Sometimes, on very cold weather days, it’s hard to get warm, which can affect the heart and mind.
I was cold.
Chilled to the bone, on Wednesday, May 14, 2025, about 100 km NW of Constance Lake First Nation on the Kabinakagami River (Kabina). There was more than a breeze, and it was building.
Just yesterday, it was different. Arriving in Hearst, it was 25 C in the late pm, shorts weather finally, very still, but within 30 minutes it suddenly plummeted to 17 C…a harbinger of what was to come.
During the night, there was freezing rain and a smattering of snow. The defrost setting was full on for the windows, and the car was splattered with ice pellets. Winter layers were the order of the day, and the telltale boreal trees were swaying.
Winter had returned.
The next day, by my side is Brian Emblin, we are in a 22-foot wooden voyageur canoe with a 25 h.p., and Mylène Coulombe-Gratton, who is 21 years of age, is handling the tiller. She’s our guide, and a competent one she is, taking two older guys on an adventure.
It isn’t really one of those this time – this trip is a planned commemoration, a day to pay respect to a father and son I have come to know through strange intersecting circumstances, starting with two planes colliding on December 17, 1959, high above this place.
The motor finally turns over, the first run of the season. Dwindling snowbanks line the course, the water was strewn with tiny iceberg-like pieces of chipped ice headed north. The Kabi River has awakened with the land.
The north wind is gusting, telling us something.
In many indigenous cultures, the north wind signifies elders, death, and the wisdom gained through life experiences.
Just about another year has gone by…
The story
Like most Back Roads Bill stories, this one started with someone telling me about something, some place on the back roads. Maybe it was Brian, I don’t recall.
This is my avocation, and this lead was filed for a few years, but it continued to call out.
Review the first story for context, July 2, 2020. It was written after a May 22nd visit to the area, five years back.
Something went tragically wrong on December 17, 1959, during the height of the Cold War.
A USA fighter jet collided with a long-range bomber north of Hearst during a training mission.
The Pinetree Line of radar stations stretching across Canada (many Northern Ontario locations, including nearby Pagwa) was fully operational, as was the BOMARC guided missile base in North Bay.
During this training mission, the interceptors would have been in pursuit of enemy aircraft.
Capable of carrying nuclear weapons, the Convair F-102 Delta Dagger was an American interceptor aircraft built as part of the backbone of the USAF. Its main purpose was to intercept invading Soviet strategic bomber fleets during the Cold War; the F-102 was the USAF's first operational supersonic interceptor and delta-wing fighter. It used an internal weapons bay to carry both guided missiles and rockets.
The Boeing B-47 Stratojet was a long-range, six-engine, turbojet-powered strategic bomber designed to fly at high subsonic speed and at high altitude to avoid enemy interceptor aircraft. The primary mission of the B-47 was as a nuclear bomber capable of striking targets within the then Soviet Union. It had what was termed a “swept wing.” With its engines carried in nacelles underneath the wing, the B-47 represented a major innovation in post-World War II combat jet design and contributed to the development of modern jet airliners.
The collision occurred at 28,000 feet or more than five miles or approximately 10 km above ground. It was at a high altitude to deploy parachutes as the two aircraft plummeted to the floor of the boreal forest.
The two bomber pilots ejected and were found the next day. Two navigators from the bomber died.
The fighter jet pilot was never found. The six-day search for Pilot 1st Lt. Gaylord Treu was called off just before Christmas.
In search of the crash site
It was May 22, 2020, when we ventured down the Kabinakagami River, NW of Hearst. It was cool enough but sunny that day.
The chartered voyageur canoe with a motor included Danny Gratton a part-time river guide from Hearst, and his 16-year-old daughter, Mylène, Brian Emblin and Back Roads Bill. After quite some time, this trek was going to be the culmination of finding the remains of the crash site.
COVID had arrived, and early spring was one of those times to get away safely. We were all in for a long haul with no end in sight. Downstream we go, in the Arctic watershed beyond the height of land. The river runs deep into the vastness of muskeg country.
The site was easy enough to find; Danny had been there before.
When we got there, we saw tangled parts of aircraft strewn throughout the area of impact, which caused its own unnatural depression, 65 years earlier. The 116’/35 m wings of the B-47 remain intact with USAF Insignias.
Writing is an avocation, but after being at the crash site, I felt an inexplicable connection to the fighter pilot, and it remains. I knew this would be one of those unique history stories that takes some time.
