Real Survival Stories - Raging Rapids: Marooned in Manitoba

Episode Date: September 4, 2024

Two young backpackers from Germany throw themselves deep into the wilds of Canada. Wolf and Johannes embark on an epic adventure down the remote Hayes River. But when disaster befalls their canoe, the friends will find themselves on a different kind of journey - not away from civilisation, but desperately seeking a way back to it… A Noiser production, written by Joe Viner. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward for the show, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

With TD Direct Investing, you can get live support. So whether you need help buying a partial share from your favorite tech company, opening a TFSA, or learning about investing tools, we're here to help. But keeping your cat off your keyboard? That's up to you. Reach out to TD Direct Investing today and make your investing steps count. Plus enjoy 1% cash back. Conditions apply. Offer ends January 31st, 2025. Visit td.com slash dioffer to learn more.

It's Thursday, July the 27th, 2017. Deep in the backwoods of central Canada, the Hayes River is a 300-mile-long waterway that runs through northern Manitoba. It meanders through a vast tract of densely forested wilderness, 180,000 square miles of ungoverned backcountry, roamed by bears, wolves, and herds of caribou. The only feasible way through this rugged, inhospitable terrain is by river.

Historically, the haze was an important trading route for fur trappers. Now, the only boats that travel along it are those of trout fishermen and the occasional intrepid canoeer, adventurous souls like German tourists Wolf Wagner and his friend Johannes Hunch. As they paddle downstream in their boat, Wolf and Johannes stare straight ahead. Their movements are slow and mechanical. Their eyes dimly register the scenery, the pine trees, the marsh grass, the blue sky. It's the exact same backdrop they've been staring at for eight exhausting days. You had always the same landscape, just a couple of trees, a bit of grass.

It was so hot. You always had the sun shining from above, blue sky, nearly no clouds, not a lot of wind. And if there was wind, it was against us. This trip was meant to be fun, but is turning into a slog. How much more monotony can they take? But then, a distant sound breaks the quiet and the stillness. A low, ominous drone. And as they get nearer, it grows into a roar.

It sounds like a jumbo jet flying low over the river. But as they float closer, they realize it is the river. Wolf and Johannes have encountered rapids multiple times on that trip so far, but not like this. We immediately noticed that this was a bigger one than the other ones. It was about half a mile wide and it had like two islands in the middle. So you basically had three streams where you could have gone through. The pair are now face to face with the rocky, raging rapids. A terrifying series of steep runs and cascades, all violently churning with white water. The two friends exchange panicked words. Do they attempt to careen through it?

Or do they jump out and try to drag their canoe to shore? Both options are dangerous. And choosing the wrong one could prove fatal. And then we kind of said goodbye to each other. We couldn't really go back with the boat. We already were behind the point of no return. We just had to go through it now. Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes?

If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice? Welcome to Real Survival Stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet Johannes Hentsch and Wolf Wagner. In the summer of 2017, the two friends embark on a canoeing expedition through Canada. It promises to be a genuine adventure in the wilderness and a welcome departure from their corporate jobs back home. But when disaster befalls their canoe, Johannes and Wolf will find themselves forced into a different kind of journey. Not away from civilization, but desperately seeking a

way back to it. It just took me a couple of seconds to realize, okay, we just have been walking in a circle. At the moment I realized that, I just fell and I just said to Wolf, I'm not going any further. I'm John Hopkins from Neuse. This is Real Survival Stories. It's morning on Wednesday the 19th of July 2017. In the one-horse mining town of Woboden in the Canadian province of Manitoba, two German tourists sit waiting for a train. 25-year-old Wolf Wagner lifts the brim of his cowboy hat and peers down the tracks. Sunlight gleams off the rusty rails, which extend in a straight, unbroken line through this sparsely populated landscape of boreal forest and wide-open grassland. Wolf squints at the horizon, but there's no

train in sight. Alongside him, his friend Johannes is reading a book, his head resting on a backpack. The sky overhead is cobalt blue and cloudless. The breeze carries the scent of pine, prairie grass and smoke from the nearby nickel mine. For Wolf, it all comes together to create the unmistakable smell of adventure. Foreign and intoxicating. Life back in Germany feels a world away. I was at the time working as a bank branch manager in Frankfurt, so I had a very busy life. And I really was craving for a bigger adventure again, which I until that point used to do every year, at least one large trip a year.

