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By Tamia Nelson August 9, 2005
Canoeing is full of contradictions. It can be
almost anything you want it to be. Contemplative or thrilling. Easy-going or
exhausting. Bathtub-safe or downright risky. But there's no getting around
one thing — all canoes are more or less tippy. Just ask anyone who
doesn't paddle. To be sure, the cautionary tales spun by armchair voyageurs
are often wildly exaggerated. Still, it can't be denied that even skilled
canoeists go for unplanned swims every so often: the beamiest boats will
turn turtle under the right (wrong?) conditions. In short, if you paddle a
canoe frequently, you'll capsize sooner or later. My first dunking came at
the bottom of a modest drop high in the Canadian north. Despite the remote
location, it was as gentle an introduction as I could have hoped for. My
second swim took place much closer to home, yet it could easily have been my
last. In the end, though, luck and the kindness of
strangers cheated Nemesis of her intended victim.
Luck and the kindness of strangers. Both are good things to have on your
side. But it's best not to depend on either one. Luck is fickle, and you
can't count on finding a helping hand when you need one most. That's why the
first rule in coping with capsizes is…
Dress for Success
And in this case "success" means "survival." It's the classic
my-eyes-glaze-over topic. Canoeists who'll cheerfully spend hours debating
the merits of different paddles will snort with impatience the moment the
conversation turns to life vests
(PFDs in official-speak) and helmets.
This makes sense, I suppose. Nobody likes to be reminded that she's mortal. I
can understand that. And it's difficult to make a PFD into a must-have
outdoor fashion accessory, no matter how radical the color or the cut. It's
still just a foam-filled fabric envelope. But the fact remains that a
good-quality, properly fitted life vest is probably your most important
purchase, and — at least on steep, rocky rivers and in surf — a
helmet comes in a mighty close second. No swimmer can fight the power of
moving water for very long, and rocks are harder than heads. Your life vest
and helmet are your final line of defense.
Cold kills,
too, of course. And that makes dressing for the water temperature critically
important. This isn't hard to do on blustery fall
days, when the warmth of a wetsuit is very welcome, but it's not so easy
in late summer, when there's often a fifty-degree difference between the
sultry air and the freezing water. There's no simple way out of this dilemma,
I'm afraid, though it's probably better to bake in the sun than congeal in the
water. Just be sure to drink
enough to replace what
you lose in sweat. Don't stop there, however. When you're on the water,
your boat is an extension of your body — or at least it should be. Outfit it
with the same care you use in outfitting yourself, load it
properly, and be sure to have plenty of
reserve flotation. Oh, yes. Don't forget to bring along a bailer for
every paddler.
This sounds like a lot of trouble to go to for a day on the water, and to
tell the truth, it is. But you'll be glad you took the time to prepare when
you're…
In Over Your Head
First, though, a word about fear. The British parliamentarian Edmund Burke
— he was also a good friend to the upstart American colonies —
wrote that "Early and provident fear is the mother of safety." And so it is.
There's an important caveat, though. Improvident fear paralyses.
Improvident fear kills. If nothing else, it kills joy. And joy is why
we paddle, right? So don't let the fear of getting in over your head get in
the way of finding joy. If you paddle, you'll get wet. Get used to it.
How? There are lots of ways. As a teenager working at an Adirondack boys'
camp in the years before the Depression, my
grandfather had the use of a fleet of wood-canvas canoes. First,
though, he had to prove to the camp lifeguard that he could both swim and
recover a capsized boat. To do this, he and a buddy paddled out from the beach
until they were in deep water. Then they deliberately capsized their canoe. Next,
without towing the swamped boat back to the beach, they righted it, bailed
most of the water out, climbed in, and paddled away. My grandfather and his
buddy passed their test on the first try, and they had such a good time that
they repeated the exercise on hot days throughout the summer.
That's one way. I'll leave the others to your imagination. But please bear
two things in mind: While no one can really swim in a rapids, and wearing a
PFD always makes sense (even on a farm
pond), anyone who can't swim at least a little bit will never be entirely
at home in the water. So if you can't swim a stroke, take the time to learn.
Now. You'll be glad you did. And what's the second thing? Practice makes
perfect, but it's a lot
easier to practice when it's fun. Make a game of it.
An unintended capsize in a
rapids isn't a game, though. The force of moving water has to be felt
to be believed. Having fun takes second place to staying alive. Don't plan on
swimming away from trouble. Don't plan on swimming, period. Instead,
concentrate on these four Important Things:
Capsizes on open
water present different problems. You're not likely to be pinned
against a rock or tumbled about in a hole, but unless you dump where a
lifeguard can see you — not very likely in the middle of a three-mile
crossing — you may be in the water for a while. And the water will
almost certainly be cold enough to sap your strength. So the list of
Important Things to remember is slightly different:
Now let's take a closer look at some of these, beginning with…
Hanging On to Your Paddle
You've heard the one about being upstream without a paddle, I'm sure. And
I'm sure you always have a spare paddle lashed in your boat, too. So what's
the big deal about hanging on to your paddle? Easy. Spare paddles sometimes
get washed out of swamped boats, and it's damned hard to paddle a canoe with
your bare hands. Finding a lost paddle among the cobbles and snags on a
riverbank isn't exactly easy, either. 'Nuff said?
This is one place where good form pays off, by the way. If you were fighting to
keep your boat right side up when you went over (and you should have
been), you already had a good grip on your paddle. And you probably hung on
to the shaft as you went in. On the other hand, if you were grabbing the
gunwales in a spasm of "improvident fear," your paddle probably went
off on a solo swim at the same time you did, leaving you you-know-where.
