1482 - Fool Me Once... (to Hell and Back)

This entry is dedicated to a single event, which took place Saturday June 16th. I debated as to whether I'd write about it, but it's worth getting the events of that day down "on paper" for future reference.

The story parallels that of the Crystal Crescent debacle, but on a much larger scale. It starts innocently enough with a visit to a hiking trail straight inland from Martinique beach - one I've been to before. JP and I arrived around six-thirty in the evening, and we decided to do the Gibraltar Loop, a short two-kilometre trail adjacent to a parking lot.

The trail is extremely steep at first, and the hiker is quickly rewarded with a magnificent view of the hills and forests below (the fog somewhat clouded our view, unfortunately).

At approximately 7:15, we came to a crossroads. There were two options: either complete the Gibraltar Loop and go home, or attempt a much larger section of trail, ultimately leading back to some railroad tracks that parallel the highway leading to the area. As you might have guessed, we decided to "go for it."

We did explore the possibility of getting lost, something we neglected to do at Crystal Crescent. Looking at the map, we estimated there to be eight to ten kilometres of trail to complete (editor's note: this was the first mistake. One's fingers are not the most accurate measuring device. We later found the distance to be somewhere between twelve and fifteen kilometres). JP runs about twenty kilometres twice a week, and we used that knowledge to determine an estimated hiking time. We felt that we could get back to the car in two to two and a half hours. While this put us a bit past dark, we felt the risk was minimal, as we wouldn't need light once we got to the tracks (which represented about a third of the total distance).

Comfortable in our decision, we proceeded along the longer trail. The trail weaved back and forth in the forest, with massive elevation changes at every bend - it was slow going (editor's note: this was the second mistake. A good speed simply can't be kept on a trail that weaves back and forth, up and down over rough terrain.). It wasn't too long before we were both tired and thirsty. We were also hungry, as we'd decided to get food after the hike.

We enjoyed the first hour and a half of the walk, but the hills wore us down and we began to curse the terrain. We knew we were behind time, but we felt that the railway section of the trail toward the end would be our saving grace.

It began to get dark, and we started to joke about potential Crystal Crescent scenarios. We were unable to pick up our pace due to fatigue (our legs burned from the effort of climbing hills), and later due to darkness. I lead the way nearly the entire time, and I began to go off of the trail, as I wasn't able to see well enough to keep on it.

One final twist in the trail turned us in the proper direction, and we descended to a crossroads, that we took to be the one shown on the map of the area, as we hadn't encountered any others. We were excited by the fact that we were nearly done. However, darkness slowed our pace further.

Finally, the path lead to a grassy field next to a small river. We were excited, as it was getting dark, and we didn't have much time left. We patted ourselves on the backs for getting out of trouble once again, in the nick of time. Unfortunately, however, the path in the grass quickly disappeared, and as we got closer to the river, the ground got swampier. Our shoes got soaked, but we didn't care - we were almost there (editor's note: here we observe the third mistake. As soon as you realize you're no longer on a trail, the best thing to do is to go back to the last known part of the trail).

We quickly realized that there was no bridge crossing the stream nearby - in fact, none could be seen at all. It was here that we made our biggest error in judgment. All logic was out the window, courtesy of a burning desire to get back to the car. We blindly made the assumption that the stream indeed was the stream that parallels the highway, and therefore, we blindly assumed that the road would be on the other side.

Despite the fact that we both agreed that the road was likely on the other side, I pushed for us to return to the trail. I didn't believe that swimming across the stream was the right move. JP felt otherwise - she felt that it was too dark to attempt to re-find the trail, and she felt that following the riverbank, looking for a bridge, would take too long. We wasted precious moments making our decision, but in the end, I sided with her. I did so because I was convinced that we'd be spending the night in the woods otherwise. I was completely irrational at this point, a state surely driven by our situation. Looking back at those moments at the riverside, I find myself unable to comprehend now what might've gone through my mind. YES, WE JUMPED IN THE RIVER AND SWAM ACROSS. It was about six feet deep, and thirty feet across (editor's note: this was the fifth, and biggest mistake. NEVER get wet when you're lost in the woods. Warmth is critical if you are to survive a night in the woods.).

