NPO Guest Blog: "Tour de Frantz"- Lost on the Mountain

"Tour de Frantz"- Lost on the Mountain

By Steve ‘BearMagnet’ Frantz- NPO Pro-staffer

Today, just over a month has passed since undergoing a three-hour surgery to repair a deviated septum, remove sinus polyps, and clean out my sinuses.

But let's go back to before the surgery, when I was a 64-year-old in reasonably good shape, who treated opening days of bear and deer season in Pennsylvania as the most sacred religious holidays. Because of medical insurance limitations, my surgery had to be moved from 10 days before the 2015 bear season opener to six days before that opener, but no sweat, I would be good by the opener. 

Well, I had to tell my hunting buddy to go to camp without me on Friday morning, because I was really hurting and still draining blood down the back of my throat.  Our bear camp hunters took four bears the first day, which was the first day that I wasn't in camp in the last 42 years.  It was killing me not to be at Bear Camp in northern PA, and by Monday morning (second day of the season), I was chomping at the bit, and convinced my wife, that I was OK to go hunt the last two days of the season.  The 2 1/2 hour drive went OK, and I arrived late in the afternoon to the surprise of the hunters in camp, because I only had surgery a week earlier.

The next morning at 5am, six of us departed camp to hunt an area, which I had hunted since 1992. I had packed quickly for bear camp and didn't put my compass into my backpack, but a fellow hunter gave me his pin-on, which I put on the outside left chest area of my vest, as I departed two of the group to head across the flat toward the point of the mountain. 

My doctor ordered me to lift no more than 20 pounds, and didn't know I went hunting. Well, my rifle weighs about 15 pounds, and my backpack with gear, water, coat and sweater about 10-15 pounds more, but who is counting, because I was hunting my favorite big game in God's country. 

I had a new GPS with only the one waypoint marked as the truck’s location, and no real experience with the new GPS.  My old Garmin GPS, which I had for over 20 years with lots of waypoints, had all the waypoints lost, when the battery went dead, and my son was gracious enough to give me a new GPS for Christmas last year… but I never used it, and read the 8 pages of instructions with the unit the night before my bear hunt. 

How hard could it be to figure out?! I was able to communicate with the other hunters by radio as I still-hunted across the flat to the point, and even found a location a bear had started to dig into the mountain as a winter den.  Near the point, I saw a doe, and thought I felt OK physically to climb partway down over the mountain to the first bench. 

After climbing downhill for several hundred yards, I realized this section of the mountain had no bench, and by 3pm, I called Butch to tell him I changed my mind and would continue to descend to the stream below, which I would follow upstream to a bridge, where the other guys could pick me up at dark. 

Sounded like a good plan.  I would need to climb the steep mountainside, and only needed to walk upstream 1 1/2 miles to the bridge.  I could tell my surgery had left me weak somewhat, but that travel route would be the best way out for me that day.

I reached the bottom of the mountain and the stream by 4pm and needed to travel East upstream to the bridge.  The bottom of the mountain was like a delta area where two streams meandered in a serpentine route, but all I needed to do was walk East to get out.  I had walked out this way twice in the last 20 years, but not lately. 

Looking at my pin-on compass, I headed East upstream, and the creek seemed to have higher water levels than I remembered, but we did have some significant rain in the past. The sides of the creek were so overgrown, that it was easier to walk in the water (even though I wore leather boots and the water depth was about 12-inches average). 

I was hunting my way out of the mountain, and looking up the sides of the valley for any bear wandering around at the end of the day.  I saw nothing, and continued East as the darkness set into the valley.  After two hours of slogging my way upstream using a walking stick to prevent falling due to the slippery rocks, I didn't see the stream flow lessen, which I expected as I travelled upstream towards the bridge in the Easternly direction. 

The compass was my trusted companion, because the one waypoint on my GPS would have taken me up the mountain and across the flat.  I continued to head East.  By 6:30pm, I realized something was wrong, and I began questioning the compass, but could not get any clear direction out of the new GPS, which I couldn't get to show me East! 

I knew I needed to stay hydrated, and had drank all my stored water, so I began drinking stream water, and I ate two candy bars for a quicker energy boost, because now I had traversed upstream in one foot of water for nearly three hours and no bridge in sight, because I was in the wrong valley. 

