CASKA: Chicago Area Sea Kayakers Association

PFD/Lifejacket: To Wear or Not to Wear?

Here's a summary of a lively debate on PFD/Lifejacket use for sea kayakers off of the CASKA bulletin boards:

Tom Eckels:

I am a little surprised that there are 10 respondents that do not feel a PFD should always be worn.  Would anyone want to comment on this stance?

 

Scott:

I originally posted a comment on Keith Wikle's Facebook page linked to a picture on his Go Kayak Now blog of a kayak surfer on a huge wave but apparently wearing no PFD (it can sometimes be hard to tell, as competitors often wear a colored jersey over their PFDs for easier identification by the judges).    That photo brought to mind an experience I had back in the early '90s

I took a trip to Northern California for a WW Instructor workshop and afterwards went to paddle with a guy named Steve Sinclair in the small town of Elk in Northern California.  Steve was the pioneer of "Storm Sea Kayaking".  He would routinely take his ski out into massive winter swells. He never wore a PFD.  I asked him about why and he said that in the really big stuff you need to be able to dive under water to avoid getting hammered by the tons of water crashing down on you.  In his opinion, in those conditions  PFD use would get you killed.    Steve was  a former life guard and water polo player, so his swimming skills were far above average.  The other advantage of not wearing his PFD was that he would hop off his ski and dive for abalone which he cooked for us back on the beach!

I would never recommend someone not paddle with a PFD but there are also circumstances when I would  not chastise them for going without.  When I paddled in Belize many years ago, we never used PFDs, it was extremely hot, we were paddling inside the reef, and we were frequently climbing out of the boat to go snorkeling.  Having said that, I have never paddled on the Great Lakes without a PFD and have only ever run 1 river without one.

Paddlers who never or rarely use PFDs:  marathon and sprint paddlers, surf skiers, SUPers.  Additionally, some big-time folks chose not to use PFDs; Peter Bray's Atlantic Ocean crossing, Hans Lindemann's Atlantic crossing, Ed Gillette's, Pacific Ocean crossing and I understand Freya did Australia without clothes let alone a PFD.

As with so much else with paddlesport it is about risk assessment.  What is the likelihood of needing a piece of equipment and what are the consequences of not having that piece of equipment.  What I take with me for a solo sprint around Skokie lagoons should not be the same that I have with me for a crossing of Lake Michigan.

The best argument for PFD use is as an aid to body recovery should things not turn out well.  If nothing else it gives reasonable assurance that your survivors will have something to bury and that resources will not be wasted searching for your body.

On that happy note, let the enlightening dialogue begin!

John:

I'll bite. I'm one of those 10. I can certainly see that there would be time and persons of skill that might not need to wear a pfd all the time. I'm certainly not one of those and may not ever be. Freya just paddled around Australia and there are plenty of pictures of her paddling solo with no pfd on. Each person has to make the call if they are at that level or if they are comfortable paddling with a person not wearing a pfd. I will be wearing one for quite some time for both my safety and the peace of mind of those paddling with me.

 

Russ J:

While I agree with and promote the use of a PFD while kayaking, I also appreciate the freedom to choose. In many ways, it might be compared to a motorcyclists choice whether or not to wear a helmet.
While racing or fitness paddling, wearing a PFD can be a hindrance to free motion and cooling. For some it is quite common to not wear one in those conditions. Inflatable PFD's that are worn similarly to a
belt have become popular amongst open water racers (perhaps mainly to satisfy the legal requirement to have one).

Ever been to a pool session? I've seen a number of people exercising their right to choose there. Personally, I'd choose my helmet over my PFD in a pool. Ocean surf kayakers often do not wear PFD's as it is sometimes much safer to dive under the water than it is to get pummeled by a giant ocean wave. As with many things in life, there are plenty of grey areas where we can walk a thin line between safety and overkill.

Jim Tibensky:

The preferred term is again 'lifejacket' to emphasize the potential life-saving qualities of the garment.

I hardly ever wear a lifejacket in my daily paddles. I don't suggest it is the best practice for anyone else, but for me it works. A 'daily paddle' for me is a training run on a flat river or pond. I also rarely wear one on expeditions on rivers unless conditions are threatening and the water is very cold. I spend a lot of time on the Mississippi and only wear a lifejacket when leading a trip and then only to be a good example.

Here are my reasons for not needing a lifejacket, not in order of anything:

1. My daily paddles are usually on Cornerstone Lakes in West Chicago, which are never deeper than five feet.

2. When my daily run is on the Fox, the river is deeper but still flat. The biggest waves I have ever seen on the Fox were less than two feet. Well within my abilities to handle with my eyes closed and no paddle.

3. A lifejacket such as most of us wear will not float anyone face up, so it is truly useless if the wearer is not conscious and not rational. Even when conscious I'm often not rational, so there goes that. and I paddle alone, so if I'm face down in the water, the lifejacket is only good for body recovery.

4. I can swim to the bottom of a swimming pool while wearing my whitewater lifejacket, so it isn't going to do much beyond my swimming abilities anyway. I have seen people in big whitewater spend a lot of time under water in whirlpools and such. That said, the extra flotation of a lifejacket can be the difference to save one's life and I would never be in whitewater without one.

5. I have never in my life tipped over in flat water in a slalom boat, which is
what I use for my daily runs.

6. I was a professional lifeguard and collegiate water polo player, so I can
swim really well as long as I'm conscious. If not conscious, see number 3
above.

