Man on the Ice

by Rex Saunders

  Derrick and Chris returned home and told Irene what had happened. With all of us brothers aboard, the Saunders Endeavor went on down outside of Belle Isle. We got a few seals and we had a great time.

  I had a VHF radio in my house so I could keep in contact with Derrick whenever he was out in boat. I had to know where he was, even though he had completed a course in marine navigation. Sometime after we had finished sealing for the day, we tied up to a big flat pan of ice and began cleaning and pelting our seals. I heard my wife over the VHF radio. “Have you still got Rex on board your boat?”

  Herb quickly replied, “No, maid. We put him out on Belle Isle. He’s going to walk home if the ice goes tight together enough for him to walk on.”

  Irene, being the quick-witted lady she is, quickly replied, “Good. By the time he walks all the way home, I will be over it. But if I had him here right now, I would give him a trimming!”

  We got quite a few seals over the next couple of days. Irene was glad to see me again by the time I got home, God love her.

  Sealing season ended and Derrick and Chris fished with their gillnetting from Cook’s Harbour, Raleigh, Quirpon, and around St. Lunaire. My back was giving me trouble all summer. Sometimes Irene would have to help get me out of bed and put on my socks. I didn’t want to go back to the hospital because I knew they would keep me in and I would be facing another back surgery. But, there is only so much pain one person can take, so back to the hospital I went.

  I recall what Dr. Fitzgerald said during his examination. “B’y, you sure are in bad shape.” I had already had five back surgeries, and I could not think about staying in hospital for the sixth. Most of that winter and the following summer I had a real bad stomach and I was being treated for what felt like everything in the book, but nothing seemed to work.

  Dr. Fitzgerald reported that he would not operate on my back until he was able to diagnose the trouble with my stomach. After spending another week living in a hospital bed, on strict bedrest, I wasn’t even able to turn over without the help of the nurses. Irene was working at the fish plant in St. Anthony now, and she would come to the hospital every night to visit me. I think she would work just as hard trying to turn me from one side to the other as she worked at her job as a hand cutter. I couldn’t rest, no matter which way I was laying.

  One day, Dr. Fitzgerald came in and said he believed I had gallstones. “You’re going to the operating room at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “The quicker, the better,” I replied.

  When the morning came, the nurses were busy getting me ready for the OR. I wasn’t aware of anything until sometime in the middle of the day, when I woke up in the ICU. I had a big, lengthy cut on my belly, but the pain was all gone. The doctor told me he had removed twenty-four large gallstones along with my gallbladder. But my back problem was still there, and the pain was just as bad as ever. I was recovering from the surgery when Dr. Fitzgerald told me that there was nothing he could do for my back. There was too much scar tissue, and he was going to send me to the Health Sciences Centre in St. John’s. I asked if they could do anything there for me. He explained that he was unsure, but it was worth a try.

  I was under the care of Dr. Shapter and Dr. Maroon. They had operated on me twice before, and after doing some tests they too stated that there was too much scar tissue from the previous five surgeries. They went on to explain that there might be a small light at the end of the tunnel. They wanted to refer me to a doctor at Scarborough General Hospital in Ontario. This doctor might be able to perform laser treatment to remove some of the scar tissue, and if that was the case, I would be able to return to St. John’s to undergo the surgery. I returned home to wait for the call from Dr. Shapter with news about the referral to Scarborough General. After what seemed to be a very long time, I received a call from Dr. Shapter. He stated that his colleague, Dr. Chapman at Scarborough General, would see me.

  We scheduled an appointment and my wife and I headed for Ontario in May of 1995. We stayed with my brother-in-law and his wife, Ned and Vivian Simms in Scarborough, and on weekends we spent our time with my twin sisters, Isabella and Gladys, in Brampton. We were in Ontario for two months as Dr. Chapman carried out more tests and discovered that the results of the MRI and X-rays revealed that he could not perform laser treatment. However, he reported that he could perform the surgery on my back, by entering through my stomach. I said it was all right with me, and I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to return to St. John’s. I could just return to my home in St. Lunaire.