This is when I ultimately realized the compass was wrong, and I had in fact been traveling North into a totally different run instead of East toward the one I was supposed to be walking.  My body was now revolting and fatigue was setting in, I had to walk in the stream because the overgrown sides were impenetrable, my hunting buddies were probably in a state of panic, and I was no where near walking out at that time. 

In my youth, I was always the last hunter back to camp, and I always said not to worry about me until 7pm.  Well, I remembered that saying, and at 7pm, I fired my first signal shot, but no one heard it in the next valley, where my friends awaited my return. 

I kept walking upstream, because it was pitch black (the moon hadn't risen by that time), and now distrusted my compass, the GPS gave me no reading, my cell phone in my chest coat pocket had no signal, and I had no way of walking East across a mountain flat 1-2 miles wide (without knowing what was an Easterly direction). 

At 8pm, I reached a place where two steel cables ran across the stream, and as I climbed over the cables, I knew I needed to rest and rethink my strategy.  I had traveled nearly nonstop upstream for four hours with only short breaks to rest, and by now was quite exhausted physically. 

I spit out some clots, which had drained down my throat, had taken the last Tylenol I carried with me, and I knew I needed to just rest a bit.  I moved up the hillside to a big tree, put on my sweater and hunting coat, and just laid down for about 15-20 minutes.  I believe I slept, but not sure, however I opened my eyes to see the full moon high above me in the valley.  I now could see the entire forest floor even without my flashlight. 

Even though I had an emergency silver blanket, waterproof matches, and lots of batteries for my light, I didn't want to spend the night on the mountain.  I knew I needed to travel East from the stream to get out, but needed someway of knowing that I was walking in a straight direction perpendicular to the stream.  The moon showed me the way! 

I moved back to the creek and looked up the mountainside, where the moonlight revealed a cut about 20 feet wide directly up the mountain perpendicular in an East direction from the stream.  I gradually climbed the steep mountainside, resting very often, until the ridge was reached.  I gazed down to the stream and then the opposite direction to see the cut line disappearing into the distance in a straight line.  I had found my Easterly path to walk out of the deep run. 

The walk was now easier not being in foot deep water, and soon I heard a truck in the distance.  I was heading in the right direction, because the road ran parallel to the creek, but I didn't know how wide the flat was there (I had never hunted this section of the mountain). 

Soon, I saw truck lights in the distance, but couldn’t run to intercept it, before it roared past in the direction my hunting partners were waiting.  Finally, I reached the dirt road, and turned to walk back the 3-4 miles to the bridge, but my walk was cut short, when I heard the roaring engine from an ATV, which emerged from the woods behind me.  I quickly flashed my light in their direction and they turned towards me. 

“Are you the guy we are looking for?” the driver asked, and I told him yes, I was probably that guy.  I had walked out of the forest and was OK, but exhausted.  I ended up with pleurisy, or inflammation of the sac around my lungs, and two weeks after the Tour De Frantz on the Mountain, I am still fatigued by late afternoon. 

I never had gotten lost before, and don't want to ever experience that again.  Whatever could go wrong did go wrong.  I started the hunt in less than top physical condition.  I did have a compass, GPS, cell phone, food, water, knowledge of the area, and emergency supplies. The compass lied to me, though, because the cell phone in my pocket adjacent to the compass threw it off by 90 degrees, so when I was initially heading East, I was really walking North.  I wasn't physically or even mentally recovered from the surgery and my judgment was impaired enough to make a mistake. 

Neither I, nor any of the first responders looking for me could get my new GPS to clearly show an East direction.  The travel route through the water compounded my fatigue and it could have been fatal if I had fallen or passed out in the water. 

I really didn't panic, but was mentally worried about what my fellow hunters were thinking (worrying), and that can also wear a person down.  The heroes were the four fire company personnel who responded to the 911 call from my fellow hunting crew, and had begun to search for me in the mountain that night, and I thank them for that service. 

I am sorry for putting my fellow hunters through the ordeal that night.  I have since purchased a new GPS, which I can understand, two new compasses, a water purification straw, silicone to recoat my leather boots that carried me through the water that night, and a better understanding of just how quickly and easily a person can get lost. 

Lastly, trust your compass, but keep your cell phone and GPS away from the compass.  I hope to hunt that mountain again next year, but will have other waypoints in my new GPS.  Have a safe and happy Holiday Season, and enjoy the late muzzleloader deer season.  -Steve 'Bearmagnet' Frantz

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