The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

7 <a PAGE 12 Below is an article sent in by Don Brearley which he "might be of interest to the people of Terrace Bay". He says "We are enjoying it here in Maine, maybe because it reminds us so much of Terrace Bay" Don and his family, formerly of Terrace Bay, now make their home in Woodland, Maine. HOW TO PREPARE FOR SURVIVAL Take me for instance. Tt could- n't happen to me. One moment surrounded by others on other snowmobiles; the next moment absolutely alone. Blackness. Alone. Snow whirling in the stinging wind. Piercing cold. Blind and lost on Nash's Lake whose vague, impentrable shore- lines showed only as a dim out- line against the dark, starlight night. Absolutely alone and lost in a temperature that was drop- ping, had alréady dropped to 10 below zero in a wind that was gusting at least to 30 miles an hour. The nearest warmth lay at least five or more miles away across the lake and _ through deep forests heavy with drifting snow that made every step a challenge. (No matches, no light of any kind, no compass, no- thing. The only thing I had on me was a complete list written on the back of an envelope--a list of all the things I'd need to sur- vive under circumstances like this. But-i didn't even have a match to light the list with. The lights of the searching . snowmaehines with my friends aboard came close, close enough to throw a snowball at; turned and the red lights on the rear of the machines vanished into the swirling snowy mist. Alone again and finally. I turned to retrace my steps to the camp from .which I had run to greet their lights and there were no footsteps, no sign I had walked upon the lake, upon this earth. I was absolutely marooned on a three-mile-long lake after dark in sub-zero wind and blowing snow. I.ran, then slowed to a walk and finally ended simply lifting one heavy booted foot after the other, giving thanks that I was able to make just one more step towards the black shoreline. Just short of that shoreline I remem- bered from looking at the map of the area that the lake ran north and south and that to the south lay the closest help, the nearest warmth. Catching the pointer stars of the Big Dipper just before they went down beyond a ridge, I found the North -Star and put my back to it, traveling some three hundred feet from the shoreline so I wouldn't fall into partly frozen spots which I had been told would bé found in this section of the lake. Just after that my right foot went deep into softness beneath the drifts on the lake and I brought it up use up my energy for nothing. dripping wet with slush ana water. There before lay an om- inous sludge of unfrozen water, grey and several yards wide and certain cold death. I circled it, gave it a wide berth and pushed for the shoreline. Heading south again I paral- leled the shoreline. Sixteen steps. Stand still and get your breath. If you can let your body get its strength back, you can go on forever. Sixteen steps, rest. The next! sixteen come harder but don't stop at four- | teen. The lights again of the others searching for me_ but they're on the. opposite side of the lake. Might as well be on the other side of the world. Watch out for soft spots in the lake. That would be a hell of a way to go. Wonder what drowning in ice water feels like? The blowing snow cuts my face, finds its way into the crevices of my hood and down my neck. Stupid thing to do, should have stayed with my machine. Will.I make it off this lake? How long is it? What is that off to my left? That glow of whitness on the shoreline? It's only a huge boulder with snow on it. Should I check it out or should I keep going? I had better take a look. Two hundred feet through the drifting, blinding snow could Better do it, though. Yes, it's only a big rock. No, it's a small cabin. A human has been here. There's warmth there if onlv in the lee of it. 'It's something and IT can start again from here. This is a camp. The people who own it had to get here by car or boat. If they got here by boat, I've had it for there's no trail out. If they came here by car, there's a trail from where I sit leading to the road. And the road leads out. I don't care how far it is, it's better than that lake. And it's warmer here in the woods away from that wind and sweeping screaming snow. Relax. You've made it. Stop shaking. Remember the guy in that book, 'We Die Alone," who walked across Sweden in three weeks, alone, injured, with no food and the Germans hunting him. He made that. You can make this. The only sounds were the wind whisking the. snow along the lake's edge, the occa- siona! creak, snap and groan of the big trees' branches in the sharp cold, my labored breath- ing as I lifted one foot in front of the other until suddenly, mir-. aculously, one foot fell onto the hard-packed, ribbed surface that a snow machine had made, ap- ao earlier that same day or it wasn't drifted over but very little. This