There is a Costco near their house. On the way home from Grandma’s, they swing by the Costco to pick up a few items.
For the brief few seasons Steve Van Kekerix has been Lake County undersheriff, he has had to make some difficult calls. Usually, it is over traffic accidents. It’s about the worst part of his job.
When Jeff Hasse’s radio call comes in to IC, Van Kekerix is standing with BJ, Pete Smerud, Rebecca Francis, Swede Larson, and the others. Everyone in IC, everyone on the search, everyone in the field, assumed the cadaver dogs would be the ones to find Jason, not their handlers. The news that Jason is alive, that he is standing, that he appears to be—at least from the first frenetic accounts flooding into IC—in remarkable shape, is incomprehensible. No one has ever survived this long in the forest without food, water, or shelter. And at this point they know nothing about Jason’s remarkable story, how he kept himself alive.
For six days Steve Van Kekerix has been the county official in charge of the search and rescue. Everyone turned to him for permission and assistance, and he was the primary voice between the search area and the family. He kept the Rasmussens informed, being honest without sharing all the negative perspectives. But he pulled no punches. He let the Rasmussens know, and they were grateful.
Lee, Linda and Heidi, standing near their car in the Costco parking lot, don’t want to answer the call coming into Lee’s cell phone. He can see from the display it’s Van Kekerix. It is 1:35 PM, and he knows the searchers have been in the field all morning with dogs. He knows the call. He wasn’t expecting it so soon. But he thinks he knows the words he is going to hear. For a brief moment he considers not answering.
After flipping open his phone, about all he can manage is a hoarse “Hello.” The wind is out of his diaphragm. He feels lightheaded, not entirely present. He hears the familiar voice.
“Jason’s found,” Van Kekerix yells. “He’s alive. He’s well!”
There are no words for how news of Jason’s survival and condition—after so long alone in the woods, in the heart of one large tree, after so many people have been searching for him for so long—is heard by Jason’s parents, and his sister. This is one of the times in people’s lives when prayers are answered, resoundingly and with undiminished affirmation.
In the brief time it takes to speed home, Lee, Linda, and Heidi rock the inside of their car with the remarkable news. “He’s found,” they repeat, screaming it. “He’s alive! He’s well!”
They spend less than five minutes tossing clothes into bags. On their way out of town, heading north, they give Jason’s grandmother the good news and ask her to spread the word. They know there is no better emissary for conveying rapid news to the wide family network and the wider world than Jason’s grandmother.
Van Kekerix has told them it will probably be at least two hours before Jason is out of the woods. Then he’ll be taken to some local hospital to be examined. The Rasmussens will find out where on their way north.
Jason was discovered at 1:26. Less than ten minutes later, Van Kekerix phoned the Rasmussens with the miraculous news. But it takes a team of searchers, ATV drivers, trail makers, and communications people another three and a half hours to get him out of the woods. During the long wait, a crowd containing almost everyone who participated in the search begins to form.
Yesterday, Kipp Duncan, the CO who first opened Jason’s tent to discover it vacant, was happy he had work the next day in Two Harbors. He felt certain Jason could never be found alive. His work in Two Harbors was preferable to searching for Jason’s body in these difficult woods. Now, on his radio, he picks up the incredible news. In less than an hour he pulls in to the IC.
Joe Linneman, the deputy who verified the presence of Jason’s car six long nights ago, is back on duty after several days off. On special occasions, Joe plays bagpipes. Today he tosses them into his truck and heads down to the trailhead.
Over fifty people and an ambulance wait in the trailhead lot. When Jason comes out of the woods, a cry goes up unlike anything he has ever heard. They take him to Miller Dwan Medical Center in Duluth, where he will be treated for severe frostbite, and where he is finally reunited with his parents and sister. And where he can finally give each of them the birch-bark letters he wrote during the darkest days of his life.
Arrival in Pow Wow Trailhead parking lot. Left to right: Steve Van Kekerix, Jason Rasmussen, Ken Anderson, Rebecca Francis (courtesy Jeff Hasse)
EPILOGUE
Jason Rasmussen lost two toes and the tips of all the others to frostbite and spent a long convalescence at his parents’ house, during which he briefly endured a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. He was featured in several news stories and local news programs, and even on National Geographic’s This Week, Corbin Bernsen’s Wild Survival, and the Oprah Winfrey Show. When Winfrey asked Jason if the experience changed the way he lived or experienced life, he replied, “Sometimes I will be walking down the street and the wind will blow through the trees and I’m overcome by the beauty of that moment. And also there’s a feeling of real peace. I don’t know what that is, but I’ve never felt it before, and it’s great.” Several media outlets tried to obtain exclusive rights to Jason’s story, but he refused, considering his misadventure an opportunity to instruct so that others might avoid the pain of his ordeal. When he was well enough, he presented the details of his survival at REI and elsewhere. His parents thanked Minnesota’s volunteer search and rescue community by hosting a weekend conference at which many of the state’s volunteer groups shared strategies for coordinating future rescue efforts.
Jason Rasmussen returned to medical school after the first of the year. Today he is an emergency room surgeon-in-residence in Sacramento, California, where he continues to repay the altruism of Minnesota’s volunteers by saving others’ lives.
Dan Stephens had a chance to see the group from Chattanooga before they returned home. He assured them they had done the right thing and congratulated them on their one-day sprint across the lakes. Soon afterwards, he returned home to Georgia, cutting his guiding season short. His parents had local doctors examine his lacerated legs. They removed the bandages and were shocked at his condition. Fortunately, with further treatment, his legs and his eye healed. He became an expert at creating fire without matches, demonstrating and teaching the technique to Scouts and others interested in wilderness survival.