7. I raced kayak slalom for fifteen years and have paddled whitewater for more than thirty years and have a very reliable roll.

Finally, no one should ever be out in conditions that are or could be challenging for them, for their ability, without a lifejacket. Unless the weather is warm or you're surfing huge waves, there is not usually a downside to wearing a lifejacket. And in hot weather I wear an inflatable, which covers
very little skin.

Haris:

When in doubt, always wear it!

Thanks to everyone who contributed to this excellent discussion so far! Many excellent points to consider...

For the most part discussion so far provides support for the option not to wear a PFD. Let me suggest that more important than whether you wear it or not, is the conscious and informed decision each one of us has to make about it every time we go out. Don't do what the Jones's do, just to fit with the crowd--safety conscious or macho. Make up your own mind based on your own risk assessment.

However, as long as you are not equipped to balance the pros and cons of this safety gadget yet, you should wear it, period! Making a habit of always wearing the life-jacket is not such a bad habit to have when conscious decision-making fails in a hurry or under other pressures. The worst that can happen (unless you're surfing 50' waves and get your head ripped off when you fail to dive under a wave) you may be a bit too hot and somewhat restricted. PFD cannot hurt
you. Consider the other side: it may just save your life!

In the face of so many good arguments to paddle without a life-jacket and at the risk of stating the obvious, let me try to summarize the some of the benefits of PFD in case someone who is just starting out stumbles on this thread.

Life-jacket is a very good idea in ROUGH water and in COLD water.

Swimming is harder when water is turbulent--failing to elevate above water is more likely. Possibility of injury that will further compromise your ability to stay above water is higher in rough conditions, again, drowning is more likely.

Cold water can quickly compromise your ability to stay up. Swimming in cold water is frequently a bad idea unless you are very certain you can make to safety. Most of the time you will be safer just floating and conserving heat. In addition to flotation, PFD will provide some insulation if you end up on the cold drink as well!

It is probably true that a life-jackets most kayakers wear will not save you from drowning if you are unconscious and in the water. Conversely, very little conscious control over your body is required to be able to breathe with a PFD on.

Another benefit of a foam-filled life-jacket is protection from impact. In dynamic surf conditions or on a fast moving river a PFD will protect your chest area from other kayaks, tree branches and other floating hazards.

Did you consider where you will store all of the gadgets if you don't wear a PFD?!

Finally, on the personal note, I think that swimming is more hazardous than kayaking everything else being equal. Since we don't require everyone to swim in life-jackets, asking that all paddlers wear them at all times does not seem reasonable. For me there are combinations of personal skill levels, knowledge, equipment, and environmental conditions that justify paddling without a PFD.

IF IT DOUBT WHERE YOU FALL ON THIS BALANCE SCALE, ALWAYS WEAR A LIFE JACKET!

Henry:

This time of year I have another reason to wear my lifejacket. It keeps the wind off while I might be wet while putting things in the car after a paddle. As soon as I take the lifejacket off I get cold pretty quick on a breezy day. I often to wear it until I have to strap down the kayak on the roof (I would still wear it if it didn't get in the way of reaching the straps).

Connie:

I'm a newbie and have been lurking a while; this is my first post.  I plan to eventually join CASKA and have been kayaking for a few years but have had no formal training as of yet - I'm hoping to be able to do that in the near future as well as meet new people this coming spring for some kayaking. 

I just wanted to comment, as a beginner, on this PFD thread.  I read the arguments against its use in all cases and as someone who has always had the contrary pounded into her head, I thought to myself, "Huh?", but I can certainly understand such a position for those veterans who are experienced enough to know when it's in their best interest to use it or not. The thing is, what if we find ourselves suddenly rendered unconscious by something beyond our control, such as a cardiac event, low blood sugar, etc.?  Sure, even then, we'd probably end up face-down, but if we came to, then at least we'd be floating (provided we were able).  Yes, a lot of "ifs" but I suppose if there's that chance I'd float rather than sink, even face-down, regaining consciousness or not, at least someone would at least be able to see me to possibly help me.  If I'm completely submerged, then dramatically lessens my chance of survival.  That's why the marines trained us to tread water before anything else in the water and to never go under if we can help it, under any circumstances. 

The attached post really clarifies everything and thank you for posting it.  As a former US Marine, my training has always been basically in accordance with the general gist  of Haris' post:  be as prepared as possible and tilt the scale in your favor; one of the ways this is accomplished is to conserve energy at all costs when possible.

While a PFD may not float face-up an unconscious person. I guess if an accident or health problem that one does not have control over renders one rapidly unconscious and floating f floating face-down and in trouble, and unless she comes to in time, the trouble becomes grave,

However, my thinking, like that of Haris, is that so many factors can play into whether I get to that unconscious level if I haven't been struck suddenly unconscious and am simply contending with the elements (extreme cold, heat, unexpected inclement weather), fatigue (nothing will zap one's energy like both of those combined as we all know), and plain ol' *panic.*  I've seen all three of these factors come into play in the Corps and I gotta say, panic alone can drain a person's energy and common sense as fast as the rest.  I'd venture to say a person without a PFD in a suddenly unexpected scenario would panic more than one *with* a PFD. 

