Evan Saugstad: One minute here; In another minute, gone

CHETWYND, B.C. – 5 am and my alarm clock is playing some country tune.  Slowly wake up, my mind stuck in a weird dream where I cannot get my hiking boots on.  As those thoughts fade, a quick look out the window, weather looks good, not snowing, just below freezing, roads will be good so off to the bush a hunting I will go.

Heading back to Groundbirch, a familiar place that I have been hunting for over twenty-five years.  A place I know as well as anyone.  This time, going with a bit different mission, still packing my gun, still got my whitetail and elk tags, but will go wander a bush I haven’t been into for over a decade.

Used to hunt this area during our November deer camp, but that ended after a couple long, cold winters combined with lots of snow and wolves decimated the deer population, to which they are now only beginning to recover.

Its now daylight, sipping the last of my tea, a bit after 7:30 and I return a buddies phone call and talk about where I am, what I am doing and about the “hell” hole I am taking myself into today, about how his legs were too short to navigate the thousands of down and dead trees we once scrambled over, crawl under or went around, and that I am now probably the only one dumb enough to willingly wander into this part of Groundbirch’s landscape.

It is October 25^th, one week after Jim Barnes went missing near where I am now parked.  Yesterday evening the Search and Rescue (SAR) and RCMP paused their search, with their belief that the past weeks weather would make the survival of anyone that is not prepared, very unlikely. I think the same.

Only thing left at the search site are the rented trailers, generators and a side-by-side.  At this time of the morning, I am out here alone, and once I leave my truck, will most likely not see another person until I step back onto the road in a few hours.  I am going to wander an area I am most certain is outside the area SAR has been combing.

Before I go further, I must warn you this story is about life and death, about living and dying and not all may find this topic as something they wish to read or understand.  This is my story, my versions of events.  Over the past week I have had reason to talk and text with Jim’s family, friends, SAR and RCMP about Jim’s disappearance.  I write without their blessings as a collaborative story becomes complicated to write when one receives differing views, comments or information on what should or should not be included.  So, apologies in advance if I get something wrong or out of context.  As far as I know, I am the last person to see Jim before he so suddenly disappeared. 

The intent of this story is about what we should and can learn from when someone goes for a day trip into BC’s wilderness and does not return.

Although Jim Barnes went missing on October 18^th, I begin my story on Saturday morning, Oct 19^th.  I was at home, taking a day off from hunting, resting my almost seventy-year-old body from yesterday’s wanderings.  Getting too old to be out in the bush everyday, so need to pace myself. Still have over a month until deer season and hunting officially ends for me.

As normal, got up early, watched some news and eventually get to Facebook (FB) to see what is new with my “friends”. Come upon a repost about a local hunter that never came home yesterday, and his partner/spouse is now asking if anyone has seen Jim, his dog Murphy and their pickup truck.

I look at the posted pictures and it slowly sinks in.  I think I saw this guy, his dog and that truck yesterday on the Groundbirch Forest Service Road (FSR).  Takes a few minutes to convince myself that I really did, as what does one’s brain absorb if it is something you saw at random nearly twenty-four hours earlier, something that meant nothing at the time, was just part of the landscape, something you see all the time, but now means so much?

It was just before noon, near 21 km on the FSR (not 21 km on the road to the pipeline) as I slowly drove around a bend on the mostly one lane and rough dirt track road.  A light-coloured pickup truck, pulled over to the right side of the road (his left) facing me, driver side door open, a man crouched over, arm extended, looking like he is trying to coach his dog closer, looking like he wants to catch its collar and get it back into the truck.

Dog’s not listening is the thought that crosses my mind.

As I approach, he sees me, stands upright, smiles and gives a small wave of acknowledgement which I return.  As I pass, I notice that on his back is written in bright red letters “SEARCH AND RESCUE”, that he has a mustache much like mine, and the pickup box has some firewood stacked inside.  

