By Derek Edwards.
I’m from Southern California. California isn’t famous for kayaking like it is for surfing (beach boys didn’t sing a lot of songs about kayaking), but we’re still out there. And some of us are a little more careful than others. You don’t have to look hard to find stories of near death and mishaps on the water. Some go prepared, like these siblings who survived capsizing in urban rapids surrounded by concrete walls. But, plenty of others don’t and get by on sheer luck, like this kayaker who almost drowned in a Carlsbad lagoon before being spotted by a group of anglers. If he’d been wearing a life jacket, he might not have needed such an incredible stroke of luck to get saved.
I’m not proud to say that I’ve leaned on lady luck a little too hard in the past. Thankfully I’m still here to share the tale.
Christmas on Kaweah
My buddy Jeff takes a lot of dumb risks with his health. He’s one of those friends that never really moved on from high school. Great fun to hang out with, but just no regard for safety. We had been paddling for years, and for years, I could never convince him to wear a PFD.
During Christmas vacation we were both visiting family, and after awhile, got tired of binging cheesy Christmas movies with his folks. So we planned a weekend trip north to Sequoia and hit up some light rapids on the Kaweah river.
After a three hour drive we unloaded the car and I realized that Jeff had brought a wetsuit, but no PFD. Now the Kaweah river doesn’t have the worlds most dangerous rapids; but it’s no slouch. Several commercial rafting companies offer trips to tour some exciting class 4 rapids like Suicide Falls, the Slickies, and Cyanotic. With high waters some of these stretches can quickly become a challenge even to experienced paddlers.
Bad Decisions
I called Jeff a few things I won’t bother repeating here. Against my better judgment I went ahead and loaded up for launch. We were three hours from home and the nearest store was a good 40 min away. I rationalized we’d be fine – this wasn’t our first rodeo. In retrospect I’m still kicking myself for this decision. This story doesn’t end poorly, but people have died wandering into that exact river for a swim.
We took off down the water, and for an hour or two everything was perfectly fine. Our blood quickly warmed up with some aggressive paddling as we navigated obstacles like old pros. The day took a quick turn after running through a 4′ chute.
I don’t recall exactly how it went down because it all happened so fast. One second Jeff was right behind me, the next there was an empty kayak scuttling away upside down. My heart stopped as I scanned the froth for Jeff. Even with a wetsuit the water was cold enough to shock the system and lead to trouble. A few meters downstream his head popped up with a panicked look on his face. I raced towards him as he struggled towards a rock jutting out of the water.
When I finally got to Jeff he was in rough shape. Shivering and spitting he clutched perilously to his safeguard. I knew I had to act fast before things turned from bad to worse. The rock was about ten meters from a sharply inclined bank, but it wasn’t too steep to climb up. Between Jeff and the shore the water was deep enough and moving too fast for a swim. I pulled my kayak half out and cursed myself for forgetting a throw bag, which would have made rescue a hell of a lot easier.
Rescue
Instead I grabbed some rope and tied my own lifejacket to it. After wading out a few feet into the waist deep current I braced against a boulder and chucked my makeshift lifebuoy out to Jeff. After four attempts Jeff grabbed the life jacket. He was still struggling but was able to get control of himself just long enough to grab the life jacket and slip it on. I yelled out to hold on tight and prayed that my knots, and my legs, would hold. I wedged my shoes between two rocks for extra grip. Fist over fist I reeled Jeff back to shore like a leader man hauling in a grander.
On the bank I took a moment to catch my breath while Jeff leaned against the sun-warmed granite and stared off into the middle distance breathing heavily. I scanned the river for his kayak but it was nowhere to be seen. From capsize to rescue the whole event had taken less than five minutes. Both of us were exhausted. And Jeff was still reconciling his recent near death experience.
It took us a while to hike back to our cars; which was especially fun given we were on the wrong side of the river. We didn’t speak much the way back, but I did make Jeff carry my kayak.
Looking back I’ve spent a long time angry with both of us for how things happened out there. And I think I’ve reached a point where I need it to make sense, you know? I can’t change that day—and thankfully, I don’t have nearly as many regrets as I could have had. But I think that part of me feels that if I can at least use our story to warn other people about the importance of a PFD.
According to the U.S. Coast Guard, 70% of recreational boat deaths are drownings. Of the people who drowned, 86% were not wearing their life jackets. A PFD isn’t a guarantee of safety. But it goes a hell of a long way towards keeping you alive if worse comes to worst.
Lessons Learned
Always, always, always Wear Your Life-Jacket.
Based out of Southern California Derek Edwards is a seasoned outdoorsman and adventurist. You can follow along his adventure over at his blog Outdoor with Derek.