For Wolf, these trips are more than a vacation. They're an escape from his white-collar, desk-bound day job. And in Johannes, he has found the perfect travel companion. Like his friend, Johannes is outgoing and adventurous. Although, in some respects, the timing of this particular adventure isn't ideal for him. After a busy few years, things are finally starting to fall into place for the 26-year-old. I started working back in 2016, so almost one and a half year actually working after I finished university. And yeah, things had settled down a bit. I met my girlfriend at this time. We knew each other for one week and then I had to go for the trip.

If anyone could persuade Johannes to drop everything and venture off into the wilds of Canada, it's Wolf. The pair were introduced three years ago by a mutual friend. Since then they've become close, bonding over their shared love of extreme outdoor activities. But for all they have in common, they have their differences as well. Johannes is the more cautious of the two. I think I'm much more the guy who likes to plan ahead and to be well prepared and to be the conservative guy. I am more the guy who has a lot of doubts and he's much more the doer. He's always been a quite analytical kind of person and I've been maybe more a person that decides with their stomach or with their heart sort of thing.

So that was quite a good dynamic, I would say. It was quite a good mixture, really. One day, about six months ago, Wolf suggested that they go on a canoe trip down the River Nile. Johannes, sensible as ever, vetoed the idea. The route looked too dangerous. But it wasn't long before they had a new plan, one they both liked the look of. We always wanted to do a long river, and so we looked around and we ended up coming with the idea of Canada. They settled on tackling the Hayes River, a historic fur trade route that flows for 300 miles north through Manitoba, before spilling into the icy waters of Hudson Bay.

Northern Manitoba is a sprawling, rugged expanse of uninterrupted wilderness. Speckling the map like flecks of paint are the region's many lakes, more than 100,000 in total. Here and there, mining towns and old trading outposts appear at the intersection of trucking roads. Aside from a couple of practice sessions on their local river, neither Johannes nor Wolf are experienced canoers. If they get in trouble, they'll be hundreds of miles from the nearest road, without any means of communication. But it shouldn't come to that. If all goes to plan, this trip will be a laid-back affair, with scenic days spent paddling, followed

by leisurely evenings reading by the campfire and chatting beneath the northern lights. It should be more of relaxing, not so physically intense. That was actually my intention of the trip. Of course, it should not be too boring, but also not getting dangerous. It's mid-morning by the time the train chugs into view. Wolf and Johannes jump to their feet. When the friends arrived in Canada last week, their first task was to buy a canoe. They searched online and eventually found

a secondhand vessel for sale in Winnipeg. They also bought a small trailer for transporting the canoe on land. They headed for the station with their gear in tow. But the train that was supposed to take them further north was cancelled. The next wasn't for another three days. Rather than wait around in Winnipeg, Wolf and Johannes decide to store their equipment at the train station and ask a member of staff to send it north on the next train. The duo then took a bus here to Woboden, where they'd been camping for the last three days,

awaiting the arrival of their equipment. The train rolls to a halt at the signal stop. A guard jumps down and begins unloading their bright red fiberglass canoe from the luggage car. I asked the guy, oh, that's really good, thank you, but where's the little trailer for our canoe? And he says, there wasn't any trailer with it. And we were quite shocked because that would obviously mean that we had to carry the canoe all the time. And even between the two of us, with the additional luggage as well and the backpacks, it's just super heavy. It's a major blow.

