Man on the Ice

by Rex Saunders

  When I got home, Pastor Primmer said all the people had gathered around the front of the church and held hands, and they had special prayer for me, at the same time I was on the ice thinking about them. Irene said there were about twenty or more people at our house, and they gathered around her in a circle and held hands and had special prayer for me. Some of these people came to our house when they got the news that I was missing or overdue, and some of them didn’t leave until the Coast Guard called Pastor Primmer and told him they had spotted me on the ice. They told the pastor I seemed to be just fine, that I was waving my arms. Then the people who had stayed for two nights went home to rest and sleep.

  About a week after I got home from the hospital, the toenails on my left foot began to turn dark, and every one of my toenails came off at the same time. However, my bad foot, the one that was supposed to freeze, never even turned dark. I say to my wife sometimes, “You know, the Lord said, ‘Okay, b’y, if you think you can care for your good foot and keep it from freezing, you go for it, but I’ll take care of your bad foot for you.’”

  It proves to me that I can’t do very much. The one I took care of froze a bit, just enough for the toenails to come off, but the other one was okay. Thank the Lord for that.

  While I was lost on the ice, Denley couldn’t rest or work. He couldn’t sleep or eat, so he said to his wife, “We’re going home.” So they got in their truck and headed for the ferry terminal at North Sydney, Nova Scotia. While they were going through Montreal, his cellphone started to ring, and on the other end was someone saying, “Your dad is found and he’s okay. He’s walking and talking, so he’s going to be all right.”

  So Denley turned around in Montreal and went back to Brampton again, but after a week he still couldn’t concentrate on work. He said, “I got to go home and see Dad.” So, Denley and his wife flew to Deer Lake, where Trudy’s husband, Alonzo Budden, was waiting to take them to St. Lunaire.

  Chapter Eight

  Reflection

  I OFTEN THINK BACK on the morning I had the accident and lost my boat. I was alone, and maybe that was a good thing. If someone had been with me, they might have drowned or died on the ice. I lost my boat, my guns, and all of my survival gear, everything gone to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean about three or four miles off St. Lunaire-Griquet. I thought I would never again be able to afford another speedboat, but my friend Perry Pilgrim gave me a 19-foot wooden speedboat, which I finished with six or seven layers of fibreglass. I bought a 75-HP Mercury outboard motor that had seen very little use. I was ready to go back on the water again.

  I don’t use her for sealing, and I don’t go alone anymore. I went with my buddies Tony Blake and Abel Smith the following spring, and this past spring I went sealing with my buddy Allan Burden and his son, Paul Burden. Now I spend most of my time in my shed building model boats and replicas of boats I once owned, back when the cod fishing was good. Now, camping seems to be replacing the old times of speedboats, sealing, and turr hunting. And, putting a snapshot of my life onto paper has been an amazing experience.

  Lastly, I would like to share a little poem:

  My name is Rex Saunders and I am a very small man,

  I spent two nights out on an ice pan,

  The wind was northeast and boy did it blow,

  It started to rain then it turned into snow.

  The days they were long and the nights were so cold,

  I thought for sure I was a lost soul,

  I prayed to the Dear Lord, I was shivering to death,

  My boots full of water and my clothes were all wet.

  I saw helicopters as they circled overhead,

  Everyone home thought I was dead.

  But then when I looked, the Ann Harvey I could spy,

  I knew for sure they were looking for me,

  I waved my gas can but she went on by,

  With my head on my knees, I started to cry,

  Oh Lord, why can’t they see?

  I’m all dressed in red and it’s clear as can be,

  Then as I watched, she turned right around,

  ’Twas then that I heard that beautiful sound,

  The horn it was blastin’ and the black smoke I could see,

  That was a signal they were giving to me.

  Just you wait a few minutes and we’ll have you on board,

  Then I fell to my knees and I thanked the Dear Lord,

  For Captain Frost and all the crew on board,

  The trip back to St. Anthony, it took quite a while,

  I was off the Grey Islands about twenty-five miles.

  The crowd on the wharf was so glad to see me,

  Then off to the hospital, the doctor to see,

  He put me to bed and closed the room door,

  He said, “You can go home tomorrow if your feet are not sore.”

  Early the next morning the doctor came in,

  He asked, “How are you feeling and how have you been?

  You can go home now, but come back again.”