A wood cutter I presume, as many people that come to this area stop to get a load of wood to take home. Doesn’t look like he is dressed for bush hunting, I think.  Maybe part of a search and rescue team like some of my friends are.

On this day, along with searching for the elusive elk or whitetail buck, I am also putting out trail cameras to see if any big bucks are now living around here.

About half hour later, I am back in my truck and ready to head home.  A mid sized SUV towing a small trailer with a red quad goes by, man and women inside, heading south, maybe ranchers I think, looking for their cows, but might be hunters.  A few others out here with me now.

Weather is good, just around freezing, was sunny all morning but clouds are on the horizon and the weather radar shows it is supposed to start raining in a couple hours and I want to be off this gravel road by then is it gets very muddy and slippery with rain, and more so today, as a grader is just finishing grading and a bit of rain will turn its soft surface to slime.

As I drive back north to Groundbirch, I pass the spot where the truck was once parked, and about a kilometre later, there is the truck, now nearer 20 km.  Once again, parked on the same side of the road (its left side), still facing north, driver-side door open, but this time, don’t see the man or the dog.  Briefly think he must be out looking for some more firewood as I pass by.

As I travel home, pass the grader, now on its way out, and near 3 km think it must be cow gathering and sorting day as 20 – 30 people have gathered with their horses, ATV’s and vehicles, presumably to herd the hundreds of cattle into the big sorting pens near 0 Km.

As I now ponder what I saw yesterday, I cannot stay silent, so into FB Messenger, craft a message to Jim’s partner, post and wait, knowing when you are not FB friends, new messages go into a holding box and must be accepted to be read.  Think if it takes too long, will phone that police number on her missing person’s post.

As I wait, my stepdaughter drops by, and the conversation turns to what I saw and how I am now waiting for a response. “Know some of her good friends” she says, “they all come to my gym”.  She texts the friend asking her to tell the partner to look at my message and in minutes I get a text asking me to call her.

It is now 10 am and I explain who I am, what I saw and where the truck was.  Other than a couple messages about how to get to the FSR from the highway and me sending some general messages about what there are for other roads and conditions in the area and cell coverage, thinking that Jim must have driven down another road, got stuck in the now rain-soaked mud and is out of cell coverage.

Don’t’ hear anything until later in the day, when I see another FB post saying the truck was found, but that the keys, his wallet, cell phone, rifle and hunting bag were all in the truck, and it’s still parked where I saw it the day before near 20 km, now over 24 hours later.

“Oh, oh, wrong assumptions”, I now think.  The truck never moved, Jim must not have come back to it after I passed by, and he is still out there in the bush.

A few texts later with his partner and I cannot help thinking that he left the truck, in somewhat of a hurry, without thinking through what he was about to do and somehow, his disappearance involves his dog.  Have learned the dog is about 18 months old and is afraid of gun shots. Am also told Jim had a couple of guns and had gone grouse hunting yesterday morning. And that last summer, he worked as a medic on the pipeline project, which is just north of where his truck is now parked.  I also find out he liked to gather chaga, a conk or mushroom that grows on tress and is used/known for health purposes (there are a lot of conks on trees in this area).

I think back to what I saw, trying to remember more detail.  Mind keeps saying Jim was dressed for a day out looking for grouse on the roads, cutting or gathering a bit of firewood or chaga, but not wandering the deep bush.  By now, I know it started raining there in the late afternoon and well into the night, clearing off before morning with temperatures then dropping a few degrees below freezing. And now, Saturday (19^th) afternoon it was beginning to snow.

Just before dark on Saturday afternoon I receive a text from a Fort St John friend, fellow hunter who has also hunted Groundbirch with me and a member of the FSJ Search and Rescue saying they have been called to Groundbirch to assist the Chetwynd SAR for a missing hunter.  He wasn’t part of the team going on this one but would pass on any information I may have about the area and where Jim may have gone.

