I've had a few requests from new paddlewisers for information/details regarding mention in some recent posts about an incident off Cape Caution. I can't access my old post right now that gave a full report, so here's a quick attempt at explaining the incident after a few years of reflection. Older paddlewise members can skip or delete. Long post. Fingers sore, so bear with the grammar, etc. **************** Three of us had planned a trip for many months. Something challenging, off-season -- before the crowds show up. We departed around April 1st, 1996 I believe. The three of us arrived at Bella Bella off the ferry, and set out on a 10-day trip back to Port Hardy. It had been the worst winter in recorded history here on the coast-- tons of snow and endless gales. We had hail, snow, gales, and -5C temps the whole trip from Bella Bella onward for most of the next week. I was around 40 at the time, paddler 2 around 45, and paddler 3 around 50. Paddler 1was a top BCU type, and owned a kayak retail and training business. Paddler 3 was a local all-season paddler with about 18,000 miles under his belt, err skirt. He paddled daily year round. Paddler 3 did not bring sufficient cold weather gear or a proper sleeping bag. His "set-point" for cold tolerance grew worse every day. We battled 30+ knot headwinds most of the way south, down the inside passage. Paddler 2's boat sprung a leak off Kelp Head in huge seas. Near Rivers Inlet paddler three couldn't keep up anymore in the 6-foot seas and gales, and fell way behind. He is a very strong paddler -- a big guy, but it had been so bad that winter in Victoria for severe weather, he hadn't got in any paddling for the first time in his paddling career and was therefore out of shape. He had been shut-out of the season. I'd been in heaven all winter, and even made it out one day when bricks were torn off some of the older buildings in downtown Victoria. I didn't last long on the water that day. I was simply in great shape for once in my life, regularly at the gym too. Paddler 3 was as always, a strong year-round paddler with open water experience and a highly efficient stroke. Paddler 3 did not have open water experience, nor even a surf helmet with him. There was horrendous tension the afternoon near Rivers Inlet, and paddler 3 veered off behind us to look for shelter, as he was getting desperate, fighting for his survival in a private hell, his "friends" forging way ahead of him. We finally actually got some communication happening after the tension settled down, after turning back to find him. We agreed to push harder together, to find a better sheltered bay, which proved in the end to be wet, sodden, snow-covered and soaked in the night as slush melted into small streams. We were in survival mode. Paddler 2 made a decision to put out a pan-pan for help, mostly to try and order-up a water taxi. We were not able to make communication. The gales continued, but there was less sleet and more sunshine. We pushed hard for Cape Caution. Upon arriving somewhere north of the Cape, we had to physically lift out paddler 3 from his kayak, as he was unable to alight himself. The weather forecast was iffy. We agreed to push for at least Indian Cove, a well-protected camping spot just before the Cape, to shelter us from the growing south easterly. It was do-or die paddling. I pushed both men about as hard as possible, both mentally and physically. After an entire day against near-gale winds, it picked up to a full gale. There was a 3-meter westerly swell pounding the rocks near the Cape, so it wasn't possible to tuck under the lee of the cliffs as paddler 3 wasn't comfortable in those kind of rock garden situations. Also, some of the geologically remnant headlands forced us way out from any available lee protection. It was often almost impossible to pull back into the lee-protection once around the headland, as a south east wind is actually an off-shore wind given the lay of the land and low-pressure circulation patterns up there. Somehow the guys were able to follow me but were down to their last reserves. I'd have loved to see the Cape that day myself. They screamed for me to pull into shelter. Admittedly, it's difficult to explain just how cold those waves felt as they broke over rocky reefs and shot up the cold, 8-degree Celsius spray into one's face. Indian Cove was unmistakably well named. First Nation seafarers obviously had this spot pegged for easy landings and manageable accommodation away from the maelstrom of a Sou-easter. Winds blew ferociously above the high coastal mainland trees, far above us. I figured we would work our way down the coast over the next few days, using currents and back eddies to our advantage as needed. Paddler 3 was under a veil of extreme anxiety. He did not want to face the surf