![]() Then, almost as if adding a footnote, Kogvik recounted the story of the ship’s mast. (After refuelling and bringing aboard more supplies, the Bergmann was scheduled to meet up with a Coast Guard icebreaker and a Navy patrol ship a few days later to look for Terror, further north in Victoria Strait.) As the repurposed fishing trawler chugged through Simpson Strait, Kogvik pointed out local landmarks to Schimnowski: a komatik, a local hunting cabin and a few choice fishing spots. On the day of the discovery, Schimnowski and the rest of the Bergmann’s crew were on the way to Cambridge Bay after picking up Kogvik in Gjoa Haven. Put another way: Schimnowski, more of an Arctic handyman than a polar explorer, didn’t necessarily know where to look, but he knew when to listen-and that, seemingly, made all the difference. Even more impressive: the ship’s watery grave was pinpointed not by the latest technology or archeological theories, but thanks to Schimnowski’s years-long efforts to build inroads with northern communities. It’s a massive find-potentially bigger and more illuminating than the discovery of Erebus two years ago. MORE: How Jim Balsillie plans to sell the HMS Erebus-and the North Even the ship’s windows, save one, are intact. 3, the Canadian Ranger’s tale led the men almost directly to the wreck, which they found in pristine condition in 24 m of water. Yet earlier this month Kogvik shared his story with Adrian Shimnowski, who runs former BlackBerry billionaire Jim Balsillie’s Arctic Research Foundation (ARF), and eight other crew members aboard the Martin Bergmann, ARF’s research vessel. Kogvik’s resolve to keep the story to himself hardened after Klungnatuk died in an ATV accident the following year. But Kogvik later lost his camera and the two men decided not to tell anyone about the find, lest people think they made it up. So Kogvik put his arm around the mast and Klungnatuk snapped a picture (Kogvik also gave it a bear hug, lifting himself from the ground). “I figured it might be one of the boats that they’ve been looking for so many years,” recalls Kogvik, referring to the two ships- Erebus and Terror-that disappeared in the Northwest Passage nearly 170 years ago, along with the Royal Navy’s Sir John Franklin and 128 of his men. As he dismounted, he noticed something unusual off to his left: a heavy wooden pole, about the height of a tall man, sticking bolt upright out of the ice. He’d just stopped to make sure his hunting and fishing companion, James Klungnatuk, was still safely following in his tracks. It was around seven years ago and the resident of Gjoa Haven, a remote Nunavut community, was riding a snowmobile across the ice in Terror Bay, on the south coast of King William Island in Canada’s High Arctic. Sammy Kogvik remembers the moment he first spotted HMS Terror. (John Wilson Carmichael/National Maritime Museum)
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