Re: [Paddlewise] Instability with a flooded cockpit (and more added)

Wes said:
<snip> 
>I must say, thought, that your posts are valuable if for no more reason
>than to show how a highly skilled and experienced paddler can screw up
>big-time if they're not thinking straight -- or even if they are, and are
>pushing the limits of conditions and their skill envelope.


Thanks again Wes.

I know some of the stuff I shared was kind of personal. Believe me, I don't
throw that kind of detail into a post without a little hesitation, but I
really do believe humans are a complex "animal", and one's mental state --
if indeed your brain is the most important piece of equipment, which it is
of course -- is extremely important out on the sea in a changeable
environment where you can't simply "hove to" like a larger vessel or
"bivouac" like a climber can if weather moves in. One's mental state and
attitude toward personal safety and knowing the limits -- even if for just
a given day -- must be a constant concern.

BTW, the time I spent swimming and struggling in the cold waters off Trial
Island were a personal victory for me, in terms of overcoming some
child-onset phobias. I've mentioned on this list before that I once had an
irrational, yet medically recognizable fear of the ocean's vastness. I
overcame that fear my jumping into the sport in a big way, soaking up every
challenge  I could avail myself to. One fear remained, however. I had
retained a dreaded fear for what was _under_ the water. Its murky, awful
depths, full of mystery and slimey, icky things. My father taught me to
swim by literally throwing me into a lake in the Canadian Laurentian
Mountains when I was very small. I never got over that horrible sensation
of weeds creeping around and entangling my legs and little silvery fish
swimming around my toes. 

I always hated practicing rolling and recovery skills at the lake or on the
ocean, even up until that day off Trial Island. When I blew my first roll,
and bailed, then did my one successful reenter and roll just prior to the
paddle snapping in two, I couldn't even do that with my eyes open. I always
had to close my eyes. I couldn't stand looking into the dark, green murky
depths. 

But during the Trial Island incident, somewhere in the middle of the tide
race at the point where much frustration was causing a great deal of
discouragement, a sudden peace came over me. It was a point in my life, a
rare moment of deep insight and clarity, that there was nothing more to
fear, except fear itself. The sea was not some malignant monster, ready to
swallow me into its abyss. I felt like it was kismet -- that at that
particular point in time and space I was meant to be there, bobbing along,
swirling around, struggling. The howling winds and breaking waves that
dislodged my ball cap continuously seemed almost unnoticeable for a minute.
I looked above to skyward, then peered downward. I suddenly feared nothing
from below anymore. A stillness overcame me, even if it was only
momentarily. I knew I had overcome something, and would overcome my present
distress. I knew I would not give up. I would fight to the last possible
moment on the sea's terms, but in my own way. I actually regaled in the
moment, a longstanding personal challenge overcome, and a chance to focus
all that I was and all that I knew about the sea. Then the noise and
confusion reasserted itself and I got back to the job at hand -
methodically deploying back up devices and dealing with the harsh reality
the sea was imposing and my degrading state of physical being.

I don't expect the above to make much sense to anyone, but it was a
defining moment in my life. And now I can roll and do the reenter and roll
with my eyes wide open, thanking the universe for the sky above, the sea
below, and for all that is "alive" on our wonderful planet - whether
biological or inert. I will give crocodiles and sharks a wide margin,
however. I now use the reenter and roll for difficult landings, where I can
tie off the kayak to some kelp and swim ashore, or visa versa. It is truly
liberating. So, do you roll with your eyes wide open?

In closing, my favorite quote on the topic of risk comes from the book by
Andy Knapp, from "The Optimum Kayak" - Ragged Mountain Press:

"We all have different tolerances as to our levels of acceptable risk,
whether it be toward the cutting edge or the cautious, and by being able to
judge the risks inherent in paddlesports, we can stay within our personal
boundaries of safety."

I liked it anyway. Hopefully my review of his book in the next SK will be
viewed as positive and constructive. 

The Bottom Line
Be safe out there -- reality bites, and it can bite hard and leave you
with, how shall we say...an indelible impression. 

BC'in Ya
Doug Lloyd 


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