[Paddlewise] SAREX and flare failure - Long post

Hi Folks,

Following is an article I wrote for our national sea kayak newsletter, which
may be of interest given the recent posts on flare failure and aerial
search. 

I have made a few additions to make it clearer for international readers,
and have added lat and long details to add in locating the areas on
GoogleEarth, hopefully the coordinates will survive the email process.


Cheers

JKA


-- 
John Kirk-Anderson
Banks Peninsula
NEW ZEALAND

-------------------------

Dead Man Paddling


Last month I took part in a Coastguard Search and Rescue Exercise (SAREX)
off Canterbury, on the east coast of the South Island, New Zealand, in which
I played a kayaker missing off shore.

My part in the exercise was small, in that I was one of more than a dozen
scenarios that the SAREX dealt with, ranging from a collision between a jet
ski and a mooring buoy (enough said!) to a fire on a launch.

I was the only person out on my own, and I also ended up furthest off-shore.
I was more than six nautical miles into Pegasus Bay before I was recovered.

Jim Lilley, of the Canterbury Coastguard, approached me several months ago
when he was planning the SAREX, and the search for Australian trans-Tasman
paddler Andrew McCauley was fresh in his mind. Andrew disappeared off NZ9s
Fiordland coast, close to finishing the first kayak-crossing from Australia.
Jim wanted the search controllers to cope with looking for a very small
target, with little knowledge of the craft9s speed and capabilities.

The Coastguard in New Zealand is all volunteer, and they receive no
government funding. All of their crews work other jobs and give up time when
their pagers go off. Their vessels are sponsored via charities, and they
hold sausage-sizzles and the like to raise funds! I am not making that up.

Unlike Coastguards in other countries, they have no legal authority but are
"contracted" by the NZ Police, who control searches, to assist when
required. For that they can claim expenses.

If the search involves an EPIRB or beacon, or it is outside the capabilities
of the local agencies to deal with, it can be upgraded to a Class Three
search, which is controlled by the National Rescue Co-Ordination Centre,
based in NZ's capital, Wellington. This allows for more resources, including
military assets, which given our massive sea area of responsibility usually
means P6 Orion maritime surveillance aircraft.

In this SAREX, the scenario was that I was on a multi-day trip, paddling
from Kaikoura (420 25' 04.22" S  1730 40' 35.58" E), south to Lyttelton (430
36' 26.86" S 1720 43' 21.90" E), and that I was on the last leg, having left
Waikuku Beach (430 17' 16.59" S 1720 43' 16.06") at 0600. I was reporting in
to my wife every three hours, but I had missed the 0900 and 1200 reports,
and so the alarm was raised at 1230.

This was the only information that was initially provided, but if the
controllers asked they were to be given other info, including that I had a
VHF and cell phone, callsigns and numbers could be provided, and that I was
well equipped for off-shore paddling.

Oh, and I was also diabetic.

The cunning plan that Jim and I cooked up was that I had left Waikuku
heading south, but then had problems, possibly due to hypoglycaemia, and was
pushed off-shore by the very strong outflow from the Waimakariri River (430
23' 22.55" S 1720 42' 44.64" E). This would put me out into Pegasus Bay, and
would widen the search area considerably, requiring a bit of lateral
thinking and good control of limited resources. We also expected that a
shoreline search would take place, but this would be hypothetical as land
searchers were limited.

Rather than drive north to Waikuku and paddle south, I left Sumner Beach
(430 34' 16.87" S 1720 46' 16.04" E) at 0900 and paddled north east, on a
sea as flat as a pancake. I was disappointed by the conditions as I knew
that the Coastguard Air Patrol (CAP) aircraft that were available would spot
me easily in the flat light on the flat sea.

Monitoring my VHF I heard other scenarios unfolding, and as time wore on the
voices of the radio operators became tense as they dealt with greater
demands, both from the controllers and the Coastguard crews. As I knew all
the scenarios, I chuckled at their discomfort.