But there's nothing they can do about it now. The next problem is how they're going to get to their planned embarkation spot. But there's nothing they can do about it now. The next problem is how they're going to get to their planned embarkation spot, a two-day journey by foot. Originally they'd intended to walk. Now, confronted with the unappealing prospect of lugging their canoe down the road, they need to find someone here in Warboden willing to give them a ride. Fortunately, we found one guy. His name was Glenn.

He was a Native American medicine man, interesting character. And he pulled up with this 30-year-old pickup truck. And we just throw in the canoe on the back of that. And then he drove us for two hours through the bush. While Johannes takes the passenger seat, Wolf sits in the truck bed. With one arm draped across the canoe, he leans back and grins. After a slow start, they're finally underway. He watches the spruce trees rushing past in a green blur.

They seem to grow taller and more vibrant the further they get from civilization. I think the only time where you can get this real feeling of independence and freedom is when you're in the outdoors. Anything where you've got the wind around your nose and the weather and you're exposed to the elements. It just gives you this very real feeling of being out there in nature and that just gives me a real high. Two hours later the truck pulls up at Norway House, a small lakeside settlement and a starting point for their journey upriver. Wolf and Johannes carry their canoe to the water's edge. lakeside settlement and the starting point for their journey upriver. Wolf and Johannes carry their canoe to the water's edge.

They load their backpacks and then themselves into the vessel, which creaks and rocks beneath their weight, before settling in the glassy, turquoise water. They push off from the bank and and with a cheer of excitement, they're away, ripples fanning out across the lake as the canoe glides smoothly forward. We set in and were really excited. The weather was nice. It was sunshine, probably about 22, 25 degrees,

something like that. And off we went. And we went for a long time on that first day as well, and we really enjoyed it. Yeah, it was really good. They paddle into the afternoon, wooden oars scooping the bright, clear water. To reach the source of the Hays River, Wolf and Johannes first need to

navigate a series of small interconnected lakes. On a map, these lakes are clearly named, differentiated by size and shape. But from the canoe, they are indistinguishable. Identical bodies of water, all fringed by the same dense evergreens, all reflecting the same blue sky. You had always the same landscape, just a couple of trees, a bit of grass. It was so hot. And doing the paddling, I got some back pain,

my muscles burned, and after each day I was just done. It was exactly not as I anticipated the trip would be. No relaxing, no reading a book afterwards, not doing a small fire in front of our tents at the end of the day it was just like paddling getting dinner get into bed and fell asleep immediately over the course of the next week wolf and johannes continue north after a few days they come to the source of the river and start paddling downstream.

The days drag on, arms begin to tire and blisters begin to form. The reality of this trip might not pan out as they imagined it, this precious little let-up from the monotony. Occasionally they come to white water sections where they must decide whether to float through the rapids or to portage, bypass the obstacle by carrying the canoe across land. At the end of each day, Wolf and Johannes pitch their tent on the riverbank, light their gas stove and prepare dinner, hot water added to sachets of powdered soup. They remain on constant lookout for large mammals, bears, wolves and caribou. But in the end, it's the smaller animals that disturb them the most. There were a lot of mosquitoes.

I did not prepare for that to happen. And I just was cooking dinner and there were mosquitoes everywhere. And I was still concerned about other big animals. It's late afternoon on day eight. Wolf and Johannes paddle in weary silence. The wide green river snakes between the trees. They're a little under halfway through the route, with over a hundred miles still to

go. Johannes is counting the days. Gradually, a sound emerges above the peace and quiet. A low, rumbling growl. They've reached a place where the river splits into three streams, divided by two islands. The shallow water churns and tumbles over the boulder-strewn riverbed. They've arrived at Nuna Tanawego Rapids, a much bigger and fiercer whitewater section than any they've yet encountered. Wolf and Johannes drag their oars to slow themselves down.

There's still time to jump out and pull the canoe to shore. But the undergrowth crowding the banks is so dense, there's no easy way on to land. The time to make a decision is running out. There was really no obvious way to go through or to carry it around as well. It was really the vegetation on the side was massive, very thick forest and trees where we couldn't get through easily or at all. So we decided we will sail through in inverted commas. They're going to tackle the rapids head on. But as the canoe drifts closer to the noisy churn, they start to doubt their decision.

