[Paddlewise] Storm Island Rescue

It is exactly one year since the Storm Island rescue - April 10th, 1999. I
can't sleep tonight. I decided to send this report to the list. Delete now
if not interested - it is 7,000 words or so. It is very rough. Matt Broze
has the version from all three paddler's perspectives, but SK is "sitting"
on his article. Pls, no flames - I just want to share my version, in its
entirety (with the "daily" stuff taken out to decrease length). Thanks for
understanding!


Bella Bella to Port Hardy (Intended Destination)
April 1999

"The Fools of April"

Trip was proposed late 1998

Planning and preparations were commenced three months prior to trip.
Included was availing ourselves to, and collecting data from local
libraries, etc, for sailing directions, prevailing wind directions,
outposts of civilization, nautical cautions, and anything deemed useful. We
then shared the info and marked significant information on our charts. We
proposed an itinerary based on the most likely route for success, which was
subsequently filed with the Coast Guard and our spouses.

I knew Dave from years with the Victoria Canoe and Kayak Club, and the
Ocean Kayaking Association of BC. I did not know much about Andrew, but
friends told me he was a very powerful paddler, and that many individuals
would feel embarrassed to paddle with him. He has close to 17,000.00 miles
on his kayak, over the last 10 years. Andrew loved to spend a lot of his
time around Oak Bay, in high winds and fast tides WHILE taking pictures for
yacht racers. Dave, Andrew and I did a preliminary paddle a month prior to
the trip at the tail end of a big storm, doing research work for SK
Magazine for an article on paddle floats. (The same storm/gale caused a man
and wife to get into trouble in the San Juan's, and was subsequently
written up in SK Magazine by the couple, with commentary by Eric Soares)

I made observations of my intended paddling partners. Andrew uses a large
vinyl covered float - ugly, but effective he told us. Dave uses a simple
reentry and roll. I have two inflatable paddle floats, including a back-up
Sea Seat, and reentry and roll techniques. Both Dave and Andrew are versed
with assisted reentries, and both carry handheld pumps. I have a foot pump.
Dave and I have good solid rolls, while Andrew relies on his boats superb
stability and his float rescue.

Dave is a top level 5 BCU paddler. He has open coast experience. He runs a
kayak tour, rental,lessons company out of Sooke from April through Sept. He
has run numerous courses through the Canoe Club. I was warned that paddling
with Dave on multiday excursions would be a challenge due to his
personality which often focuses on HIS agenda. I knew this already, but I
get along fine with Dave, and he has always been friendly, kind, and
patient with me. Dave knew full well of my position in the kayaking
fraternity as one crazy hombre went it came to paddling in the "raw elements".

My only concern prior to the trip with his seamanship skills stemmed from a
paddle a year ago, where were trying to find Mike Pardy from ORS out in the
Discovery Islands. Dave thought he saw him off in the distance, but it was
only a kelp head off his bow, so I was a bit worried about his depth
perception, but knew I've done the same thing years ago. My experience
included 20 years of open water paddling, mostly solo, various courses, BCU
stuff, Power Squadron, and year round paddling in all conditions, all
weather. We may well have been an odd mix, to be sure, meeting once a week
to plan the trip - all with differing expectations as to where we were
going and what we would find.

My family physician has paddled with both Dave and Andrew off Tofino on the
exposed coast. My GP said both guys were good strong paddlers with good
judgement displayed, but that Dave exhibited poor choice in picking out a
campsite at the base of a large mountain that surely would cause a deluge
when moist pacific air was due soon. He told me prior to the trip that
Dave, as knowledgeable as he is, lacked common sense at times and that I
needed to be very careful out there with him. As I suffer the same problem
from time to time, I could only hope Dave and I didn't both have a brain
fart on the same day during our upcoming trip. I discounted the comment of
my physician, figuring Dave and I had both progressed in our abilities from
any arbitrary date in the past. But the point remains; one does need to do
a little detective work if anticipating a trip into harsh conditions where
unknown variables would surely exist.