Making approximately three and a half knots to the north east, I soon
noticed a few lenticular clouds forming over the Southern Alps, the mountain
chain running the length of the South Island, a classic sign of a nor-west
wind. This wind is a Fohn wind, and often proceeds a cold front (Winds
circulate clockwise around a Low in the Southern Hemisphere). Sure enough an
off-shore started blowing, rising to about 10 knots. This was perfect for
the exercise, as the white caps and lumpy sea would add to the difficulty
for the searchers.

Catching an occasional diagonal surf, the coastline was soon a dark line of
trees, with nothing else visible of the flat Canterbury Plains. Banks
Peninsula stood up very clearly, but I couldn9t pick out individual
buildings. Checking my GPS, I was about six nautical miles off the coast,
and the wind had backed to the west, blowing directly off-shore at about 15
knots. 

Reaching my designated area, I was sitting eating a snack bar when I noticed
that I was being blown off-shore at 1.5 knots, as shown by GPS, and with
still an hour to go before the search for me kicked off I had to paddle back
towards land or I would have soon been out in international waters!

At 1220 my cell phone rang, and a cheerful Jim Lilley asked if I was ready
as my "wife" was about to raise the alarm. I gave him my position from the
GPS and waited for the cavalry.

Listening to the VHF I soon heard a call for two rescue vessels to head from
Lyttelton at "best possible speed" into Pegasus Bay and await further
instructions. They were soon on station and wanted to know what to do.

The message passed to them was that a solo kayaker, in a yellow kayak and
wearing a yellow jacket, paddling NORTH from Waikuku towards Kaikoura, was
overdue. They were sent directly towards Waikuku, before the message was
updated to advise that I was heading SOUTH, from Waikuku towards Lyttelton.
This happened after Jim Lilley, who was sitting behind a controller, told
them to re-check their information.

The two vessels then headed along the coast, about one mile out and
separated by about 300 metres, at 20 knots. A CAP aircraft was also
involved, flying up with them and continuing north past Waikuku, before
returning south in a creeping search.

>From my position all I saw was an aircraft flying down the coast, several
kilometres away. I didn9t know that another aircraft was also searching
off-shore, and I heard and saw nothing. I had four smoke flares ready to
use, and I had also hoped to use a signal mirror to see how effective it
was.

Another vessel was then tasked with searching Lyttelton Harbour, and they
asked for a physical description of me, and what was provided was very
flattering; Aged 36, tall, lean and with fair hair sounded good, but I think
I could have paddled past them without being recognized - I9m 43 and
normally say I9m short and bald.

Suddenly I heard the sound of an aircraft engine very close, but I couldn9t
see anything. With a smoke flare ready I searched the sky, scattered with
low clouds, for a sign of my saviour. A light aircraft appeared out of cloud
about 1 kilometre north of me, heading away, too far to see me.

At about 1400 I had a call from another SAREX director, asking if I had seen
any aircraft, and for an update on my position. By this time I had again
drifted off, but the wind had dropped to below 10 knots. It had continued
backing and was now blowing from the South West, the direction from which
cold fronts usually arrive.

Over the VHF I heard the search controllers say that a commercial aircraft
flying out of Christchurch had reported seeing a kayak at my location, and
the two search vessels were sent towards me at "best possible speed". This
fictitious information was dictated by the requirements of the exercise, as
two hours had been allocated by the organisers to deal with me.

At 1430, two hours after the search started, I saw an aircraft approaching
from the north, on a heading straight towards me. My position at this time
was 6.5 nautical miles (12.07 kilometres) of the coast (430 27' 07.46" S
1720 52' 04.04"). 

I had been given some smoke flares to use, all of which had been donated by
boaties as they had time expired, but some were still better than the ones
that I carry.

The first two flares failed to ignite, so I pulled out one of my own hand
flares, which I carry in a plastic tube. It had expired in 2005, but I was
sure that it was OK. It also failed.

Next flare, nothing happened. Down to my last flare, the expiry date was
1985, and the writing was scuffed and fading.

