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I Should Have Stayed Home
Back in early January of 1986, I was living in Northern Michigan. The sun was shining and it was turning into a beautiful warm day in the high 30's. The only thing on the work list was to fill up the back porch with firewood and chop some kindling. After lunch, with the chores done, I was becoming restless and decide to go try my hand at under-the-ice beaver trapping.
I packed up my only 2 beaver traps, 2 -#330 conibears, an ax, wire, a few aspen branches (poplar branches are beaver's favorite food) for bait, grabbed my trusty old single shot, Steven's 20 gauge for snowshoe rabbits, if I was lucky enough to see one. Strapped on my snowshoes and headed out. This turned out to be one of the most memorable days of my life.
It was a little before 1 p.m. when I left the house and started the 2-1/2 mile walk back to the beaver pond. The snow was three feet deep, with drifts to four feet. I hadn't been snowshoeing for years and was having a lot of fun trying to walk upright. I crossed the 3/4 mile of open field without too much trouble but once in the woods things changed. The snow was not packed in the woods so the snowshoes sank deeper and found every hidden snag causing me to fall down.
For those of you that have never had the pleasure of snowshoeing in deep un-traveled snow let me explain. After you fall down getting up is an exercise in itself. Your feet with the snowshoes want to stay on top of the snow and your body and arms are trying to sink. With my arms sinking out of sight, I was looking for something solid to push up with, and my mind was hoping no "Outdoor Life" snowshoeing expert was standing by taking pictures. This was quite frustrating after 3 or 4 times and it reminded me of the "Three Stooges" when their boat was sinking and they drilled more holes in the bottom to let the water out. After a break (really a face-first fall) I started slowing down and soon was getting the hang of it. Then my first critical mistake happened.
I had learned to walk in the more open areas to avoid the hidden snags in the thicker swamp area. I was almost to the beaver ponds when I walked out into a small clearing. Around the middle of this easy walking clearing, the ice gave way. My snowshoes, ever so helpful, broke through tip first and the water was deep enough so that they slide in at almost a vertical angle, throwing me forward. There I was standing in water over my knees. I tried to pull out but the snowshoes worked like a spring bolt and would not come up through the hole no matter what angle I tried. The ice-cold, black swamp water was making my legs, from the knees down go numb and I knew I had to get out fast. I took the ax out and started chopping a bigger hole but all I accomplish was getting the rest of me wet. So I said the hell with this, sat down on my pack, removed my gloves and reached down in the icy water to unbuckle my snowshoes. Real quick, I had both snowshoes unbuckled and out of the water. Most people would have said the hell with it and headed home, but NO , not me. I have built a log cabin, I'm a modern Mountain Man. So I walked over to a fallen log, brushed off the snow and sat down, I removed my wet clothing, wrung them out quickly and was back dressed in a flash.
This works OK in temperature above freezing as long you get moving quickly. The blood will start flowing and start to warm up the wet areas. Besides, the beaver pond was only a few hundred yards ahead. I noticed a few clouds rolling in but overall it was still a nice day.
When I reached the beaver pond I learned my lesson and removed my snowshoes before walking on the ice. I cut a pole 10' long about 2" in diameter, sharpen one end, wired the bait to the trigger, set the trap to safety and slide the springs on the pole. With this all set up I chopped a hole in the ice between the beaver's feed pile and their lodge. I cleared most of the ice out of the hole, set the trap and lowered it into the hole. The hole was just a little too small but with a little force it should fit. You guessed it, the trap was about half way in when the trigger caught and fired the trap spraying me with water. This is just not my day, I thought. I reset the trap, chopped the hole bigger and somehow managed to get the trap set. Then I placed pine boughs over the open hole and buried it with snow. This prevents the water from freezing solid and makes it easier when you return to open the hole. I set the second trap over by the dam. This under the ice beaver trapping in January is work. At least, I felt happy that the traps were set and I could head home.
Before I left, I just had to go over and look over the feed pile to make sure my first set aligned with the den. So I was walking around the feed pile, when you guessed it, I found where the beaver had been going, by falling through their hole. You see, the beaver have a favorite place they go and they let out air, which forms air bubbles that weakens the ice. The things you learn falling through the ice. I was up to my waist and quickly exited the water. Same routine, wrung the wet clothes out and headed for home.
I was wet to my waist, my parka was wet on the bottom, and my gloves were wet. It was time to get my rear end home to the fire. It was now about 4:30 and the sky had filled with dark clouds. The temperature was dropping quickly. Just as I left the beaver pond the first light snow started falling. During this time of year it normally got dark about 5:30. An hour to get out, perfect I thought. As I walked out my wet clothes began to form ice. I knew the temperature had fallen below freezing and the wind was picking up. The light snow was turning heavier and thicker with each minute. I quickened my pace.