Last year, spring was beautiful and warm on the BC coast, but 1999 had been
the worst in decades for wind, snow, and storms. Most of the mountains on
Vancouver Island and along the mainland coast had such high snowlevels,
that not even the tips of trees could be seen anymore. I wanted to do an
off season paddle, on an extended trip, in rougher conditions, and this
sounded like the year to do it. A whole year of off-season storm paddling
had left me primed. Due to these factors with the weather, and due to the
above potential problems with the mix of paddlers and unknowns of not ever
having done any real trips with the guys before, both Andrew and I took an
extra week off work, just so we wouldn't have to do any dangerous crossings
or push hard when we didn't need to, just to get back to work. Dave's time
was also flexible. It is unfortunate we failed to utilize that available
time! As we discussed gear prior to the trip, I had understood that the
other two realized it was a harsh, cold environment we were headed to.

The day before I left for Port Hardy, I sat on the steps of my home with my
wife, totally dejected. She asked me what was wrong. I confessed to her I
had spent close to $1,800.00. Much of it went to boat repairs after
splitting my seams while surfing into log infested storm surge. My
mother-in-law had faithfully kept my workshop wood-fired stove going to
effect faster drying times with the epoxy repairs and epoxy sprayed paint
job. I told her that my wife had no clue as to the real dangers of the
proposed trip, and thanked her for dutifully drying out my boat - nice
son-in law! While I didn't tell my wife that part, I did tell her I had
also spent part of the $1800.00 on new cold-weather gear for the trip - and
that I did not have enough money for the ferry and hotel accommodation in
Port Hardy. My Visa was to the max. I also told her I was having
reservations about Andrew, as I just didn't think his wide boat would keep
up with ours, as the wind was just terrible on the Central Coast every time
I had checked the internet. She demanded that I not go on the trip, and
said I was a fool to go and leave her and my two little girls in the lurch.
I said that she was right and let Dave know. Dave was upset - said he would
cover my costs for a few months, and that they were depending on me to come
along, as Dave had originally wanted four people. I talked it over with my
wife again, and said I had to go, it was unfair and unsafe to leave the two
guys in the lurch. She said that would then be their choice to go. I knew
Andrew was counting on me to go, so I decided to go, against my better
judgement and my wife's(wives are always right!).

When we arrived in Port Hardy, it was snowing and hailing horizontally.
Hmmmm. When it cleared, a vicious wind continued into the next day of the
ferry departure. We discussed a decision tree for making group decisions,
but it sounded too sissified to us, so we figured we would make it up as we
went. Hmmm. I remember the ferry ride from Port Hardy. We left into high
seas. While resting after barfing a few times, a man and his wife asked me
if I was one of the kayakers seen loading. They were very worried about us
going on our trip, and feared they would be reading about us in the paper
next week (they were right, we did end up on the front page). I said I did
not fear the weather or the ocean, but I was very unsure about the group
dynamics. This included the implications for problems with communication,
the fact that each of us was so independent, and Andrew's lack of open
water gear and style (no surf helmet, old equipment, slow boat, massive
deck load, etc). Andrew had brought a home made cart for use on the ferry
ramp, which kept falling apart down the ramp. He used electrical wire for
cotter pins after much to do, to finish the last 50 feet.

I had also looked Dave's boat over. It had been regelcoated, but did not
look like anything had been prepped much in terms of deep gouges or needed
repairs. Cables and fittings looked old and rusty, especially on Andrew's
kayak, though Dave had just put in the new Seaward butterfly pedals, giving
him constant bracing ability as had my Nordkapp also be similarly upgraded.
Andrew said he couldn't brace or counter lean much, as his boat simply is
rock solid out there (and it was!). Both Dave and I can paddle without
rudders.

Both men appeared in good shape, though Andrew looked a bit overweight. I
was in great shape. I had spent the whole winter storm season (and it was
the best in twenty years) paddling in high winds doing a lot of "squall
laps". This is where you paddle a mile or two out to sea on a safe lee
shore until another squall or micro-burst hits, then turn and run with it,
then turn back out to sea when it simmers down again. I also did a fair bit
of paddling into the wind, often very high winds for endless hours,
cresting over waves getting resistance training for hours upon endless
hours. One storm was too much and threw me into the shore where large logs
split the seams on the Nordkapp. I sprained my neck badly (I only saved
myself by flattening my face to the deck and "hugging" the kayak, letting
my thick PFD with rear pouch absorb shock to my spine). This was a month
prior to my trip. I had to desperately rebuild my boat. I spent countless
hours and got little sleep, pouring well over $500.00 of epoxy, paint and
materials into the boat. I replaced much of the inner seams with 1", 2", 3"
and 4" tape, cutting around the inside of the recessed deck fittings for a
better distribution of tape than the factory joint. I put two layers of 1"
seam tape on the outside as well. I put in a third bulkhead for redundant
bouancy. I also put in an inner wooden keel and outer high molecular weight
outer plastic keel, all bolted through the hull. The plastic strip is
replaceable and fit in a channel groove, giving the hull a new "V" shape
for better tracking and protection of the strip to side-surf impacts. I had
complete confidence in the boat and myself for the trip, and my only worry
was about the other guys and the cold temperatures of the Central Coast. I
told a co-worker just before my last workday that if something terrible
happened on the trip, it would be due to an unknown variable, as I intended
to be safe and prudent. She scolded me for being so melodramatic. I assured
her I was not being dramatic - I was deadly serious.

