Saved by "A Flash of Light"

I was directing traffic in Banff, Alberta, one day, at a minor traffic accident, when a passing motorist rolled down his window and asked, “Was anyone hurt in that accident where the car went through the guard rail and down the cliff?” “What accident and where?” I enquired.

I quickly obtained a good description of where the accident occurred, thanked the driver for the information and waved him on.

Once the damaged cars had been cleared from the intersection, I got on the car radio and contacted the dispatcher in the Calgary sub-division. They had no reports of any accident as I described. At that point I contacted the Canmore Detachment, as the accident scene was in their area. They had no knowledge of the accident.

I carefully explained where the accident was located in the mountains, on a very sharp curve, where there was a very steep drop off down the face of the cliff. The key was to look for the any damage to the guard rails.

Within the hour I heard radio traffic and realized they had found the vehicle with the driver still in it and a rescue was taking place. After that I was distracted with other duties and did not hear any additional details.

About a week later I was on the phone with the Canmore Detachment on another incident, and when I was done I asked them about the accident where the car went over the cliff.

I learned that they had a great deal of trouble locating the car as there were no tire marks and no damage to the guard rails. The vehicle could not be seen by anyone standing on the road at the point where the car went over the edge.

The driver of the car that first reported the accident to me, was very careful to point out that he noticed the wrecked car only because the sun was reflected off the windshield, when they were about a half mile away and approaching a u-shaped curve. They were at the top end of one side of the curve and the wreck was at the top end of the opposite side of the U.

It took some time to realize that the car could only be spotted for a second, in one specific place on the highway, some distance away and down the side of the mountain. Many spruce and pine trees hid the vehicle. Both before and after passing that point, it was impossible to see the wreck.

Eventually tire tracks were found in the dirt, where the vehicle had gone between the guard rail posts without touching any one of them. The car dropped down the steep slope about a hundred feet and became lodged on its side between the mountain and the base of a large pine tree.

Mountain climbing gear had to be used to lower a rescuer down the side of the mountain to the car.
It was discovered that the male driver was still alive in the automobile, and terrified to even move. Because the car was on its side he was sitting on the driver’s door and looking down through the glass, to a the bottom of the valley, very far below.

Each time he tried to move, his weight shifted the car and it seemed about to fall down the steep cliff.

Later it was determined that he was not paying attention to the road, but was enjoying the scenery, lost control of the car and went over the edge, but was saved when the car jammed between the tree and the cliff.

The rescue of the driver took place many hours after the accident had occurred, and at a time when he thought he would never be found. He yelled for help but could not be seen nor heard. He would probably have died, long before he would have been found.

Recovery of the car was even more difficult and all traffic on the road had to be halted for a number of hours until the job was done.

The man was saved only because a very observant driver saw "a flash of light" off the windshield and realized it was a car. He assumed it was an old accident but spoke to me only because he was curious about the details. I was too busy at the time to get his name, but I did follow up on the report and was happy to hear the driver was saved.

Mountain Driving at Night

One very dark night I was driving my car from Banff, Alberta, and heading for Calgary. The old highway I was traveling on clung to the side of the mountain, with a steep drop off to my right and a cliff to my left. The road wound back and forth with many curves that did not allow any distractions.

There was no other traffic in the beginning, but eventually I was passed by a brand new 1955 Buick on one of the few straight sections of the road. I was driving a 1953 Hillman convertible which had trouble with the hills, but handled the mountain curves with ease.

As the miles passed, I would catch up with the other vehicle on the curves, but then fall back on the straight sections, which were few. Normally I do not like following another vehicle, but it was such a pitch black night I appreciated the lights of the car ahead, as he gave me warning of the direction of the curves.

The miles were sliding by, until we ran through a serious of sharp curves, during which I caught up. We then reached a straight section of the road which led down a slight hill.

Suddenly, with no warning, the tail lights of the other car came on, in what was obviously a panic stop. I immediately applied my brakes and the two cars skidded in unison down the highway. I can clearly remember seeing the smoke curling up from behind each of his rear tires as he was skidding. Almost at the same time, the Buick smashed into something on the road, and a short distance later, came to a full stop.

I managed to get my vehicle to stop with less than ten feet separating our vehicles, but I stalled the engine. The headlights on the Buick were knocked out and just the tail lights remained on.