The wind was picking up speed and every spot on me that was wet quickly turned to heavy ice. The clouds rolled in heavy and dark. I had the feeling I was only a mere speck in the coming storm. By the time I reach the field, the storm was in its full fury, darkness was setting early. I was shivering uncontrollably. My strength was being used up trying to heat up my body. I stepped out into the field, 3/4 of a mile to go, I thought, no big deal. I took my bearing on a far off tree, just before the white out hit. Did I have a compass, oh no, not me, compasses are for city people, not me. Boy, did I eat them words.
The wind was howling at 30 knots, the temperature had dropped to around 10 above, the wind chill effect was minus 18 and I was dressed lightly and almost half of that was ice. Only 3/4 mile across the open field lay my house and safety. The snowshoes formed ice and the heavy wet lake effect snow quickly stuck to them with each step. This was slowing me down from the added weight. For the first time I thought I might be in serious trouble. In a white out you can't see more then 5 or 6 feet in front of you, all the familiar landmarks are gone. When I reached the tree I aligned myself with the house, not that I could see it, but from experience.
The second stage of hypothermia was setting in and I knew I was in serious trouble. It was unbelievable at how fast I was falling into the effects of hypothermia. The snowshoes felt like two lead weights on my feet, I couldn't feel my toes or finger tips. My mind was getting foggy. God, the never-ending pounding wind was hitting me full in the face. I now know it was the wind that kept robbing me of my body heat. In the full force of the wind, the snow stuck to every wet icy spot, weighting me down.
I stopped to catch my breath and looked at the time, 5:30, now full darkness added to white out condition. My God, I must have missed the house, I should have been there by now. All the stories I ever heard of lost people wandering around in white out conditions, being a few feet from safety, but never making it came rushing into my head. I was so tired and only if I could get out of this unmerciless wind, just for a few minutes to warm up was all I wanted. I thought about leaving my pack and shotgun behind, less weight, but realized the straps of the pack were almost frozen to my parka. I could leave the shotgun but then I thought, no, that was the first gun my dad had bought me and I wasn't leaving it.
I was almost to the panic stage, where the hell is the house? Most right handed people angle slightly to the right when they walk, so I should head left. God, I was tired. The never-ending wind and whiteout just kept beating me down. I remember falling and the wonderful feeling of being out of the wind when I sunk under the snow. The falling snow quickly covered my body and I was out of the wind. What a pleasant feeling, I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew I awoke with a start and realized if I didn't get moving I wasn't going to make it. I thought of my wife and sons looking out the kitchen window into the darkening blizzard wondering when I was coming home. I knew they would be worried.
When I stood up and the wind hit me, adrenaline surged through me, get moving, I thought. I struggled on, then out of the corner of my eye I saw something flicker. Please God, I thought, give me just one minute break to see which way to go. Just then off to my right, my prayer was answered, a brief let up on the storm and I saw our outside light only 100 yards away. Then just as quickly, the storm came back and the light was gone. Did I image it? It is a good thing the break came when it did because I was unconsciously veering to the left and would have missed the house only to wander around out in the field. No, I thought, that was the real thing and with new energy I quickly arrived at our back porch.
My wife was there in an instant. Every thing was frozen to me and I was unable to get out of anything. She quickly unbuckled my snowshoes and hurried me into the house. Standing next to the wood stove I started to thaw and she was able to get my gloves and coat off. Soon I was into dry clothes, drinking hot soup and coffee. No permanent frostbite had set in, but to this day my hands and feet get cold easily.
For those of you who don't know what lake effect snow is, when an approaching storm crosses one of the Great Lakes it picks up added moisture. The first land mass the storm hits, it dumps the moisture in the form of heavy wet snow. Up to 12" an hour, but it's usually about 3-6" an hour.
Two days later after checking the weather, I returned to pull my traps. The one trap by the feed pile was sprung and empty. Probably a muskrat set it off without getting caught. The second trap was still set untouched. I placed both traps in the pack and headed home. At the edge of the pond a snowshoe rabbit broke out and ran for cover. The trusty 20 ga. barked once. As I loaded the rabbit into the pack I thought at least I'm not going home empty handed. No more walks in the woods in January anymore. Well, at least not if there is a storm coming and when I do you can bet I will have a compass. Hey, I can trap enough beaver in the fall and in the spring, why go though that? This is my new outlook.
What did I do wrong? Plenty, first off I was dressed lightly in blue jeans, no long johns, a T-shirt, a flannel shirt, and a light winter jacket, and NO waterproof gloves. No compass, I should have checked the weather, when I first got wet I should I have headed home. Even now, as I sit typing this, I think why was I so tired out. The effect of wet clothing in the minus 18-degree wind was robbing me of body heat and my body just couldn't keep up. I now own 5 pairs of wool pants and wool shirts. Why wool? Because wool will keep you warm even when wet. Lesson learned! Be careful and don't be bull-headed like me, who has learned this the hard way.
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