Tell him to pass on to the search leaders what I know, and what I have deduced and for them to give me a call so I can fill in the details.  Wasn’t until Monday I got that call from the SAR team to discuss my knowledge and thoughts. Not all that unexpected to not jump at the chance to hear another theory as they can lead searchers and police down the proverbial rabbit hole with every person having their own thoughts and reasons as to what may have happened, but still think they should have called to ensure the “facts” as I know them, may or may not have been passed on to them correctly.

Sunday morning, I phone the Chetwynd RCMP to ensure the information I had passed on Saturday had got to them.  After a lengthy discussion with a RCMP search team member am asked to go to the Fort St John detachment to give a written statement, which I do.  Interested it the facts, not so much in my theories as to the “whys”.  Am also asked if I would go to the location and take them to my trail cameras to see if Jim or his dog Murphy passed by their location.

Won’t go as the South Taylor Hill is now blocked with many trucks spun out in the snow, so offer to go to Backcountry and get them to show me how to retrieve my GPS points taken at each camera site.  Takes a bit as on a Sunday afternoon, the most knowledgeable staff familiar with Garmin products is on days off, but they do figure it out and I phone the lats and longs to the Chetwynd RCMP and ask they send someone out to retrieve or read the data cards, which they say they will.  Information gets lost in translation and the persons who go to the camera sites take the cameras which then takes a few texts, phone calls and days for me to get them back.  And no, Jim or Murphy did not pass by, just the Chetwynd SAR team, a couple black bears and some doe mule deer.

Now back to my Oct 25^th wander.

It is a good day to go into that thick bush.  The 8 inches of snow that has fallen since Jim went missing has now shrunk to about an inch, bare in open and exposed spots. Ground is frozen and the swamps I am about to enter are dry from our prolonged drought. Got my rifle, Garmin inReach, day pack with food, plenty of liquid, basic survival gear, machete, axe and my cellphone as most of the area has a bit of reception.

Although a long shot, maybe I will get lucky, find an old boot track in what’s left of the snow, hear a dog bark or see/hear the ravens and magpies talking about what they have found.

This is flat country where I am headed.  So flat that water tends to pool and not drain off.  It is now dry.  In wet years this tends to be a big swamp with bits of dry ground.  It is not the country one envisions when thinking of Peace River country’s parklike aspen stands, roads, cutblocks, pipe and seismic lines, gas plants and farmlands.  This is bush country like it always has been.  The 3D seismic program is now about 15 years old, most of its hand and avoidance cutlines grown over and hard to follow, even when one knows where they are.  No pipelines, gas plants or well traveled trails in this spot.

The two-cat cut seismic lines from the last century (70’s or early 80’s) are no longer passable for vehicles.  The few cutblocks are now grown over, roads have turned back to bush and there is limited quad access as the moose hunters quit coming here when most of the moose died some twenty years ago during tough winters.  Part of the area was selectively logged in the 60 or 70’s, with the spruce timber milled into cants on site and then hauled on winter roads to Dawson Creek for resaw and drying.  The logged area now looks like part of the forest.  An old sawdust pile, millsite, abandoned vehicle and garbage dump are nearby, all slowly returning to nature

The flats are an old spruce/tamarack/cottonwood forest with bits of aspen.  What pine there was here died years ago from the bark beetles and has now fallen, as has much of the spruce from root rot.  There are also pure stands of tamarack, trees now bare as they have shed their needles for the winter, with deep, spongy sphagnum moss beneath.  Interspaced are small grass swamp openings.

I am both physically and mentally prepared to tackle this trip once again. I know my limitations and know what I am getting into, where I am taking myself and confident I have enough energy to get myself back.