During the actual trip a few problems became apparent. Andrew's hand
cramped up the first day out. The first night had been freezing. Cold wind
funneled off from the glaciers. All fresh water was frozen solid. Minus 5
centigrade is not too bad in the mountains, but on the damp coast, it
chills one to the core. Hands freeze performing simple tasks. Cold, limp
fingers made it difficult to place gloves back on. Just getting out of the
kayaks for a rest break induced mild hypothermia. There were days when we
built huge fires to keep from freezing in our wet gear. There were days
when we built snowmen on the decks of our boats. Blinding sleet attacked us
in camp and on the water. Mountainous seas assaulted us at major headlands.
Even with all our clothing on, in our sleeping bags, we still tossed and
turned some nights. Paddling problems were evident right off the mark. Dave
did not want to slow down much for Andrew. Andrew had brought a summer
sleeping bag, non-mummy style, in which he was especially very cold at
night. He did not seem to acclimatize as easily as Dave and I. At the end
of a few paddles, we had to physically help Andrew out of his boat due to
stiffness, etc. About half way into the trip, Andrew confided in me that he
was not too happy with the way Dave and I were always out ahead; he could
not keep up, especially on days when we would forge ahead in gale or near
gale conditions. He needed a break for a few minutes every hour or
half-hour to regain his strength. Yet, if he stopped for even a second, he
would be blow backwards. At this point, I realized Andrews's dilemma, and
from then on, tried to paddle in a triangular formation with Dave at the
point, and  Andrew and I abreast. This was also much safer. Dave made a
comment that I was slowing down, to which I replied, indicating what the
problem was, though Dave did not acknowledge the problem.

Other things were eating away at me inside. Dave was having problems with
his boat. The gelcoat was all peeling off. He had major leakage, eventually
he had to do fiberglass repairs to his front nose on the kayak where he had
hit a reef in the past (the huge seas around Kelp Head had shot into the
nose section). Dave's toggle on his sprayskirt rotted off. Man, Dave could
have any new boat he wanted, why did he bring this clunker on such a rough
water trip. Andrew had strange gear, including that summer, non-mummy bag
that he froze in, but his gloves for paddling were made from recycled poly
underwear. I resented the guys very much. They were upset with me too, for
playing in rock gardens near Hakai Pass. But then if you never seen someone
play in that before, it must be a shock. I hit a reef dead on and tore a
piece of the Nordkapp's nose, but the new outside seams held fine, and
unlike Dave's Arluk II, I have an end poor. Anyway, I told them I would
behave from then on for the sake of the team. I was a bit surprised that
the guys didn't realize Kelp Head would be so rough. What did they expect,
heavy swell was running, a near gale, and tide, with reefs everywhere, all
along an exposed headland with no beaches to absorb wave energies. 

We were also having problems with radio reception. Dave had misplaced his
spare battery for the VHF radio, and wanted to save the remaining battery
for emergencies. Andrew and I don't have VHF radios for philosophical
reasons (one  tends to take more chances, etc) Dave's newer Radio Shack
weather radio did not pick up anything at all. Andrew and I had older model
RS radios that worked better, but often the messages were very difficult to
understand above the static. When we did get clear messages, they would
often turn out wrong anyway, sometimes by 180 degrees. The cold fronts were
moving through very fast, mind you. We started to disregard the forecasts,
and go by what we were seeing. Some of the forecasts were for stronger
winds than we were experiencing, as is the case on a lot of our summer
trips too, so you start thinking maybe a gale warning usually translates to
small craft only, which we were completely comfortable in.