Barrels of white water thunder down rocky cascades, crashing and seething at the base of large black boulders. Johannes grits his teeth and holds his paddle aloft as the canoe plunges into the maelstrom. It's a sudden, jarring shift. From a state of tranquil, tedious calm to one of extreme and sudden peril. And then we kind of said goodbye to each other. We couldn't really go back with the boat. We already were behind the point of no return. We just had to go through it now.

The canoe is dragged helplessly through the rapids. Wolf and Johannes flinch as shuddering impacts reverberate through the fiberglass hull. Everything goes really, really quick. Everything is super loud around you. You need to shout at each other, even if you're only a meter and a half away. You need to react very quickly and then you just get one surprise after another. The front of the canoe collides with a boulder, sending it spinning in circles like a weather vane in high winds.

It could roll at any moment, tossing its passengers into the raging river. But instead, the canoe crashes to a sudden halt, pinned between a rock and the rushing water. Slowly the boat started to go and you can just feel how it slips from the stone where we were settled and just seconds after we just crashed into another stone. Like a pinball, the canoe careens into another rock, again coming to a standstill.

Using their oars to push against the riverbed, Johannes and Wolf manage to free themselves. The boat shunts forward. But by now, it's become clear that the damage is already done. Water sloshes around their feet, gushing into the canoe from multiple cracks in the hull. The boat was pushed underwater. It was running full with water within a split second and then it basically just sunk with all our stuff still in it, 60 kilos worth of equipment and food. Jumping out of the canoe, soaked and shaken, they start pulling it to shore, wading through waist-deep water. Eventually, battling against the torrent, they reach land,

tugging what's left of their boat behind them. They collapse onto the bank, gasping for breath, both afraid to assess the damage, afraid to confirm what they already suspect, that their canoe is broken beyond repair, that they are now stranded in the middle of the wilderness. or run a pre-produced ad like this one across thousands of shows to reach your target audience with Libsyn ads. Email bob at libsyn.com to learn more. That's b-o-b at l-i-b-s-y-n dot com.

It's after dark on June the 30th, 2016, on the banks of the Hayes River, deep in the woods of northern Manitoba. Wolf and Johannes lie side by side in their tent. Their eyes are closed, but both are wide awake, rattled after the terrible day they've just had. After dragging their sinking canoe from the river, the two German tourists assess the extent of the damage. Several large cracks have ruptured the boat's hull.

It's clear that the vessel cannot be salvaged. Wolf and Johannes have decided to get some sleep. In the morning, rested and clear-headed, they can come up with next steps. But in truth, there's only one way out of this. One way back to civilization. On foot. The men lie in their tent, listening to the incessant chirp of insects. Restless, Johannes rolls onto his side and reaches into his backpack.

He pulls out a photograph given to him by his girlfriend before he left. There is a note on the back, but he's been waiting for the right moment to read it. Now feels as good a time as any. That was where I first took out this photo and just read her note on the back, which says, Enjoy your vacation. come back safely and remember someone is waiting for you at home.

And I thought, yeah, now I'm getting back home. We will just walk. We know how to walk in the forest and nothing can stop me anymore. It's different from being on the water, which I do not know, the paddling and so on, like reading the water and now it's just walking. At daybreak, Wolf and Johannes unfold their map and switch on their GPS. They work out that it's 136 kilometers to the nearest road. Though the route will be dense with trees, the terrain is flat, and they estimate they'll be able to cover the distance in around four days.

