by Bert Millar
It was Sunday morning, May 4, 2008; skies were gloomy and tree tops were swaying. I had had a GLSKA day-trip planned for the Saturday of that weekend with 10 paddlers coming but cancelled because of bad weather, so today was our rain date.
Myself, Scott and Gerry were still keen to go, so off we went to Point Abino at the east end of Lake Erie for a day of exploring Abino Bay, the exotic lighthouse at the point and the endless sand beaches of the Sherkston area, with an exploration of a shipwreck also planned.
There was a strong west wind blowing but we were in the lee of Point Abino which juts about two kilometres out into Lake Erie giving protection to the small marina at the base of Abino Bay. So we launched our kayaks and headed out to the point in good spirits although we knew we were up for a challenge as we could see the whitecaps and surf breaking on the rocks at the tip where we would have to turn west to continue up to the Sherkston and Marcy’s Woods area. The swells continued to build and as we headed west we found that it was difficult to penetrate upwind.
Scott commented that these were the biggest seas he had been in so far and was apprehensive about venturing too much farther from the sanctuary of the inner bay; so I said that if he was uncomfortable we could just stay here and play in the waves. He agreed, so we turned around and did some downwind surfing on the swells then turned back upwind again until the conditions got too nasty and then another downwind surf run.
On the second surf run a large rogue wave picked up Gerry from behind, burying the nose of his boat in the trough causing a quick broach and Gerry capsized. Scott and I watched with anticipation as Gerry set up for a successful roll, but then another wave hit him as he was coming up and windowshaded him so he recapsized on the opposite side. His second roll attempt didn’t work so he pulled the skirt and wet exited, but managed to hold on to his boat and paddle.
Slowly, Scott and I paddled toward the inverted kayak in order to right it and get the swimmer back in as soon as possible, but it was very difficult as it was a moving target. All three kayaks were bouncing like corks. Scott docked on Gerry’s kayak and turned it right side up. Gerry quickly scrambled back in, got the cockpit pumped out, skirt back on, and we started to head back to the inner bay for shelter.
Gerry looked a little shaken, however he assured us he was OK so we carried on, then about a minute later he capsized again but rolled up immediately. I asked him if he was alright; he waved and smiled so we kept on, but shortly thereafter he went over for a third time and after an unsuccessful roll attempt he pulled the skirt and bailed out with his paddle in hand but his kayak was drifting in the wind. Scott paddled over to Gerry and I managed to grab his kayak to right it again and Gerry tried to swim over to his boat but his kayak and I were drifting toward Fort Erie much faster than Jerry could swim. The gap between us was widening very quickly.
Scott had Gerry grab his rear toggle to tow him over to me and his kayak, but I was blowing farther and farther away. Then Scott tried to tow Gerry back to shore but found that was impossible also, due to the strong headwinds; and by now they were 50 metres away from me. Scott yelled over to tell me to tow Gerry’s boat over to him. I tried to hook the caribiners on my throw bag, which was secured to the rear deck, onto the D ring of my quick release tow belt, but I was working blindly so I gave up and yelled over that it was impossible. Scott yelled back that he couldn’t get Gerry to shore, so I had to get the tow rope hooked up fast because Gerry had been in the cold water for over ten minutes by now and was looking rather concerned. So I kept struggling behind me with the tow rope and finally managed to get everything snapped together. I paddled madly upwind, towing the kayak behind me, toward Gerry and Scott who were patiently waiting for me to sort things out. Somehow I was able to place the towed boat in such a position that Gerry could grab it and hold on until Scott and I were able to dock on opposite sides of his kayak and stabilize it until Gerry could get back in his boat, pump out and refasten the skirt.
By this time Jerry was coughing up lake water, looking rather pale and complaining about cold legs and feet. We realized that he was exhausted and seasick and if we cut him loose at this point he would simply go over again and again. We decided that Scott would hang on to Gerry’s kayak in order to keep it and him upright and I would tow them both back to the put-in. But by this time we had all been blown across Abino Bay towards Crystal Beach so I started paddling as hard as I could upwind with two kayaks in tow. I was already exhausted, but couldn’t stop or we would be backed up by the strong winds and blown toward Fort Erie and the Niagara River. They were a long way off, but that’s where we would have ended up sooner or later if we didn’t paddle.
We had to get Gerry back to land ASAP as he was feeling rather sick and cold by now, or so I assumed because I couldn’t communicate with him, as he was at the other end of my tow rope. I kept slogging and slogging, stopping just once to suck back a Carb Boom Energy Gel Pack I had wisely stowed in my PFD pocket. It was a very tough paddle but we finally arrived back at the dock, exhausted but very happy to be able to kiss Mother Earth one more time and get out of our wet gear and into dry clothes. After getting the boats loaded up, three exhausted but happy paddlers left the marina and went to a local restaurant for coffee, light lunch and a debriefing, which I shall summarize below.
You never come out of an experience like this without learning something of value so I’ll list a few points of discussion:
Practising rescues on pool courses and beach clinics is nothing like the challenge of doing it in cold water and big seas. In this scenario you MUST get the swimmer back into their boat and into the safety of shore; there is no other option. Rescues should be practised in waves and rough seas that are most likely to cause a capsize and rescue.
All three of us were wearing full drysuits. If any of us had not been dressed for immersion in these conditions the outcome would not have been as pleasant as a debriefing over coffee at the local café. Even in his drysuit and fleece undergarments, Gerry was getting cold and uncomfortable but not to the point of serious hypothermia.
All of us were equipped with tow rigs and quick release belts, but my tow rope was improperly stowed on the back deck, not already assembled and fastened to my PFD as it should have been, which would have made it much easier and quicker to hook up to Gerry’s boat. I usually do put it on the PFD but I had the attitude that I wouldn’t need it that day as we were all strong paddlers on a short trip. Big mistake on my part.
It’s important to hold on to both your boat and paddle after an unplanned capsize because the wind will separate you from your gear very quickly – much faster than you can swim.
All three of us have a reliable Eskimo roll but anyone can get sick, exhausted, cold, frightened or just plain overwhelmed by the sea state to the point where your roll starts to fail after several flips. No paddler is bombproof.
Scott made the observation that it’s not wise to paddle in these conditions with less than three participants. We needed two to do the rescue: one to stabilize the distressed paddler’s kayak and another one to tow them both back to safety. I couldn’t have got Gerry back to shore if Scott hadn’t been there to help.
This whole episode, which probably didn’t involve more that five kilometres of travel on the water, took almost four hours from launch to landing back at the cars. (And no, nobody was forced to pee in their drysuit.)
I hope the faithful readers of Qayaq have learned something from this report of our little adventure on the bay and have picked up a few tips from our mistakes and triumphs. I know that Jerry and Scott and I have. Remember: Kayaking is no fun unless you’re cold, wet and tired.