I read about Freya Hoffmeister paddling solo around Australia (amazing feat I can only imagine)!  She set out to break a speed record so I would imagine she didn't want to be restricted or weighted down by a PFD (I read too that she didn't wear clothes as well?); however, I asked myself, "Was she accompanied at any time by a motorboat for added safety or was she alone?" I don't know what the verification requirements are for a kayaker attempting to break a speed record, i.e., if witnesses must be present taking either still or moving photographs, a GPS of coordinates must be maintained, etc., or if the individual can literally solo the journey and provide her own GPS coordinates so that it's on an honor system (maybe someone can fill me in on the rules)?

Anyway, if Hoffmeister didn't need to be accompanied for safety and/or verification reasons and wasn't, I'm glad she didn't suffer a cardiac event or something similar while not wearing the PFD.  While not "likely" for a woman so fit, we all know that even very fit people, depending upon their medical histories (often, it's found only after an event that risk factors exist), can have sudden cardiac and other events.  I'd want to err on the side of caution, for sure, if I was alone.  If accompanied at all times, however, in the event I *do* experience a medical emergency, I'd probably forego the PFD if speed was my main concern. 

I'm also an ultramarathon runner.  A few years back, I was running with someone (a then 38 year old male) who collapsed in the middle of our conversation.  He had a heart attack.  He was in exceptional physical condition.  It was by the stroke of pure luck I was with him, as we were on a remote trail.  Throughout the years, I've known of several runners with similar experiences; some survived and some didn't (both accompanied by others and not).

Jim Tibensky:

I have learned a lot from this discussion and appreciate the contributions.

From my perspective I think the best things that have been said are along the lines of 'what's wrong with being as safe as possible?' and I have to admit that I haven't supported that sensible philosophy.

I wear a lifejacket unless there is a reason not to do so. I have a large bunch of reasons not to, but none of them are good enough to suggest that anyone else should endorse them. I have no doubt that the circumstance could occur where a lifejacket would actually save my life. If that is the bottom line, I should always wear a lifejacket.

The fact that in more than 6000 days of kayak paddling my lifejacket has never, ever, saved my life doesn't mean it won't some day.

My helmet has saved my life a few times. I truly believe that my sprayskirt is the most important safety device I have.

The fuss over lifejackets is a good one. I promise to wear mine more often.

New Year's Day Chicago River Paddle: 25th Year

By:  Tom Bamonte

The New Year's Day paddle on the Chicago River is one of the long-standing traditions in the Chicago paddling community.  It is a good way to kick off the New Year.  The paddle is now sponsored by the Cook County Forest Preserve, which provides logistical support.  Information culled from the internet follows:

Early each New Year’s Day, hundreds of wonderfully crazy people jump into their canoes and kayaks to paddle an intimate reach of the Chicago River long protected as part of the Forest Preserves. Beginning below the Skokie Lagoons and finishing in Linne Woods they paddle past deer, coyote, birds and incredulous humans; past where Native-Americans camped, where golfers golf, and where children first learn the wonders of nature. Celebrate this 25 year tradition with us! This official Forest Preserve District of Cook County event is a unique way to explore the urban wilderness in winter. We who’ve had the experience know there is no better way to gather with friends and celebrate the turning of the year.

Where: Forestway Drive north of Willow Road and east of the Edens. Put-in is just below the Willow Road Dam. End point for the trip is at the Linne Woods Canoe Access a few hundred yards downstream from the horse bridge in Linne Woods. Linne Woods islocated on Dempster Street at Ferris Ave. east of Lehigh Ave.

When: Given the number of participants it’s a good idea to stagger starting times. Some folks shake the cob webs at 7:00 a.m., others at 9:00 a.m. Last official trip put-in is 11:00 a.m.

Time:  Allow forty-five to sixty minutes for the bus shuttle and 2 to 3 hours for the paddle itself.

Shuttle: Two buses will run continuously from Linne Woods to the Willow Road Dam beginning at Linne Woods at 8:00 am. The shuttle will end at approximately 1:00 pm.

Bring: Hot, NON-ALCOHOLIC fluids, a complete change of warm clothes in a waterproof container, a sense of humor, and overflowing goodwill!

Wear: Personal Flotation Device (a must!) and clothing that retains warmth if wet. Layering of wool or fleece and synthetic undergarments works best!

Canoes/Kayaks: This is a bring-your-own- boat event.

Apres Paddle:  Hackney’s on Lake. There is nothing better than buffalo cheese-burgers (Ed. note: unless you are vegan/vegetarian), onion ring loaves and a beverage or two after a crisp, New Year’s Day paddle. Hackney’s is located on the north side of Lake Ave. in Glenview just east of Waukegan Road.

Help!  If you’d like to volunteer as a Bridge Watcher, Safety Boat, Portage Sherpa, or
Chaos Preventer, please contact Mr. Koenig at 773-631-0237 or email wkoenig@cookcountgo v.com

Note: Paddling any river in cold weather is inherently dangerous. Hypothermia is a real
risk. Therefore this event is best suited to experienced paddlers and/or people with
experience in cold-weather sports.

Is Visibility Statute or Nautical? Decide for Yourself

by Haris

In a kayak, it's often good to know the distance to some destination or object. The human visual system is pretty bad at this task. I can easily recall many instances of paddling for hours without any apparent gain on large distant targets. It always feels that progress should be faster…

Kayak navigation books such as Burch or Ferrero provide some help. They give a simple formula for calculating distances at which objects with given elevations above the sea level will be seen. The range of visibility in miles is equal to the square root of elevation as measured in feet. For example, a light house 100 feet above the sea level will be visible from 10 miles away. The formula is for an observer at the sea level.