Due to the cold, our group did not share the usual social time like one
would in the summer, pouring over charts, tides, contingency plans, etc, at
super or whatever. We were too busy concentrating on keeping dry and warm,
repairing gear, etc. Dave even had to perform fiberglass repairs on the
beach one afternoon. While we always has some discussion regarding route,
etc, I was not paying as much attention as I should have, nor was Andrew.
Dave sort of took that role as navigator, and that was an unfair pressure
to put most of it on him, though he was doing a very good job.

We had pushed very hard the day before our crossing. A gale was blowing SE.
The  direction of wind was causing an offshore wind situation, and though
somewhat  in the lee, the paddle into Indian Cove was a hard one. Andrew
didn't surf, and I was afraid we would be forced off the water by high
winds the next day, and Andrew would have to bail in the surf, we had
better push as close to the Cape as possible. Andrew had no stamina for
this sort of end-of-the-day push, but he did it. We looked over the charts
a bit for the next day.  We decided to push for the Southgate Group the
next day, but agreed to avoid strong winds around Cape Caution, as corner
winds would be higher than the forecasted gale strength winds the next day.
I was worried about the tide a bit too. Dave said the tide ebbed southwards
and flooded northward in this area.  I knew the tidal bore flooded rapidly
up Goletas Channel from a trip up there the year before. Dave felt strongly
that the situation was reversed around the Cape. I was confused and Andrew
was bewildered, how anyone could think that the tide flooded north through
the Strait, but we did not worry too much, as one can normally use
backeddies to counter an opposing tide, if we did have it wrong along the
shoreline route.

I awoke at 4:00 am to take my antinflamitory pill and catch the updated
forecast. Reception was good in the middle of the night, but I was rather
tired. I remember hearing a gale warning to 35 knots, then diminishing to
20 by noon, then calming down, then another big gale for outlook. As the
wind had been howling all night, I figured this was the gale and we would
probably sleep in. Pine Island was reporting a 7-foot rough sea. I was
surprised when Dave awoke us early, however, there was little wind and
their was no evidence of clouds or rain, so we quickly broke camp. Dave, as
usual, was pacing back and forth in his boat, already in  the water, ready
to go. Andrew and I wolfed down our breakfast, and departed. Just before
getting into the boat, I said screw this, and did a beach check like I
normally do with my other paddling buddy, Doug Alderson. I found garbage
about and Andrew's tent poles!

We picked up some tide movement, and arrived at the Cape quickly, about
8:15 am. Dave had the plasticized tide tables, and said we were catching
the last of the flood and would use the ebb to push us up the mainland
shore was really confused. If Dave had it right, and the tide did flood
north, then why was he saying we were catching the last of it south? I did
not argue with him, as that usually got nowhere anyway. It was very calm,
with a 1 meter SW swell running, so I didn't worry too much. The sun was
shinning, and there was no wind near shore. The gale must have blown out in
the night. Dave suggested we cross then and there, as we had a "window of
opportunity". I cast my eyes across to the Storm Islands - it did look calm
with almost no swell Andrew, as I recall, was not too happy, as he wanted
to stick to the plan. Dave felt we could shave a day or more off by getting
over to the Storm Islands, then making our way over to Pine, Nigie, and
Vancouver Island, then into Port Hardy the next day or so. 

I knew my girls would be getting worried and missing me; and my wife would
too, but was it really a window of opportunity? Andrew and I had listened
to the weather forecast that morning, but I don't recall taking it too
serious. I figured 20 knots was what we might be in for, though now with
the proposition of a crossing, I was concerned that the 20 knots, if Dave
was right about the tide flowing south, it would be tide against wind.
Andrew and I hadn't even contemplated the crossing, so had not looked at
charts, etc, or worried about the wind We had wanted to listen to the VHF
which would have brought in a cleared signal, but Dave wanted to keep it
for emergencies. I now wished I had bought a VHF for the trip. I have
borrowed them on trips before, but didn't want to impose on my friends when
I new conditions would be so wet.

