The nest was big enough to sleep on. In fact, it looked more comfortable than the shelter I had made. Except for the dried-up carcass of something long dead. That explained the smell.
The camera was there on a branch, but I had no idea if it was working. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Maybe for the screen to be like Stacey’s camera phone, where you could see yourself. This camera was just a green, square box with a hood over the lens. I waved my arms in front of it while balancing on the branch.
“Help!” I yelled at it, before I remembered there was no sound. I swung my arms around and tried to show how we swam from the boat, hugged a board, rode the waves onto this shore, and then how I made fire to dry us off and warm us.
All the while the chicks blinked at me, staring. I kept looking over my shoulder, terrorized by the thought of an adult eagle swooping down on me. Any second I expected to see the large wingspan.
Could they peck out my eyes? Most definitely they’d claw at me. Push me out of the nest. I’d fall down, down, down from the bar.
No. I wasn’t on the bar. I was in a tree. And darkness was coming. I had to get down while it was still light enough to see.
I moved and a twig snapped. All three eaglets startled and started to screech. I heard loud wind sounds like flapping, and looked up to see two huge eagles circling over me. They both screamed back.
I craned my head looking up, but leaned out too far. My arms windmilled, and then I toppled off the nest.
Chapter Ten
I fell with a sickening feeling. My arms flailed wildly. Hands clutched, trying to grab something.
I caught a branch under my knee, missed the grip, and fell to the next one. I slammed into the branch but grabbed hold and stuck.
I hung from the branch, my body dangling. Then I pulled myself up and hugged the tree trunk. Pulse pounding.
Opening my eyes, I saw I had only dropped a short distance. I was still high in the tree. I was still alive! But I needed to get down.
I dropped from branch to branch, first carefully placing each hand, and then letting myself swing and hang. I had to trust my body. I was a gymnast and I could do this.
An eagle screamed above me. I glanced up and missed my next hold. I slipped. A branch caught me under the left arm and stopped me short. I clung tightly, breathing hard. Rough bark digging in. Focus!
Branch by branch, I made my way toward the ground. When I got to the lowest branch, I peered down at the log I had braced against the tree. How had I jumped that high? I couldn’t let myself drop that far.
I sat on the branch, both legs dangling over the side. What was I going to do? I was stuck in the tree.
If I slid down the trunk with bare hands, I’d be flayed alive by the rough bark.
I patted my pockets and took a closer look at the belt on the suit. It was made with a wide band that looked like seat belt material. I pulled it out of the loops until I was holding just the belt, and then expanded it so it was as long as possible. Now I needed to get it around the tree trunk. I tried whipping it so the end would come around the trunk, but it didn’t reach all the way. I kept trying to whip the buckle around the tree until, finally, I was able to grab it with my other hand.
I had both ends in my hands now. I just needed to jump. When I peered down at the ground, it swayed. I shut my eyes tight.
“Be brave. Let yourself go. You used to do this. You can do it again.”
I eased my butt off the branch. Bracing my feet against the trunk, I leaned out, clinging to the belt. My stomach leaped up into my throat with the feeling of falling. I slid down the trunk, bark flying from my shoes. Before I’d even shut my eyes, the belt stopped short on the propped log and I let go. I dropped the rest of the way and landed.
Not on my head. On my feet.
I raised my arms and posed like I had just struck a perfect landing. My knees trembled; my legs hardly held me. I craned my head to look up into the branches.
“Yeah, I can!” I yelled.
“Did it work?” Marina shouted back. “Are they coming?”
“They’re coming!” I yelled as I raced back to our camp. I could see the fire burning bright against the dimming light.
But no one came.
As darkness settled, we had to face another night in the shelter. Mosquitoes and black flies crawled in my hair, buzzed in my ears. Marina’s wrist was now twice as swollen as it had been, and a really ugly color. And we were thirsty. I was feeling even worse after all that climbing.
“You’re going to have to walk out of here and let them know where I am,” she said quietly. “I can’t walk that far.”
The night was long.
I added wood to the fire to keep the bugs away. We listened to the whales and the seals and the owls and things that scurried in the dark behind us. Each new noise made us freeze and stare, wide-eyed, into the night.
Soon, the forest around us appeared in the pre-dawn light. We were still planning how I was going to be able to find help. How to follow the shoreline so I wouldn’t get lost. I didn’t want to leave Marina.
Once again, we heard splashes coming from the ocean. “Selkie coming to check on us?” I said, as I rolled over.
“Not seals,” Marina said.
I looked out and my whole body zinged with energy. We turned to each other and laughed. And then Marina started to cry. She held out her good arm and we hugged.
A boat was coming straight toward us.
Chapter Eleven
Back home four months later
“There were dozens of calls,” the reporter said, as I finished my story. He chuckled. “Complaints to the Department of Natural Resources about ‘the kid in the tree’ disturbing the eagles.” He sat back. “Did you know that?”