  Dr. Chapman stated he might be able to correct some of the nerve damage in my right leg during back surgery. When I awoke after surgery, though, he apologized and said that the nerve damage in my leg had been there too long to be corrected. However, my back felt good. He explained that a bone had broken during one of my previous spinal fusions; I had been trying to get around with a broken back! He had taken a partial bone from the top part of my hip and fused it in place. He reassured me that the bone would not break again unless I was in a serious accident. The doctor also noted that several other bones bones in my back had broken prior to that large break. I was relieved that it was all over and I was anxious to start my recovery and go home.

  When we got back to St. Lunaire, I was able to do almost anything I wanted to do, within reason. I didn’t lift things that were too heavy for me and I tried my best to take care of myself. The following summer, Derrick and Chris went fishing again, but in the month of June the government closed the cod fishery. After about a year, Derrick decided to pack up his family and join his brothers in Brampton. I felt all alone. Derrick and Corrie remain in Ontario today with their families.

  My son Denley and his wife moved back to Newfoundland in the spring of 2010, and I still had my wife, our son Darryl, and our daughter, Trudy, with her husband, Alonzo, and their daughter Leann. There was nothing more I could do, so I started building small model boats in my shed. The first one was called the Trudy Irene, after the one we lost to a fire on the Labrador some years ago. It was 6.5 feet and all fibreglass. The next model boat I built was 5.5 feet and I named it Martin S., after our youngest grandchild, Martin. I built an even larger model boat, seven feet long and three and a half feet wide. I called her the Four Boys, after our four sons and four grandsons. I put a 3.5-HP lawnmower motor in her and a remote control system on her. She’s all fibreglass and she steams 6.5 kilometres an hour.

  My wife and I decided we’d like to spend some of our time camping, so we bought a fifth-wheel camping trailer. We enjoyed that very much. We set it up by a big pond or lake about halfway between Main Brook and Roddickton. It’s only about an hour and a half from St. Lunaire. It’s a good place for fishing and there are lots of campers there.

  Everyone had a small 10- to 12-foot pond boat for fishing, so I decided that I was going to build a 12-foot boat and fibreglass over the plywood. I decided to put a glass bottom in her, so I ordered Lexan—it’s similar to Plexiglas, only much harder, and not as likely to break. I thought I was going to be able to see those big trout swimming through the glass bottom of my boat, and it worked just fine. However, Irene was terrified when she got aboard my glass-bottomed boat for the first—and last—time. She looked down and saw the water, and the rocks on the bottom of the pond. She jumped up and squealed, “That’s it! You’ll never get me aboard this thing, whatever it is, ever again!”

  Well, so much for that. I decided to sell my fine boat. Before I got rid of her (my glass-bottom boat, I mean), I cut a sheet of 12-foot plywood, and cut it lengthways to make a plywood bottom to place over the top of the glass so that Irene couldn’t see through. I figured she would be okay as long as she couldn’t see through, and I could take it out when I fished alone, so I could enjoy the glass bottom. But no way would she get back in that boat. She knew there was still a glass bottom and she wasn’t going to have anything to do with it. Soon after, I sold my fine boat to Mr. Edwin Smith. He wasn’t afraid of the bottom.

  I then
built a seven-foot old-fashioned model schooner. I called it the Gull Pond. Our town council now has her and wants to put her on display, or that’s the plan, I think. I then built a six-foot old-fashioned trap skiff like we used to haul cod traps with at one time. I put a 6-HP water pump engine in her and inserted the nozzle from the hose out through the stern post, where the shaft and blades would go, and made her a powered boat, driven by the force of the water. She operates by remote control too. The latest model boat I built was another old-fashioned schooner like the Gull Pond, for our first great-grandchild, Abbey Rose. I named the schooner Abbey Rose, after her.

