Memory Recall of Grand Marais Encounter

Beaver Creek, Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, Upper Peninsula, Michigan - This creek empties into Little Beaver Lake. I recall walking in cool, shady area beside creek before climbing the hot, sunny hill.

My original recollection of the incident was that I was that this happened when I was about three years old. We were on a summer vacation and that I had climbed this big hill with a man who I could never really remember. I did remember that we were supposed to meet the others at the top of the hill and that we had stopped and looked out over the lake when we got to the top.

By the time I had the first memory regression in June 2001, I could remember that the man had been telling me something about a plane that had flown above some hills to our right out over the lake. Although I wondered if this had something to do with the Kinross event, I had no more specific recollections at this time. What I could remember at this time was the image of the forest covered hills in the distance to our right that rose above the shoreline of Lake Superior.

Lt. Moncla and Lt. Wilson from Madison Newspaper, Nov. 24th, 1953

A few nights after the first regression, I was lying awake, thinking about the incident on the hill. For some reason I started wondering who the man was and a thought came to my mind that maybe it was Moncla. I thought that this probably did not make sense. I then thought, well maybe it was Wilson. At this moment my mind was thinking about the pictures I had found on the Internet of Moncla and Wilson. I had printed the photographs and would sometimes look at them. Suddenly, as I thought about the picture of Wilson, I had a shocking recollection that I could remember the man and what he looked like and how he talked. Memories came flooding like a dam burst as I recalled what he told me and how I felt as we talked.

The memories did not come out like a complete narrative. Instead, they emerged like little threads that seemed to connect to other threads.

Over the period of the next few minutes and then later over a period of days, major parts of the incident came back to me. It was quite a stunning revelation that really shook me up for weeks.

The following is my recall of the incident which took place in the summer of 1957 when I was just turning three years old. The dialogue in my account is my best attempts at recall. I know that at that time, I had some difficulty finding the words to express myself my thoughts to the man, but I understood most of what he told me. Some parts of this account were not remembered until I actually went to Grand Marais in early September, 2000.

My Recollection

Beach on Lake SuperiorThis location is just a short walk north of Little Beaver Lake.

It was a hot afternoon in the summer of 1957. My family was on vacation and we were staying at a campground near Lake Superior. My memory recall starts with me standing in some trees. There is a man standing in front of me who I don't recognize. I am confused. I ask him, "Who are you?" He replies, "I am a friend of the family." He asks me to go with him up the hill. I ask him, "What about the others?" referring to my parents and brothers and the friends who were staying at the other campground on the lakeshore. "We'll meet them at the top" he assures me. I follow him along the path. We climb up for a bit, then we are following beside a creek. At this time we are still in the shade of the trees. I recall that he made a comment about how nice and cool it was in the shade near the stream. After walking some distance, we start climbing up a steep hill. We are no longer in the shade of trees and the climb is hot, dusty and tiring. The path switches back and forth. As we climb he is always a little in front of me. I really can only see his legs. I am getting tired and want to stop and rest but he keeps encouraging me to continue climbing, and tells me that we can rest when we get to the top. As we are climbing, I start to feel a bond of friendship with the man as I like the way he talks to me.

Little Beaver Lake, Upper Penninsula, Michigan

We finally reach the top of the hill. I am expecting that my family would be waiting for me, but they are not there. He says we can now stop and rest awhile. I ask him about the others, as I am sure that they are going to be worried if I am gone too long. He assures me, "We'll catch up with them later. Its okay for us to stop and rest for awhile."

We sit down in an open area at the top of the hill that has a wide panoramic view of the enormous lake in front of us that stretches out to the horizon. The sky is a clear blue with no clouds and there is very little haze even though it is a hot day. He points below us to a small lake. "That is Little Beaver Lake, where we started. Look how far we have come!" he tells me. "The bigger lake off to the right over there is called Beaver Lake." I see the larger lake and tell him "The other lake should be called Big Beaver Lake". He says that maybe that is so, but that it is just called Beaver Lake, even though it is the bigger one.

He points further off to the right, to a distant curving ridgeline that rises from the shore of Lake Superior. He tells me, "You see those hills over there? A long time ago there was an airplane that flew over those hills and out over the lake." His outstretched arm and forefinger point out the flight path way out over the lake in front of us and a bit off to the left from the direction we are facing. He tells me "I was the radar operator in that airplane."

