[Paddlewise] A Paddling Phobia: Loss of a Paddling Partner [long]

Here is a vignette ... a case history, perhaps. The fat paddler in a
recreational kayak re-entry scenario Nick Schade posed got me to thinking
about my buddy Joel (not his real name) and how I came to lose him as a
paddling partner a few years back.

It came about because Joel had a phobia:  paddling beam-on to moderate seas
(anything over 2 feet if close-coupled).  Head-on he was OK.  Stern-on he
was OK.  Beam-on, he was jelly.

DISCOVERY PHASE:  I had paddled with Joel  a couple times before I realized
he had a phobia.  Joel is a great kayak camping partner:  does exquisite
camp cookery; is a terrific story-teller;  is willing and eager to do his
share of the grunt work; is fastidious and imaginative at planning and
preparation.  And, he lives in a town on the way to one of my favorite
paddling spots, so it was easy to slide him and his gear into/onto the
pickup enroute.  Oh, yeah, he also is semi-retired, so he has lots of free
time.  He likes to eat, though, perhaps too much, so he is quite a bit
overweight, but has great upper-body strength -- so I had no reservations
about his ability to re-enter his kayak, especially since he described to me
self-rescue practices he and another paddler in his town, Tom, had done.

Anyway, he and I were part of a six-person group on our second day of
week-long trip.  We crossed an exposed channel in 15 knot side winds, but it
was not very sloppy at all.  I had my sprayskirt on, but felt no need to
prepare to brace;  my 50-year-old ex-wife, an infrequent paddler not gifted
with extraordinary upper-body strength (but mentally very tough) was having
no trouble with it.  Everybody else was having a good time.

As we completed the crossing and rested out of the wind in some very mild
rebound next to a rocky cliff, Joel breathlessly asked me if he could raft
up.  I said OK, and within 30 seconds, he had a beargrip on my upper body,
and was shivering and shaking.  I asked him what as wrong and he confessed
he was scared out of his wits.  Of what?  Capsizing.  I scoffed and noted
that we would be in calmer waters the rest of the day.

Later on, in talking to him, I found out that he stiffened up whenever he
got frightened of rough conditions, losing that suppleness at the waist and
hips which allowed his very seaworthy boat (Current Designs GTHV Solstice)
to ride parallel to seas safely.

On a couple of other crossings on this same trip, he outstripped the rest of
the group, and it was clear it was fear that drove him.  Once across, he
drooped and waited behind a safe point.

ATTEMPTED CURE:  I'm a long-time chemistry teacher, and proud of my ability
to defuse chemophobia in introductory learners, so I figured ... no problem
getting Joel over this.  So, on a couple trips the next season I worked with
him, with his concurrence.  First we did everything the Joel way:  adjusted
our crossing angle so we avoided beam-on conditions; avoided afternoon
paddling when the seas were worse; stayed very close to each other (less
than a boat length) so he could feel confident of having another boat at
hand if he did go in; and we practiced assisted rescue (primarily the
modified T-rescue) in easy water ... which he had done many times before.

Then, we "removed" his training wheels, a little at a time, and we purposely
sought out easy, short crossings in mild beam seas, where he and I
concentrated on allowing our hips to swivel with the waves, so he could feel
how well his boat would help him handle it.  Finally, he was ready for the
big test (so I thought):  a five day trip down the Columbia River, over a
stretch that has progressively longer, more exposed crossings, culminating
with a 3 1/2 mile shot to our home port, more or less beam-on to a 15-mile
fetch near the mouth.  We practiced beam-on stuff the four days before the
big bad crossing, and we talked, in camp, about what he needed to do  All
seemed well.

It wasn't.  On leaving the last beach, as we entered the last fetch, with
maybe 10-12 knots of side wind, and beam seas of maybe 2 feet, Joel
collapsed.  He moaned, he cursed, he wept, he despaired.  No, I would not
stay right next to him -- I told him I did not want to get drowned in a bear
hug from a panicked kayaker.  I told him we had radios and could sit in the
water forever in our immersion gear.  I told him to use his well-practiced
relaxed-hip style.  He could not do it.  He locked up, gritted his teeth,
and refused to go.  Well, we did not have that choice.  There were no
shorter, less-exposed routes to shore. So, we did the three and a half
miles, me a few boat lengths ahead, and him mewling in the rear, until we
got near the end, when he pretty much quit, and then slowly, on his last
dregs of effort, paddled up a backwater to the takeout.

THE END:  That night, Joel treated me and my SO to a very fine meal at an
over-the-water restaurant in town and announced that he was giving up
paddling.  I was stunned, and allowed that he should wait a few months and
decide later.  He agreed to that, and we parted.  The next spring, we agreed
to meet with Tom, one of our companions on the first trip I have described,
at a lake in their city (some 200 miles distant from mine), to practice some
rescues on rough water, thinking this would be the confidence-builder Joel
needed. It was a great day for that:  25-30 knots across a mile and a half
fetch made for short, choppy, energetic seas (onto a safe lee shore), just
the thing we knew Joel needed to overcome.  Tom and I did an assisted
T-rescue (damn hard in a wind, I'll tell you).  Then it was Joel's turn to
be the rescuer  Well, he gave it a shot, but he could not get his boat
turned into the wind to reach the swamped paddler.  So, we hit the beach to
regroup.  We could see in Joel's eyes that he was close to his limit.  So we
went out again, and tried again.  He did it!  Tom and I were elated.  Then
it was Joel's turn to be rescued.  And, after some struggle, he did it!

We figured Joel was cured.  But, his downcast expression and affect said
otherwise.

Two months later, he phoned me to say he had sold all his gear and had given
up paddling.

LESSON LEARNED:  Beam seas had such a strong hold on Joel, none of the
techniques we tried had a chance.  Exposing him to those conditions only
made his phobia worse.  He had paddled in coastal conditions for five years,
sometimes in surge channels and on rough crossings, but he somewhere in
there lost it.  The more he tried it, the worse it got.  He could not break
it. I wish he could.  He was a good paddling buddy.

--
Dave Kruger
Astoria, OR

***************************************************************************
PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed
here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire
responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author.
Submissions:     PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net
Subscriptions:   PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net
Website:         http://www.paddlewise.net/
***************************************************************************