Along with their wrecked canoe, they also discard some other non-essential items, lightening their packs for the journey ahead we also wrote a note that we've left there where we basically said look that's the date today that's what happened to us and that's what our plan is and if anybody finds this please send us an email and if you don't hear back from us until a certain date, please call the emergency services and make them search for us. That was the last note we've left there. Wolf and Johannes point their compass west and set off walking. As they leave their campsite

behind, spirits are relatively high. The task ahead of them seems challenging, but doable. They've got more than enough food to last them for the next four days. Time is on their side. We weren't really that concerned because we knew roughly where we were. We had our GPS device, our GPS receiver. We had still the paper maps. So we knew where we were. And I think that's always an important thing. We knew we can rely on each other. We know how to survive in nature.

We are used to walking long distances. It was 136 kilometers to the road where we wanted to be. And we thought we're going to manage that in three or four days. Because obviously, you know, we have 12, 13, 14 hours a day we could use for walking. No problem. But as they set off, they find that they're tiring far quicker than they anticipated. Their steps feel heavy, laborious and sluggish. The problem is the terrain. Covering 800,000 square miles of the country's northern wilderness, the Canadian Muskeg is an

immense stretch of boggy peatland, a swamp-like expanse of decaying vegetation carpeted with moss spruce and aspen crossing musking is like walking on a soggy half deflated air mattress every step you were sinking in and it made everything so much more difficult it was super slow and every step was just so much heavier. After just half an hour of walking, Wolf and Johannes are doubled over, clutching their knees and gasping for breath. It's like they've just run a marathon. But when they check the GPS to see how far they've walked,

they can't believe their eyes. The thing which kind of broke me down was actually that after the first 30 minutes in this terrain i had a look on the map and i thought okay the gps device doesn't work anymore because we just covered like 500 meters and for me it was like no, we have been here 30 minutes walking 500 meters. This can't be. After 30 exhausting minutes, they haven't even made it a kilometer. Demoralized, the two friends keep slogging on, their boots leaving imprints in the damp, mossy ground. It's humid, sticky, and windless. Warm, stale air rises from the muskeg,

carrying a compost-like smell that clings to their clothes and skin. Flies buzz around their faces. By early evening, Wolf and Johannes decide they've walked as far as they can today. They stop and set up camp. We actually only walked for six hours because we were so exhausted then. And we pitched our tent and we looked at the map. And I think we could hardly draw a line on the map of the routes that we took and it was so dispiriting it was just incredibly frustrating.

Johannes watches in dismay as Wolf traces a faint pencil mark on the map, indicating the distance covered. It's a barely visible dot in the vast expanse of the backcountry. Johannes crawls inside the tent and slumps onto his side. Heat radiates from the mosquito bites on his arms and neck. Inside his sweat-soaked, threadbare socks, his blistered feet throb with pain. This was where I thought, OK, the last days in my life will be quite exhausting. Because it was clear that we will fight, but I was not sure whether we will make it. It's the following morning. Johannes wakes to the soft pitter-patter of drizzle against the tent canvas.

And I thought, oh no, now it's raining. And can we just go and sleep and just wake up later? And then I took a closer look and I saw it wasn't rain, it was mosquitoes in the tent. The insects buzz and hum around Johannes. He covers his head with his sleeping bag. How many more days like yesterday can he take? Despair tugs at him, pulling him down into the peaked bog. Then the flap of the tent door lifts.

Wolf's face appears, unshaven, unwashed, but undeterred. Wolf was already out and he just said, get up, get into your wet clothes, let's go on. And I think without him, I would not have been able to stand up. In their relationship, Johannes has always been the vigilant one. The thinker, at times the over-thinker. Wolf, in contrast, is bold and daring, preferring impulse over reason. And right now, at this moment of tribulation, it's Wolf's foolhardy, devil-may-care optimism that might pull them through. The main thing that gets you going in the morning is probably hope and the drive that with every step you do, you are one step closer to the road and you're one step closer to, well, civilization in the end.