While the others wandered off to look for strewn wreckage in all directions, I stood on the bomber wing alone in my thoughts.
It was a tranquil, sunny early spring day, still as could be. When the wind blows, we feel it, we sense it. There was no wind that day.
It was more than a breath of air, but I could feel the warmth pass by my ears. I felt the rush of air encompass me almost like when in the bathroom shower, and you first feel the water - a little shock. Distinctive and mesmerizing, the aura was there and gone in what seemed like more than just a few moments.
For the time being, I would keep this to myself; I would not reveal that I have been affected, and I couldn't say why that was. The feeling experienced while standing on the wing of the bomber - I felt something similar to that ghost story in Cobalt.
But, back at the site of the crash, there were photos to take and more field investigation, then it was time to go.
Riding back in the canoe and the long car ride home, my thoughts of a story were muddled. It could not be just a piece of history identified.
The story didn't shape itself easily. I began more research – the fighter jet pilot was the only person not found, yes, and he had a young son at the time.
I asked myself the question, and the answer was suddenly there in my mind. 'Hmmm,' I thought. 'He should know his father is still out there.'
That trail of thinking became the pursuit of a lifetime of asking questions and led to the question that remains unanswered. 'What happened to the pilot? Who was he? What did he leave behind? Determination to answer these questions rose in me, and a commitment to the dead pilot, so my best sleuthing followed.
Finding the family
It took a long time and dogged determination to find the pilot's next of kin. It started with an Iowa memorial obituary for the pilot from the time, “…surviving Lt. Treu are his parents, his wife, the former Marjorie Sutcliffe of Clear Lake; a son Dennis, 2,…) Then another obit, a lifetime later, Clear Lake, Iowa again, a memorial for his wife, Jan. 12, 2015. “When in high school she met the love of her life, Gaylord Beryl Treu…She is survived by her two sons (stepson and Denny), Denny M. (Kathleen) Treu…She will be laid to rest next to her parents, sisters and her beloved Gaylord.”
The initial “M” and the wife’s name became the focus for ancestry search engines. Post crash, Gaylord was never found. A memorial stands over an empty grave next to the grave of the love of his life.
So, I kept looking for this son. How many times did I say, “give up”? No. It’s not my job.
Months went by. They were punctuated by dead-end phone calls and databases drying up.
At last, I tried LinkedIn.
Up came a profile, the head and shoulder shot of Denny Treu. He is unmistakably his father's son and his image strongly resembles that of his father sitting in his fighter jet. They both have square-like heads.
I sat back in my chair with a sharp inhale, “That’s him!” I said out loud. The resemblance is uncanny; this inspires more looking and calls.
Denny not Dennis, was listed within the prestigious “Cambridge’ Who’s Who’ - Professional of the Year in medical Instrumentation and technology in Massachusetts. He is the holder of more than 50 U.S. patents. Another list of “cold” calls, with the usual, introductory context…finished with “…are you related to USAF Pilot 1st Lt. Gaylord Treu?”
I had done this practiced introduction on countless cold calls. “Hi, I am Back Roads Bill, a writer from northern Ontario, working on a story about a plane crash during the Cold War on December 17, 1959."
The next call started the same, but then a poignant pause ensued: “He is my dad…" Denny had moved to another state.
I feel the shiver today as I did then. Two strangers became connected in that instant.
I asked my questions and got some long-sought answers. I found out that Denny (Denis) has been searching his entire life for more information about the crash.
“I have been waiting to hear from someone for a long time,” he says.
The father-son relationship became intimate.
The stories ensued, leading to his appearance on CBC Radio and the Back Roads Bill podcast, where you can hear him tell the story and talk about his pending visit.
Last year, at this same time, son Denny Treu was to come with us to place a family monument he was planning for his father. He suffered a stroke and passed on May 10, 2024, two days before journeying north from Colorado Springs.
He wanted to come. The final email, April 24, from him was about the monument he had been working on and plans to bring it north, where he hoped to finally find his dad and place the monument.
I have the marker being laser-engraved on a thin piece of aluminum. This approach has been used by power companies here in Colorado for long-term marking. Thinking about the t-post mounting scheme, I’m not confident it will survive upright for very many years. I’m thinking of using an industrial adhesive applied on the back of the marker (with a peel-off paper) to adhere it to the wing of the B-47. Do you see any issues in doing this? I think it will be more permanent.