When he was finding his way through wilderness, Stephens could tell that he had a phenomenally heightened awareness and a deep internal focus: it was “the highest degree of concentration in my life. I was in this zone that I don’t think I’ll ever be in again. . . . I had a lot more capacity than I expected.” After being ferried across the water by the New Jersey Scouts, he says, “I wasn’t the same person. That’s when I felt the pain.” The experience also made him re-evaluate his perspective on life. “All of this is temporary,” he says, describing his everyday encounters with family, friends, and other experiences. “We really should take advantage of it.”
Today Dan Stephens is a hydrologic technician with the U.S. Geological Survey in Atlanta, Georgia. He still loves to spend time in the wild, for pleasure and for work.
Map 1 Lost in the Wild
Map 2 Jason Rasmussen’s Journey, October 22–31, 2001
Information courtesy Ken Anderson and Jeff Hasse
Map 3 The Route of the Scouts, August 2–6, 1998
Map 4 Dan Stephens’s Journey, August 5–8, 1998
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Writing a book of this type involves a veritable village of volunteers, officials, and witnesses, all of whom deserve mention.
For starters, thanks to Kathleen Weflen, the managing editor of Minnesota Conservation Volunteer, and Mary Hoff and Cathy Mix—also from the Volunteer—for thinking a story on the subject “Lost in the Woods” would be right for their magazine (January/February 20
04 issue). The research for that article introduced me to a half-dozen remarkable stories of people who became lost.
If you’re embarking on the journey of writing a book, it’s good to have a guide like Ann Regan, editor in chief at Borealis Books. Her early interest in the project provided the necessary energy to give it life, and her suggestions and guidance along the way transformed the work from a sheaf of pages to the book you hold today. I can’t speak for its quality, but I can tell you she made it better.
Jason Rasmussen was kind enough to take time away from his colossally hectic schedule as a surgeon-in-residence in Sacramento—on more than one occasion—to be interviewed. He was remarkably forthcoming with all aspects of his experience. His parents, Lee and Linda Rasmussen, were not only generous with their time, but also provided contact lists, pictures, videos, and a variety of other invaluable resources. There were over sixty volunteers and officials who participated in the six-day search for Jason. I interviewed almost half of them, gaining detailed recollections and perspectives. Some of the key volunteer leaders included BJ Kohlstedt, Jim Williams, Pete Smerud, Pete Walsh, and Swede Larson. Key officials included Lake County Undersheriff Steve Van Kekerix, Lake County Deputies Joe Linneman, Nick Milkovich, and Richard DeRosier, and U.S. Forest Service Law Enforcement Officer Rebecca Francis. Minnesota DNR Conservation Officers Kipp Duncan, Marty Stage, and Brad Johnson assisted in the effort. Other officials who participated in the search included Forest Service pilots Pat Loe, Dean Lee, and Wayne Ericson; Ron Van Bergen from DNR Fisheries; and Lake County Foresters Dan Spina and Terry Olson. Volunteer dog handlers included Carla and Dale Leehy, Mark Haskins, Mary McCormick, Kathy Newman, and Jim Couch. Jeff Hasse and Ken Anderson provided logistical, communications, and cartography support for the last two and a half days of the search, and they were particularly helpful in piecing together the last hours of Jason’s rescue. And then there are those whom I did not interview, but whose efforts helped find Jason and make the story possible: the ground-pounders who did the heavy lifting, the Lake County Search and Rescue Volunteers who provided indispensable ATV support, and other volunteer dog handlers. Their efforts were appreciated.
Sam Cook of the Duluth News Tribune first told me about Dan Stephens and his lone walk in the woods. I read Sam’s newspaper story of the encounter and was intrigued. Once I finally tracked Dan down in Georgia, he was particularly helpful in detailing his ordeal. He drew maps and submitted to numerous interviews, follow-up emails, and phone calls. His parents, Jim and Mary Ann Stephens, were also helpful in describing their perspective regarding Dan’s lone odyssey through the Quetico woods. Jerry Wills and Tim Jones, the two fathers with the Chattanooga Scout troop, were extremely helpful and forthcoming about their ordeal. One of the first people I spoke with regarding Dan Stephens’s disappearance was Doug Hirdler, general manager of Northern Tier High Adventure, the scouting outfit where Dan was working when he disappeared. He and Joe Mattson, Northern Tier’s program director, were both helpful. I cannot say enough about the informative assistance of the Ontario Provincial Police (OPP), Quetico Park Rangers, and other Canadian officials. Once they understood I wasn’t muckraking, they openly shared their account of the OPP’s search and rescue efforts. People who were interviewed or in some other way offered assistance included Provincial Coordinator for all OPP Emergency Rescue Teams Tim Char-levois; Constables James McGill, Jeff Moline, and Scott Moore (who provided the only photos of Dan’s experience); Sergeants Heather Lacey, Phil Donaldson, Norm Mitchell, Paul Michpish, and Terry Blace; and Quetico Park Rangers Kathy Antle and Carrie Frechette.
And finally, many thanks to my family and friends. My family heard countless stories about my interviews during the writing of this book; without their support and occasional readings, I could never have written it. My friends Steve Sauerbry, Drew Skogman, and Mike Reeve taught me at eighteen that if you’re going to get lost on a seven-mile-long island in the northern woods, it’s good to have someone along who knows what he’s doing. And my friends Doug Johnson, Ron Solyntjes, and Eli Nemer whom have each, at varying times, in one form or another, been lost with me.
To honor Minnesota’s volunteers, ten percent of the royalties on this book will be donated to Lake County Volunteer Search and Rescue, who will put the money to good use in Lake County and beyond. Without their remarkable altruism and sacrifice, people like Jason Rasmussen would not be alive.
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