On the other side of the river, we crossed more swamp, pushed through shrubs, and then started up a fairly steep hill. It was getting extremely dark, and we were barely making any progress, as we stopped at every step to check for solid ground one step ahead. We got a ways up the hill, but decided to head back down to the river due to darkness - the plan was to follow the river to the road at that point. We stumbled down the hill, falling into small holes, and surviving many close calls (editor's note: here we observe the sixth mistake. When it gets too dark to see, stay put!). The close calls would catch up with us, as things took a fairly serious turn for the worse.

We were progressing slowly, being quite careful. I lead, with JP close behind, so that we wouldn't lose each other. One instant, we were making some progress, the next, I was taking a step onto thin air, next to a large boulder. I fell immediately, totally unaware of the void on the far side of the boulder, and I landed sitting on the backs of my legs. My mind raced, trying to determine whether my body was injured. I could feel soft moss underneath me, and the only pain I could feel came from the back of my right calf. Fortunately, it turned out to be a sort of charly horse, and it went away quickly. I stood back up, uninjured, to find the boulder towering over my head, with JP on top looking down.

I am infinitely grateful that I didn't injure myself falling off that rock. There might've been more boulders, a fallen tree or shrubs. The fall might've been eighty feet instead of eight. I could've easily died, or at least gotten badly injured. We were far from any path, and I might've bled to death right there. Instead, I fell eight feet onto a bed of soft moss, and I was completely fine. So, we kept going :)

Five minutes later, we found a smallish boulder sunk into the ground. We sat down on it for a minute, and discussed our situation. We decided that it was too dangerous to continue, and so we layed down on the rock, huddling for warmth.

At eleven, we called 911. The call taker wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, and it took fifteen minutes of cell phone power to convey to her that we were not at Martinique Beach. After twenty-five minutes, she'd finally located the trail complex we'd been hiking. I don't believe she ever got a good idea of where we actually were. She dispatched an RCMP officer, then told me to turn my cell off - she'd call me back in twenty-five minutes.

An hour after turning my cell back on, I called 911 again. The woman told me to wait for a call from the RCMP officer. Fifteen minutes later, he called. He'd found the my car and was parked beside it. He tried putting his siren on, but we couldn't hear it. I asked him to drive down the road about eight kilometers, and try blaring his siren there. We hung up, and I turned my phone off, believing that he was going to do that.

An hour later, we'd still heard nothing. We were getting cold, and we got up to move around and warm up. JP held out hope that we'd be found during the night, but I believed that to be impossible, given that we were so far off any trail.

We didn't make contact with anyone until about four-thirty in the morning. We passed the time by chatting about how we'd got ourselves into the situation, about all the crazy things that had happened so far, about what the RCMP officer was doing and why we didn't hear his siren, and about what we were going to do come morning. We tried to figure out the direction to move in, relative to the sunrise.

As the night wore on, we got colder and colder. I zipped up my wet sweatshirt-like jacket around both of us and we lay on the rock, shivering. I had shorts on, and my legs were paining from the many cuts I'd gotten pushing through the dense forests.

It began to get noticably lighter around four. We pointed out to each other each new object we were able to distinguish in the darkness. We were determined not to move until it was safe to do so.

I called 911 again, and they told us to stay put. They told me I'd get a call from the leader of the rescue team. Paying close attention to our instructions, we started walking. We wanted to get to the top of the hill to get a look at things. Fifteen minutes later, the rescue leader called. He said teams were being dispatched to the area, and to call him if we heard a whistle in the next two hours.

At the top of the hill, we could see nothing but fog and trees. Despite this, we headed down the hill over very rough terrain. We had to climb over fallen trees, crawl over boulders and push our way though thick shrubs. At the bottom of the hill, we entered a flat area, and got our first taste of possible rescue. A car could be heard in the distance! It didn't sound too close, but it was a direction to go in. We walked for about forty minutes, before hearing our second car. This time, the sound came from directly behind us. It sounded closer, so we decided to turn around and go in that direction. We did not encounter the hill again, so clearly our paths weren't straight. The third car sound again came from directly behind.

