IV.

The plan came together quickly. The Camerons shared the Striffs’ story with Jamie Tait, a helicopter pilot they knew. He was very familiar with the crash site, having flown over it for years while conducting heli-tours of the provincial park.



Sara said that as soon as she mentioned the scenario to him, Tait’s “wheels were already turning to [figure out a way to] be able to get them out there. It was instant.”

They were going to aim to be there on the 51st anniversary of the crash — exactly to the day, to the time.

June 15, 2018 was a Friday. The Monday before, Robert and Randy boarded multiple planes from their respective states to fly over 4,000 kilometres to Whitehorse, where the adventure became more real.

To start, the brothers spent a few days touring the city with the Camerons. As they got closer and closer to the big day, anticipation began to mix with fear.

Sara was also anxious — hopeful that the weather would cooperate, and moved by the prospect of giving the Striff brothers such a profound gift. “My nerves are going. It’s a bit of a heavy feeling when you see something like this come together in life.”

Kyle was feeling emotional, too. “When I think about it, these men are going to stand right where their father lost his life. It’s actually hard to imagine.”

The night before the trek, Robert and Randy Striff barely slept at all.

After days of pouring rain, the sun dawned nice and clear the next morning. According to Robert, it was “like someone upstairs said, ‘Here’s your beautiful day. Take advantage and enjoy it.’”

The Camerons and the Striffs met at their float plane on a lake just south of downtown Whitehorse. It’s a one-hour flight south to the town of Atlin, where Tait greeted them at the shore.

Everyone was a little subdued, feeling the weight of the day. At the hangar for Tundra Helicopters, there was some laughter and chit-chat before the group climbed into a gleaming red-and-white helicopter, and the rotors whirred to life.

As they left the ground, Sara called out, “Here we go! Trip of a lifetime!”

Robert and Randy Striff visit the site where their father died in 1967. (Alexandra Byers/CBC)

The helicopter headed south, passing over rivers and Atlin Lake. Over the headsets, Tait gave the Striff brothers a little history of the area as a way to soften the mood and distract the travellers from their nerves.



The terrain is breathtakingly pure wilderness, and the brothers were silent for most of the ride. Throughout the flight, Randy clasped and unclasped his hands.

After 15 minutes, the helicopter crested a ridge, the ground dropped away and the wreckage came into view in the distance. Then, in what felt like a blink, it was right there in front of them.

Tait circled and hovered the helicopter over the scene. Robert and Randy couldn’t take their eyes off of the plane lying flattened across the steep hillside. The scene seemed violent and incongruous. They shook their heads in disbelief.

Tait pulled away and landed the chopper in a flat marshy area at the base of the hill. They stepped out into the grass. A stream runs nearby, and mountains surround the scene like a hug.

“It’s such a beautiful place for such a tragedy to happen,” said Robert.

They hiked up through the forest on the side of the hill. Tait and the Camerons had actually come up the week before to plot an easy trail for the brothers.

"It was almost like he was tapping on my shoulders, saying, ‘Hey, dig here, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.’”

It got steeper. The mosquitoes were swarming. Everyone got a little out of breath.

Then the plane’s wing appeared through the trees. At that moment, the Camerons and Tait decided to hang back and let Robert and Randy head up by themselves.

“The moment was just surreal,” said Robert. “To see the devastation and how much damage was done. Then, to look out over the horizon at the beautiful scenery. It was awe-inspiring.”

“The more we stood there, the better I started to feel, as the weight started coming off my back. I just felt a whole lot better about the situation, because I actually got to be in the spot where his life was taken,” said Robert.

When the Camerons first came upon the site, they could tell no one had been there since the crash. Things that would normally be taken by souvenir hunters — such as cockpit controls or engine parts — were all still there. (Alexandra Byers/CBC)

When the Camerons first came upon the site, they could tell no one had been there since the crash. Things that would normally be taken by souvenir hunters — such as cockpit controls or engine parts — were all still there. (Alexandra Byers/CBC)

Randy started looking for the spot on the plane where their dad, as radio operator, was reported to have been sitting. Given Tait and the Camerons’ expertise, it wasn’t hard. They identified cockpit and radio instruments and mapped out a general idea of where the three victims would have been seated. Digging down, they even found the metal frames of their chairs.

Sifting through the debris, Randy eventually found uniform buttons, a pocket knife and a set of steel toes from military boots, all the while thinking of his dad.

“I thought, you know, he led us here for a reason. It was almost like he was tapping on my shoulders, saying, ‘Hey, dig here, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.’”

They were soothed by the mementos, but other revelations weren’t as expected.

Tait explained there would have been a lot of magnesium parts in the aircraft, and the fire was probably “like a welder’s torch.”

“It’s amazing that three people actually survived this plane crash,” said Robert.

Sara led the brothers down to where she and Kyle had found their father’s rifle. It was still there, half-buried in ash, bolts and cables. All that remained was the barrel and the firing mechanism, rusted and worn from the elements. Randy picked it out of the debris, and held each part like he couldn’t believe he had them in his hands. He handed the pieces over to Robert.



Robert thought of their mom, who passed away eight years ago, and all the time she spent wondering about that rifle. He held the firearm up, looked to the sky as though addressing his mother, and said, “I’ve got it now.”

“It’s coming home where it needs to be,” said Randy.

As the hours went by, the group made one more discovery that took their breath away. It was a corroded pocket watch, found right near where their dad would have been sitting. They were shocked to see the rusted remnants of the hour and minute hands, stopped at 2:10 — the reported time of the crash.

“It just gives you goosebumps that you actually found something that tells you exactly when it happened,” said Robert.



This corroded watch was found in the wreckage, reflecting the exact time of the crash: 10 minutes after two. (Kyle Cameron)

This corroded watch was found in the wreckage, reflecting the exact time of the crash: 10 minutes after two. (Kyle Cameron)

As the actual time hit two in the afternoon, the brothers cleared a space under a small tree, where they placed a cross and a plaque honouring the three men who lost their lives in the crash.



At exactly 2:10, they had a moment of silence. Afterwards, Robert admitted he had spoken a few quiet words to his father.

“I said, ‘You know, I’m glad I finally got to be here, to be with you.’”

Then he saluted him.

“I could just pitch a camp here tonight and set up on that broken wing right there and drink some beers with him, and reminisce and talk to him.”

But it was time to hike back down to the helicopter. The Camerons packed a picnic, and the group sat in the sun near the stream, their spirits visibly lifted. For Randy, it was a moment to give thanks.

He said that for the Camerons and Tait “to hike in and do what they did, and reach out and try to find the family members, it’s outstanding, just outstanding.”

Once they were back in Whitehorse, Robert and Randy said the experience gave them closure. “It brings new meaning to the date, being here and visiting. It’s not a dark day anymore,” said Robert.

The Camerons and Tait said the experience had been a privilege, and that they’d made friends for life.

“I just hope they can now go home with balanced hearts and peaceful minds,” said Sara.

“I think they’re going to come back,” she added with a smile.



Additional reporting by Tara McCarthy and George Maratos

(Alexandra Byers/CBC)