I can't figure out how you can have a radar in an airplane. All I know about radar is that it involves the big curved antennae you see at some airports. I think of these antennae as being too big to be on an airplane, and I think I am aware that the radar is used to track the airplanes in the sky. "The radar can't be in an airplane", I tell him. "Its on the ground."

He tries to explain that the airplane can have the radar antennae inside the plane, but this is still hard for me to imagine. He finally gives up and tells me that he was the co-pilot in the airplane. He then tells me, "You were the pilot of that airplane."

I am now once again confused by what he is telling me. "How can I be the pilot in the airplane? I am too little to be the pilot."

He replies that I was in a different body before I was born. Back then, I was a grown man like him. Although this seems very hard to understand, I just listen to him as he tells me all this.

He again gestures out over the lake, "The plane flew way, way out over the lake. That's where the plane had an accident." I am wondering what happened to the pilots and the airplane. "Did the plane crash?" I ask him.

"No. The plane didn't crash" he replies. "It went inside a spaceship."

When he tells me that the plane went inside a spaceship, I am thinking that this is very strange. I imagine a plane flying into the side of a big rocket ship. I can't imagine how it can do this and I am wondering why a rocket ship would be out over the lake. I am then wondering again about why I am now a boy and he is still a man and how he knows about all this stuff that happened before I was born. I suddenly get the feeling that he must be from heaven. "Are you an angel?" I ask him. He looks at me and tells me, "No. I'm just a man like you were but I've still got the same body I had when I was in the airplane with you."

I look back over the lake and try to imagine the spot where the plane had its accident. "Was the accident over there?" I ask him, pointing to a spot about a mile off shore. "No, it was much farther out over the lake, off a point of land out there."

I try to see the point of land in the direction he is pointing, but can see nothing but lake to the horizon. Off to our left, I see a point of land that is pointing out into the lake. "Was it off that point?" I ask pointing off to the left.

"No. That is an island. The point of land is much further. It is a hundred miles from here."

I try to imagine how far a hundred miles is and I realize that maybe this is farther than I can see.

"Do you think you will remember what I told you?" he asks me.

"Yes. I'll remember."

"Who was the pilot?"

"I was the pilot."

"Who was the co-pilot?"

"You were the co-pilot."

"Where did the plane come from?"

"Out over those hills over there."

"Where did the plane go?"

"Out over the lake."

He looks at me and says. "You are a good boy." Something about the way he says this to me makes me happy because I think he approves of me. "Will you promise me you will remember what I told you today?"

"Yes. I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die if I lie" I tell him.

He seems momentarily shocked by my vow. "You don't have to say that" he says. "I don't want you to die if you can't keep your promise."

He looks at me and says, "I have to go now."

When he says those words, I suddenly start to feel very sad. I think I will be very lonely without him. "No. Don't go" I plead.

"You have been chosen for an important mission" he tells me. I think about this and think that he must be talking about the airplane. "Will you be with me?" I ask him. "No. I won't me with you" he replies.

"I have to go now. Its time for me to come back in another body, like you did" he tells me. I feel tears in my eyes as I once again plead with him "No. Please don't go."

"Remember me" he bids me.

"I promise."

"Wilson's Hill"Overlooking Little Beaver Lake, Upper Peninsula, Michigan

Suddenly he is gone. I am no longer on the top of the hill. I am now standing in some trees and bushes by a clearing. I am in a state of confusion. I see my brothers nearby. "There's Gordie. We found him! We found him!" they call out.

My mother rushes over to me. "There you are. Where were you? We've been looking all over for you!" She seems both happy to see me and quite concerned.

"I went up the hill with the man" I reply.

"What hill? What hill?" she asks me. I look around me in confusion because I can't see any hill anywhere. "There is no hill! There is no hill!" she says to me. "You shouldn't talk to strangers" she adds.

"He was a friend of the family" I reply. She tries to get me to tell her who the man was, but I can't say as I don't really know. After awhile, it seems my disappearance is forgotten and everyone gets back to normal. For the rest of the vacation, I am thinking about the man. I keep hoping that I will see him again.

I think we only stayed one more night and then my parents decided to return to Fort William, partly because my mother found it so uncomfortable sleeping in the hot canvas tent with all the sand that got tracked inside. As we headed out from Grand Marais the next morning, I felt sad as I thought that I would not see the man again, and I never did see him again.