I got out of my vehicle and as I walked forward, the other driver got out. I asked him what happened but he did not know what he had hit. All he saw was a dark object on the road just before he smashed into it. Steam from his broken radiator was leaking out in the cool night air and it was very difficult to see. The other driver was not injured but he was quite upset.

There were no towns or even homes in this area of the Bow River Valley, so it was pitch dark in every direction. As I had a flashlight in the car, I went back to get it, so we could check the damage.

When I came back with the flashlight, we examined the front of the car and found the entire front end smashed along with the hood and fenders. We found blood on the road and it led to the edge of the highway and then down into a steep ditch.

I suggested that he had hit an elk, since they were numerous in this area of the mountains. When I grabbed the flashlight I had also grabbed my service revolver, in case we had to put the injured elk out of its misery.

My flashlight was not very bright so we proceeded slowly, down into the steep deep ditch. Once we were safely down the slope I shone the light on the other side of this very dark ditch.

It took a second for it to sink in, just exactly what we were looking at in the puny beam of light. Standing upright with both front legs spread wide was the biggest black bear I had ever seen. Its mouth was open, its eyes were glaring and blood was dripping from the jaws.

In one motion, the two of us spun around and climbed out of that ditch with record breaking speed.
As we ran up onto the highway I took a quick look with the flashlight to see if it was following us. While still running, I saw the bear fall backwards on to the far side of the ditch bank and lay still.

It took a few moments for us to calm down and get our hearts beating at a somewhat normal rate. Then I slowly moved back around the front of the smashed car and checked out the location of the bear. By this time it was lying motionless on its back and the eyes were closed. We waited some moments to make sure it was not breathing before we checked it up close.

The bear had died from massive injuries, but had enough strength left to stand up as we jumped down into the ditch. It was probably as frightened as we were in the last seconds of its life.

We left the Buick with the tail lights on and set out some warning reflectors before I drove the owner to the next town where he could hire a tow truck. I continued on to Calgary and was quite wide awake for the rest of the trip.

The next morning on my way back to Banff, I stopped at the scene, but everything had been cleaned up, including the bear. I found out later that some local Indians had removed the bear and made use of the bear meat, and in particular the bear claws.

Bow River Valley - Canoeing - Part 1 of 3

When I lived in the mountains at Banff, Alberta, I vowed that some day I would make a trip from Lake Louise to Banff, a distance of about forty miles, by running the Bow River in a canoe. The river is fed with melt water flowing from the mountains and glaciers, all along the Bow River Valley.

The opportunity came in August of 1961 when I was 26 years old. It was a gray day, but I was committed, no matter how the weather turned out, as my window of opportunity only gave me three days. I planned to make the trip by myself and had camping gear in order to stay out overnight.

Early one morning, I put my canoe in the river near Lake Louise, and headed down stream. The view from the water was spectacular. High mountains sat on either side, with thick evergreen woods down their flanks. The trees were thick along each river bank, with nary a road, a trail, or the slightest sign of civilization. This entire area sits in the middle of Banff National Park and every effort is made to keep the area a pristine wilderness.

The river starts out rather wide, swift and shallow. The current is too fast to paddle against, so the run down river is exhilarating. The swift current limits the work with the paddle to steering, and in particular to avoiding rocks and dead trees.

After about fifteen miles the river narrows and becomes very winding. The valley flattens out, the river is deeper, and it is difficult to see what lies ahead, around each new bend. The entire course of the river is complete wilderness, as it has been for hundred of years.

During my journey, I only saw only one other individual. He was a trout fisherman standing in hip waders, in a long, swift, shallow rapids. He was facing down stream, so he did not see me coming, until my canoe suddenly raced by him. Just as he cast his line, I yelled a friendly “Good morning”, and left him standing with his mouth hanging open, and a shocked look on his face.

The river has the occasional small creek leading into it from valleys on either side. The water in them had ceased running, once the spring run-off was done. They allowed me to paddle away from the river and set up camp in an ideal quiet spot. The only road in the valley was the new Trans-Canada Highway. It ran parallel to the river, and higher up on the side of the mountains, some distance away.

Just before dark I set up camp, took a few photos, then ate, and climbed into the sleeping bag. I was looking forward to completing the second half of my trip the next day. I was soon lulled asleep by the sound of the rapids nearby.              Continued in Part 2.