Chapter 3

Tuesday, August 23, 2016 – On Trail to Lake of Islands

When Jim Hawkins and Michael Cooper left Jim’s home, they headed north on the St. Mary’s Falls Road, a dirt and gravel road through the park. The road was clear and Karl’s rain hadn’t arrived yet. The two men could see the leading cloud line marking the outer extent of the hurricane as they rode their Gators north. Jim signaled a stop about 5 kilometers to the north. They turned off the St. Mary’s Falls Road onto a narrower side road.

The pair stopped again about five minutes later when the rain started. They pulled on rain jackets and pants. Both knew the rest of their trip was going to be wet and windy. Jim guessed the wind was probably blowing 50-65 kph (30-40 mph). The pair pressed on.

Jim came to a skidding stop as he rounded a bend a few kilometers ahead. A big, 0.6-0.7 meter diameter tree had crashed down across the narrow road. The brush was too thick to drive around the tree.

“I knew we would have this,” Jim remarked as he hopped out of his Gator. Michael came to a stop behind Jim’s Gator. “You still remember how to use a chain saw?”

“I grew up in the Adirondacks,” Michael answered. “Of course I know how to use one.”

“Let’s get to work,” Jim responded.

The pair needed close a half hour to turn the big tree into logs small enough for the two men to push to the side of the narrow road. They pressed on to the west in spite of the heavy rain and rising wind gusts. Three times they had to stop and chop up freshly felled trees blocking the trail.

Jim stopped at a trail intersection and pointed to the north. “If we have to find shelter today, we will head up here to Halfway Lake,” Jim explained. “There is a small cabin there that can provide us with shelter.”

The pair motored on. They dropped down into a stream valley and splashed through a stream about a kilometer after the turn-off for Halfway Lake. The wind and rain intensified as they continued on. The pair had to chain saw two more trees to get them out of the trail before they reached the open meadow near Lake of Islands, the hikers’ destination.

Jim stopped at the edge of the last rise before the lake to take in the view. “There they are,” he exclaimed when he spotted two tan and green tents along the edge of the lake. “That was easy.”

“I’m glad,” Michael agreed. He was soaked to the skin in spite of the heavy rain coat and pants he was wearing. The two men drove their Gators down the hill to the backpacker campsite.

“Hello, anybody here?” Jim called out when their noisy ATVs didn’t attract anyone’s attention.

“Now what, buddy?” Michael asked as Jim poked around the deserted campsite.

“Let’s hike up along the lake shore and call for them,” Jim suggested. “How far could they have gone?”

“I don’t know,” Michael said.

“Walk about five minutes north from here and yell for the hikers,” Jim instructed. “Meet me back here after five minutes of searching. We’ll decide what to do next based on what we find. I’ll head south along the lake shore.”

“You got it, buddy,” Michael agreed.

Jim headed south, calling, “Park Warden, Call out if you hear my voice.” Jim did similar, walking north through the rain and winds. Neither man met anyone on their five minute walk. The two met back at the campsite.

“Now what?” Michael asked.

“We go to louder means to attract their attention,” Jim replied. He pulled his pistol out of the holster and fired it three times into the air. “The international sign for help is three shots, three bangs, or three of something.”

“I didn’t realize you packed heat for this warden job,” Michael commented. “I remember how uncomfortable you were around guns when we were in college.”

“This is a job requirement,” Jim explained. “We have bears and moose roaming the park. I have to be prepared for whatever comes my way.”

“Fair enough,” Michael agreed. “How long do we wait for these jokers?”

“I will fire off my pistol three more times in ten minutes and then we give them a half hour,” Jim said.

“I was afraid you’d say something like that, buddy,” Michael said. “This weather has turned God awful.”

“You volunteered to come out here in the middle of a hurricane,” Jim responded. “It seems to me you chose to be out in this storm.”

“You needed the help,” Michael said.

“I do,” Jim agreed. “I have always been able to count on you when things get tough. I guess that’s why we’ve been friends for twenty-eight years.”

Jim and Michael reminisced about their time rooming together at Syracuse University, so many years earlier. Jim fired three more “Help” shots with his pistol after ten minutes. Five minutes later the two looked up to see two young couples in their twenties jogging in the trail from Halfway Lake.

“M. Warden, what is wrong?” one of the men asked when the two groups met. “Do you need help?”

“No, actually you need the help, M. Dejardins,” Jim replied.

“No, we are fine, except for this unexpected rain,” M. Dejardins answered. “The weather system said we could expect a sunny afternoon when we left your campgrounds yesterday morning.”

“Hurricane Karl decided to visit Halifax instead of Bermuda,” Jim said. “The park is closing and we are here to evacuate you.”