In a kayak, you are not at sea level. For an observer in a kayak cockpit, you can add 1.5 miles to the visibility range of an object as derived from the formula. One-and-a-half miles is the square root of the eye-level elevation above the surface of the water. On average, paddler's eyes are just over two feet above the surface. Here are some immediate applications—if you can see beach goers feet as they walk close to the water, you're roughly within 2 miles off-shore. That's 1.5 plus a little bit added for the elevation of the beach. Two kayaks will lose sight of each other when they are separated by three miles—one-and-a-half miles of visibility from each side.

This is where I got tripped up. The formula for the visibility range is supposed to give you statute, not nautical miles. Burch, then, suggests that the visibility range as determined this way is underestimated by about 15%. What this means is that 10-mile estimate for an object with 100' of elevation should actually be 11.5 miles instead. Funny, that just happens to be the distance in nautical miles. So what is going on here? Exactly how much off is the square root approximation?

Time to dust off high school trigonometry books. First, let's track down the mathematical solution to the problem. Then, we will have grounds to decide if the limits of visibility are statute or nautical and how precise they are.

Generalized shape of the Earth is basically a sphere. For our purposes, the sphere can be further reduced to a circle. An average radius from the center to the surface is approximately 3,440 nautical or 3,959 statute miles.

Any line that just touches the outside of the circle can be used to mark the range of visibility—objects whose height is above the line will be visible, the ones below will be obscured by the horizon. Another line can be drawn from the point where the visibility line touches the outside of the circle to the center of the Earth. This line will have two known properties: (1) its length will be Earth's radius and (2) its angle to the visibility line will be 90 degrees. The Earth's radius and the visibility line can be viewed as two sides of a right triangle. The hypotenuse of this triangle is equal to the Earth's radius plus the elevation of the object above the sea level. What we have here is a simple case of Pythagorean Theorem with two known sides of the right triangle. We can solve for the unknown third side. In our context, a² = c² - b² can be written as Visibility² = (Radius + Elevation)² – Radius².

Plugging in the numbers and plotting the results of this equation we get the following picture. If the result of the square root solution is read in nautical miles, then it underestimates the actual distance by 6%. In statute miles, the distance is underestimated by just over 18%.

There it is clear as day: mathematically, the square root of elevation (measured in feet) is much closer to geographical visibility expressed in nautical rather than statute miles.

So why, then, is the formula is presented as offering the solution in statute miles? I don't know the answer to this one…

Here are some thoughts. Mathematical solution gives the distance at which the top of the object will reach the line of visibility. So the question is if you be able to see the top as soon as it reaches the line? To me, it depends. If the object is a mountaintop, the answer is most likely "No!" The tip of the mountain will have to get above the line at least somewhat to be seen. A mountain that is 400 feet above the sea level will reach the line of visibility when the distance is 21.3 nautical miles or 24.5 statute miles. Square root formula tells you that, when you first see the tip of the mountain, you are 20 miles away. By the numbers, when you are actually 20 nautical miles away, the mountain is already 47 feet above the line of visibility. When you are 20 statute miles away, the mountain will extend by 133'. When will you actually see the mountaintop? I don't know but, personally, I would rather be closer than I think I am. To me, nautical mile interpretation is a more conservative one and seems to be more appropriate.

If you are paddling at night and it is a light that you're looking for, you will see the glow well before it reaches the theoretical line. The moment the actual light emerges from beneath the horizon will be determined more precisely than in the previous scenario. Again, if the height of the light is known, it's square root is more appropriately interpreted as the distance in nautical, not statute, miles.

What do you think?

The Ocean Surf Zone: A Different Kettle Of Fish Than Montrose Beach

By:  Tom Bamonte

I was in San Diego recently for a family vacation.  The warm, generally sunny weather was a welcome respite from the sleet we left behind in Chicago.  When we arrived my son stepped out on the balcony of our hotel, took a deep breath and exclaimed “this climate is perfect for human beings.”

Mission Beach

We stayed in Mission Beach, a dense neighborhood built on a sand bar between the Pacific Ocean and Mission Bay.  The ocean and its rhythms permeates the place.  The surfing culture is very strong, and you see surfers out in most conditions most of the time.  A local said that people define themselves first by their surfing and then by their occupation.

Surfing on misty day

South California offers a mixture of sandy beaches and rocky shores.  When we were there the water temperature was about 60 degrees and the air temperature was in the 50s and 60s.  This was the depths of their winter and we laughed at the sight of the locals bundled up in down jackets and wearing gloves.

Coast Near San Diego

Solstice Sunset Near Los Angeles

I was able to squeeze in two days of paddling.  I rented a boat from Aqua Adventures Kayak Center, a quality outfitter run by Jennifer Kleck, the first female BCU 5 Star from the United States.  Aqua Adventures has a good variety of rental kayaks and accessories.  I appreciated the fact that they told me that I could save money by buying a three-month membership instead of renting by the day.  That kind of vendor honesty was heartening.