Wolf and Johannes trek across the spongy forest floor, which squelches underfoot. The landscape stretches on interminably, a seemingly endless sweep of grassland strewn with stunted conifers and stagnant mud pools. But as they continue west, something stops them in their tracks. They've arrived at a large tract of burnt, fallen trees. It's the remnants of a huge forest fire, an increasingly common occurrence in dangerous network of sharp, charred branches sticking out at all angles. Going through it will be risky and time-consuming, but they don't have much choice. The affected area seems to stretch for miles on either side. It would have taken days to walk around them,

so we basically had to walk through. And some of them had just fallen down and they were burned all black, like coal, lying on the ground. But others, they had fallen over and the trunk that was still looking out was a meter high or so, so you couldn't really go underneath.

You had to climb over. It was very exhausting and a very surreal scenario and situation. Wolf and Johannes carefully navigate through the charred forest. Occasionally, a burnt log crumbles under their weight, collapsing in a shower of cinders. Avoiding injury is of the utmost importance. Out here, a twisted ankle could be a death sentence. Hours later, they walk clear of the burnt trees and emerge once more into greenery. By now it's evening and the two friends are spent. They set up camp in a clearing and measure their progress on the map.

It's another demoralizing reality check. At this rate there is a distinct possibility they'll run out of food before they reach the road. With enough food for about 12 days, they can't afford any more delays. But that, like everything here in the wilderness, is outside of their control. It's early afternoon on their fourth day of walking. Wolf and Johannes clamber their way up a thickly wooded slope. Eventually, they break through the tree line and emerge onto the banks of a lake. We came out of the bush after walking half of the day, around midday it was, and it opens up this white

lake with a massive white sand beach in the middle of nowhere, right? Super blue water, the sky was blue, and we just had this massive lake in front of us with nice sandy white beaches untouched. They look out across the water. Sunlight dancing on its surface. It's tranquil, almost idyllic. But it also presents another obstacle. We had like

two options. Either we go around the lake, which takes us two hours maybe. Or we just go through the lake, which takes us two hours maybe. Or we just go through the lake. And I was completely done. I almost started to puke for exhaustion and I was done.

It was shortly afternoon, the sun was burning. I was so done. So far, they've been averaging about 10 kilometers a day. That is nowhere near the pace they need to reach the road on schedule. Walking around this lake would add a damaging detour to their journey. It's a setback they can't afford. Their only option is to swim. First, Wolf and Johannes gather up a bundle of sticks and lash them together. Then they put their boots and backpacks onto the makeshift raft before pushing it out onto

the lake. They wade in after it, the cool water, a balm against their sunburnt, insect-chewed skin. Fortunately, Johannes and Wolf are both strong swimmers. They plunge forward, crossing the lake with swift, efficient strokes. Half an hour later, they've reached the opposite bank. And that's when they realize they've got a problem. There is no sandy beach on this side of the lake.

Here, the sides are rocky and overgrown, with no obvious route through the packed, prickly vegetation. Johannes clambers up first. Once he's found secure footing on the slippery rocks, he turns to help his companion. Wolf hauls himself out of the water. He plants one foot against a large, flat stone, its surface slick with moss. And as he reaches up for the outstretched arm of Johannes, Wolf's foot comes sliding out from underneath him.

He slips, falls, and lands with a dull crack. Wolf winces in pain. Gasping, he stands and delicately rotates his hip. He hit the rock hard, landing directly on the bone. There's already a nasty bruise forming, but the joint seems to be moving okay. Nothing appears to be broken. It's a lucky escape. It was just this wake-up moment for us, really. The outcome at this situation could have been very, very different, and we just need to pay even more attention

and do a bit more sort of risk assessment or risk management in certain situations. Wolf's fall just made us aware of the situation and aware of what could happen. And as far as I remember, we said to each other that we will stay together, we will not separate, and if one fails, we both will fail. They press on with a heightened sense of caution. Wolf has held on to his oar from the canoe, and he uses it to cut back the tangled, knee-high foliage. Twigs scratch their legs and arms as they bushwhack through the relentless muskeg. At one point in the late afternoon, they come across a patch of flattened grass. Looking closely at the shapes in the peaty soil, they realize what they are. Footprints. And then the next realization is a sickening one.