“That is not necessary,” M. Dejardins replied.

“We are experienced campers and we have good, quality gear,” the other man added. “We can handle a little wind and rain.”

“Can your tents handle 200 kph winds?” Jim asked.

“Um ... I’m not sure,” the man said. “They really expect 200 kph winds?”

“They do. Let’s not find out if your tents are up that wind speed,” Jim said. “The park superintendent has ordered evacuation of the park. Michael and I are here to drive you out to your car, so you can get to proper shelter before we get the worst of the hurricane.”

Two couples looked at each other before M. Dejardins said, “I guess we better get packed.” Jim and Michael helped load things in the backs of the Gators as the two couples folded up and packed their belongings. The last two packs had to be tied down to get them aboard the Gators. Jim invited the two ladies to have seats behind him and M. Desjardins. The other man sat beside Michael Cooper.

“I’m Mike Cooper, by way of introduction,” Mike said as he followed Jim’s Gator up the hill towards civilization.

“Nicolas Brown,” the man said as he reached to shake Jim’s hand. “My wife, Audrey, is ahead in the front ATV with my friends Antony and Gabrielle Desjardins.”

“Do you work for the park?” Nicolas asked.

“No, I am just a friend of Jim’s,” Michael explained. “Jim, ahead of us, is the park warden leading the way. We roomed together in college.”

“Did you come up to Canada for university?” Nicolas asked. “Sorry, your American accent is a dead give-away.”

“I’m sure it is,” Michael agreed. “Jim and I both graduated from Syracuse University in up-state New York.”

“It’s a good school, from what I have heard,” Nicolas said.

“It is,” Michael agreed. “Where had you and the Desjardins gone when we stopped by earlier? Jim and I were afraid we would have to leave you behind to the hurricane’s mercies.”

“We got up early to hike down to White Hill,” Nicolas explained. Michael gave him a blank look. “White Hill is the highest part of the Breton highlands. We hoped to get some good photos from the top of the hill. The clouds and rain ruined that plan.”

“Hurricanes do that,” Michael agreed. The noise from the Gator’s engine, combined with the wind driven rain blowing directly into their faces kept conversation to the minimum. Jim was forced to stop just before the trail dipped down to Warren Brook. A tree had fallen across the trail since they came through an hour later. Jim and Michael cut up the tree in larger pieces, since they had four men to push the logs away. Half an hour later, the small convoy was underway.

Little Warren Brook had swelled to more than double its normal width. The two Gators revved up and splashed on through. There was no safety on the west side of the creek. The group ran into three more downed trees as they climbed out of the little valley and headed across the ridge towards Halfway Lake.

Jim turned left onto the narrow trail down to Halfway Lake when they reached the intersection. It was around four o’clock in the afternoon. “There is no way we can reach the campground tonight if any more trees blow down on the trail,” Jim explained.

“I think we can expect to find more trees,” Michael added.

“Where do we stay?” Antony Dejardins asked.

“I know of a small cabin up ahead,” Jim replied. “It will be tight but it should provide us with a safe, dry place to ride out the hurricane.”

Jim led the group down the narrow, half kilometer trail to Halfway Lake. They motored around the lake to the far side, only to find three downed trees had crushed the tiny, one hundred year-old cabin.

“What’s Plan B, buddy?” Michael asked as the group stared at the remains of their shelter.

“I know of some rock outcroppings on the south side of the main trail,” Jim said. “They won’t be as cozy as the cabin would have been but they will provide us protection from the wind and rain for tonight.”

The group agreed to follow Jim’s recommendations. They drove back to the main trail and then followed behind Jim’s Gator as they picked their way through the sparse forest. The rock outcroppings were a few hundred meters off the trail. The rocks towered 10 to 15 meters above the surrounding terrain. They were stacked close together. Jim took the group of over the next to last set of outcroppings and pointed out a 2 meter wide crevice between two outcroppings.

The taller rocks on the windward side of the crevice hung over the lower outcroppings to the east. The crevice ran north and south, perpendicular to the direction of the wind. Jim and the group used one tarp to cover the open side of the crevice to keep rain and wind out. A second tarp went down as a ground cloth. They moved their camping gear, stoves, food and sleeping bags into their impromptu shelter.

The shelter wasn’t entirely dry since the rain could run down the face of the rocks and puddle on the crevice floor, but it was serviceable. They didn’t need to fear a tree dropping on them overnight as they sheltered from the hurricane. Antony and Nicolas offered to prepare supper for the group. The Desjardins and Browns had a good selection of freeze dried meals they could share with Jim and Michael. The six settled down to a cramped and damp night in their tiny shelter, hopefully safe from the full rage of Hurricane Karl.