I had hoped to use an Explorer, which is my boat at home, but I couldn’t get my long legs to fit in their model.  Instead, I paddled a Tempest 170 from Wilderness Systems, which proved to be a nice boat.  I had heard complaints about its tendency to weathercock but I never had to use the skeg in two days of paddling.  It handled well in the surf and rolled easily:  A pleasant surprise of a boat.

Aqua Adventures is located near the channel that connects Mission Bay to the Pacific.  This gives you the option of puttering around in the protected bay waters lined with marinas and hotels or venturing out into the Pacific.

The first day I rented a boat conditions were rugged.  There was a 20 mph north wind with gusts to 30 mph.  The ocean was a covered with whitecaps and the surf was too chaotic for surfing. 

 Storm On The Way

There was no way I was going on the ocean solo in such conditions, so I spent several hours paddling in the channel.  It was a great experience.  The channel runs in an east-west direction and the swells were charging in from the northwest.  These moving ridges of water would sweep in the entrance, break against the south breakwall and then rumble down the channel, sometimes breaking a second time near the south breakwall.

When I first rounded the corner to the channel I was struck by the sheer size of the waves in the channel and the seeming watery carnage.  However, after a few minutes of observation and tentative paddling I began to see the pattern and to identify areas where I could venture without undue risk of getting hit by a breaking wave.

For the rest of the afternoon I ventured up the side of the northern breakwall and then zipped in a diagonal across the channel, avoiding the roughest breaking waves along the south breakwall near the entrance.  Occasionally, I reversed the route just to keep it interesting.  I also practiced paddling close to the rocks in this very dynamic environment.

I picked landmarks on the breakwalls and each circuit I pushed myself to get a little closer to the channel entrance.  Ultimately, I was able to inch up along the north breakwall to a spot just inside the entrance, where the water washing over the north breakwall on my right and the breaking waves near the south breakwall on my left prevented me from going further.

My favorite stretch was in the middle of the channel--there was no motorboat traffic that day due to the conditions--where the waves were high but not breaking.  I was great fun going up the ridges of water, getting a nice view and then heading down into the valley.  These waves were so big that I was getting in two and sometime three paddle strokes between trough and crest.

Two guys in outriggers joined me in the channel and they concentrated on surfing down the face of the waves.  It was impossible to talk to them given the noise from the wind and crashing waves, but it was comforting to share these conditions with others. 

When sundown was about an hour away a marine police vessel emerged.  This was the first motorized vessel I had seen for several hours.  The police visited each of us, warned us that conditions were hazardous in the channel and strongly suggested that we call it a day.  Conditions actually seemed a bit better at this point so I spent another half hour playing around before paddling back to Aqua Adventures.

The next day the wind had died down but the surf was in the 6-9 foot range according to Wavewatch, the surf forecaster.  I paddled out of the channel into the open Pacific without incident and headed north to La Jolla.  It was a great open water paddle about a half mile from the beach.  I felt well prepared for such paddling from my Great Lakes paddling experience.  Indeed, open water paddling in the ocean seemed a bit easier than in the Great Lakes because the longer period between waves gives you more time to relax and enjoy the view.

Ocean surf is another matter.  In past posts (e.g., here) I have blathered on about how much fun it is to thread your way through a surf zone.  But that was in a surf zone at Montrose Beach in Chicago with spilling surf and a very short period between waves.  In this stretch of ocean, the waves had coalesced into large swells that dumped suddenly and dramatically and then churned through a few cycles before reaching shore.

Not The Big Surf, Just A Big "T"

From the water I watched with trepidation as these swell reared up to a crest, seemed to accelerate and cover lots of ground, and then crashed, sending up geysers of spray.  I realized that spending as little time as possible in the surf zone is what is necessary in this kind of environment.  So much for rhapsodizing about the quiet at the heart of the surf zone.  There was only disquiet in this surf zone.

I tried to figure out the wave sets in order to time my approach for when the waves would be at their smallest.  Given the length of the surf zone, however, it seemed impossible to avoid encountering some big waves.

Finally, I took a deep breath and accelerated into the surf zone.  I had tunnel vision and my strategy was

to get to the beach as fast as I could.  I made it past the first line of breaking waves without getting dumped on when a wave caught me and I accelerated into the longest surf ride I have ever had.  The Tempest 170 tracked well.  A wave then hit from the side and pushed me parallel to the main breaking stuff.  I failed to brace sufficiently--the Tempest requires more force than the Explorer in this department--and I was knocked over.  I rolled up and got wiped out and rolled up again and got knocked over again and, sad to say, I bailed just a few yards short of shore.  Sputtering, angry at my lack of patience--I had plenty of air left--and streaming saltwater out of my nose, I collected my boat and plodded up on shore. There was no welcoming committee, as the locals are inured to sodden folks in wetsuits crawling up the beach. 

Tangled Up On Mission Beach

I ate lunch and then practiced awhile in the middle of the surf zone, getting more comfortable with bracing using the edge on the Tempest, practicing rolls and getting accustomed to being slammed face on by waves.  My confidence began to eclipse the ignominy of my wet exit.

After emptying my boat again I sat in it at the edge of the water and tried to figure out a strategy for getting out to open water.  The line of dumpers was truly scary.  From this beach vantage point the waves reared up suddenly and then crashed down hard.  The higher crests would throw off a crown of spray, a flick of arrogance that made them even scarier.

