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Sledders recount harrowing night, lost and stranded in winter storm

Mike Mallabar and his co-workers became lost in white-out conditions in Georgian Bay; A disaster was narrowly averted
Orillia's Mike Mallabar, owner of Precision Painting, accompanied by his painter, Brian Wesselingh, went to work on their snowmobile Wednesday, which is not unusual when you're working on an island in Georgian Bay.
The pair were staining the interior of a new cottage on an island in Go Home Bay and were accompanied by three carpenters: Marcel Lafantaisie, Calvin Whitaker and  Josiah Cooper. At the end of the day, in blizzard-like conditions, in the face of bone-chilling temperatures that continued to plummet, they hopped on their sleds to make their way back to Minors Bay Marina in Honey Harbour, to the warmth of the shore and their vehicles.
Things did not go as planned. In fact, they are lucky to be alive. 
Here is the story in Mallabar's own words.

--

I'm laying here in the bed beside my son's crib.

As I watch him calmly sleep, I reflect on an unforgettable night that started 24 hours ago.

The weather on Georgian Bay turned very bad throughout the day Wednesday. We started to pack up work for the day, a half hour early, as the weather seemed to quickly degrade.

We got our sleds (snowmobiles) warmed up and headed out into the most extreme, white-out conditions I had ever experienced.

As the five of us, on our three sleds, headed out on our path home, the weather somehow turned even worse. 

We drove in single file, staying within 25 feet of each other because any greater distance would cause us to lose sight of one another.

With the disappearance of any familiar sight lines, buildings or landmarks of any kind, we continued on hope and faith.

After about 10 minutes of slow driving, we came to an island and happened upon a boathouse. It was a totally unfamiliar and unknown, yet welcomed boathouse.

Through the harsh winds and driving snow, Marcel, Brian and I hiked for 10 minutes around the island, but couldn't find a cottage. We did notice some slush and thin ice to the right of our location.

We all decided then that we should follow our tracks back to the job site where there were propane heaters to keep us warm and safe for the night.

But after about a minute or two of driving, we discovered that the wind and snow had already covered our tracks. The decision was made to loop back around and return to the boathouse we had found.

As I turned my sled around, in just a blink of an eye, I was alone. I couldn't see any sleds. I couldn't see any of their taillights. I couldn't even locate any of their tracks.

When we earlier found the boathouse, I recalled faintly seeing a line of trees to the left. So I decided to head in that direction.

My hunch was correct. I saw the treeline emerge through the blanket of driving snow and I beached my sled onto the land. 

But now what? I was still alone. No idea where I was. No idea where to go.

As I stared out into the blinding whiteness, I contemplated my next move.

Should I call 911? No. There was no way anyone was coming out into that storm (and I couldn't blame them). I then realized that my phone was wet and dead in my pocket anyway.

Should I try driving somewhere? Anywhere? No. That had disaster written all over it.

It was snowing, it was cold and it was windy.  I was at the mercy of mother nature and amazed at her incredible power. 

The closest tree to me had a huge drift at its base and I thought that perhaps I'd dig a hole to crawl into for the night.

At that moment, I could hear someone yelling my name: "Mike." 

I screamed back: "I'm over here!" But where was "here" I thought.

My mind raced; are they in trouble ... perhaps screaming for help from me? I had to move.

As I wandered onto the ice, I again heard them yell my name. 

I screamed back: "Are you OK?" 

Thank God, they replied that they were. "Are you?" they called. 

When I answered yes, they screamed back: "Stay where you are!" 

As their voices became louder, I knew they were getting closer. I wandered further onto the ice and saw their silhouettes.

They found me. But how did they safely do it without the ability to see?

Calvin found a a spool of garden hose in the boathouse. They spooled it out onto the ice as far as they could while keeping the boathouse in view. 

Marcel and Calvin dragged the hose across the ice in the direction of my voice. Once we found each other, we had a group hug and followed the hose back to the boathouse.

We all then hugged Coop and Brian who were fixing the boathouse window and door they broke to gain entry.

That was the end of that perilous situation.

Now to find the cottage, a bunkie, some semblance of real shelter from this wind, cold and snow.

We stayed together and trudged through waist-deep snow. It seemed that every turn was met with a roadblock of bushes, rocks or trees. 

Our faces, even our eyelashes and eyebrows, were caked in snow.

At one point, Calvin exclaimed "There's the cottage!" But, in fact, it was the same boathouse we had started from 

Onward, in another different direction. We passed a pile of stacked firewood, a set of stairs traversing a stream, then a bunkie. We seemed to be onto something. 

We started to veer right again, so I veered left and almost as excited as I was to see my buddies on the ice, I saw the silhouette of a cottage.

"I found it!" I yelled. 

To our delight, the cottage was unlocked, had power and had a fireplace.

But to our dismay, it was not a year-round cottage. It was large, not insulated and very, very cold. Probably about -15C - inside!

It was now dark and the storm was still exhibiting its full potential, so venturing out to find that pile of firewood was out of the question.

Luckily though, their kitchen was in the midst of a renovation, so there were a couple of boxes of spare end cuts from the carpenter's trim to burn.

And there were five working space heaters that we plugged in throughout the cottage (so as to not trip a breaker if all plugged into one room).

Due to the length of the renovation and time of year however, there was no food; no water; no drinks of any kind. 

Brian, however, found a container with raw linguine noodles that he cooked on the stove using melted snow for water.

We found a few spices in the cupboard and ate cups of plain noodles with various spices. I highly recommend the Spicy Pepper Medley. 

The cottage was just too big for these heaters to warm up the place. We needed to centralize our heat sources. 

The decision was made to place all of the space heaters in the living room (where the fireplace was) and use extension cords from the various outlets. After an hour though, it really wasn't warming up. 

So, I thought of fastening these plastic drop sheets to the ceiling, surrounding our small sitting area around the fireplace. It worked.

The heat from the fireplace and the heaters mostly stayed in our sitting area where we slept under blankets we found upstairs. 

We took turns stoking the fire, but ran out of wood at around 2 a.m. 

Once again, the renovation would be our asset. We used the carpenter's chop saw and cut up two boxes of gorgeous oak hardwood flooring. The peak temperature probably reached +15C in our little fort.

That kept us going until we got up at sunrise (6:45 a.m). Outside our little fort, however, was freezing cold.  So cold in fact, that a bottle of water I had on the floor outside the plastic wall, was frozen. 

We cleaned up, geared up and went to retrieve our helmets from the boathouse.

It was amazingly clear outside and incredibly beautiful. The night's heavy, wet snow clung to the trees like thick snowy blankets.

Upon returning to the boathouse, we saw the two sleds parked on shore and walked out to look across for mine. There it was. Right where I left it. Buried under two feet of snow.

Ironically, it was only about 150 metres from the boat house...but the direction I drove in (to where I ended up) skirted an open channel and marker by about 40 feet. It was definitely the right decision to stay put last night. 

So, I openly thank the lord and my guardian angels who were out in full force that night.

Considering all of the negatives that could have gone seriously bad, there was always a positive to be found.

To Calvin, Coop, Marcel and Brian, Thank you!

I'm so proud and honoured to work with such an amazing group of guys. 

We never ever panicked and rose to the challenges as a strong and solid team.

I love each of you and will remember last night forever.

When I got home, I wept and hugged my family. I'm so grateful for them. I love all of my family and all of my dear friends. 

Life has a way of telling you to pay more attention to your blessings.