Mike Evans (center) with his rescuers: George Miller and Grady Walker. George Miller died of pneumonia in December 1995, just months later. In April 1995, my wife Debbie and I took our 3-½ month old daughter Kayla on a weeklong camping vacation on beautiful Lake Travis, just northwest of Austin Texas. We packed up our gear on Friday evening and drove about an hour from our home to the campsite. We were pleased to find our favorite camping spot available: a clearing on a large cove, overlooking rugged beauty and awe-inspiring homes perched on the 70 foot cliffs across the lake. It was a beautiful spot.

We quickly set up our camp and settled in for a wonderful week. Debbie is a writer and an avid reader, so she was happy to curl up under the majestic oak trees with her books and notebooks. Kayla was a delightful baby who truly enjoyed the peaceful, outdoor setting. I spent the mornings and evenings fishing the flood of crappie that invaded the cove. I let the girls sleep in each morning while I took my small aluminum Jon boat out on the lake. During the days, we took walks in the woods, swam in the clear, cool water, and enjoyed our idyllic time in this lovely God’s garden. During the evenings, we cooked my day’s catch of fresh fish over an open fire, and then lay together in the hammock watching the stars.

As our week long vacation neared its end, Debbie decided to take the baby home and give me an extra day alone of marathon fishing. We packed up most of our gear, leaving me the bare necessities, and Debbie and Kayla left. I had no idea at the time that it might be the last time I would see them. I went to bed early Saturday night so that I could hit the lake before dawn the next morning. It was a glorious morning. The sun was shining brightly and the fish were plentiful. I took a break and enjoyed a swim in the cool water. I was about to head back to the campsite when I noticed hundreds of crappie crashing against the west edge of the cove, feeding on a large school of shad. I had to have one more shot at them! I started up my outboard motor and headed across the 2000-foot wide lake at full speed. I felt something pulling at my leg. I glanced down and saw that my foot was caught between my fishing rod and the line. I leaned over to free my leg. As I did, however, I accidentally turned my seat. The back of the seat hit the tiller handle on the outboard motor and forced the boat into a sharp turn. Because of my awkward position, the jolt knocked me out of the boat and into the water. The motor was still turned, causing the boat to circle me in the water. I was not wearing a life jacket and I was desperately trying to gain my composure in the water. I tried to grab the side of the boat as it circled me, but the boat was moving too fast. I began to feel desperate, realizing that I was at least 1000 feet from either side of the lake in 100 feet of water with no life jacket. Suddenly, shockingly, the motor straightened out and the boat took off down the lake, leaving me stranded. I tried not to panic and prepared to swim for the bank. The wind was blowing briskly, causing small waves to cover my head at times. I was in pretty good shape, but for a reason unknown to me at the time, I was having a great deal of trouble making progress. I could barely move my left leg and I was desperately out of breath. I tried to pace myself to conserve my strength. I made it about halfway to the bank when I realized that I was not going to make it. I was exhausted. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move my left leg. I looked around desperately, but the lake was empty. I tried to call for help, but there was no one to hear me. I slipped under the water, furiously fighting to stay afloat.

Suddenly, I had the awful awareness that I could die. I slipped under the water again, praying to God to give me the strength to go on. It was no use. My arms and legs ached to the point that I could no longer move them. I believed that it was the end. I said silent good-byes to my wife and baby daughter and asked God to watch over them. As I managed to break the surface once more, I looked toward the bank and was thrilled to see a boat speeding towards me. I was shocked when I saw that it was my own boat heading towards me. For a horrifying moment, I thought that it was coming back to run me over and finish me off! Then I realized that there were two men on my boat, waving and shouting to me. With one last burst of strength, I waved to them and shouted, “Help me!” The boat pulled alongside me. The two men reached down and lifted me into the boat. I lay in the bottom of the boat, gasping for breath. My rescuers asked me if I was okay. I said that I was fine and that I just needed to rest. They drove the boat to the shore. When we reached the bank, one of the men ran on shore to call for EMS. The other man stayed with me. I pulled myself into a sitting position and was surprised to feel something like fishing line around my left hip and thigh. I looked down and saw with horror that what I felt was my shorts, which were shredded and barely hanging on my body. There were three large, deep gashes in my leg just below my left hip. I discovered that when I had fallen into the water and the boat had first circled me, that the propeller blades had actually run over me, causing the severe wounds. As we waited for EMS to arrive, my two rescuers told me how they had managed to come to my aid. They were construction workers, George Miller and Grady Walker, who had been working on a new home on the cliff inside the cove. They had not been scheduled to work that Sunday, but they had chosen to come in anyway.

While taking a break, they had noticed my boat driving in circles, but they had thought that someone was just playing around on the lake. Even after they realized that I was in trouble in the water, however, they knew they didn’t have any way to come to my rescue. That’s when the true miracle occurred. George and Grady heard a crashing sound on the bank below. They looked down and saw that my boat had driven itself onto the shore! The men told me that after the boat amazingly straightened out from its spin and headed ¼ mile down the lake, suddenly it made an unexplainable 90 degree left turn into the country club harbor, then drove itself past dozens of expensive yachts and pleasure boats without touching any of them, before turning to the left again, then crashing into the bank below where the men were working. An angel must have been driving the boat! Taking advantage of this amazing opportunity, George and Grady dropped their tools, ran down the steep bank and hopped onto the boat. The only damage to the boat was a four-inch gash in the bow. The men quickly pushed the boat back into the water. They hopped on board and the motor started right up. They headed straight for me and saved my life! George said that it seemed that someone had been driving the boat. I said, “Yes! God was driving the boat!”

As the ambulance drove me to the hospital, I called my wife and she met me at the hospital. She was stunned when I told her about the miracle. The doctor was also amazed by my experience. The gashes in my leg required nearly 60 stitches. There is no doubt that if the boat had not made its miraculous trip to the shore and the construction workers had not come to my rescue, I would have drowned in the lake. A few days later, Debbie and I went back to Lake Travis to seek out my rescuers. Debbie had created certificates honoring the men’s heroism. We went to the construction site where they had been working and were thrilled to find them there. George and Grady again told us their version of what had happened and we all agreed that a miracle had taken place. About six months later, I received a sad phone call from George’s wife. She told me that he had died of pneumonia. She had found the certificate we had given him and called me to give me the sad news. I said another prayer, thanking God for extending George Miller’s life and allowing him to save my life before God called him home. The End Mike Evans' Boat Conversion & Bass Fishing Page.

Mike Evans - [email protected]