  I said, “Okay doctor, I’ll phone my wife.

  She’s my reason for livin’; she’s the love of my life.”

  Irene took me home and the crowd gathered around,

  They were so glad I had been found,

  Trudy was there, she never went home,

  Denley, Derrick, and Corrie, they called on the phone,

  Our pastors, the Primmers and Rogers, were like angels to us,

  Irene’s friends like Sheila and Tonya, they caused an awful fuss,

  They were singing and shouting and running around,

  They were so glad that I had been found.

  And now that I am home, I thank the Dear Lord for everything,

  And I’ll be ready for sealing again next spring,

  Now I’ll end my little poem,

  And thank the Dear Lord that I made it back home.

  Acknowledgements

  I WOULD LIKE TO thank our pastors, the Primmers and the Rogerses, for all they did for Irene while I was lost on the ice. Also, thanks to Sheila Hillier and Tonya Sheppard, who never left Irene’s side from the time I was lost until I was found. Thank you to our premier, Danny Williams, and the Honourable Trevor Taylor, and the Minister of Fisheries, Tom Rideout. Thanks to the hospital staff physicians and nurses of the Charles S. Curtis Memorial Hospital, and to Dr. Singh who took care of me. Thanks to The Northern Delight Restaurant for the big pot of soup for the crowd that was at our house. Thanks to all the people that phoned and sent cards, and all the people that brought food and made cakes. You know who you are; thank you and God Bless.

  Thank you to the crew on the Ann Harvey, the airplanes, and the helicopters. Thanks to everyone for your kindness. It will never be forgotten.

  A special thanks to my wife, Irene, and our boys, Denley, Derrick, Corrie, and Darryl, and our daughter Trudy, for encouraging me to write this book. Thanks for the love and support of my grandchildren, Gregory, Stephen, Ryan, Leann, and Martin, and to our eldest granddaughter, Charmaine, for preparing my book for the press by editing and typing my words.

  I would also like to thank Carl Hedderson and Max Sexton for the survival strategies they taught us at our meeting. Some of these things came to memory. The most important thing is to try and keep warm and not to panic. Thanks again, Carl and Max. Also, thanks to the following boys who went looking for me in their longliners and speedboats. Some of you walked alongshore and in small coves just in case I had somehow gotten ashore.

  My brothers, Wade, Herb, and Ezra Saunders

  Thanks, boys.

  Afterword

  I’M NOT SAYING ANYTHING about the Coast Guard people, because they did all they could to find me. But there is one thing that bothers me. It was April, 2009, when two DFO officers came to St. Lunaire-Griquet and had meetings with the men who were going out ice sealing. They showed us video pictures or slides of sealers killing seals on the ice from their speedboats. They were shooting the seals with rifles. Then one of the men ran across t
he ice pan and hooked his gaff in the seal. The DFO officer said that the sealer did the wrong thing. He was supposed to cut the seal open and make sure the main arteries were severed so the seal would be properly bled out before it died.

  All that was okay, but the thing that bothered me the most was the fact that those pictures were taken from a DFO airplane eight miles away. That’s what the DFO officers told us. I wondered if the Coast Guard would save money if they invested in a few of these cameras. They may cost a few thousand dollars, but they would save a few thousand dollars in fuel for planes and helicopters and big boats. Just a thought. I’m sure the people running the Coast Guard know what they’re doing.

  The pilot of the helicopter phoned me a week or so after I was rescued, and he told me he saw a green shrimp bag frozen in a small clump of ice. At first he thought it might have been something from my boat. He felt very bad when I told him he was so close to me.

  REX SAUNDERS is the second-eldest of Fred and Olive Saunders’s ten children. He was born in St. Leonard’s, now known as St. Lunaire-Griquet, on the Great Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland. His family moved to Main Brook, White Bay, where he attended school as a boy. He began making his way as a fisherman at a young age, both on shore and off, plying his trade on the Newfoundland and Labrador coasts. Over the years he has worked as a fisherman, woodsman, and sealer. On May 4, 2009, Rex Saunders went missing after his sealing vessel capsized; he spent two nights alone on the ice floes off the northern Newfoundland coast. His story of survival went national after he was rescued from the ice approximately fifty-three kilometres from his home. He is married to the former Irene Earle. They have five children and six grandchildren and currently reside in St. Lunaire-Griquet, Newfoundland.