of Burnett Bay after reading about a mishap in Sea Kayaker magazine in that same spot. I tried to make him understand that he could swim his kayak in and that we would talk him through it if we needed to land. The next morning dawned warmer and sunny, with a small craft warning and an approaching storm a day away. I had a Radio Shack weather radio, and it was difficult to hear it properly. Paddler 2 did the tide calculations. We decided to poke around to the Cape and see what was possible. Paddler 2 suddenly broke camp while we were still eating early breakfast. "Guess were going now" I said. We charged off after him. I had already made a decision to slow down and make sure I stayed back with paddler 3. I'd come to realize by that point, that a team is only as strong as it's weakest link. What if it had been me, with tendonitis or something? Paddler 2 was at the Cape first. As we paddled up to him, he let up a trial balloon. Why not cross Queen Charlotte Strait right then and there. We had a tide to push us all day to Port Hardy, we could "bounce off" Storm Island, and be on the other side, on Vancouver Island's shore by afternoon and avoid SURF, and get paddler 3 home earlier to warmth and conveniences by taking this shorter route (which is actually just as long when one does the math), rather than proceeding down to the usual crossing point at Shelter Bay with a narrowing weather-window. The problem was the new route wasn't on our official float plan meticulously filed with the Coast Guard. I wasn't sure about the tide as the planned close shore work hadn't necessitated working out the math -- I didn't even bring tables. The Seymour Inlet tide outflow from Slingsby Channel is akin to putting your thumb on the end of a garden hose -- a real navigation concern, even far from shore if strong enough. Paddler 2 gave an estimate of a two-hour crossing time to Storm Island (an emergency pull-out) at the questioning of paddler 3. Paddler 3 had grave concerns, voicing the obvious that "a lot can happen in two hours" given that part of the coast, and given the weather changes and rapidly developing lows we had undergone daily. We had only the briefest discussion, with paddler 3 agreeing but hesitant. I'd questioned both men earlier about the poor maintenance of their kayaks, but paddler 2 had completed his fibreglass field repairs and paddler 3 had rechecked his rudder cables (he was a rudder-dependant paddler). I figured we could turn and run if we didn't like the way things developed. With multitude red flags waving, and a cup overflowing with lemons, we set off at a brisk pace, our charts cut off as we crossed the edge of the snipped margins. The sea state worsened. I was unable to take a back-bearing by paddle-shaft alignment, due to a surf-log encounter that winter that had split the seems on my kayak and given me whiplash. We didn't seem to be holding course, and paddler 3 was slowing down already. Paddler 2 assured me the course was still true. I was trying to line up Storm Island with a big hill in the distance on Vancouver Island, but things were hazy and my glasses were salting up. Paddler 2 kept racing ahead. I kept my promise to keep back with paddler 3. It quickly picked up to a near gale an hour out. We had to space ourselves as each boat behaved differently, and correspondingly, each paddler took their own track. Paddler 2 asked me how I was doing. I said ok, but expressed concerns over the trajectory issue, and that paddler 3 looked like he was in failure mode again. At some point a bit later paddler 2 asked paddler 3 on their own how paddler 3 was doing, and Paddler 3 said he reported to paddler 2, "not well," and said paddler 3 then replied that the decision had already been made to proceed. Things grew worse. Then paddler 3's rudder cable broke in the increasingly difficult seas. I didn't want him to turn back, as a following sea would have been an invitation to a broach and capsize by paddler 3, I figured. Not wanting to embarrass paddler 3, I suggested I hook my tow line to his bow to provide directional stability into the wind. Paddler 3 agreed reluctantly. Easier said than done, but eventually I clipped on. Paddler 2 came over and said we could put in at Storm Island for repairs and or a bivouac. I wondered if the guys knew how difficult seal landings were with loaded boats, and I wondered what kind of night it would be stuck on an island, given how bad some of the camping had been in sheltered inlets in the cold and wet, let alone storm-bound on some God-forsaken spot. As the gale developed and seas grew steeper, paddler 3 became increasingly cold and tired. In an ideal help-tow situation, one should hardly feel much resistance. That was not to be the case. Paddler 3 remained far ahead in the middle distance. I used