until I got to the hospital.
I had drifted 24.496 nautical miles from where I had capsized my speedboat off
my home, St. Lunaire-Griquet, to a position off of St. Anthony Cape. They said
it was about fifty-three kilometres.
I arrived on the wharf in St. Anthony, where many friends and family were
waiting for me. My wife was already at the hospital awaiting my arrival. I spent
a night at the hospital and was released home to the care of my loving wife,
Irene, and our family. A local restaurant calledThe Northern
Delight had provided a big pot of delicious rice soup for the crowd who had
gathered in our home while I was lost at sea. I don’t like rice soup, but my
daughter, Trudy, put a bowl of soup aside in the fridge and said, “This is for
Dad, and I’m calling it ‘Faith Soup.’ When he’s found, I will make sure he eats
every last drop of it!”
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 yourgood 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 sixor 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
I had drifted 24.496 nautical miles from where I had capsized my speedboat off
my home, St. Lunaire-Griquet, to a position off of St. Anthony Cape. They said
it was about fifty-three kilometres.
I arrived on the wharf in St. Anthony, where many friends and family were
waiting for me. My wife was already at the hospital awaiting my arrival. I spent
a night at the hospital and was released home to the care of my loving wife,
Irene, and our family. A local restaurant calledThe Northern
Delight had provided a big pot of delicious rice soup for the crowd who had
gathered in our home while I was lost at sea. I don’t like rice soup, but my
daughter, Trudy, put a bowl of soup aside in the fridge and said, “This is for
Dad, and I’m calling it ‘Faith Soup.’ When he’s found, I will make sure he eats
every last drop of it!”
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 yourgood 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 sixor 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
Similar Books
