The annual Quebec spring fishing trip turned nearly fatal in May 1971. Our fishing group that year included five members: Chuck Chandler, Art Kite, Elijah (Lige) Carter, Bob Minor and me. We traveled on the logging road, now called the Manawaki Road, some 35 bumpy miles from Kipawa to the Garden River. There we transferred our equipment from the Canaan Valley Cannonball to our three small boats. They were very heavily loaded. Chuck and Art were in Chuck’s 14 ft boat powered by a 20 HP outboard. Lige was alone in a 12 ft boat with his 10 HP outboard. Bob and I were in his 12 ft boat with my 7.5HP outboard. Ominously, I noted what remained of the hub of a propeller that had the blades completely sheared off by the rocks in the river bed. We traveled uneventfully downstream on the Garden River some 10 miles to Lac Sairs. It was a relatively warm day for late May but the ice had just melted from the lake. The water temperature was probably less than 50 degrees. There was a strong wind from the south. We were familiar with Lac Sairs from the map and by portaging around Ragged Chute to it the previous year. Lac Sairs is approximately five miles long from north to south and about one mile in greatest width narrowing to the south where the Garden River enters and the Kipawa River exits. Maps indicated Lac Sairs had a small island near the south end where we planned to camp if there was a suitable site. We proceeded to the island and found it had been the victim of a fire and most of the trees had burned. Approximately three miles in the distance to the north we could see two islands that we thought would make a campsite. Before going far from the burned island I was concerned about the quantity of water in the bottom of our boat. My outboard had a self bailing attachment that was placed in the bottom of the boat and was powered by the outboard. It took a short time to make it function and in that time, the other two boats did not wait but proceeded north toward the two islands. We were separated. The waves were coming directly from our stern and heightened as we proceeded north. They began to form whitecaps. This made it difficult to see the other boats. About a half mile from the first island, Bob and I suddenly noticed a quantity of floating debris. My first thought was that a float plane carrying fishermen to the remote camps had crashed in the lake. Proceeding we spotted the largest boat turned upside down (the stable position when this type of boat swamps due to the weight of the powerhead of the outboard motor) in the debris but no sign of Chuck and Art. We called for them but did not dare to stand in our boat to get a better look. We assumed Lige had picked them up and I proceeded toward the island. After traveling a few hundred yards or so we saw more floating equipment, and then the second overturned boat with three guys nearby in the water. I knew we were in big trouble. Our boat was too heavily loaded to bring them aboard. Lige had survival training while in the US Navy in WW II. He had been in the water the shortest time and seemed relatively calm. Chuck seemed OK but it was a question for how long. Art was greatly weakened but in near panic. I told them they could not come aboard but to hang on the gunwale- Lige and Chuck on each side. I held onto Art’s arm with my left hand dragging him behind the boat and operated the outboard with my right hand. By the time we were ready to head for the island we were nearly broadside to the waves- a terrible situation. Several times the waves pushed Art against the prop but we had to keep going. By a miracle, we made it to the island. We had Bob’s and my equipment, sleeping bags, and our portion of the shared equipment. Chuck, Art, and Lige had only their soaked clothing and life jackets. I was certain Art was near death due to hypothermia. He was unconscious and his pupils dilated and rolled upward. We removed Art’s clothing and put him in a sleeping bag. We rubbed his body through the sleeping bag to restore circulation. We built a fire. We survived. When we were certain Art was on the mend, the recovery work had to begin. Chuck and I went out and recovered Lige’s boat and what was floating near it. Lige and Bob were good mechanics. In addition to caring for Art, they began work to dry out and start Lige’s outboard (if possible). Chuck and I went out for recovery the second time. We found Chuck’s boat had gone into branches and other brush close to the mainland shore nearly directly down wind from our island. We worked very hard to free the boat from the brush since the wind and waves were constantly trying to push the boat further into this watery thicket. After freeing it we removed the outboard placing it on shore, righted the boat and bailed it out. We recovered a few more nearby floating items and proceeded to tow the boat back against the waves to our island. Then my outboard overheated and quit. Big problem! The wind and waves pushed us back toward the tangled mess near shore. Chuck jumped into his boat and we both tried to row our boats toward the island but we were exhausted and powerless against the wind and waves. The two boats drifted with the wind to shore but not the same spot where we had placed the outboard from Chuck’s boat. We were about a quarter mile from the outboard but the shore had a near impenetrable mass of blown down trees, brush, moss and other thick foliage. Chuck had left his shoes on the island. He felt his shoes were trying to drag him down against the buoyancy of his life jacket when he was in the water. We bushwhacked to the outboard. I carried the 120 lb outboard through the brush back to where the boats had blown ashore. The second miracle had occurred. We had earlier recovered a small tool set that had been placed in a water tight metal box- a 50 caliber ammunition box. It contained what we needed to remove the spark plugs and dry the motor. I got a big electrical shock when Chuck pulled the starting cord. After an hour or so of work, we got the motor to start. We pulled the smaller boat with my now dead outboard back to the island with the larger boat. Chuck and I were exhausted. But the hard work was not yet done. We had no tent but I noticed it had apparently floated along with the overturned larger boat and was nearby in the watery thicket. Bob and Lige went out to recover it with Chuck’s boat. It had unrolled and was tangled in the brush- but they got it. All of us were too exhausted to do more until nearly dark. The three sleeping bags had been recovered but were soaked. The boats had turned over about noon and we had worked on the recovery until late in the afternoon. We jury rigged supports for the tent because the frame had sunk. We started a cooking fire because our Coleman stove had sunk. Fortunately the weather was unseasonably warm that day and night. The next morning we surveyed our situation. Bob and I had just enough spare rods, reels and equipment so all could fish. We had two operating outboards and three boats. Over the next days, we continued to look along the shore for any additional equipment that might have floated and drifted more slowly. Much of the food we brought survived in the Coleman chests that floated. We got along nicely and fished for two more days. Then Lige’s outboard motor again quit. It was time to pull up stakes and go back home. Another minor miracle then occurred in that Chuck’s boat and outboard could pull two dead boats that had our surviving equipment upstream against the Garden River current. Other than my tent frame, Bob and I lost nothing. Between Chuck, Art and Lige, two quality rifles (it was also bear season), a chain saw and a lot of other equipment was lost. But we survived.