screaming, uncharacteristically foul language, and my whistle to gain attention of paddler 2 every time I needed to form a raft to rehydrate. I sorely could have used a hands-free hydration pack. At some point I cursed at paddler 2, mentioning that the ferry angle needed to deal with the wind drift was still too severe to just be wind-related -- that there must be a tidal miscalculation, and that I would tow paddle 3 on my own damn bearing and ferry-angle compensation factor. In the end, we needed each other at various intervals. I kept insisting that we could make it, and tried to suggest Storm Island was getting closer. In actuality, we were being swept into the open sound, positioning ourselves a mile or two off Storm Island directly downstream after seven plus hours of intense, all out paddling, unable to move forward against wind and opposing tide. It became increasingly difficult to break the raft, as it took all our effort to turn back into the wind and not get tangled in the tow line each time. It was completely demoralizing to loose half an hours progress every time we rafted up due to the powerful current. I was in the most in need of hydration due to the tow situation. At times, my upper back muscles were cramping badly. My orders to paddler 3 were to concentrate on keeping upright, my sole concern. It was difficult talking it through with him in the wind. Paddler 3's lips were swelling up from the constant heavy spray, and his hands were going raw. At times, I'd claw my way up 10 foot breaking whitecaps, just as paddler 3 behind me would get hit by an out-of-sync wave. The strain was tremendous. A rear deck tow might have been a better alternative to my torso-tow harness. We eventually saw a tug towing a barge, not an ideal rescue craft I suggested to the guys. We rafted in breaking seas as paddler 2 had the only VHF, sealed in his rear compartment. We opened the rear hatch as best we could with cold, cramped, numb fingers, discarding gear into the open seas to find the buried radio. Paddler 2 let off some Maydays. The tug never responded. We were truly on our own. The three of us left each other to private thought for awhile, each man contemplation their respective lives to date, the loved ones at home, and just how we had gotten ourselves into such a predicament. Perhaps that is the most painful part in these types of scenarios, namely knowing they could be so easily avoided. Mental anguish can be very misunderstood, demoralizing factor. Things grew worse. Paddler 3 was crying uncontrollably, shivering, swearing mightily, and somewhat incoherent. Then paddler 2 split his side seems in the wild waters, further confused by the westerly swell, southerly wind waves, and tidal current jumbled by the topography off the bottom end of the Storm Island. I knew he wasn't exaggerating when he couldn't get his bilge pump out, which was tucked in between the seat and hull. The boat had sagged, pinching the pump. Paddler 2's knee tube was full of water when I peered in. Wow. And paddler 2 was getting cold, real cold. I asked God to get us to the island. I didn't want a rescue. I didn't realize how bad paddler 3 was though. I'd already lambasted the guys at Rivers Inlet for trying to call up the water taxi, and had called them a couple of wusses. At the worst possible time, I had fallen back into that same negative mindset, but there, in open seas in a really difficult position. I was really mad at paddler 2 for not assisting with the tow. I figured we could have made the island with one final, dig-deep-for-all-your-worth push. He disagreed. In the post-mortem later, he said we would have probably died for sure if he had helped tow, deterred from calling in a rescue by me. I was dehydrated and we were out of water. We hadn't ate since 7:30 am. I prayed for a fair resolve to our problem. We later saw some trawlers swishing by Strom Island, beating for the shelter of Fitz Hugh Sound. Paddler 2 and 3 got out their 12-gauge flare guns and fired up the VHF, unfortunately on low power at first. I refused to fully participate with the flares. I figured if we didn't get rescued, we would flush-out in the dark off the top of Vancouver Island at night. The two other men would die, and I would need my flares and other high-shooting pyrotechnics to summon help if I saw lights from a fishing vessel (flares are best seen at night). Crass perhaps, but I had two young girls and a lovely wife to think about. And my gear was fairly top-notch. Theirs wasn't (I was irredeemably childish about this issue in retrospect). And besides, I really thought we could make if the tide turned. I also just couldn't face failure. It wasn't my style. I'm not wired for it. I agreed to tow the two men as a raft so they could perform flare and radio duties. Paddler 3 was