Amazingly, it worked and orange smoke drifted across the water, but by this
time the aircraft was very close and had already seen me. It began left-hand
circles around me, and unbeknown to me, dropped several smoke flares close
by, which I didn9t see.

I heard the SAREX controllers call the vessels coming to me and confirm my
location, and soon I saw a vessel breaking waves as it approached. Holding
my paddle in the air, the vessel changed direction and came straight to me.

As the vessel, an 11.3 metre RHIB, came alongside, the aircraft flew off,
sent to find a life raft drifting off Lyttelton Harbour, another scenario.

The crew on the RHIB held the bow and stern of my kayak, while other crew
members held me until I had popped my spray deck and clambered aboard.

Given a cup of tea and a bit of cake, I was soon transferred to another
craft and taken back to Lyttelton. On landing an ambulance paramedic offered
to check my blood sugar levels, in keeping with my "exercise" diabetes. I
declined.

Additional information, and lessons learned.

I was paddling a yellow Wilderness Systems Tempest 170, wearing a yellow
paddling jacket over a yellow buoyancy vest, a yellow hat, and my paddle had
fluorescent yellow and orange blades.

I was wearing two layers of polypro under a Gore-Tex drysuit, a fuzzy-rubber
hood, and pogies. The water felt cold to the touch and the wind had a cool
bite. June is winter in New Zealand.

Safety equipment included a VHF radio, a cell phone in a waterproof case, a
121.5 EPIRB, a GPS, four smoke flares, two parachute flares, signal mirror,
and strobes. Except for the EPIRB, which was borrowed for the exercise, I
carry this gear on all trips.

I was on the water for five and a half hours and only ate three snack bars
and drank approx one cup of water. This is not unusual for me, but I have
"hit the wall" before while paddling - an interesting experience. I regret
not having my blood-sugar level checked when given the opportunity at the
end of the exercise. It would have been interesting to see if I was in any
way sugar-depleted.

While a long way off my planned route, the area in which I was "found" was
completely feasible given the prevailing weather conditions. The SAREX
organisers, and presumably the search controllers, were surprised by the
off-shore winds, as it was on-shore closer in, as forecast.

The skipper of the rescue vessel that recovered me said he would have
recommended a search further off shore after his observation of the
conditions.

The aircraft that "located" me had checked the coastline, and the crew were
certain that they would have seen me had I been in their search area. They
had eight people on board, and were able to clearly see surfers so had a
good idea of the scale of objects on the water. After being given my
location, they saw me from a range of about one kilometre. In their day job,
they take tourists out to look for whales off Kaikoura, so they are skilled
observers.

The other aircraft that was searching had a crew of three and was a low-wing
plane, which hampered their view.

The vessel that recovered me had been given my exact position, which they
loaded into their navigation equipment. They headed towards me at 30 knots
until they saw the aircraft circling and changed direction towards the smoke
flares that had been dropped. They couldn9t see me until I "hoisted that
yellow flag", i.e.: I waved my paddle in the air.

After talking to John Seward, Operations Manager of the National Rescue
Coordination Centre who was observing the SAREX, he said that a real search
for me would have quickly upgraded to Class Three, which meant that far more
resources would be available.

I think that the exercise was of benefit to all parties:

The searchers probably have a better idea of where kayaks could end up and
how difficult they are to see.

 For me, it reinforced the need to be self-sufficient and showed the dangers
of relying on outside assistance. After my own hand flare failed I checked
my parachute flares and found that I couldn9t open the PVC tubes they were
stored in, a scary discovery given the strict maintenance routine I operate.

The flares were all Pains-Wessex hand smokes, regarded as the best
available.

If any sea kayakers are able to take part in search exercises I strongly
recommend they take the opportunity. It can be a learning experience for all
parties, and may get you thinking about how effective your systems and
equipment are. 

I have ordered a GPS-equipped 406 Personal Locator Beacon that will
broadcast my exact position in the event of an emergency requiring outside
help. While expensive, it is the one piece of equipment that would have
saved me if the SAREX scenario had been for real.

Without it I would be a dead man paddling.
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