  Chapter Six

  On a Mission

  FOLLOWING A NUMBER OF back surgeries, I thought my life was getting back to normal. I was doing a few things more than I was able to do before and enjoying life to its fullest. I got up one October morning and went out in boat to shoot a few turrs. I came home with my quota of twenty. My wife picked them clean and stored them away in the freezer for the winter. I spent the rest of the evening relaxing at home and headed to bed at around 11: 30 p.m. I was feeling quite restless, and by six o’clock in the morning I was up with what I thought was heartburn. A few moments later, I was experiencing severe chest pains. I could hardly breathe.

  Irene called my brother Herb, who came to my home right away and called an ambulance. I was taken to St. Anthony Hospital where the doctor confirmed that I had suffered a heart attack. I spent three nights in St. Anthony as I awaited a bed at the Health Sciences Centre in St. John’s. Once I arrived, I received a dye test, which confirmed that I had two blockages. The doctor told me that I did not require any in-patient treatment at the time, and sent me home with some medication. The meds did the job for the next four years.

  On November 31, 2008, Irene and I, along with our son Darryl, went to Brampton, Ontario, to visit our three sons and our grandchildren and spend Christmas with them. During the holidays I wasn’t feeling well. I was very tired and often short of breath. On January 9, 2009, my son Denley convinced me to go and see a doctor. Once again, I was diagnosed with blockages. This time there were five. I spent a few days in the hospital in Brampton, where I received four stents.

  On January 30, 2009, we returned home to St. Lunaire. I grew stronger with each day. Spring came and it was seal hunting time. The question was, “Am I going sealing or not?” But, of course, sealing was in my blood, and I couldn’t stay on the land while my buddies were out in their boats.

  Chapter Seven

  A Miracle on Ice

  SUNDAY, MAY 3, 2009, was a beautiful day. There was just enough wind to keep the ice off the shore about a mile or so. I thought, It’s going to be a good day out in boat tomorrow. I had heard about a few seals the boys had gotten down around Cape Bauld. Off to church I went, with the seals, the ice, and the boat on my mind. I didn’t go sealing on Sundays, so I got up Monday morning around 6: 00 a.m. and looked out my living room window. The ice situation was about the same as it had been yesterday.

  The morning of May 4 was beautiful and the waters were calm. I watched as the other boats were getting ready to venture out. I said to my wife, “I have to go sealing for a few hours, it’s such a nice day. I’ll only be gone for four or five hours.”

  The wind was southern just enough to keep the ice scattered so that the speedboat could get through it. I thought, This is going to be a good day out in boat. I got in my truck and drove around town, just waiting to see if some of the boys were going out in their boats today. Not seeing anyone on the move yet, I went back to the house for a cup of tea and a slice of toast. I sat with my tea and toast in front of the window, looking down toward the government wharf at my boat sitting there beside Verrick and Roger Patey’s boats.

  I was thinking that nobody was very interested in seals, because the price per pelt was only around eight dollars, and the rule was that you had to have a buyer for your pelts before you went out, if you were hoping to sell them. For me, though, selling the pelts wasn’t the main reason I wanted to go. I remembered going sealing when I was only a young boy, around ten or eleven years of age, and I always enjoyed it. It was in my blood. I remember going out in a rowboat with my uncle, George Saunders. We went out about a mile or so offshore to the edge of the ice. I remember we killed a young harp seal on the ice that day, and I was so excited. I had seen seals in the water before, but it was the first time I had seen a seal on ice. Back then you couldn’t sell the seal pelts, but we brought the meat home and we had a nice scoff of seal for supper.

  As I was looking out the window at the boats, I saw Verrick’s truck going down on the wharf, and when I saw Roger’s truck going down as well, I knew that it was time for me to get on the go. I had my rifle and lunch bag aboard my truck. I was in a hurry because I was quite eager to get out in my boat. By the time I reached the wharf, Verrick had his boat in the water. Roger had brought along his snow machine, and they were pulling the boats out to the edge of the land and sliding them into the water. Verrick looked at me and said, “You want your boat pulled out for sure.”

  I said, “Yes, b’y.” So we hooked up the painter of my boat to the snow machine, and away we went for the water. By this time there were a few more fellows around as we slid her into the water.