so far gone, I later found out, that he could barely comprehend how to use the gun. He also almost shot paddler 2 in the face with the flare discharge. Paddler 2 then realized how seriously hypothermic paddler 3 was. Unknown to us, Comox had picked up our earlier Mayday but we couldn't receive their signal. The trawlers tried closing in but could see nothing in the jumble of seas. Flares didn't help pinpoint us either, other than a general vicinity indicator. That was surprising. Fortunately, the military at 442 Squadron had sent up a Buffalo under direction from Victoria Rescue Coordination, and the pilot gave the bearings to the trawler captain of the vessel that was closest to us. The pilot was able to locate us by having paddler 2 and 3 shoot flares straight up. My tow line belt, quick-release, was pulled just as the trawler's starboard stabilizer entangled. I tried shooting pictures from my waterproof disposable camera, but as soon as I let go of the paddle with one hand and looked through the view-finder (thereby loosing my horizon) I'd get knocked over by a wave. I rolled a few times, even tough I was in the lee of the vessel and protected from the seas somewhat. It cleared my glasses instantly. I could see again. Yeah, Storm Island looked far away. Paddler 3 was in the worst shape and in need of medical attention, so I ceased my attempts at documenting the rescue photographically to assist the deckhands with the logistics of getting an incapacitated paddler out of his cockpit and subsequently the heavy expedition-rigged kayak over the railings. Precise timing was needed just as the swell peaked and the fish boat rolled. A gaff hook was used to retrieve the kayak after paddler 3 was brought aboard. The kayak's hull was heavily damaged in the sea-saw attempts to bring it aboard. Paddler 2 followed the same drill, his boat irreversibly damaged with one final and ignoble death knell as it went over the railing and as water gushed out. Then it was my turn, my recently refurbished kayak with quadruple seems and 17-foot, plastic rub-strip on the hull, gliding over the railings. Just love that tough kayak some days. Paddler 3 was stripped down, placed in a warm bed and hydrated with warmish tea. I was concerned over shock from too rapid a rewarming, but the sea savvy fisherman had their ways. Fortunately the Coast Guard arrived shortly on their fast-response Zodiac, deploying a rescue paramedic who administered hot steam and oxygen into paddler 3. Within 40", he was doing better, crying and thanking me for towing him and keeping him going. I felt a bit sheepish, as it was partly my fault he almost perished. Talk about a complexity of commingled emotions and some necessarily deep soul searching. Alas, I figured, back to solo paddling. Paddler 3's sentiments exactly too. We couldn't transfer to the CG lifeboat until we made shelter closer to Storm Island. Once the fishboat had turned back toward Storm Island, the skipper suddenly realized with a surprised startle, how powerful the current really was. He'd never experienced it before. We finally had some empathy. We found out once aboard the lifeboat (a slow moving cutter) that an unusual tidal anomaly circulates water in an almost constant direction northwest off Cape Caution at certain times, and this was further made worse by record snowfall and estuarine outflow. And we thought we had done our research. Ocean Sciences confirmed in a subsequent phone call to them that indeed the current we experienced off Storm Island would not have slowed down for another day. Dave was right, we probably never would have made it without an outside rescue. Once back at the Coast Guard station at Port Hardy, I went into uncontrollable shivering the second I stepped onto the dock. After almost twenty years of storm paddling I'd learned to time-release my adrenaline and control internal heat regulating mechanisms until safe back on land. I was assisted to the staff showers, and had a luke warm shower, only slowly increasing the hot water. We ate more pizza and drank more beer that night than I care to admit, while getting a severe poking at by the largely, local native contingent in the bar. We had a warm night at a hotel. I was up early, doing push ups. Gotta love that testosterone thing. I called my wife finally. She was worried sick, as the unfolding rescue about "three men and a storm" had played out on the local news that afternoon. She hadn't wanted me to go in the first place, and had plainly told me so, registering her displeasure in no uncertain terms the morning I left a week earlier. Upon our return to Victoria, the media showed up, but paddler 2 and 3 refused interviews. I did not, and obliged a photo shoot too, figuring there would be a small blurb in the paper at the back. No such luck, it