At this point, we were getting very irritated, especially JP. We were colder than ever, courtesy of the cold water that rained down upon us as we pushed through the trees (we later found that it had gone down to 7 degrees overnight). We were tired and thirsty, and we were moving in circles. The ground was swampy, and our shoes filled with water with every step. Whenever we stopped for a break, the mosquitos swarmed around us. The cuts on my legs were agonizing, as they got whipped and re-cut. Something had to be done. So, instead of attempting to walk in a straight line, I began picking trees, several at a time, forming a straight line ahead of us. We would get to the first tree, then pick a new tree further in the distance to maintain the line.

We then heard a car that seemed very close. We walked about 100 feet toward the sound, then waited for the next car to come. It was closer, and again, we walked 100 feet and waited. After doing this four or five times, I saw a clearing! We hoped it was grass next to the highway, but it was almost as good. It was the train tracks that parallel the highway! We were excited to say the least! We jumped up and down, and hugged each other. We turned left, and proceeded down the tracks, shivering and happy.

Ten minutes into our walk, we came to a sign warning that the path was obstructed ahead, so we turned around. By now, the cold was really getting to us, as we were no longer sheltered from the wind by the forest. We didn't care much about turning around - we were too happy about making it out of the woods.

I decided to call the leader of the rescue team, and he told me that there was a jeep patrolling the railroad tracks, and that we'd probably see it soon. At that point, my phone finally ran out of batteries - what would we have done without it?! Not a minute after the call, the jeep came around the far corner, moving agonizingly slowly toward us.

Four local members of the rescue team greeted us and joked about whether we could use a lift. They put us in the back seat, gave us chocolate bars, water and blankets to warm us up. I'm experiencing a rush of excitement now, as I relive those moments. There were times in the swamp that I thought we might not make it out, after getting turned completely around twice. We were both cold and discouraged for several hours before making it out. The jeep turned around, and we headed back to the parking lot around seven-thirty.

I shivered the entire time in the jeep. The ride was slow, as the tracks weren't meant for vehicles - we never went faster than 20 km/h. It didn't help that perhaps the oldest member of the rescue team was behind the wheel. It was agonizing. We apologized to the men in the jeep, but they would not let us in any way blame ourselves. They told us that it happens, and that many people get lost in the same area as we did. In fact, they generally go out on a rescue twice a week.

On the way back to the parking lot, we passed two more teams of four, on foot. They told us that the chopper hadn't yet taken off, due to fog. THE CHOPPER! The idea of a helicopter looking for us seemed ridiculous. It sort of drove home just our serious our predicament was. They gave us water and chocolate bars to rehydrate/re-energize us.

Back at the parking lot, the site of my car was beautiful. They wanted to drive us down to the search headquarters, but I convinced them to let me drive my car there. I finally got out of my wet sweatshirt and put my raincoat on instead. As we drove to the headquarters, we relished the feeling of being safe inside the car. This was also our first chance to talk about what had happened.

At the rescue headquarters (a bus, with generators and satellite dishes), an RCMP officer was waiting. He asked us a couple of questions, such as how we'd gotten lost, as well as for personal information.

Also on the bus was the rescue coordinator, his assistant, a college student working a laptop computer attached to a printer and a satellite dish, and two older ladies whose job it was to prepare food. They made us oatmeal (it was delicious, the first time I've said that about plain oatmeal), chicken soup and hot chocolate. Only after we'd finished our meals would the rescue people question us for future reference.

They asked how we'd gotten lost, and where we'd gotten lost. We looked at a map, and it turned out that the path we'd taken after finding the crossroads wasn't marked - it was not the path we meant to take. We realized that the path we had taken simply was a dead end path, ending at a marshy, watery area, which explains why we lost it. As suspected, we never crossed the real river, but rather a small stream in a marshy area leading to the river. We'd walked about two kilometres through dense forest and marsh. They offered us a copy of the map, but instead I managed to obtain a copy with a cross hairs marking our position, labeled "persons found."

We said our thank-yous and goodbyes, and were on our way. We joked about going back to the parking lot for another hike. Instead, we went home and completely crashed, exhausted. JP escaped with relatively minor injuries, but my legs were severely scratched and cut, and are still healing almost a month later.

I bought a GPS receiver the next day.