I bob and weave across the flats, trying to remember just where the “easy” routes were, avoiding the biggest patches of blowdown and brushy patches.  Right from the get-go, and for the approx. 3 km diagonal route I take, the one common sight are wolf tracks, lots of wolf tracks, frozen in the mud and snow, going in every direction, most looking a day or two old. They have been in hunting mode. In a grassy swamp, all tore up as they searched for mice and voles beneath the snow-covered grass.  Where there are a few deer track, most all have a wolf track or two over top. Cannot help but think that no barking dog would last long out here. It is not until I am about a kilometre from the FSR that I see the first tracks of the searchers.  Ribbons mark their routes as they spread out and grid searched the area. This is also where the wolf tracks end.

4 hours and about 10,000 steps, get back to the road.  Not much to report. No luck today, but to put into perspective, this flat is about 2.5 km square or 625 hectares.  Would take hundreds and hundreds of search hours to cover it all as one is limited to 10 – 20 metres sightlines in this thick bush.  In perspective, I realistically would have search about 2 to 3 hectares.  And this is just one part of the search area.  Another flat just as large exists across the creek to the south, and then there are the hillsides to the east. 

After retuning to the truck, I drive south, past the spot where truck was left, now just a bare patch on the road surrounded by a skiff of snow, and that mark will soon disappear with the next snowfall.  I know that from this day on, every time I drive by that spot or see a SAR ribbon hanging in the bush I will think the same thoughts about the what if’s, about what may have happened, and think it shouldn’t have had to be that way.

And that is why I write.

I spend such of my time hunting alone, as those hunters who are retired like me, don’t have the same zeal or fitness to tackle the back country bush on foot as I have and do, and those younger hunters who would like to, are to busy working and only have the occasional weekend day available to do the same.

I go prepared and even though I would not wish to, am prepared to spend an uncomfortable night in the bush if I must.  For late season hunting like now, I check the weather the night before and again when I get up.  Don’t need to drive some dark and slippery roads in a snowstorm just to go hunting.  Neither do I need to go down some muddy road where I may get stuck.

I also have learned from the later years of my work career that safety preplanning is so important. Before one departs home, know and understand the risks and if you are getting out of the truck to go for a wander, once again think about the risks. 

Before leaving home I tell Karen on which road I am going.  When cell coverage is available, I check in regularly, usually with a picture from the spot I send the text. When I get back to the truck and start my trip home, send her that update.

I carry my inReach with 911 satellite and texting capability.  I don’t take much for chances that could result in a fall or tumble, like walking logs that I could fall off, or crossing slippery slopes were a fall can mean incapacitation or treading on ice of unknown thickness. Even when someone else is with me, I tell them that my truck keys are in my pack and my inReach has no password as if I fall over dead, they still have the means to get out. I have learned over the years that a person following behind in the bush tends to rely on the leader for directions and does not necessarily pay attention to where they are and how they would get out if the leader is no longer leading. 

Although we may never know why Jim made the decisions he did, we know what he did not do that day which could have resulted in a much different outcome.  I say these in the belief that Jim voluntarily left his truck, possibly trying to catch his dog that would not come back and did not disappear because he wanted to or that anyone else was involved.

On the morning of the 18^th when Jim left home to go grouse hunting, he did not tell anyone exactly where he was going, neither did he periodically check in enroute.  He likely didn’t think much about why he should as he was young, physically fit, healthy, knew where he was going and was just driving some back country roads looking for a grouse or two.  What possibly could go wrong, as if he got stuck or broke down, there are other people out there driving the same roads and he knew the area had cell coverage from his workdays there and could always call for help.

That mistake cost searchers over 24 hours as by the time I reported where the truck was and searchers got to site, it was mid next day.  If he had reported where he was, someone would have found his truck that same day and a search could have been started at daylight, and not late the next day as a snowstorm arrived.

For whatever the reason Jim got out of his truck and hurriedly departed, he never took the time to think about the risks and chose not to take his hunting bag and phone (and possibly a heavier jacket) or just how long he may be gone for and didn’t take that moment to think about preparing for what he was about to do. That error in judgement likely cost him his life.

