Rescue on Hula - Part 4 - Can We Get You Anything?

I kept us on course for another 300 yards and told Nick to turn on his light and shine the shore on his left.  There, but 50 feet in front of us, was the little outlaw portage that puts us into the bay that leads to the Hula Portage with a lot less paddling.   We were now out of the wind as it raged overhead, and we could hear the frogs again.  There were absolutely no bugs of any kind as fortunately is the case with many Mays in our neck of the woods.  Heavy mosquitoes would have made it all the more exciting.

We got out, slid the canoe over the 20’ piece of rock and mud and reloaded.  As we headed due north on the now sheltered bay with no raging waters, Nick gave me the “talk”.

"Joe, you know,” he began slowly, “You and your dad have been doing this for your entire lives and your resort has never, ever had an accident or fatality.  What I’m trying to say is that you need to prepare yourself for when that time comes, because, after 40 years, sooner or later, it is going to catch up with you.  It’s not your fault, but the odds grow more against you with every passing day.”

"Yeah, I know, Nick, “  I replied.  “I’ve been dreading a night like this for years now.  Maybe we’ll get lucky, but it’s not looking too good.”

“Yeah” he replied and we continued pushing that canoe forward as fast as we could. Our arms were tired out from that last whitecap section but the temptation to take a break was fleeting. Our minds unrelentingly forced us to continue forward at full speed.

Finally, we hit the Hula portage at the very end of the bay. It was now 12:30 PM.   Nick got out and radioed in our location and the nice lady at Dispatch asked if she “could get us anything?”   Nick said “No, not where we are at” and that he’d call in later.   Nick chuckled and said that he’s pretty sure she had "absolutely no clue as to where we are at this very minute".  I laughed and asked him to request  a helicopter with some really strong lights.  I flipped the canoe on my shoulders  and up the trail we went, heading further north on the short, 40 rod, Hula portage.

We made it to the landing of Hula and the water from Wood Lake is pouring loudly in at the creek on about 50 feet west of our position.  We decide to yell into the darkness to see if there is anybody out there.  Nothing. No lights, no noise, just the wind out on the water and the full creek roaring.  The wind howled overhead and a bluster of snowflakes lit up as they fell through our flashlight beams.  We put the canoe on the water and headed down the short creek passageway to the open area of Hula.

We made it to more open terrain and the image in front of us made my heart fall out of me and into the water.  There was a large, silver arc reflecting back at us in both our flashlights, about 17 feet long.  It looked like the silver canoe on it’s side with the top of the gunwale facing us as a macabre marker.    I began making notes in my head about how I going to hold it all together when I saw dead bodies floating alongside and we had to pull them over the side into the canoe.  I was literally telling myself I had to be strong to get these guys home.  Nick was going to need every bit of my help.  The voice in my head got louder and I think Nick could feel it resonating from within me.  Being 15 feet in front of me, Nick  confirmed it first, and quickly.

“It’s a tree!  It’s a birch tree that a beaver cut down!  Not a canoe!”

My stomach went back to where my stomach belongs about 14 inches below my neck. I caught my breath with relief.  Damn beavers!

But now that we know this IS NOT the canoe;  where THE HELL is it! Our night was just beginning.

We made it to the first and only actual point on that tiny spit of a lake called Hula.  I told Nick we should head clockwise to see if they managed to get out of the northwest wind by heading that direction and using the northwest corner of the shoreline for cover.  Nick agreed and that’s the way I turned the bow of the canoe.  

We moved along every inch of that water, checking out every single deadhead in that lake.  Being part of the water trail that logs were floated down at the turn of the century when the entire BWCA was clear cut for shoring timber, there are  a lot of deadheads floating in Hula.  In the darkness, they all look like a guy clinging to a tree stump.  It’s not a pleasant sight on a search and rescue mission and rather unnerving at times.  We checked every last one as per Nick saying we had to do that.  I didn’t argue.  He’d been on far more search and rescues than me.

As we moved along the shore, we shined on the water,  inland, and even up the hills.  Every now and then,  snow that escaped the wind roaring above the treeline would lightly fall in the glare of our flashlights.   If we weren’t looking out for lost humans, it would have been fun.   I put my glasses in my pocket long ago and was still able to see quite well for the most part, but Nick was the “eyes” of the operation.   I mentioned that our lights were just about on their last legs and we’d need to fall on the last backup light I brought along in the pack.   All the while, we're both wondering where these guys went with their canoe.  They could have left Hula and headed into Wood Lake and be on the far end in Hidden Bay with a rolled canoe. They could have crossed into Good Lake. We sure weren't finding any sign of them on Hula.

Along the northern shore of Hula where the portage leads out to Good Lake 150 rods over the hill, Nick marveled at how far up the shore the beavers go to knock down trees.  We approached the Hula river as it heads out to Wind Bay of Basswood and it is impassable.  The water was high and we could hear it roaring ahead.  I told Nick if these guys when this way tonight, they’ll be dead by morning because the temperature had really begun to drop.  We weren’t going in there to find them – at least not in the dark.