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Eventually, Donn lost all track of time. His legs took a beating—from cratches, sprains, bleeding, insect bites, and clinging bloodsuckers. On the sixth day he heard the sound of a motor above him, but he was too hidden by forest canopy to be seen by what was likely a search plane. It became more and more difficult to move his legs but he walked on, buoyed by the possibility of finding an inhabited cabin. He came to believe that he was never quite fully alone, that a guardian angel was present and watching over him. After nine days, nearing the very end of his endurance, Donn reached the east branch of the Penobscot near where the stream he had been following joins the river. When Donn looked across he could see the cabins of the Lunksoos Sporting Camps. His weak yells were finally heard by Nelson McMoarn, the shocked proprietor of the camps who rushed across in a canoe to rescue the boy. The word quickly spread that Donn Fendler had been found alive. The search-and-rescue attempts organized the first day of Donn’s isappearance had been almost abandoned by the time he was found, but his family and thousands of people following the news reports had never given up hope. Donn told the story of his extraordinary saga in Lost on a Mountain in Maine, which he wrote with the help of Joseph B. Egan not long after his rescue. The book became a classic and is still read by adults and schoolchildren throughout New England and across the world. After many radio and print interviews, including Life magazine, Donn became a national hero, then enlisted in the Navy and served in World War II and Vietnam. He lives in Maine and continues to tell his story and share the lessons he learned with Scout troops and schoolchildren throughout the state. His adventure continues to inspire people who celebrate the strength of the human spirit in the face of what appear to be unbeatable odds. A Tragedy on the Knife Edge Ivusic chose to leave the Knife Edge, intending to descend to Chimney Pond more directly. Mower, apprehensive of following such a course, returned on the marked trail to Pamola and down the Dudley Trail to the campground. The two maintained occasional voice contact until Mower learned that her friend was trapped and could not go up or down. Mower continued on to Chimney Pond to get help. When Ranger Ralph Heath returned after a day of trail work, he was also able to establish voice contact with Ivusic from the edge of the pond. His original intention was to begin a rescue attempt at first light but a sudden change in the weather prompted him to try to reach her during the night. After failing in that effort, Heath left again early the next morning with food and equipment (having already radioed for backup assistance). Complicating matters was the onset of a severe snowstorm that quickly accelerated to blizzard conditions. Now Heath, likely having reached Ivusic, was trapped as well. The backup rangers tried valiantly to reach the site but were driven back. Overwhelmed with sorrow, the rescuers finally abandoned their efforts after almost a week of worsening conditions and a number of rescue attempts. In the spring when park personnel began the grim task of locating and evacuating the bodies, they discovered that Heath had, indeed, reached Ivusic and had been able to dress her in warm clothing. We can’t fully know what happened that day, as Heath died in his valiant attempt to save Ivusic’s life. Ralph Heath’s willingness to sacrifice his own life for another’s is still celebrated, and his memory is still held in deep respect by park personnel. There have been many other climbers who have looked down to Chimney Pond from the Knife Edge and been lured into thinking they could take an easy shortcut directly to the campground. But there is no shortcut unless one is an experienced technical climber with a great deal of mountaineering training and the proper equipment. The Great Maine During one group’s stay at the Joe Francis Camps at the foot of Debsconeag Falls on the Penobscot West Branch near the turn of the 19th century, the ultimate practical joke was played on an unsuspecting victim, and his friends enjoyed a heap of fun at his expense. During most of their week’s stay the men diligently rose early each morning and, after enjoying a substantial breakfast, spent most of the day hunting for moose, the great monarchs of the North Woods. At the end of the day, after a hearty dinner back at the camp, they gathered around the great fireplace, warmed themselves in its glow and heat, and swapped stories of their adventures. One of the group was especially eager in his zeal that year to land a moose in order to return home triumphantly. Unfortunately, this gentleman was so near-sighted that when he got within shooting distance of a moose he was unable to complete his mission. This combination of circumstances only encouraged his hunting buddies to decide that he was the obvious choice to be the victim of that year’s prank. Those who were in on the joke began to spread the rumor that glimpses had been caught of a huge gray moose not far from the camp, and that the mysterious creature had been able so far to thwart any attempt to shoot it. Each night another would tell of a sighting, reporting that the gigantic gray moose was approaching closer and closer to the sporting camp itself.
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Donn Fendler, right, visits Baxter State Park. Photo courtesy of Donn Fendler. 