There was a lifeguard station nearby and plenty of people on the beach so I figured that help was nearby if something went wrong.  I pushed off.  The near shore stuff was like the near shore stuff at Montrose Beach, only stronger and with a longer interval between waves.  I passed through this area easily.  The middle of the surf zone was like the bigger breaking waves at Montrose, but stronger and more concentrated.  I got whacked square a few times but kept my boat pointed out to sea and moving forward.

By now I was in the part of the surf zone where the big dumpers roamed.  One reared up and dumped just in front of me.  I was engulfed in a boiling maelstrom that covered me and my kayak and pushed me back a bit.  I started paddling as soon as I could and another wave reared up.  This time it broke just as I was half way up the wave face.  I feared that I was going to be pitched backward but leaned forward and punched through the crest, my boat smacking down on the back of the wave.  This was a very close call.  

Another big wave was on its way and I frantically paddled forward.  I caught this one just as it crested and my boat was launched higher in the air than a boat of mine has ever been before.  Probably a bit of my boat near the stern stayed in the water, but it sure felt like I was flying.  As soon as I hit water with a bone jarring whump I kept paddling hard for another 50 yards to get fully out of the surf zone.

My shoulders ached, I had jammed a finger, likely when a wave mashed it into my deck, and my heart was pumping hard, but I was in one piece, in my boat and quite elated at having made it out of the surf zone.  

I realized that Great Lake paddling had prepared me pretty well for ocean paddling.  I felt very comfortable in the unpredictable waves sloshing around the Mission Bay channel and on the open Pacific.  Nothing in my experience on the Great Lakes, however, fully prepared me for the raw power of the dumping surf in the ocean.  The surfing, bracing and rolling practice in the surf at Montrose and elsewhere certainly provided a necessary foundation of skills, but the ocean surf that day required a level of resolve and risk tolerance greater than the spilling surf of Montrose demands.

I didn’t want to tempt fate by landing and launching again, but resolved to get some more ocean surf experience whenever I can in the future.  I was heartened to learn that the surf that day was significantly higher than the norm for that area,  which suggests that paddling in the surf zone need not always feel like a daredevil experience.   Indeed, the following day the surf was down to the 2’ to 4’ range and looked very doable without much drama.

With the surf landing behind me, the paddle back from the beach to Aqua Adventures was very pleasant.  I stopped near the buoy at the entrance of the channel to make the acquaintance of a couple of seals who were sunbathing on the buoy.  I enjoyed the panoramic view of San Diego and the mountains behind in the rich, late afternoon sun.  With a sound between a hiss and a whoosh two dolphins announced themselves as they passed within 15 feet of my kayak.

View Of Pacific Ocean From La Jolla

I then tailed a sailboat back through the channel and into the marina where Aqua Adventures is located. While peeling off my wetsuit and drytop at the dock as the sun was setting it struck me that it will be months before I will be able to do the same in Chicago without being immediately chilled to the bone.  Not a happy thought.

In closing, while I went out to San Diego nursing an inferiority complex about Great Lakes kayaking, I think with the help of the many great mentors we have in the Chicago paddling community one can make the jump to open ocean paddling without too much trouble.  The ocean surf zone, however, is a place onto itself.  I have a renewed appreciation for the importance of spending as little time as possible in the surf zone when the waves are frisky.

* * *

See Keith Wilke's recent account of San Diego surf kayaking here.

How Necessary Is A Roll For Safe Paddling? (Part Two)

By Tom Bamonte

There was a lively exchange on the CASKA Yahoo Group on the topic of the necessity and utility of a roll for safe kayaking that was captured in an earlier post.  The discussion continued since that post and the rest of it is captured below, with contributions from Jim Tibensky, Kris Dressler, Scott Fairty, John Tebbens and John Puskar.

My view is that capsizes are most likely in the areas where a wet exit and rescue are the most difficult, namely, the surf zone and in other areas such as around breakwalls where the water is breaking or confused.  Thus, a roll is important if you plan to paddle in those areas.

By:  Kris Dressler

Jon Turk (Japan to Alaska, Cape Horn, etc) and I were talking after WMCKA a couple of years ago. I asked him his total number of unanticipated rolls. 

Zero.

I asked the same of Dave Snowberg (GLSKS 2007, Baranof Island, Baja to Tierra del Fuego, etc).

Zero.

Yet they both have, and continue to practice, excellent rolls.

So....

While a brace comes in handy far more often than a roll, the roll is essential.

As for learning, I learned the roll first, which gave me the confidence to begin practicing bracing, which is still not good. I think once the roll is learned, the reflexive nature of a good brace is the hardest part to learn. As I'm still learning, when I miss a brace, the consequence is only a little water in my nose and some heckling. 

The voices once told me that I could land a particular jump on my snowboard. I spent the next 8 weeks on crutches.

By:  Scott Fairty

Thanks Haris for posing an excellent question!  Here's a few somewhat random thoughts.

There are paddlers that have amazing rolls, they practice rolling every chance they get but many of these same people are also capsizing all the time in conditions that should in no way cause a capsize.  Because their first instinct is to roll, they end up flopping over all day.  A roll should be "Plan B"; braces are "Plan A".   A solid roll is not a reason to have poor bracing skills.

I don't view the roll as this "other" thing separate from all other strokes and maneuvers we use in a kayak.  Our stroke repertoire is a continuum; the more you know, the more fun you can have and the safer you'll be.  