Reviewing Jay Strayer’s report on his rescue efforts after the crash, it appears that the back 2/3 of the F-102 is somewhere between the B-47 wings and the B-47 tail (which looks like about 3 miles between the 2). It is upside down with some trees sticking up through the wings. I’m not sure if it is still there or was removed by the Air Force, but I’m wondering if it would be possible after our freighter canoe trip day to the B-47 wings to go the next day on a helicopter ride from Hearst to see if we could find the F-102. Brian you seemed to have some idea how to arrange this previously. Would this still be possible?
With Scott and I driving we have a lot more flexibility in our return home timing.
Let me know what you think.
Thanks
Denny
From his brother-in-law's post about Denny's sudden passing.
“Bill,
I have read with interest your stories regarding the downed F102 pilot, Gaylord Treu and the connection you made with his son and my brother-in-law, Denny Treu. Denny passed away last Friday, May 10, 2024.
He and his step-brother Scott were planning to leave Castle Rock, Colorado, on Sunday, the 12th and head to Ontario to place the marker near the wing section of the B47 and hopefully locate clues that would help identify the location of Denny's father.
My first thought after learning about Denny's death and the planned trip to the area of the crash site was, 'Well, now Denny knows.' Thanks for keeping the story alive. I could feel your connection to the Treu family and the tragic mystery of the crash, and the fact that Gaylord was never found.
Regards,
David Dunn”
The mediums
What was to be made of all of this?
I decided to embrace psychic mediums who communicate with spirits or those who have been led by spiritual guides. This was new territory – the realm of metaphysics. I was a skeptic.
At the outset, they knew nothing of this story other than a purpose.
The first I sought out was Karen Sarlo of The Sarlos – “Connecting you with spirit to find relief, clarity and direction in your life.”
During an intense session with Karen, there was a connection with Ist Lt. Gaylord Treu. Karen could visualize the airman, his flight uniform and the context of the time. During our session, he was there with us. Uncanny.
Lt. Treu, through the medium, wanted it known “that it wasn’t his fault…” This refers to the unknown cause of the crash, as the 1959 documents are still classified. It may have been the technician at the nearby radar base in Pagwa, the bomber crew or the jet fighter. It was known to be a bright, clear sunny day.
One psychic was not enough, though.
Suzanne Harmony of Harmony Helps, told me “for that moment on the muskeg you were (first visit) unknowingly the conduit between the son and father. You are intended to help.”
Psychotherapy nurse Nazneen Mehdi once worked at Constance Lake First Nation (FN), west of Hearst. The Oji-Cree community traditionally heads to their original community homestead downstream on the Kabina River at a confluence called “Mammamattawa.” She was there for ceremonial purposes.
Nazneen told me FN members have been “for years quite aware of a ghost or spirit” along that section of the river adjacent to the plane(s) crash.” She has had premonitions and dreams of this place. As a friend, she unexpectedly reached out to me at the time of Denny’s passing, asking me, “Is everything alright?”
It wasn’t now, the son, who wanted to be united with his father, was gone – there was a new void.
In the interim, we created our own plaque. The words were straightforward, and the purpose was to join father and son. It was haunting me…this had to be done. Another year could not pass by.
The journey
The distance from the landing to the flagging tape location on the bank of a river that looks the same around each bend was 50.1 km. The cell app said the river current was moving at 30 k.p.h.
Maybe it was the cold, but our heads were often down.
We were dressed for winter – a piece of black interwoven polymer campers know as Fabrene or a “tarp” covered our legs and helped break the wind. The face muffler was a day saver.
The crash scene is a site of devastation. Most of the bomber landed here as it fell from the sky. The USA military, upon conducting its search, detonated the main parts of the plane. You can see two small craters in the spongy muskeg, the wreckage has sharp and twisted edges from the percussion.
Other discoveries show the tail of the bomber is 2 km away, and the jet engine of the fighter plane is on the bank of the Nagagamisis River about 1 km away. The fighter jet cockpit was located and found empty.
Jay Strayer, retired Colonel USAF, was at the time of the crash a Kincheloe, Michigan AFB and a neighbour of “Gay” and a part of the pre-Christmas 1959 rescue mission as a helicopter pilot. He became a decorated Vietnam veteran.
Of the mishap, he said, “USAF expects its pilots to maintain clearance of other aircraft, even if under radar control. Unless the investigative team finds a mechanical cause, the accident is invariably the fault of the pilot. In this case, the B-47s were flying closer than authorized, and the Pagwa radar controller who broke off the intercept unknowingly turned Gaylord and his wingman (our Fighter Group Commander, no less) directly into the blinding sun, which impaired their ability to see well enough to avoid the collision."
