Go Back Report # 844
06-30-1966

06-30-1966  

Note: I have included this case because in another rendering it sounded like they were on the fishing boat. It did occur close to the lake and is indeed strange. Definitely worth the read.

–CF-    

Incident at Onion Lake

W.A.

Every once in a white the postman delivers a letter that is deeply disturbing. This is one such letter.

       The problem that is presented by letters that are deeply disturbing is obvious. Is it best to publish such letters or is it best to shelve them silently? They are difficult to write, they are depressing to read. Yet they are quite often fascinating documents in their own right. Are private interests and public interests at odds when it comes to pain?

       W.A., who is a resident of Thunder Bay, Ont., sent me the following letter. It arrived in the mail on 8 June 1990, and it was addressed to me in response to my request, carried by The Thunder Bay Chronicle-Journal and by other weekly papers across the country, for first-person accounts of "extraordinary experiences."

       The letter was actually typed on 26 Jan. 1989, so it was written well before my open letters began to appear in Canadian newspapers. W.A. originally addressed the letter to Harold Wilkinson, the well-known English author of Flying Saucers Uncensored and other books on world mysteries. Wilkinson is now deceased. The letter was posted to Wilkinson but returned to WA. by the Royal Mail. W.A. kept it and readdressed it to me.

       Here it is in its entirety, only slightly copy edited for ease of reading. I have withheld nothing but the name of the correspondent, reproducing only her initials.

       In 1966, June 30th, my husband aged 55, my son aged 13, and I myself aged 45, went fishing 20 miles from home at Onion Lake—a very remote lake with a gravel pit, which is kind of hard to get to because of a poor road. We had a reliable truck, a half-ton, with a camper on back—a 1940 truck. My son was a smart, excellent student, with a winning personality— high l. Q., and a perfect person.

       The sky was clear as we started out at 11:00 p.m. hoping to sleep in the camper and then spend the morning fishing. The sky was clear all the way. We arrived at the spot and we decided to spend the night in the gravel pit. No one else was there—we had the whole lake to ourselves. We were just about to climb into the back camper when we were engulfed in a total, complete darkness and stillness. Not a tree rustled— nothing except a grinding noise that was intermittent. I was scared stiff—I had never had such an experience. There was a strange smell like that of carborundum rubbing on steel—I had never smelled that before or since. Then all of a sudden my son completely disappeared—no sound of him walking away. I called and called and tried to look and my husband did the same, but everything was so black—couldn't even see any sky at all—just like we were in a bowl of blackness. It seemed like years but I guess it was about 15 minutes—all of a sudden my son appeared as if out of nowhere again—very agitated. He said he had seen a plane, saucer-shaped with red-and-blue lights, and went over toward it, and doesn't remember anything else. We tried to start the truck and there was no spark-the first time the battery was ever dead in all the ten years we had owned it and there was no reason for it to be dead, because we didn’t have a radio, heater or lights on.

       But my son was never the same—he had lost his mind!

       He has been in a mental hospital ever since and is still there— so ill that even with the mass exodus of patients from mental hospitals during the last few years he has to remain. He has a round mark on his left leg near his ankle about the size of a dime like a vaccination mark which came that night and the scar is still there.

       My son had all the great potential of being prime minister or someone great because he was well read, very obedient, very intelligent,. Now he's .a complete vegetable, unable to speak or hear. My sorrow has been great, as people blame me—I won't go near Onion Lake again.

       I feel that you will tell me if you know of anyone else who has had similar sad experiences, I've cried and cried for 25 years. My son is now 36 years old. His whole life is ruined, and mine and my husband's also,. I can't tell this story to anyone but you and it's so true. What an expensive fishing trip.                 

This reference: UFOs Over Canada by John Colombo, pp. 76-78, © 1991. With Thanks to Albert Rosales for finding it and Thanks to Don Ledger for getting the original text.

UFOCAT PRN – NONE           

North America – Canada, Ontario.

Onion Lake      Latitude 48-40-00 N, Longitude 89-09-00 W (D-M-S)

Thunder Bay    Latitude 48-24-00 N, Longitude 89-19-00 W [City]

Thunder Bay    Latitude 48-25-00 N, Longitude 89-00-00 W [Bay]

Reference: http://geonames.nrcan.gc.ca/index_e.php           


 



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