Although he had no intention of going for a long hike, he did and as the day went on, whatever he was thinking about overtook reason as to why he should turn around and head back to the safety of his truck and stop what he was doing. We will likely never know if he knew the rains were coming, and that with them, dark and cloudy skies would obscure the sun and make navigation on flat and nondescript ground difficult with out a compass or GPS.  I can only assume that his means to start a fire were back in the truck in his pack, as this area has lots of dry fire starter and firewood is readily available.

It is possible that Jim met a not so friendly predator, had a bad slip and fall that incapacitated himself, or a health event. If one of these did occur, it was not likely near the truck as the searchers covered those areas.

The more likely reason Jim did not come back to his truck is he lost his sense of direction, got wet and cold when it began to rain, and hypothermia set in. For those who are not familiar with hypothermia, a brief refresher. 

Hypothermia is when one body temperature falls below levels that allow one’s brain to work (think) and body to function.  It starts with one feeling cold and as it sets in, one’s brain loses its ability to differ between cold and warm, or make rationale decisions, eventually to the point where one thinks they are beginning to warm up and that a nap is needed to replenish one’s strength.  Once one falls asleep there is usually no coming back without help from someone else.

I have talked to a couple of knowledgeable bush people who have experienced hypothermia.  One caught himself laying down thinking about how warm he was getting, when he realized what was happening, got up, kept moving and eventually got back to his hunting camp.  He too had no fire starter with him as he had only gone on a short hike. Another just made it back to camp, wet and extremely cold, lit the camp wood stove with an emergency flare as his fingers could not grasp matches, crawled into his sleeping bag and never woke up until the next day.  Another told me about getting lost and then finding himself running, thinking if he hurried, he would find his way back to camp sooner.  He stopped, lit himself a fire, dried out his sweaty clothes, thought things through and eventually developed a plan to methodically hike in a direction where camp should be, and eventually found it.

Hard to say what Jim did or experienced, but easy to say if he had a lighter or matches, he would have started a fire and could have lasted that first 2 – 3 days waiting for the weather to clear, allowing helicopters and drones to fly and see his smoke as it would have been readily visible from the air.  One small lighter or package of matches in a waterproof container can mean the difference, if they are in one’s pocket.

The search is now paused and won’t recommence until new information is provided to warrant sending out the searchers, but that doesn’t mean it has stopped for everyone.  Family and friends or interested person such as me will still want to take another look and for all, a bit of advice.  

If you are going into the bush, and especially thick bush such as here, or the steep creek draws and river terraces, make sure you are prepared physically and mentally for what it takes. This is not sneaker or sweatpants country.  Most of the areas close to the road have been searched so it is those places further from the road that still need to be searched, and that means a hike too and from.  Don’t go alone unless you are used to being in the bush by yourself, as the searchers do not wish to end up looking for another lost or injured searcher.  We are no longer looking for a person, and most likely only looking for what nature has now left behind. Clothing, and especially synthetics are what lasts the longest and stays the most visible.

If the winter snows come and stay, most searching for the remainder of the fall will be futile.  The next best time and opportunity will be coming just after snow melt and before the vegetation begins to regrow and cover the forest floor.  This is also the time the swamps have their most water so waterproof boots would be a must. 

As I write this, I notice that the search in the Redfern area for another young man, Sam Benastick has also been paused. He too disappeared and although his family was told where he intended to go and when he would return, it appears that is not where he went and now the searchers are at loss as to where to look.  Finding him may have been much easier if he had stuck to his original plan or told others when his plans changed.

The one thing I do know for sure, as this experience has bolstered my resolve to ensure others know when and where I go, and that when I do, I always have my day pack with me with contents commensurate with the weather.

And to all others who love and enjoy our bush, understand the consequences of your actions. Make sure others always know where you are going, when you are returning, and notified if you change your plans, and remember, hypothermia can kill you without you ever knowing it, but one little match could be the difference.

Evan, and a shout out to all those searchers who left the comforts of their homes and families to look for Jim.  The weather was not their friend on this one.