He recalled, “Our air and the ground search (there was snow but fortunately less than knee deep), turned up some surprising evidence of the event,” said Colonel Strayer. “I had seen Gay don his orange flight suits a time or two, and one thing he always did was tie his orange handled jack knife, with its special blade for cutting tangled parachute shroud lines, around his waist using parachute cord under his flight suit. Someone found the knife and cord in one place and a piece of orange flight suit in another. Amazing considering the collision occurred at such an altitude.”
(Denny has the knife and the fabric remainder and explains this on this episode of the Back Roads Bill podcast. I also need to tell you that when writing this story, the link has repeatedly disappeared from my saved copy.) What’s up with that?
Family and friends
This commemoration has affected others.
In Colorado Springs, Kathleen Treu, wife of Denny, said, “Thank you for the plaque. I’m sure they are reunited. As a grieving family, our hope and belief is that Denny and our family members who have passed on are close by us and watching over us.”
Brian Emblin from Timmins has been part of this story right from the beginning when we first visited the crash site.
Among many, he has been part of three other epic mystery back roads’ stories – Bethnal Springs (Gogama), the swimming pool on an island in the middle of Raven Lake near Larder Lake and the copper mine that initiated the forming of the Métis Nation of Ontario (Lake Superior).
“From the absolute start to today, it was a real rollercoaster of feelings and emotions. From first hearing about the crash site and the high of going to see it. Reading about the history of it to the next extreme high of you contacting the son of the missing pilot.
He recalled, “From there it turned to the planning of the visit of Dennis to the extreme low of his death, last year, just mere days before the impending visit.”
“Last week’s plaque erection wrapped up this journey of a northern Ontario legendary story – you can’t make this stuff up, and I was glad to tie an end to an unknown beginning.”
Mylène Coulombe-Gratton is an extraordinary young woman with a passion. See her website Follow Her North, she is already an award-winning entrepreneur.
“The cold war plane crash is like a mystery to me, like the pieces of the wreckage, the story is a jigsaw puzzle. It's history in our own backyard.”
She explained how her dad first took her down the Kabina River by snowmobile and eventually by boat.
“He always likes to explore old stuff or camps. And he showed me the wings of the bomber. A few years later, the two of us with snowshoes trekked through the muskeg looking for what we thought was the fighter jet, but ended up being the tail of the bomber.”
“Putting up a memorial like this one will tell their story for many more years. Through her outfitting company, Mylène continues to take trips to the plane crash with clients. She says, “History buffs really appreciate this site.”
The map will help with a sense of place, and has about 50,000 views.
The plaque says:
1st Lt. Gaylord Beryl Treu
13 Oct 1932 – 17 Dec 1959
NEVER FOUND
Denis Michael Treu
4 March 1957 – 10 May 2024
FATHER AND SON UNITED
“Leave a rock”
The departure
Our work was done there.
Mylène and Brian had used a post-hole digger to pound the supporting pole into the tundra. Nuts and bolts and a socket wrench helped erect the galvanized plaque with a little protective overhang, facing south. We took photos to record the moment to send to the Treu family and for this story.
All of a sudden, it went eerily silent in the boreal forest, the sun momentarily peeked out of the grey day, and the wind was no more… I blurted out, “WE should say a prayer…”
Without pause, Mylène said she had one in her back pocket.
What? She pulled it out, a small, laminated credit card-sized offering; it was an Indigenous prayer of being “together” on the land. Appropriate in the moment.
Go figure.
We were dumbfounded for a few moments, there was no conversation.
The small cairn of rocks was now in place, a family Hebrew tradition when visiting the departed, you leave part of yourself organically.
It was time to pack up, time to go.
The others went ahead.
The aura was there again.
I don't claim to have any “Shining” - telepathic and psychic abilities, as in the 1980 horror/mystery The Shining with Jack Nicholson. In the film, the Jack Torrance character is plagued by psychic premonitions.
But, quite clearly, I had that feeling on May 22, 2020, and through what transpired. My reasons for my commitment to this story and placing this marker are unknown to me, but may be within the realm of the paranormal.
Knowing.
As I hesitantly left the muskeg, it seemed like there was something else out there.
I paused to look back, one more time...their spirits were smiling together, I nodded and grinned out loud.
I felt warm at long last.