Dave went through some kind of mental permutations only he could enlighten
upon. He said it was only 6 miles across when Andrew expressed concern,
hey," a couple of hours"he said. I said a lot can happen in two
hours.Andrew repeated this. I was more game than Andrew, but figured we
were moving from a position of strength to one of weakness, which I would
not do on my own, but with other paddlers, felt safer. I was worried about
the effects each Island would have on the tidal flow, and I remember seeing
some fast flows through the channels we would have to cross. I figured we
might be stuck on the Storm Islands, maybe a day or two, awaiting good
conditions, but that seemed like an adventurous proposition, I also figured
we could cross with a south flow to the other Islands once Dave and the
rest of us knew what the tides were really doing. I was most worried about
Andrew's kayak. I mentioned to him the night before that the day might
prove rough clearing Cape Caution and dealing with discharge from Slingsby
Channel. He assured me he had fixed his rudder problems.

I was also worried about the weather getting vicious over the next few
days. Andrew was still cold in his sleeping bag, the Mainland  route  down
to the Southgate Group would expose us to surf in Burdett Bay, and the
swell forecast was for 3 to 4 meters that day. As mentioned, Andrew was not
into surfing, and did not have  a helmet. When I asked him about bailing on
purpose and following in behind his kayak, he looked awfully frightened
with that proposition. I figured maybe Dave had a point. The forecast was
talking about more snow, so on and so forth. I had always wanted to see the
Storm Islands. Against my gut feelings, which kept whispering in my ear
"stick to the float plan filed with the Coast Guard", I agreed. I am also
fairly passive with other paddlers, tending not to be assertive if someone
in the group has good skills and makes a decision - I usually go along.

I also figured as long as we keep out transit bearing, we would be okay. If
we could not keep it, then we could turn back. I picked my spot on the
Island and a mountain range, and within 5 minutes, we were on our way. That
was no way to make such a weighty decision. Even Andrew, with his cautious
approach, said something like "let's get going guys" I figured Dave had his
radio ready, his chart lined up, so lets go for it. Within an hour, winds
were up to 20 knots. We passed a cruise ship, which I took as a bad omen.
As it passed well behind us, Andrew seemed agitated, like it almost ran us
over or something, like, give me a break!. I was surprised, but at least we
were getting a little speed out of him. We had come in the off season to
avoid cruise ship traffic, and I was mad we had seen one. Then Andrew did
not seem to be paddling fast enough again, and was apologetic. I normally
do crossings flat out, 4 and ½ knots. Andrew was also drifting off course,
which Dave was concerned about. I figured if he was a bit far away, as long
as he was in our vicinity, we were all going the same way. The waves were
growing, and we were taking them at a slight angle. The wind had a lot of
fetch, And I was getting concerned. The odd wave would do a side stern
slap, which was rather unnerving as the wave broke on the rear deck. It was
a weird sort of sea, for sure We also seemed to be  drifting off course, as
a team, not just Andrews slight drift away.

Dave asked how I felt we were doing. My neck was still stiff from my
incident with the logs a month ago, so I could not turn back to look at the
Cape for my back transit, but felt we were generally on course. I usually
give myself a good margin for error when I do solo crossings using  my own
navigation methods. I finally mentioned to Dave, which took a bit of
determination from within to question his seamanship, and casually as
possible mentioned to Dave that if we were going to have half a chance at
hitting the north end of the Storm Islands, we should be aiming at least 4
miles south of the Storm Group. Having done a number of crossing myself in
the off-seasons (20 milers) I knew from desperate prior experience that the
correction for course drift must be commenced as soon as one leaves shore.
Dave was nonplussed and said he was aiming for the middle nipple,in the
center of the Storm Group. He said he was checking back over his shoulder,
and we were still on a good course. I remained silent, and realized just
how passive I am, what a bloody shit I am I thought, why can't I stand up
for what I believe. I do the same thing at church, even at work, always
trying to appease and please - not good when you know in your heart and
head that the ferry glide angle was way too little for the wind-drift Dave
again mentioned Andrew's veering away. I knew it was a problem too. After a
bit, Dave came over and said he didn't think we would make it with the way
Andrew was veering away and slowing down. I knew Dave was right, but said
he was doing fine. I figured Andrew would just get mad if Dave said
anything, as he had done the whole trip.And the islands did look like they
were getting closer. Dave kept saying they were only a mile away, Andrew
kept shouting two or more!