The difference between a "good brace" and a roll is relatively small.  If you define "good" as being able to right the boat from your shoulder in the water, then the only difference is the setup for the roll.  However the environment in which we learn to roll is an issue.   If I were going to teach you something simple, like passing a bean bag from one hand to the other; I'm sure you would think how amazingly simple that would be to learn.  But now I tell you that while you're learning this you'll also be upside down, underwater and "locked" inside a kayak.  That just bumped the complexity of an otherwise simple task up to a whole new level of difficulty.

I have had people come to me over the years wanting to learn to roll without having first learned how to paddle.  In my experience, those people have a harder time learning to roll because they don't have the foundation skills of paddle sensitivity, edge control and body/boat awareness that a person with some "boat time" has acquired.

How much a paddler needs any particular stroke really depends on the environment they paddle in and/or how much satisfaction they get from controlling their craft with grace and finesse.  If you just want to poke around a little pond or slow moving river, do you really need more than some forward stroke looking thing and a slightly wider forward stroke-like thing for turning?  That skill set is not however transferrable to Lake Michigan with a 15 knot nor'easter.

A few weeks ago we were surfing at Montrose Beach in unusually powerful waves and I can say with a high degree of confidence that regardless of your bracing ability, you were going to be capsizing.  You can see Alec and I proving that here: video.  Alec also took a photo of me out in the clapotis at the end of the breakwall:

(The big stuff was actually to the right of this frame; you may need to copy the pic to your desktop for a better view.)  Had I come out of my boat I know it would have been exceptionally dangerous for Alec to attempt to rescue me and I am not at all confident that I could have self rescued.  Consequently I didn't spend too much time there nor did I paddle into the substantially more chaotic conditions to the right of the pic..  My point is that in these conditions a roll is essential not just desirable because the likelihood of being capsized is great (independent of one's bracing skills) and the consequences of coming out of the boat are significant.

There are 3 things I can say with conviction:
1.) Rolling is always preferable to wet exiting, regardless of how competent you are in self or group rescues.  
2.) No roll is 100% reliable so your self and group rescues need to be solid in the conditions in which you are paddling.
3.) There are conditions where coming out of your boat is not rectifiable. 

By:  John Tebbens

I am writing for those who look to this list serve for advice from the more accomplished paddlers on how to approach the wonderful sport of kayaking.

What I’d like to express here is that I began my love of kayaking on Lake Michigan at the end of one December in frigid water never having been in a kayak before and when asked to focus on torso rotation in my paddling stroke by my paddling partner, lost attention of the horizon and fell into the late December waters only to learn for the first time, from water level, in nothing more than fleece and cycling rain gear how to do a deep water T-rescue as the swimmer. 

Suffice to say I was exhilarated and not discouraged. And after that one experience, I decided that the first thing I wanted to learn how to do in a kayak was to roll it without assistance.

So I brought my enthusiasm and applied it to learning to roll. I learned to roll with a paddle, without, both sides, to the back and to the front, etc., etc. The funny thing was when I first went out with CASKA on a simple river paddle I couldn’t even paddle the boat in a straight line as all other strokes were still on the horizon fro me to learn.

When spring hit, I took advantage of a sea kayak symposium on Lake Michigan and took every class that I could get with the most diverse group of world class paddling instructors I could find.

In each and every class, when asked to try a new stroke or a different way of doing a stroke by one of these instructors, I was able to devout my full attention to the lesson at hand with NONE of my attention split to keeping the boat upright, as righting a boat was literally of no concern for me. 

I tried my first crossbow rudder, for one example, and it got caught under my bow and flipped me and then I would right myself in literally 2 seconds (I asked someone once to time it and 2 seconds is how long it takes to roll a kayak from the time your head goes under water and then comes back up for its first breath in most cases), I’d try any other stroke some for the first time without regard for flipping. 

My instructors loved this about me as a student because most had never seen someone with no other advanced skills than bombproof rolls, but mostly they expressed that they liked it because there was only 2 seconds between attempts at implementing their instruction and trying it again with their newly suggested modifications which permitted me in short order to hone in on the new skill and fully take advantage of the world class instructor before me and the short time I had with them. I was also one less person for them to worry about in their group from a timely rescue scenario in a deep water situation. Because I didn’t require the time to get back in my boat, my instructor didn’t move on to the next student so my personal one-on-one instruction time in the group was uninterrupted by a wet exit.

Eventually bracing probably did take me a little longer (having no fear of turning over) but I believe I implement my brace well and almost never go over unless trying something new like when I was learning new skills or now new for me means challenging myself at new levels, bigger conditions, or different ones and certainly unexpected ones. In fact, bracing and every other one of my paddling strokes have become less like separate strokes and more like subtle, fluid parts of a composition of strokes that has to some extent become almost second nature and less distinguishable as separate notes and more part of a melody or symphony of strokes.

My learning curve was very steep by most standards and was even met with some resistance by some old school paddlers as the new guy on the block. I didn’t do it another way so the only way I know was the way I learned kayaking and I did it quickly, “mostly” without fear, because I learned how to roll first.