And then suddenly I saw at this point there was high grass and I saw, okay, there's a trace. Someone has been here. And it just took me a couple of seconds to realize okay that's our own choice and we just have been running in a circle walking in a circle at the moment i realized that i just fell and i just said to wolf i'm not going any further they've They've spent the day walking in one big, energy-sapping circle. Johannes collapses to his knees. He is completely drained. This is starting to feel like a losing battle now. A futile attempt to defy the odds.

Even Wolf's determined outlook is starting to wane. You couldn't see the end at the light of the tunnel. That was the main challenge. And we both internally thought maybe the solution is to stay here and then one person goes ahead or I don't know. We didn't really think of an alternative, but at some points we weren't sure if we were going to make it out. But just when things seem at their darkest, the power of their partnership kicks in. Because giving up on yourself is one thing, but giving up on a friend is something else entirely. You can't let the other partner down and you know he thinks exactly the same.

And you don't even need to talk about this. You just know it and you just crack on and you just concentrate on small things like your next step that you're doing, as in literally one footstep after the other. Wolf and Johannes help each other to their feet. They take out their map, compass and GPS. Time to cast doubts aside and refocus. In five days, they've traveled just over 50 kilometers. That means they still have around 90 kilometers to cover before their food supply runs out in seven days' time.

We knew we had food for 12 days, so we had to make it in 12 days. And yeah, it couldn't really take much longer than that. It'll mean committing to even longer, harder days. A daunting prospect. But in some respects, things are getting easier. They're more accustomed to the terrain. Bit by bit, they're learning how to find the path of least resistance across the muskeg. The trick, they've learned, is to seek out patches of white moss,

which tend to be firmer and drier. They're getting used to the midday heat and to the mosquitoes at night. And as each identical day blurs into the next, they find that establishing a pattern helps to retain focus. It was our routines we had, like getting up, getting in your wet clothes,

put everything together, start walking, having our breaks every 30 minutes, doing some bad jokes and so on. And this was kind of a routine which I liked. And slowly you could also see the progress on our map. The completion of each day brings another boost to their morale. In the warm glow of the gas flame, they unfurl their map and check off their progress.

Their little pencil line is inching satisfyingly closer and closer to the road. There's this sort of, you cannot accept an alternative outcome of this, there's only this one chance. So I guess it's a combination of naivety and that's this intrinsic survival power that every one of us has. It's day 12. Wolf and Johannes weave through the conifers. Their steps are heavy and plodding. The skin on their shoulders has been rubbed raw by their backpack straps. Their clothes are filthy and torn.

But behind their dark sunglasses, their eyes remain wide and alert, because by their estimates, they should be nearly at the road. They strain their ears for distant traffic, but they hear nothing other than the wind in the trees. After a while they stop to check the GPS. We looked on our satnav at some point, and according to that, we had already crossed the road,

but obviously we didn't, so we were a little bit panicking what's happened. Did they maybe not build the road, or that little path that we had just crossed was that maybe the road nerves start to creep in they crossed a dirt path a few miles back surely that can't be the road marked on their map that would be too cruel. Suddenly, Johannes snaps. Is that enough? We started to argue about where to go now,

like keeping going on or just look at the GPS again. And I just decided, no, no, I just want to get out of here. And I just started running as best as I could do. Johannes arrows through the trees, his exhausted legs pumping with angry adrenaline. Blood throbs in his ears as he crashes through the undergrowth. He can't take it anymore. The endless monotony of the forest, the pine trees, the marsh grass, the fear, the uncertainty.

All of the pent-up emotion from the last 12 days comes rushing to the surface, fueling him through this final, frantic sprint. And then, Johannes reaches the top of a small rise, bursting through a barrier of trees. Staggering and breathless, he suddenly emerges onto an empty two-lane highway. Moments later, Wolf appears at his side. That first feeling of these steps on a hard surface, we were incredibly relieved. And we were just falling into each other's arms and were extremely relieved that we made it there. The exhausted friends hug Giddy with joy. They've made it. And to make things even better, it's only a few minutes before a car comes roaring down the road.