The seas kept growing, and the wind kept getting stronger. The wind seemed
to shift from south to SW, but I'm not positive as our drift angle was
changing too. Dave asked about the forecast again, as he had not really
listened to it either (why bother, it was frustrating to go by it anyway).
He went and asked Andrew what Andrew recalled too. Andrew mentioned to me
as I paddled up to him that NOW Dave was more interested in the wind
forecast. Andrew said he told Dave it was North South East West. WHAT did
that mean, I wondered? Obviously there was a lot of frustration with the
weather forecast, such as it was. I also realized  that I was the one they
had depended upon for good forecast info that morning. As the winds grew, I
knew only too well what that meant. Waves grow exponentially in height as
the wind speed increases. We were heading into "deep" trouble as they say.
Maybe we should turn back, maybe I should just shut up, and I bickered with
myself. After a bit, I heard Andrew swearing. I went over to see what the
problem was. His rudder cable had let go.Dave was way out ahead as usual.
Andrew had no steering, and had lost a bit of his bracing with that type of
slider system. I tried to encourage him. I seriously thought we should have
turned back at that point, but a following sea without a rudder was, I
thought, not a good idea for Andrew. The seas seamed rougher than the wind
should be producing, too. 

Dave again expressed grave concern over Andrew's drift and speed.  A
conversation took place between Andrew and Dave, which Andrew said Dave
basically ignored his statement that he,Andrew, didn't feel he could make
it. Andrew revealed this too me later. I think Dave was so focused on the
Islands, that he just didn't hear. I was very focused too. I moved over to
Andrew and said I knew that people did not like to be towed, but I should
clip on and "at least help keep his bow into the wind" Andrew is a very
tough guy, very capable, very strong, and I did not want to embarrass him,
but high wind paddling for long distances and towing are two things my body
is built to do.. It was difficult clipping the Lotus Sea Tow caribener to
his front toggle in the seas, and Andrew expressed his concerns. I'm good
at Eskimo bow rescues, so wasn't worried. Finally hooked on, I paddled away
as the line extended. Andrew did his best to keep up, but I was paddling at
about 75% efficiency with his drag.

Dave was way ahead as usual, but eventually came over, where I explained
the situation. The waves were really growing now, and the Islands kept
disappearing behind the wind and swell. The forecasted swell was for 3 to 4
meters (part of the reason in my mind for avoiding the mainland coastline).
Waves were growing to  a fully developed 6 feet. Irregular sets would come
through much higher, and gusty winds were present. At times, the kayaks
were almost vertical it seemed. When my Nordkapp and Andrew's Pieces locked
vertical on simultaneous waves, there was a fair tug on my torso. Andrew
grew very concerned for me. He tried to paddle up beside me a few times to
tell me to forget towing, it was just too difficult for me he said. I have
a good strong back, and was doing fine. My fit in the Nordkapp is superb,
and the towing pressure on the back of my lotus Straight Jacket was
distributing the weight evenly around the whole life jacket.. As the waves
grew, I felt like I was paddling at about 70% efficiency with the
resistance behind me.

Dave was way ahead, totally focused on the Island. We blew our whistles to
gain his attention. I heard Andrew swearing away. Dave finally slowed down.
He asked me if I thought we were making progress. My glasses were
completely spotted from the seas breaking over us, that I couldn't really
tell. All I could thinkto do was encourage the guys that we were making
progress. Winds were shifting a bit, the time to turn back gone, so I just
focused on the island, but towing someone in those conditions for so long
was just to slow to gain the progress I knew I was capable of doing on my
own, so I was very angry, which was kind of stupid..  I did mention to Dave
that his ferry angle sucked big time, and that I was setting my own
frigging course. About that time, the ebb that we thought was a flood was
really gaining velocity, As time passed, I knew it was more than wind drift
sucking us out to sea. I was really angry at Dave. I was also mostly mad at
myself. My wife had pleaded with me not to go as the weather was so bad on
the north coast. I told her I could not bail, that Andrew needed me. He had
paddled with Dave before, and had agreed to the trip because he knew I was
going. Now, out on the sea in trouble, I had failed to keep Andrew out of a
bad situation,one of my main reasons for going. At least I would tow him
like no one has ever towed before "I am a mean towing machine, I am a mean
towing machine I kept saying to myself. I slowed down to see how Andrew was
doing. Andrew was very upset. He said his worst fear had been realized -
"letting himself be talked into a dangerous situation". His lips were
swelling from the constant barrage of waves. His fingers had rubbed raw. He
was transitioning through every emotion known, including anger and bitter
sobbing.

