If you have experience as a searcher, tell us how the search was organized. Was it well led? Were the leaders trained in how to conduct a search? Did you lack the resources to conduct the search? What can or should be done to prevent people from getting lost, or to find people quickly when they have gone missing?
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Mr. William l. Tickle
Submitted:
Saturday, November 01, 2003
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Twice I've been lost. The first time was at
Mosport Race Track in Ontario when I was between
five and ten years old. I remember telling my
mother that I was going to watch the racers and
then left the camp site towards the track. When I
got to the race track I turned around and
couldn't recognise anything or figure out what
which direction I had just come from. I knew that
the racers followed a circular route. If I
followed the track I could eventually find the
pits and from there find the camp site. I walked
almost the entire circumference of the track
which took me some hours. Finally I made it back
to the camp site hot, sweaty, and thirsty, but
safe. During my entire trek there seemed to be
lots of people around but it didn't occur to me
to enlist anyone's help. I suppose I figured this
was my fault and I had to get out of it myself.
The second time I got lost I was a Royal
Canadian Air Cadet on my solo cross country
flight in a Cessna Shyhawk. I was ready to take
off from Muskoka Airport on the last leg of my
journey. I took the wrong number from my flight
log and was off in the wrong direction from the
get go. I remember trying to orient features on
my areonautical chart with landmarks on the
ground but was having great difficulty with it. I
came to a power line and began following it
believing that it would take me near Barrie. The
truth was I had headed off in almost completely
the opposite direction. I lift up my head and see
lakes coming out of that haze that I had never
seen before. It hit me. I was lost! The shock of
realising I was lost just stunned me. Having been
lost before I knew I had to settle quickly and
begin to work on this problem. I turned the
airplane around 180 degrees and started following
that power line back the way I came. I called
Muskoka on my radio told them I was lost and that
I was going to try to find my way back to them. I
had flown about twenty minutes before realising
my dilemma. I came back to a point where several
power lines converged and made another mistake.
I made a left turn instead of a right. After
flying along for some time I began to realise
that things were getting worse instead of better.
I called Muskoka on the radio again to report
there was no luck at orienting myself. They
advised that I call Toronto Radar on 121.5 Mhz.
Toronto responded immediately, almost as if they
were waiting for my call, and gave me
instructions to make some turns so they could
pick me out on radar scope. They gave me a
heading for Buttonville. I turned the heading
around and managed to orient myself on my chart.
What a relief! I was three and half hours in the
air between Muskoka and Buttonville. What I did
right? I had refuelled at Muskoka because I was
down to quarter tanks in both wings. The rule at
our flying club was to top up the tanks if they
were below half. If I hadn't I would have been
making a precautionary approach beside one of
those power lines. I kept a constant altitude of
3000 ft above sea level and stuck to recognisable
landmarks. What I did wrong? I didn't realise
that the heading I started on was incorrect,
didn't referr to my compass enough until Toronto
Radar gave me a heading and didn't think to
refer to radio navigation instruments because I
hadn't had much training in how to use them.