Robert Louis Stevenson, whose 1878 Inland
Voyage remains one of the best trip journals in the English language,
was so proud of his performance in a capsize that he swore he'd have the
words "He clung to his paddle" inscribed on his tomb. (He'd didn't, though.)
Of course, if you need both hands to stay alive — when you're struggling
to claw your way out of the lethal
embrace of a sweeper, for example — drop your paddle without a
second thought. No rule is absolute.
And that brings us to another question. As useful as your paddle is, your
boat is more important by far. But whether or not you should hang on to it
depends on where you are when you capsize. It's a…
Weighty Matter
A swamped, 17-foot tandem canoe can weigh as much as a small car. Float
bags displace water, and since air weighs a lot less than water, this is a
Very Good Reason to have float bags in your boat. Just be sure they're lashed
in place. Otherwise, they'll simply float away. But few canoes have enough
float bags to displace all the water. (You wouldn't have a place to sit if
they did.) The upshot? If you get between your swamped canoe and a rock in a
fast river, you're likely to feel the pinch. And even if you don't, it's no
fun being hit on the head by something that weighs a ton, nor will you be happy
if you surface after receiving a thrashing in a hole only to discover that you've
come up under your canoe.
What's the bottom line? If you dump in a fast-moving river, keep some distance
between yourself and your boat. Better yet, let your boat go through the drops
first. In any case, don't hang on to your boat. Your swamped canoe may dive like
a sub. Or spin on its axis for longer than you can hold your breath. Neither of
these rides would be much fun. Worried about salvaging your boat? Don't be. You
can't save your trip if you drown.You have to save yourself first. You can
recover your boat and gear later. Often, you'll catch up to your runaway canoe in
the pool at the bottom of the drop, or find it going round and round in a gentle
eddy some distance downstream. Even a broached boat can be winched off the rock
it's clinging to — if you know how. That's a subject for another time,
though.
Capsizes on open water — lakes, the
margins of the sea beyond the surf
zone, and big,
even-tempered rivers — require a different approach. Unless waves
are breaking all around you (if they are, give your canoe plenty of space!),
your boat is your best friend. Keep it close. Time and cold water are your
principal enemies now. So here's what to do: Take a few seconds to get your
bearings. Check to see if your partner's OK. Then roll your canoe upright. If
you're lucky, and if you've added some flotation, your boat will float with
its gunwales out of the water. Now lash your paddle to keep it from going off
on its own and then bail for all you're worth. When you've gotten most of the
water out, steady the boat while your partner climbs aboard. Once he's in, he
can return the favor. You'll want to practice this beforehand, of course. And
it won't work in a heavy sea. That's when you'll wish you had another boat or
two keeping you company. Still, even if you can't empty your boat and reboard
it, so long as it's floating you'll want to stay close. Somebody may be
looking for you, and they're a lot more likely to spot a 17-foot yellow canoe
than your head.
The scene shifts — again. We're back on a whitewater river. You're
drifting downstream faster than seems possible, and the waves look huge, but
your canoe is a long way ahead of you and your life vest is doing its job. So
far, so good. Is there anything else you don't want to forget? Yes. You'll
need to keep your courage up, right? And the best way to do that is to…
Put Your Best Foot Forward
Even better, put both feet forward — and hold them high. Float
on your back. Keep your feet pointing downriver. And take advantage of any
eddies or backwaters to work your way toward shore. Why? Think about it.
Floating on your back makes it easier to see what lies ahead. (It helps you
snatch a breath of air now and again, too.) Your feet are right where they
need to be to fend off too-close encounters with midstream boulders, and
keeping them high makes it less likely that they'll be trapped. You won't be
able to swim very far in this position, but a simple sculling backstroke is
all you need to do a
ferry. Don't fight the current. Make it work for you, instead. In time,
this will get you out of trouble.
In theory, at any rate. In practice, you're more likely to feel like a
sock in a washing machine than an in-control aquanaut. But keep fighting
anyway. If your river was canoeable in the first place, the odds are on your
side. You'll know you've won when your butt hits the bottom and stays put.
Then it's time to get on your feet and take stock. Don't rush things.
If you try to stand while you're still struggling in fast, deep water, you
leave yourself open to a terrible one-two punch: (1) Your foot slips between
two cobbles and gets stuck. (2) The current knocks you over. The result? Your
mouth and nose are underwater, but you can't get back on your feet. I don't
have to say more, do I? It's a short story, and it doesn't have a happy
ending. And the moral of the story? Patience is a virtue.
What's next? Once you're out of danger…
Look Around for Your Partner
He'll be looking for you, too, and he's probably quite close. No luck?
Give three long blasts on your
whistle. Wait for the answer. Then get together to plan salvage
operations. A few helpful hints: If somebody's hurt, you'll be glad you and
your partner both know what to
do. You'll also find good use for the basic first-aid
supplies in your life-vest pocket. And later, when you recover your canoe
and find it a little the worse for wear, you'll wish you'd prepared a first-aid kit
for your boat, as well.
Can't find your boat? At least you left a float
plan with family or friends at home, besides giving a copy to the local
authorities. You did, didn't you? Good. Then somebody will be looking for
you. And there's always next year.
Has all this talk about disasters narrowly averted got you down? Are you
having second thoughts about taking a paddling holiday? Don't. Very few
canoeing outings end in a
Deliverance scenario. Even capsizes are rare. Still, it's a good
idea to be ready for an unplanned swim anytime you're in your canoe. Somebody
once said that fortune favors the prepared mind. It does, too. So make your
own luck. Be prepared for whatever the water and wind can throw at you. Then
relax. And get ready to be surprised by joy. I'm betting you won't be
disappointed.
Copyright © 2005 by Verloren Hoop Productions. All rights
reserved.
Swim Time!
Coping with Capsizes
tamia@paddling.net
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