way is out. I had been on my own for a little oyer two hours and it was getting much colder but at least I was in the protection of the woods--big trees shouldered the wind away from me and I rested to build up my strength for whatever struggle through the snow lay before me. During the next two hours I made my way along the road, feeling ahead with one foot and then the other to make sure I didn't stray too far from the packed path the snowmachine had made. Each turn in the road ahead was a challenge. I didn't think in terms of the long road out but simply making that next turn, the next rise or dip on my -path. I walked a few yards, then rested; walked then rested. Once, as it turned out only half a mile from my destination, I fell asleep standing up, then woke up partly lying, partly crouching against the bank of the road. I got up, looked around me for my.bearings and went on down the winding white thread, finally came out on Shat- tuck Road in Red Beach and then on a bit further to the home of 'Gerry. Taber and his family on the shores of Keene's Lake. This was a little more than four hours after I had started. He and his wife were in the midst of helping to organize a search party--the people I had been with had found their way back on their machines into Calais over two lakes, thick with wind-driven snow, and had be- gun to round up a search and rescue group 'by telephone. When I walked into Gerry's house, he grabbed the phone and fortunately managed to get the search parties called Ct ee Now the point of this whole dramatic tale: snowsleds are not toys. You can get injured on them or killed aboard them just as surely as if you were in a small craft ten miles off the coast in a howling gale. On a snowsled ,you_ can easily travel many miles further into deep woods or onto a large open lake than you ordinarily would ever snowshoe or ski: Because the little machine looks so innocent zooming around the yard with the kids happily maneuvering it, very few people actually pause to realize that that gay little snow traveler should be equip- ped just as thoroughly and as seriously as a life raft. So, finally a word from some- one who doesn't want to pull the Nash's Lake bit again--and doesn't want anvone else to have to go through such an exper- jence needlessly either. Most. snowsleds don't come equipped with adequate storage space so get yourself a packbas- ANUARY 25, 196. ket or some kind of rugged, wat. er-repellent carrying case that you can tie on to the,stern of your machine. For extra 'equip: ment for your machine consider a drive belt, spark plug and ¢ starter rope. Make sure yot have the proper tools to replace any of these three parts and it' a good idea to have the manu facturer's booklet on your ma chine with you, too. J Most importantly, bring mat ches. Put some in your pocket; and put some in your surviva kit on your machine and kee} them waterproof. The next tw: most important items are ; flashlight and a compass--an a compass isn't much good un less you have a map of the are; you intend to travel in. A 'hat chet, axe or saw (there are som: very good collapsible saws. 01 the market) are absolute must; for clearing blow-downs or, i you have to, cutting wood for i fire. The hatchet's hammer side could come in handy if you have to knock off ice from your tread. Snowshoes are a must and 20 feet of rope could come in han- dy--say for when someone goes through the ice. As far as actually traveling is concerned,. we suggest these three rules of the snowy road: before you leave, tell someone where you plan to go--even if it's just up in the back field-- but particularly if it's a trip of a couple of miles or more. Some people have gone only a half mile from their home, lost con- trol of their machines and have knocked themselves unconscious against an unyielding maple tree. That could finish you off within sight of. your own home unless someone knew where to look for you. \ The second rule is to travel in the "bude ~*---." Azer ly if you are going on that trip of half a mile or more into deep woods. This way, if. your ma- chine gets stranded or breaks down, you 'have your partner's to travel on--or vice versa. The third rule is to constant- ly check on the whereabouts and progress of the other snowsleds in your party, The lead snowsled driver should either turn around and count noses or actually come to a full stop and look back., If a sled is missing, the whole group should wait a bit and then eventually one'of the sleds should go back on-a_ search. This constant checking should be done every. few moments. At night the lead sled should not rave! any faster than the slow- est. Riding snowsleds is a lot of fun. You'll travel into country yoti ordinarily would never €x- plore and the beauty of the snow-covered forests is unim- aginable unless you've exper- ienced it. But it's a sinister beau: ty, ina way, and we hope no one gets irretrievably caught in it Drive carefully