“I heard.” I took a big drink of my lemonade. Telling the story—just remembering it all—made me thirsty.
“Thank goodness for those nature lovers.” Dad grinned from the loveseat next to me. “I’d never even heard of eagle cams before this. Who knew?”
“Well, thank goodness for the eagles,” Mom said, placing a plate of cookies on the coffee table. “And for DNR for putting it up.”
Dad reached to take her hand. She still got upset when I talked about it.
“I’m actually glad the whale attack rumors weren’t true,” the reporter said, earning a glare from Mom.
“Getting attacked by a whale wasn’t the story here,” he continued. “The real story is how you managed to not panic, save yourself, and save Marina, too!”
“We saved each other.” I grabbed a cookie, still warm from the oven, and bit into it. The peanut butter center was gooey, my favorite. “I wouldn’t have made it without Marina.”
The reporter scratched his head with a pencil. “One thing I don’t understand,” he said. “You kept referring to yourself as overweight. You’re obviously not.”
“That was sixth grade. I’m back on the gymnastics team now. Coach says I ‘got back on the horse.’ He means the pommel horse. He thinks he’s funny.”
“And what about Marina? How was her wrist?”
“Oh, yeah. Broken. But she’s better now. We video chat once a week. She’s going to come to Ohio with her dad for a visit. We’re both going to be marine biologists.”
The grownups exchanged glances as if I weren’t in the room. I knew they thought I sounded like a kid. But how could they understand I was serious? Having a seal look you in the eyes changes you.
“Wow, sounds like you have everything figured out,” said the reporter.
“Dude,” Stacey said as she stuck her head into the room. “Dishwasher needs to be unloaded and it’s your turn. I am not doing it.”
I turned back to the reporter. “I haven’t got everything figured out. Who can understand big sisters?”
Author’s Note
There have been numerous tragedies in the ocean around Washington’s Cape Flattery and Canada’s Vancouver Island. The area has a list of hazards that make it complicated to fo
recast the weather accurately. Currents, undercurrents, near-shore currents, reverse currents, tides, prevailing winds, upwelling, and freshwater runoff are all factors that boat operators need to consider.
The area also has sizable waves coming from the Pacific Ocean at the mouth of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and when they come against the direction of the current, it creates dangerous standing waves. Not only that, but something known as rogue waves—unpredictable walls of water that develop out at sea—can surprise boaters in calm waters.
The waters in this area are part of what is known as the California Current System, a current of cold water that reaches from Alaska down to California. Cold, deep, nutrient-rich water upwells in the summer months, attracting marine life—including whales—with an abundance of food. Commercial fishermen, sailors, and sightseeing tours all share the waters. But immersion in water colder than fifty degrees is dangerous for humans, and boaters must be cautious.
Even with all those odds, there are many stories of survival. I was amazed to read about a woman who fell off a boat in the Puget Sound area and swam for seven hours before she was found and plucked from the water by a passing boat. She credited her survival to the company of a seal who stayed with her for the whole ordeal. The one thing most survivors have in common is the will to keep going. That is what fascinated and inspired me to write this story.
While this story was inspired by true events, and every effort was made to keep to the facts, some details are fictional, including the names of the characters and some settings, as well as the presence of an eagle cam in the particular location of Cape Flattery. (There are eagle cams in the Puget Sound area.)
SO, WHAT CAN YOU DO TO SURVIVE IF YOU FIND YOURSELF IN A SIMILAR SITUATION?
U.S. Coast Guard–Approved Cold-Water Survival Tips
Every minute counts in cold water.
1. MINIMIZE YOUR TIME IN THE WATER.
Act quickly. Your body loses heat twenty-five times faster in the water than on land, so get out of the water as fast as you can.
2. GET TO A SURVIVAL CRAFT.
Board a boat, raft, or anything floating. Turn a capsized boat over and climb in. Remember, most boats will support you even when they are full of water. If you can’t get in the boat, climb on top of it and stay with it. That way, it will be easier for a rescue boat to spot you on the water.
3. STAY CALM.
Flailing around in the water causes the body to lose heat faster. If you don’t have an exposure suit, hold your knees to your chest to protect your trunk from heat loss, and clasp your arms around your calves. This is called HELP (the Heat Escape Lessening Position).
4. SAVE YOUR ENERGY.
Wearing a life jacket will help you save energy and will keep your body temperature from dropping quickly. Minimize the motion needed to keep afloat by helping to insulate the body.
5. KEEP YOUR CLOTHES ON.
Button, buckle, and zip up, and tighten collars, cuffs, shoes, and hoods. Wear a warm hat, like a fleece-lined skullcap, that will stay on your head in the water. Dress in layers of synthetic fabrics such as polyester fleece to keep from getting overheated or chilled from perspiration.
6. STAY PUT. DON’T TRY TO SWIM.
Don’t try to swim unless your destination is very close. Ignore the shoreline; it is usually farther away than people think. Swimming disrupts the layer of warm water between your clothing and your body and sends the “warm” blood to your extremities, which cuts your survival time by as much as half.