Being lost can be a very trying and
dangerous situation. For some it can be so
overwhelming that they never recover from it. The
shock happens. There is no way to avoid it. I
believe you have to allow the initial shock to
pass and begin to immediately take stock of your
situation. I believe this is the most important
facet of "self rescue." |
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Eric Valk
Submitted:
Monday, October 28, 2002
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I have gotten lost 3 times in the last three
years, in two cases I was able to rescue myself
because I kept my cool (although there is that gut
wrenching underlying panic) and I had a map and
compass and used them. Two years agoin the summer I was walking in
Ottawa's Greenbelt (which is quite large, 5-10km
wide by 10's of km long) and went off the trail to
explore quite a large deer yard (bigger than I
thought it was). I couldn't find my original
entrance, and I couldn't find the trail. Using map
and compass I determined a course which would take
me to some part of the trail eventually, and it
did, in about 50m. At the time I thought "this is
going to be hilarious news - Scout Leader has to
be rescued from Greenbelt" This summer I was canoe camping in LaVerendrye,
and on a casual canoe trip to pump water from a
deeper part of a small lake I become disoriented
by the high contrast of the sun setting over the
trees (couldn't see under the trees anywhere) and
got disoriented when the wind blew me along the
lake. Upon returning I missed the rock pile which
was my "marker" to the bay where camp was, and
ended up in the wrong part of the lake, no sign of
the camp or the bay. The usual panic set in, but I
referred to my map and compass, and found that I
had overshot my target (paddled right past it and
didn't see it. Could of been nasty, I had all the
water containers, the only canoe and there was
only 1 other person. Fortunately I had my map and
compass tied to my life jacket, so since I had
that I had what I needed. I went for a hike in the bush with two other Scout
leaders, the fellow who brought us said he knew
where to find the lake, turned out he didn't know
how. I didn't have a map or good bearing on the
nearest road, we wandered around for a good bit
until the local farmer drove his tractor down the
little bush road that we had left behind. We
weren't that far off the road but it was on the
other side of a swampy bit and we didn't see it,
had a tough time even getting there. |
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Michael Shephard
Submitted:
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
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A few Thankgivings ago the temperatures in the
ottawa are where higher than usual. My family and
some friends where at our cottage outside of
Renfrew in Calabogie. Behind our cottage are
fantasic cross-sountry ski and snowmobile trails.
So I decided to show the area to a friend. We
left just after lunch. After jogging on
relatively familiar ground we came to a cross
roads. Being more familiar with the area with
snow on the ground we took a right instead of a
left and stared into our extended walk/jog.
Another half an hour passed and the trail started
to become too dense to run on. Guessing that we
where still parallel with the local ski hill and
highway I suggested we take a short cut to get
back on to more open ground. We followed a trail
left by hunters and soon arrived at a hunting
shelter. Still deciding to push on the trail
disappeared in front of us and behind. The bush
became too thick to walk through and we found
ourselves struggling to make any forward
progress. After stumbling through trees and mucky
swamps we found ourselves back on a trail of some
description and chose to follow it. Th trail
turnewd out to be the remenants of the old
highway and it eventually took us out to the new
highway. The sun was going down and we arrive
home at 5:30! An afternoon job became a day in
the woods...with a happy ending. |
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Sarah
Submitted:
Friday, October 18, 2002
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My brother Cory made every mistake possible
when he was lost in the woods. He became
separated from my parents on the way home from
our summer cabin on Nelson Island. On the logging
road towards the dock, Cory hopped off the trail
to heed nature's call. My parents gave him a
little privacy and continued downhill towards the
dock in Quarry Bay. A few minutes later, Mom was
concerned that Cory was no longer behind her.
The road linking the dock and our cabin has
only two major forks in it -- one at bottom of
the first steep hill, the next at the top of the
second climb. Cory had become lost halfway to the
dock. My parents' calls (and the shrieks of my
then six year old sister) could not rouse him
from the woods. Mom ran up and down the kilometre
long hike between the cabin and the dock --
searching the outhouse, checking the little trail
to the lake, and hollering his name. Dad stayed
on the dock with the other kids to keep watch for
the water taxi, which was due to arrive any
minute.
When the taxi arrived and Cory was still
missing, neighbours (on land and in boats) were
alerted to help with the search. The rustic
island lacks phones and electricity, so boat
radios were the main form of communication
between the search parties. My Dad met a young
couple with a dog who offered to search the vast,
jagged shoreline of the island. The coast guard
was called in. Boats in the area had been radioed
to keep an eye out for an eight year old boy in a
yellow life jacket. Cottagers formed groups and
helped search the dozen or so trails that snaked
throughout the island.
Cory was no where to be found. 3 hours after
he had gone missing, the water taxi driver
spotted something yellow bobbing up and down
along the rocky shoreline of Seal Bay.
Mistaking the blue sky above for the sapphire
sea of the shoreline, Cory had stumbled for hours
until he reached Seal Bay. His first mistake was
to keep moving when he realized he was lost. His
second mistake was to leave the trail and
bushwack his way to the opposite side of the
island. Seeing the water taxi passing by, he
panicked and assumed the family had left without
him. Leaping into the water, he tried to catch up
to the taxi by swimming!!!