  Roger and my brother Herb were in Roger’s boat, while Verrick, Jim, and our youth pastor, Shannon Rogers, were in Verrick’s boat. They were getting ready to go and I wondered if I had enough gas. I had a full tank and an extra five-gallon can. Just to be sure, I went back to the gas station and got another five-gallon can of gas. Now I had plenty. I always carry a five-gallon can of gas that I call my emergency gas, and I store it in one of the lockers of the boat.

  While I was at the gas station, Lester Hedderson came along and asked, “You’re going out in boat all alone?”

  I said, “Yes, b’y.”

  “Well,” he said, “I sure would like to go with you. It’s going to be a nice day on the water. But I have too much work to do.”

  I replied, “That’s okay. I’ve been alone since my boys moved to Brampton back ten or twelve years ago.” I paid for my gas and went back to my boat.

  Lloyd Curtis was on the wharf with his son Paul. They had just bought a brand new 35-foot longliner, and the price for seal pelts was enough for him to go at it. He said, “Boy, oh boy. I sure would like be going out there with you today, but I got too much work to do.”

  I headed out in my boat and began the hunt. My life-changing ordeal was about to begin.

  I left the wharf around ten-thirty that morning. The ice went for two or three miles. The wind was south-southwest, about five or six knots, just right to keep the ice off the land and keep it scattered apart. I got to the ice around 11: 00 a.m. or so. The ice was big, and scattered about a hundred feet or so apart, just right for sealing, but the seals were very scarce. I didn’t see any other boats, so I went up the shore a bit toward the Brehat Shoals. Then I turned and went toward the White Islands. I only saw one seal. I think it was an old seal. It didn’t stay up very long.

  Around 11: 30 a.m. I saw a boat with three men, so I went in toward them. It was Uncle Ralph Pilgrim with his son Ambrose, and their friend Willie Pilgrim. They were about three miles off Griquet Cape. They were having a cup of tea, so I stopped and had a cup of tea and a sandwich with them. While we talked, they mentioned that they saw one young harp in the water. They were having their mug-up while they waited for the seal to come up. After talking for half an hour or so, I decided to go up to the southern. There was still no wind and the sun was shining. It was a bit cold, maybe -4 or -5 degrees Celsius, just a real nice day on the water. I was enjoying it very much.

  I saw a young harp in the water after steaming about an hour or so. Steaming on toward him, I proceeded to get the rifle ready. I had a brand new .223 with a good scope that was right on. My brother Ezra has a machine for setting scopes. He’s also a gunsmith. The seal went down and I took the motor out of gear. When I looked to my left, I saw the young harp on a pan
of ice. I put the motor in gear and turned the boat toward the seal and shot it. When I took it into the boat, I spotted another one on a pan. So, I got him in the scope, while yet another one started to go across the pan. I shot the one that was just lying there. Taking that one aboard my boat, I then saw one more in the water. Before I got him in the scope, three more came up. The four harps were almost touching each other. I took a shot and missed. They were all gone then. While I was waiting around to see where they were going to come up, I saw another one on the pan of ice. I went for that one and shot it. When I went to hook the gaff in him, I saw two more. So I got both of them before I put my gun down, and I pulled the three harps aboard my boat.

  I was having a great day. There were seals all around there, everywhere. I didn’t bother the ones in the water; I had a better chance at the ones on the ice because the sun was shining and the seals were asleep. They didn’t know what hit them. Although I wasn’t at it for the money, at eight dollars a pelt they would give me enough money for gas, and that was good enough for me. I wanted to bottle the seal meat for ourselves and keep a few for our sons living in Brampton. They came home every summer and took back cases of bottled seal, moose, and turrs. Our daughter, Trudy, lives in Roddickton with her husband, Alonzo, and their children, Gregory and Leann. They like bottled seal, too. So, ten or a dozen seal carcasses were good, with a few meals to give away.

  With no other boats around, I was doing well with the seals. I got two on another ice pan and I hauled them in the boat. It was really warm. The sun was shining, and no wind. I was a bit too warm, so I unzipped my floater suit as far as the belt buckle around my waist. I pulled it open to let the air get in and cool me off a bit. It felt good.