We then spent a good three or more hours while the kayaks quickly drifted
to a point a mile or so north of the Storms Islands Dave and Andrew had
lost all sense of time. I had my watch on the deck, and knew how long we
had been at it.. I then  tried paddling as hard as humanly possible, but
was down to about 65% efficiency. I was dehydrating quickly. The sun was
out, though it was cool  at about 5 to 10 degrees, and water was 7.3
degrees. Andrew and I screamed and whistled for Dave to paddle with us. I
was concerned about Andrew. I had a hard time knowing what was going on
back there.  When Dave got to us, I said the only way we would make the
Island was if he helped with towing. Dave said his tow rope was too short.
I had a standard open water 50 foot line. Mad, but understanding, I
resolved to paddling even harder. Andrew was still giving it his best, but
when I poured on the speed, there was just too much resistance. Even though
things were a bit out of control, I was enjoying every minute. The Nordkapp
was working well, knifing through the breaking seas, clearing waves and
getting airborne a few times. I felt it was one of the better paddles in
rough water I had done in a long time.I was well within my comfort zone,
and secretly was enjoying the whole adventure, mesmerized by the gloriously
beautiful waves. I kept saying to Andrew when I checked up on him how
beautiful a day it was, simply stupendous, and he ought to enjoy it. He was
not amused. I still had lots of energy, but my back muscles were starting
to hurt. I decided to make all the little things count. I relaxed my death
grip on the paddle, except during  gusts, which I swear hit 40 knots a few
times. I focused on my paddle stroke, making sure I wasn't lifting water by
removing the blade just as it cleared mid point beside the kayak I pumped
with my legs.. I called Dave again for a tow, assist, but no luck from the
bastard to my suggestion. No problem, I was switching over to adrenaline,
which usually keeps me going through one whole extra tide change. We
noticed strange waves doing strange things. Dave started to comprehend that
we were indeed, for sure, yes you are right, we are in a north ebbing tide. 

I knew we were on or near a flight route, and that there was marine traffic
usually coming out of Gordon Channel. Dave finally saw a barge, two in tow
actually. The problem with a barge is that by the time you see them, the
tug in front is way ahead. Dave fired flares after some discussion, and
tried waving his paddle. The tug was way out ahead, I knew we would not be
seen. I knew we needed the radio to contact the tug while we had a chance
incase we could not get the coast guard. I told Dave to get on the radio
quick. Forget a tug rescue you nerd, he's got two barges in tow in rough
seas. Dave had the radio in the rear hatch of his boat. I was really mad at
Dave for initiating a crossing, but not even having his radio handy. We
managed to raft and get it out of the rear hatch, discarding some rear deck
gear. Dave could not get anybody to respond to his Mayday.

Now we felt really alone. Dave mentioned his boat was taking on water at
some point - figures!, and Andrew was getting really cold and tired. I
resigned myself to paddling as hard as I could, reaching as for forward as
I could with the 225cm Lendal Archipelago blades. Andrew was slowing down.
The harder I pulled, the more I hurt. I switched between a flatwater
olympic stroke, and the a low sea stroke, and then to a Hawaiian pulling
water stroke, so as to use different muscle groups. This worked fine, but I
was severely dehydrating. I told Dave, once I got his attention, that I
needed to hydrate, or I could not continue to tow. I had three power bars,
but did not feel hungry or lacking energy, just wanted to hydrate. I also
knew that hydration was absolutely necessary for hypothermia control. It
was very difficult rafting up, especially breaking the raft, as that was a
danger point for capsize. Also, the tow line would wrap around paddle
blades, further complicating matters. The worst part was turning the bows
into the wind again in such an exhausted state as we were in, though once
straight on to the wind, a good pace was regained by Dave and I. I think we
rafted two or three times, but lost precious ground. I remembered part of
the forecast which called for diminishing winds. It was diminishing, so I
figured we had a chance after all, and though, at the time, I felt Dave had
blown the tides, I figured the semidiurnal tide would flood soon, so we
would be okay. I begged Dave to stick with us. I wanted him to stay near
Andrew especially, as I could feel the resistance much more now. I figured
Dave could raft up if needed, maybe get something warm out for Andrew, some
food, but perhaps Dave thought Andrew wasn't too bad off. I didn't know.

