Walk in the Woods: Submerged in Icy Water
6/24/202653 min
Winter 2011 in New Hampshire. David Dwyer is at home in his study when he notices that his wife Kelly hasn’t come back from her walk in the woods. Strapping on his snowshoes, he heads out to look for her. The situation will prove far worse than David’s fears. Kelly isn’t merely lost or injured; she’s unconscious, clinging to life, submerged up to her neck in freezing water. Can she, quite literally, come back from the dead?
A Noiser podcast production. Hosted by John Hopkins.
Written by Joe Viner | Produced by Ed Baranski | Assistant Producer: Luke Lonergan | Production Assistant: Chris McDonald | Exec produced by Joel Duddell | Sound Supervisor: Matt Peaty | Sound design by Jacob Booth | Assembly edit by Dorry Macaulay, Rob Plummer | Compositions by Oliver Baines, Dorry Macaulay, Tom Pink | Mix & mastering: Ralph Tittley.
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Clips
Transcript preview
First 90 secondsJohn Hopkins· Host0:03
It's February the 13th, 2011. [owl hooting] In the woods of New Hampshire, just outside the town of Hooksett, the beam of a flashlight weaves through the trees, making fleeting incisions in the darkness. Ranks of densely packed evergreens appear in its glare, their trunks slender and pale, their slumped boughs stiffened with frost. 43-year-old David Dwyer, flashlight in hand, staggers through the snow, his eyes scouring the slivers of shadow between the pines. His voice resonates through the dark forest, echoing the same two syllables: Kelly.
David Dwyer· Guest0:43
Kelly.
John Hopkins· Host0:44
Eventually, David emerges into open space, a circular clearing covered in a blanket of pillowy white. Though it's not immediately obvious, this clearing is, in fact, a pond, frozen over and buried by snow. David stands at the pond's edge, his breath fogging the frigid night air. He points his torch beam towards the opposite bank, where the black mass of the forest stands out against the darkening sky. David calls out again.
David Dwyer· Guest1:16
Kelly.
John Hopkins· Host1:19
Once the echo of his own voice has faded, he listens, his ears pricked, his senses sharpened to a fine point. And then