A Random True Story
After graduating high school at 17, I decided to take a year or two off to work and think about things. I ended up in western Canada, having been hired by a resource exploration company through sheer luck.
I had a low level job, not much money but lots of freedom. It’s hard to describe what I did – mostly field logistics sorts of things. Today my mission was to use a map and go place markers at certain locations. These markers would guide the crews to follow. It was January, deep in winter and very cold, -20 Celsius cold.
Another Cold Day
After I started my truck up, I tuned into the local radio station. There was a public service announcement: “William …., aged 68, has been reported missing, after failing to return yesterday from a hunting trip in the local township. … If you have any information, please contact the nearest police station.” Then finally, after a string of radio-style ear-bait ads, some music. This is what I wanted.
Image Unslpash - Rob Bye
I checked the map and drove down the long, narrow prairie road to my turn-off point. This was pre-handheld GPS days, not as easy as it sounds. I got out of the truck and engaged the front axle hubs. Four wheel drive mandatory. I turned off the road and started to drive across the vast white frozen beyond. Fortunately the snow was not too deep.
I drove for miles. My navigation tools were a map, a compass, and the truck’s odometer. Looking back, I did pretty well I think. There was a high-pressure system, the sun was out, and the glare from the light reflecting on the snow was causing me pain. I had to squint. Then I saw a distant dot in the overwhelming whiteness. I headed toward it.
It was a truck. Abandoned. It had become stuck in the snow, in a slight depression where the snow was deeper. I noticed it was a standard 2-wheel drive. Why the hell anyone would go cross-country in winter in that thing?
There were tracks around the vehicle. One set I could see were human, another set some kind of animal, probably a deer. It seems he had been tracking the deer and got stuck. Not wanting to give up the hunt, he started to follow it on foot. I don’t know why. I remembered the radio announcement from the morning. Suddenly, it seemed, I had a new mission. I got out of my truck and followed.
Image Pixabay - LoggaWiggler
Something More Important
I veered off my designated route, and followed the tracks. The countryside became more rolling, with low points of deeper snow. After a couple of miles I saw a small tree. There was another form resting below it.
Image Pexels - Jim Basa
I arrived. And there he was, sitting upright beneath the tree, his hunting rifle cradled in his lap. His eyes were open, staring into the far distance. He could be my grandfather. I stopped and looked. He was motionless, silent.
At 17, I had never had to face death in any way yet. All my loved-ones were still alive. To me, death was a metaphor, something written about in poems or great novels. Or, it was violence-porn in movies and on TV. Or a catastrophe in some distant, unfortunate country. I was certain death would never find me. Yet here we were, the dead man and me.
I had to be sure. I called out to him – no movement and no answer. I approached him slowly, more out of respect than fear. I grasped his gloved hand, it was stiff. I took off my gloves, and gently touched his cheek with my hand. His eyes stared ahead, unblinking. I checked his neck for a pulse, knowing it was a wasted effort. He must have become exhausted walking through the snow, and stopped to recover. The cold gave him a long rest.
When Reality Comes Calling
I stood up and looked around at the empty frozen wilderness. And this man, a stranger to me. My notions about how ‘one is to die’ were shattered. In my immature imagination, I supposed that, if one absolutely had to die, it would be in a cozy bed, surrounded by the warmth of a fire, and the love of family. Yet he had died many miles from home, alone in a cold, barren world. I felt terrified.
Image Unsplash - Michael Weidner
I drove the many miles back to town and reported my discovery to the RCMP (police). They followed me back to the area, and took care of things afterwards. By this time it was dark, the work day was over, and I had not completed my job task. As I drove back to town yet again, I had very mixed emotions.
I went to my boss to give my daily report. Nothing, except for my story. He gave me a smile, part cynical, part angry, and said, “Okay, you can go now”. I went back to my room, sure I was about to be fired. The job didn’t pay much, but it was all I had.
An hour later there was a knock on my door. As I feared, it was my boss. I was silently angry that he would fire me. Instead, he smiled, grabbed me by the shoulder and said, “Hey, come on, let’s go eat.” He took me to the best place in town. Prime rib, all the extras, and beer.
Legally, I was too young to drink, but under the circumstances neither one of us cared. Seems he had contacted the police and confirmed my story.
Image Unsplash - Joshua Earle
I kept my job. But ever since that experience I have been haunted by a thought and a feeling – that you can be out there somewhere, alone and fighting to stay alive, while the world around you continues its journey, unknowing.