Wolf and Johannes stick out their thumbs, grinning. But the car doesn't slow down. They look at each other and shrug. Oh well, second time's the charm, and after their twelve-day ordeal, what's a few more minutes waiting for a lift? But the next vehicle also ignores them. And so does the next, and the next. It dawns on Wolf and Johannes that passersby might be suspicious of two lanky and disheveled

backpackers hitchhiking on a remote trucking road. They might not be out of the woods just yet. Some time later, a fifth vehicle comes their way, a large freight truck. They stick out their thumbs and watch as it passes them by in a cloud of dust and fumes. But then… red brake lights. As the truck wheezes to a halt on the hard shoulder, Wolf and Johannes run up to the cab and ask for a lift to the nearby town of Gillum. The friendly truck driver is surprised to hear their German accents,

but he's only too happy to help them out. They climb up into the cab, buckle in, and sit back as the truck eases back onto the road. At the point where we got into this truck, that was where I could detach. I just look out of the window, see the passing trees and think, yeah, we are safe. Soon the truck arrives in Gillam. Wolf and Johannes heartily thank the driver, then traipsed to the nearest motel. They shower,

eat, then head to the local bar, with quite the story to tell the regulars. We had a couple of drinks there in the bar, right? And the night was really interesting there. We stayed there for only one night and then on the next day we had these tickets for that bus. In their original itinerary, Wolf and Johannes had scheduled to take the bus from Gillum after completing their canoe trip. They have arrived in the town right on time. The next morning they board the bus they had always intended to take and travel back down to Winnipeg to catch their original flights home. In other words, their trip has gone almost entirely according to schedule, if not exactly to plan. In the weeks that follow there is a flurry of media interest in the story. Canadian news reports feature opinions from local

experts who express disbelief that two tourists were able to spend 12 days trekking through the Manitoba wilderness and live to tell the tale. For their part, normal life resumes for Wolf and Johannes. Wolf goes back to his bank manager job, and Johannes is reunited with his girlfriend. They're still together today. But while much has remained the same for the two friends, the experience of course changed them too. For the careful and rational Johannes, it showed him that sometimes unbelievable things can be achieved through sheer force of will.

I realized that my will can instruct my body to do things even the body says no, don't do it, or I'm too exhausted. You are actually capable of doing much more than you think you are. As for Wolf, getting lost in the woods has fortified him against any future challenges he might face. This was definitely the worst, best thing that ever happened to me in life so far. It's made me personally incredibly strong. And if I encounter any difficult situation I'm always comparing it to this and I always come to the same conclusion it's not as bad as Canada and that's an incredibly great feeling that you know you manage every situation everything that's thrown at you you can manage because it's not so bad. Above all, their Canadian misadventure has deepened Wolf and Johannes' bond.

Lost in the wilderness, they found just how strong they are together. We shared so much on the trip, not just physically but also mentally, saying to each other, come on, move on, we will make it, we will do it. Think on your girlfriend. I think that's what each of us alone would not have been able to do. I don't think I would have made it out on my own, full stop. The support we gave each other was vital in the real sense.

There were so many situations where each one of us would have given up if we were on our own. Johannes is really that one person in my life where I know I can 100% rely on. And it's made the relation and the friendship much, much stronger, incredibly strong. Next time, we meet Australian sailor Lisa Blair. In 2017, she's attempting the fastest ever solo circumnavigation of Antarctica, the ultimate test of nautical skill and endurance. She's nearing the finish line, closing in on the world record,

when out of nowhere, disaster strikes. 1,000 miles from land, with her boat rapidly breaking in two, Lisa must leap into action, performing the most difficult and desperate of emergency procedures, all while battling the most treacherous waters on Earth. That's next time on Real Survival Stories. Listen to Lisa's story right now without waiting a week by subscribing to Noisa Plus.