Finally we saw a fish boat or two. Dave has the best recollection of this,
as I was too upset, not thinking we needed outside assistance just yet - at
least not the Coast Guard. Dave asked me what we should do, and I said I
would tow Andrew into the wind in continuance, and that they could raft up
and do what ever the hell they had to do to kill our trip. Flares went off,
radio contact was made, I don't know exactly. The Coast Guard was sending a
fast response Zodiac, cutter and a helicopter. A military Buffalo from
Comox was sent aloft and coordinated the flares Dave was shooting with
Andrew, so that from the plane's overhead position, the pilot could give
the vectors to the fish boats. I remained really upset. I knew in my heart
we needed to be rescued, but I could not bring myself to participate
individually. I've already been written up in a sea kayaking magazine once
before after being rescued. I don't think people understand how embarrassed
I felt with the situation. Dave asked me something about firing some
flares, and I ignored him.This was truly horrible of me. I had smoke
flares, parachute flares, etc, but then I was also saving them for
something more desperate if things got truly worse (like nighttime drifting
past Cape Scott) and too busy towing the "raft". When Dave made contact
with the Coast Guard, I broke down into tears. So much emotion, yet so much
resentment that we were not going to make it to our destination. The whole
trip, they're seemed to be a defeatist attitude, and now we might never
make Port Hardy on our own steam. Bring on the government water taxi I said
to myself. I took stock. Dave's boat was a piece of garbage I surmised.
Andrew should have stayed home and flew kites I thought; but then I was
rather frustrated at my self for making such a stupid error as this
crossing on a trip that was supposed to not have any errors.

I had a lot of energy left, and tons of adrenaline going on. Funny thing is
that if I had waited for the tide change, I was informed by Ocean Sciences
that it would have been 5 days until we would have had a surface flood.
Good thing Dave initiated the rescue operation; I might have had another
five hours in me, but not 5 days! Dave was exhausted, and said he was
almost falling asleep, so it was just as well for Dave. He said he was cold
too, which I found incredulous. He had on thermal poly underwear, a wet
suit farmer John, and a fleece jacket - all under a
full-bore-heavy-elements- dry-suit. I had a wet suit and Navarro dry top,
with the usual polypro. Andrew is a survivor, and I think we would have
some how made it if the rescue resources were not available, but, usually
if you think you are in trouble and have called for help, you are often
worse off than you think. As it turned out, we made it aboard one of the
fish boats. When the Zodiac showed up, Andrew was treated with "heat
treat", a box that dispenses oxygen and 40 degree centigrade steam into the
hypothermic victim's lungs, directly. The fishing boat captain turned for
the Storm Islands and was immediately amazed at the strength of the current
we had been bucking. We transferred to the cutter (also called the
"Lifeboat") in the lee of the Storm Islands. When we eventually passed the
Storm Islands, Andrew and I looked in amazement. Dave, we said, this is a
big rock sticking out of the sea. Where were we going to land? Four hours
later we were in Port Hardy. My kayak was the only one still intact. I was
doing fine until I stepped on to the warf. Both legs went wobbly, and in
the blink of an eye, I went into hypothermic like convulsions. I rushed to
the Coast Guard showers, making it just in the nick of time before
collapse. If I had gone into convulsions like that in my kayak earlier, on
the water...

We failed on a number of accounts. We diverted from our carefully laid out
plans by doing the crossing. We did not have enough information to make an
intelligent choice to cross. We did not give ourselves enough of a margin
for error for the unknown (the persistent ebb). We did not live up to the
maxim that the group is only as strong as the weakest member. Andrew and I
ignored our gut feelings. We each assumed the other person had done
research, checked things out, or had the correct info. We displayed poor
seamanship skills. Boat preparation and maintenance of at least two boats
was very poor, given the hostile environment we should have known we were
getting into. I will never again paddle with people I do not really know in
the experience/skills department, but more so, the unknown group dynamics
are one of my biggest lessons.l

We did the right thing by being well equipped, for the most part, with
distress signals (we had smoke flares and parachute flares if we got really
desperate). We called in the mayday before things got way out of control
(relative terminology!). The medic told Andrew his set point for getting
cold was probably getting worse each day. Andrew was in mild hypothermia at
time of rescue, but was at the point where he could have rapidly slipped at
ANY SECOND. We consider ourselves fortunate. Dave and I are much closer to
our wives and children now, and Andrew estranged son sought him out for
reconciliation. And, we three paddlers are, a year later, all still friends
- but paddle mostly solo now.

BC'in Ya
Doug Lloyd


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