7. DO THE HYPOTHERMIA HUDDLE.
To preserve body heat, use the Heat Escape Lessening Position if you’re alone, or if you’re with a group, huddle with others. Rescuers are more likely to see you and rescue you faster if you’re in a group.
Hypothermia
Though cold-water survival times vary from person to person, the colder the water is, the sooner hypothermia will set in. The likelihood of survivability is affected by the weather conditions and by a person’s age, gender, weight, height, body fat percentage, fatigue level, immersion level, type of clothing worn, and survival gear available.
Recognizing Hypothermia
In the first stages of hypothermia, people can experience shivering, impaired judgment, clumsiness, and loss of dexterity.
In the later stages of hypothermia, body systems slow and eventually stop. Slurred speech, withdrawn behavior, muscle rigidity, and a cessation of shivering are signs of late hypothermia.
If left untreated, hypothermia will result in unconsciousness and death.
Treating Hypothermia
Rapid treatment of hypothermia is critical. If you identify someone as hypothermic, here’s what you can do:
Call for help (call 911 or VHF-FM marine radio).
Restore warmth slowly.
Begin CPR (if necessary) while warming the person.
Give warm fluids.
Keep the person’s temperature up by keeping him or her wrapped in a blanket.
Survival tips courtesy of the United States Coast Guard.
Acknowledgments
In my research for writing this book, I collected information from many sources, including books, reports, and transcripts. I received helpful advice from a number of people, for which I am very grateful. Any errors in the story are my own.
I am grateful for the specialized advice I received from the following:
U.S. Coast Guard, Sector Puget Sound; Tammi Hinkle, Adventures Through Kayaking, Port Angeles, Washington; and Bruce Tomlinson, retired Ontario conservation officer of thirty years, Marine Enforcement Unit, Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry.
Thank you to those who read the manuscript and provided excellent suggestions: Sylvia Musgrove, Jackie White, Marcia Wells, and Amy Fellner Dominy.
Thanks also go to Chris White and Steven White for reading the manuscript and giving me their expert opinions on where the illustrations should go.
Chapter One
“Tell me how you survived the avalanche,” the reporter said. He placed his phone on the kitchen table between us, then pressed Record. With his pen poised over his notepad, he looked at me expectantly. He smelled like grass and ink and summer tomatoes from the garden.
Without thinking, I glanced around for my brother, but he wasn’t in sight.
“You sure you don’t want to talk to Ryan, too?” Dad asked the reporter, filling his cup with coffee. “He’s got a good eye for detail.”
“Maybe later.” The reporter smiled at me. One tooth along the top was slightly crooked and stuck out. “I want to hear it from Ashley first.”
“The avalanche wasn’t even the worst part,” I began. “But I’ll never forget the roar. How fast it all happened. One minute we were skiing, the next we were being swept down the mountain at lightning speed. It just grabbed us and I couldn’t stop myself from falling. I couldn’t breathe. The snow was everywhere, a choking white blizzard in the air. Couldn’t see—”
“Wait.” The reporter stopped recording. “I explained to your parents, Ashley. I’m writing a series about brave kids like you who have survived in the wilderness. Readers will want to know everything you were thinking, everything you did, so they can learn what to do if it happens to them. Where were you? How did it happen? And why were you there? Try to tell me everything you remember.”
He didn’t look at Dad or anyone else. Only me.
I felt suddenly anxious about being part of a series about brave kids. I was used to just being Ashley Hilder, twelve years old, twin sister to the awesome Ryan Hilder. I had never been anything special before compared to him.
The reporter pressed the red Record button again. “Tell me your story.”
I sat back in my chair, trying to conjure up the memory of that day. “It all started with the wolverines.”
Available January 2018!
Visit www.hmhco.com or your favorite retailer to preorder the book in its entirety.
Visit www.hmhco.com to find all of the books in the Survivor Di
aries series.
www.survivordiaries.com
MiddleGradeMania.com
About the Author
TERRY LYNN JOHNSON has lived in northern Ontario, Canada, for more than forty years. She grew up at the edge of a lake, where her parents owned a lodge. A nature enthusiast, she has explored Lake Huron with her family on their twenty-six-foot sailboat and has traveled more than two thousand kilometers on kayak expeditions in the Great Lakes, Alaska, and Nova Scotia.
She is a certified canoe instructor, and as the owner and operator of a dog-sledding business with eighteen huskies, she guided overnight trips and slept in quinzees.
She currently works as a conservation officer with the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry in the Northern Marine Enforcement Unit. She has seventeen years of hands-on experience and training working in cold-water marine environments and remote areas. She has trained with the Canadian Coast Guard and is qualified to operate vessels weighing up to sixty tons. Before becoming a conservation officer, she worked for twelve years as a canoe ranger warden in Quetico Wilderness Park.
Overboard! Page 4