He bobbed around the bay for a few minutes
until Ted, the taxi driver, could reach Cory and
tell him to swim back to the shore. At a safe
place, Cory was hoisted into the boat and driven
back to our relieved family.
After some fierce hugs and a hundred thank
yous to the searchers, Cory's condition was
assessed. He sheepishly admitted to swallowing
sea water before he remembered it would make him
sick. Amazingly, though he fell down a low cliff
in Seal Bay, Cory had only a few scratches on
him.
Cory was very lucky. Two summers later, he now
knows to stay put if he ever becomes lost again.
Sea water is for swimming in, not drinking, and
he learned under NO circumstances is anyone
allowed to swim after a boat. We have started a
buddy system and NO ONE is left alone on the
trail, even to use the bathroom. :)
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Usne J. Butt
Submitted:
Tuesday, October 15, 2002
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When I was tweleve years old (in the early 80's)
I spent much of my time wandering the heavily
wooded section of land (360 acres)we lived on in
North central Saskatchewan. One day I
accidently took a path that I wasn't familiar
with and ended up in an unfamiliar area. Once I
realized I was lost I attempted to work myself
in the general direction of my house. I was
unsuccessful in my attempts to find a familiar
landmark so by using the setting sun as a
general direction I bushwacked in a straight
line until I hit a fenceline that I was able to
follow to a road. Whew. I also recall a story about a Northern
Saskatchewan trapper who was familiar with his
walking pattern - he knew that he veered left
when trying to walk in a straight line. One day
he was caught in a white-out on a lake. By
walking ten steps straight ahead then taking one
to the right he was able to make the shore and
take cover among the trees and avoid making the
dreaded circle so many people do when trying to
go in one direction. |
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alcy chase
Submitted:
Saturday, October 12, 2002
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It all started when I found some geographical
maps of Gold Rock in N/Western Ontario. It took
little convincing for me to persuade Colleen to
accompany me to the Gold Rock townsite which is
accessed off Hwy 502 south of Dryden Ontario.
We carried a canoe with us as the portage trail
from Peak Lake was very rough even with a four
wheel ATV.
We pushed off from the portage at a wee lake that
led us to the site of the ELORA stamp mill
situated on the shore of the lake.
The stamp mill and the accompaning buildings gave
us the impression that the miners were having
dinner and would be back to give us heck for
tresspassing.
We took numerous photos of the interior and the
heavy equipment , then proceeded to explore
further inland from the lake. As we walked we
were discussing the equipment that we had just
seen and wondering how such heavy machinery could
have been transported such long distances! We
were so engrossed that when we looked around
us...there was just trees. Trees dressed in their
Autumn coulers all around us....we turned around
and around so that we couldn't even guess where
we had come from!
The sun was shining so we knew which way South
was. We had heard numerous stories of open shafts
in the vicinity so we had both walked with our
eyes on the ground instead of glancing around and
taking the odd bearing. We walked South for quite
awhile then, decided that we should maybe go East
and see if we could find the lake. We were
starting to look around for some Balsam for a
campsite when Colleen spotted some bare granit a
ways off and suggested I stay where I was while
she checked this out to see if she could maybe
see a little further.
In a short time she gave a shout!
She had seen the roof of a building!
I joined her and we walked over to the Head Frame
of the Elora Gold Mine.
We had walked in a complete circle, from the
stamp mill we had walked North now we were on the
south side of the head frame which was situated
S/W of the stamp mill.
We wern't lost over two hours but,it was long
enough for goosebumps to form and it was long
enough for the hair on the back of our necks to
stand up and bristle. Yes it gave us a good
lesson. We had no map, no compass, no survival
gear of any kind. We were just going to look at
the other building on the site!
We were approx. 40 miles from Dryden. Seven miles
from highway 502, and had a 2 mile canoe ride.
We were lucky! We were able to get back to the
truck just as it got dark.
We both learned a valuable lesson from that.
We learned that we must be forever vigilant.
Enjoy the sites you see but, also remember where
you are.....getting out of the bush safely means
going into the bush prepared to stay the night. Coleen and I were just discussing this episode of
our lives this Holiday weekend. |
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