INNISFIL — They are three weather-hardened fishermen. But after fighting for their lives in the icy waters of Georgian Bay and watching a fourth friend die, there’s a softness in their souls that’s changed their lives.

The memory of thrashing in the frigid waters, grasping for the ice that shattered like glass with each desperate reach and hearing their friend’s fading pleas for help, is imprinted in their minds forever.

Since he was a young boy, Brent Fisher, 47, of Innisfil, was all about fishing. But this was his final fishing trip. When he fell through the ice on Feb. 6, he never made it out.

Sitting around a table at best friend Ross Guy’s Innisfil home, where fishing rods and tackle are displayed like cherished ornaments, the three men share their tragic story.

Beneath their tough exteriors, you can sense the pain.

Survivors Brad Jakubiak 57, of Coldwater, Mike Rimmer, 56, of Alliston, insist their friend Guy, 51, is a hero who risked his life to save theirs and tried to save Fisher, too.

“Without him, I was a dead man,” Jakubiak says. “There is no doubt about it.”

The police, it seems, weren’t as impressed with his efforts.

THE DISASTER

The day starts out gorgeous and unseasonably warm as the four buddies head out to the fishing hut about 2 km off Victoria Harbour. They check the depth of the ice — eight to 10 inches thick, not bad.

Admittedly now, they left the hut too late in the day, when dusk was moving in.

Admittedly now, they travelled too close to a small island on the way back, where the ice would have been thinner.

Rimmer and Jakubiak ride together on the snowmobile in front. They slow down to get over a pressure crack, and in an instant, down they go. Their machine plummets to the bottom as the icy water shoots like electric currents through their bodies.

Fisher jumps off his machine and makes the decision that will cost him his life — he runs toward his two friends and reaches out his hand to pull them out. Down he goes.

Now there are three friends, thrashing, yelling, dying, in the frigid water.

In the growing blue darkness, numbed fingers grasp for solid ice but it breaks away in chunks. Their legs are numb. They’re hysterical, screaming, jabbering.

THE RESCUE

Guy was the passenger on the back of Fisher’s machine because he’d had a few drinks. It’s their mantra — don’t drink and drive. He grabs a ten-foot rope — much too short, but it’s all he has. He yells as he works: “Calm down, breathe, stay flat, you’re OK, I’m coming!” He lies on his belly, ties a small red cooler pack to the end of the rope and throws it. He tosses it fives times before Jakubiak manages to grab hold.

“Oh thank God,” Jakubiak whispers. “My legs were numb, my arms were numb.”

He hangs on for his life as Guy lies on his belly, pulling, pulling, pulling. But the red pack detaches from the rope.

“I thought, ‘I’m dead now,’” Jakubiak says. “I’m going to die right here.”

“Throw the cooler back!” Guy yells.

Jakubiak throws it back. Guy grabs it, ties it to the rope again and throws it, still lying on his belly, the water now seeping over the ice toward him.

He pulls Jakubiak in, all the while yelling reassurance to the others.

Meanwhile, Rimmer manages to use his numb arms to crawl out. He and Jakubiak lie on their bellies like injured walruses shivering on the ice. Ice crystals form on their soaked clothing. Guy now goes for Fisher, who’s in an orange floater suit.

But Fisher’s moving farther and farther away.

“Come back!” Guy yells to him. But Fisher keeps thrashing farther and farther, perhaps panicked and looking for thicker ice.

“We could hear his calls,” Rimmer says. “They were getting weaker and weaker.”

Night is setting in and they see his orange floater suit glowing, but Guy can’t get to him.

“He’s too far away now, I couldn’t get him, I had to go for help,” Guy says.

He jumps on Fisher’s machine. The fact he had some drinks earlier doesn’t cross his mind. This is life and death.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch my friends die,” he says.

He props Rimmer, who can no longer move his legs, on the back, and races to shore for help, then races back to his two remaining friends.

It’s dark now, he’s out of time and can’t find his friends.

“I shouldn’t have left, but I started walking,” Jakubiak explains. “I didn’t know where I was going, but I thought I would die if I didn’t keep moving.”

In the blackness of night, he stumbles along aimlessly, panicked. His legs become icy clubs and he can no longer walk. The skin of his frostbitten feet turns stiff and blue. Later, his feet would go black. He stands in the darkness, convulsing with shivers. He craves warmth.

Suddenly, two heroes in an airboat are coming toward him.

“I couldn’t even raise my flashlight to signal them,” Jakubiak says.

But the airboat finds its way to him. The rescuers go for Fisher last. It’s too late.

THE AFTERMATH

Guy can do nothing more. He heads back to shore on the snowmobile, where two South Georgian Bay OPP officers slap handcuffs on him, take him to the station and give him a breath test. He’s charged with impaired driving. They fingerprint him and put him in a cell.

“I’m sitting in a jail cell and I don’t know what happened to my friends,” says Guy, who didn’t know his best friend was dead.

“He shouldn’t have been charged — he couldn’t just sit there and watch us die,” Rimmer says. “If it weren’t for him, I would be walking on stumps, or worse.”

“And I would be a dead man,” Jakubiak says.

Police say they can’t comment on the case.

“I can’t speak to matters that are before the courts,” Const. Susan Jessop says.

Four days later, on Guy’s birthday, the three survivors attend Fisher’s funeral. They try to comfort his 88-year-old father, Stewart Fisher, a former police officer and Simcoe County warden. They help him get his dead son’s snowmobile, which was impounded at a cost of $725.

“It was the saddest birthday of my life,” Guy says.

He looks over photos of his friend — in every single one, Fisher proudly holds a big fish.

“I miss him,” he says. “Nothing’s gonna bring him back.”

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The three survivors admit they made some mistakes and would do several things differently if they had the chance.

Here are their life-saving tips for ice fishing.

QUIT WELL BEFORE DUSK:

“We left our hut too late,” Ross Guy says. “If you lose your bearings or get into trouble, you’re in more danger as it gets dark.”

WEAR ICE PICKS ON A CORD AROUND YOUR NECK:

“Each time we reached out to grab the ice, it broke away and the hole kept growing bigger,” Brad Jakubiak says.

He tried to use a small pocket knife to pull himself up on the ice, but the blade broke.

ALWAYS HAVE A BOAT ROPE AND A BOAT KIT:

“You need a good thick rope that will float and a floater weight to tie on the end,” Mike Rimmer says.

And don’t count on your floater suit. It may keep you on the surface longer, but it can fill with icy water and weigh you down. Without the other safety precautions, a floater suit isn’t enough.

NEVER WALK OUT TO BROKEN ICE TO HELP SOMEONE:

Crawl on your belly and throw a rope.

STAY CALM?

Fat chance, these seasoned outdoorsmen say. Unless you have actually practised in this perilous situation, it won’t happen. So take the precautions listed above.