was headlines the next day with a full photo. Curiously, my wife wasn't in the picture beside my boat. Paddler 3 was later approached by a television producer soliciting a re-enactment of the incident for some real-life show. He refused. He wanted nothing more than to forget the whole thing. I remained a thorn in his side for some time. ****************** We were all experienced paddlers -- 55 years between us. We got into trouble. It can happen. Certain combinations of paddlers sometimes don't work. On water decision making and the problems paddling with other partners is something too often overlooked. Most articles saccharine-coat the subject. Sometimes it's not pretty out there. I'm sure the team that just went around Iceland know just what I'm talking about. In retrospect, it was one of my favourite on-water adventure experiences. I'm sorry to have caused my family grief, for the loss of friendships, the strain to our increasingly-depleted rescue-resources, for the trouble incurred by Matt Broze and Sea Kayaker magazine when I released details in frustration and prevented an article coming out, and for boring anyone here with these details. But I thank paddlewisers for always being so understanding with me. Doug Lloyd Victoria BC *************************************************************************** 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/ ***************************************************************************
The incident took place in 1999, not 96. I should have proofed the post first but went to bed instead. (Hope all you paddlewisers in California are safe -- sounds really bad down there. We should send some rain down your way. Port Renfrew had 566 millimetres a week or so ago, all in a few days.) Doug Lloyd Victoria BC *************************************************************************** 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/ ***************************************************************************
Greetings... I have to do some long-term vacation planning at my workplace, so I need to confirm that the East Coast Canoe & Kayak Festival happens April 16-19, 2004 in Charleston, SC. If these dates are not correct, then could you kindly let me know... many thanks! -- cheers, Stephen P.S. I'll be driving south from the Ottawa area (assuming my work schedule is ok), so if anyone is interested in a convoy and some paddling going and coming please keep me in mind... :-) *************************************************************************** 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/ ***************************************************************************
I said: >>>Paddler 3 was as always, a strong year-round paddler with open water experience and a highly efficient stroke. Paddler 3 did not have open water experience, nor even a surf helmet with him.<<< That should be "Paddler 2 was as always..." Doesn't really matter, but you know how it goes with this post post-editing stuff... Be careful out there. Stay within your limits. Leave that margin. Surviving by margins is what it's all about, whether you are Wal-Mart or paddler. Doug Lloyd Victoria BC *************************************************************************** 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/ ***************************************************************************
One more error: >>>"Paddler 3 was later approached by a television producer soliciting a re-enactment of the incident for some real-life show. He refused..." That should be paddler 2. There were some other small errors. I should have kept it back-channel. Sorry Kirk for the bandwidth. Doug Lloyd Victoria BC *************************************************************************** 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/ ***************************************************************************
Doug Lloyd wrote: > There were some other small errors. I should have kept it back-channel. > Sorry Kirk for the bandwidth. 1. No problem on the editorial stuff. Great story. 2. Good for such stories to get out. Lessons for all. 3. Is bandwidth usage that much of a problem for the list? 4. When people use the term "back channel" I am reminded of my first encounter with the phrase: used to refer to a part of the anatomy. GaryJ -- Director, Family Canoeing Centre Recreational canoeing courses for the whole family. +--------------------------------+ | /"\ | | \ / | | X ASCII RIBBON CAMPAIGN | | / \ AGAINST HTML MAIL & NEWS | +--------------------------------+ *************************************************************************** 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/ ***************************************************************************
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