By:  Jim Tibensky

I would like to second what John has said - that learning to roll early in one's paddling career can be a great thing. I was one of the instructors who had John in a class early in his paddling life.  And I loved his enthusiasm for learning and for paddling and the fact that he was not intimidated by challenging conditions.  I think sometimes people mistake enthusiasm for something else (like ego) and that's too bad because the enthusiastic paddlers often are good enough to be proud of what they have accomplished and should be commended not condemned.   Many years ago the Chicago Whitewater Association would have a club trip to the Madawaska Kanu Centre for a week of instruction.  Almost every summer a bunch of CWAers would go.  I used to teach there and it was funny what a reputation CWA had.  Because most CWA paddlers learned the sport by starting in pool sessions, they all could roll like crazy but weren't very good at anything else.  There isn't much room in a pool to do more than practice rolls. Other instructors would laugh at how backwards the Chicago folks were - they could roll but not go in a straight line.  But, by the end of the week, the Chicago folks had the respect of everyone because they learned so quickly.   The moral is: John has a good idea.  Taking fear out of the equation makes learning much easier and much quicker for most people.  John went from beginner to Level 4 Instructor pretty quickly.  Good for him, I say.

* * *

In response to a couple of emails, I thought I would send a more detailed description of Lone's death, which was also reported in Sea Kayaker magazine in, I think, April 1999. Paul Caffyn's account follows:

Lone Madsen, Danish journalist and sea kayaker, was caught by a storm on 30 September whilst paddling the south-east coast of Greenland. She and her paddling companion Tore Sivertsen, a helicopter pilot with Greenlandair, were paddling south from Angmagassalik towards Cape Farewell at the southern tip of Greenland and were crossing a fiord near Prins Christians Sund when strong winds suddenly hit them with gusts up to estimated 50 knots. They were crossing a fjord when Tore heard Lone shouting for help but there was nothing he could do. It was impossible to paddle against the wind. Lone apparently capsized and was overcome by the chill of the icy waters.

Some hours later, Tore got safely to the shore and got in touch with Narsarssuaq Airport and an overflying twin otter, however the weather was so rough that there was no possibility to attempt a helicopter rescue that evening. Tore was picked up the next morning and after 15 minutes searching, they found Lone’s body.

Lone was a regular contributor to ‘Sea Kayaker’ magazine in the USA with articles on paddling in Greenland. In 1996, Lone with two Greenland ladies, Inngi Bisgaard and Rina Broberg, paddled from Sisimiut down the west coast of Greenland to near Kap Farvel. Her account of this trip appeared in the June 1997 issue of ‘Sea Kayaker’, Vol.14, No.2.

In June this year, Conrad and I spent two days in a small hut near Kangamiut on the west coast of Greenland, while waiting for a gale to ease. The hut log book contained only three entries from passing kayakers, one of which was from Lone and her companions for 21/05/96.

Ice conditions this year on the southeast coast of Greenland were not good for paddling. We heard of two parties attempting the trip south from Angmagassalik this northern summer, Lone Madsen and Tore, and another dynamic duo Lonnie Dupre and his Australian partner John who are attempting a circumnavigation of Greenland. The latter pair were successful, but only with much kayak hauling over the ice.

The south-east coast of Greenland, from Angmagassalik down to Kap Farvel, is totally committing for a kayaking trip. There are no villages for resupply, scarce beaches for camping and the polar ice pack remains closely packed against the barren rocky coast. The deep fiords are often choked with ice from calving glaciers and hurricane force katabatic winds descend off the icecap with unbridled power. 

Newsletter No. 77 carried an article by Earle Bloomfield on the 1986 Australian expedition that set out to repeat Gino Watkin’s open boat journey south from Angmagassalik. The expedition was forced through problems with the support yacht to start in late September, and the four paddlers were extremely fortunate to survive encounters with collapsing ice bergs and gale force seas. After the kayaking trip was aborted, the support yacht was knocked down and rolled in horrendous seas. 

The stunning quality expedition video of this trip contained a graphic warning from a local Greenlander that September marked the onset of winter and for the paddlers to be very aware of the dangers of the Pittoraq, a katabatic wind which descends off the icecap. I have untold admiration for the cameraman who filmed the rescue of the support yacht by the last Danish supply vessel of the season. The stomach churning seas appear to be at least 15m high from crest to trough. 30 September was late in the season to be attempting this trip, but perhaps the ice pack opened up very late, allowing an avoidance of hauling over the ice. Even so, Lone Madsen was out there paddling in conditions that we can only dream about. Her death is a sad loss to sea kayakers all over the
world. 

Vale Lone Madsen

P. Caffyn.

Just to add my tiny bit - I have paddled the southeast part of Greenland. The katabatic winds can spring up out of nowhere, but can be more likely when a low pressure system approaches a glaciated area. The low pressure combined with the 'weight' of the cold air above the ice (and Greenland is all ice once you get a few miles inland) can cause the cold air to break loose and literally fall to the lowest point, which is sometimes the ocean.

Most of Greenland is covered by a high pressure system for much of the summer, when the sun never sets. But once in a while a storm comes up. The worst storm I have ever paddled in or camped in was in Aasiaat, Greenland. The wind forced the rain through the zipper of my tent. I won't tell the story of my paddling in the storm to get fresh water for the camp. Suffice to say I'm still here.

The thing about katabatic winds is that they have nothing to do with clouds or surface winds, so there is not any warning. One needs to be ready to deal with them whenever you paddle within a mile or so of the Greenland coast. Especially in the Fall when the sun sets for a time.

By:  John Puskar

Always enjoy reading what everyone has to say on here.  Here are a quick few pointers that I don’t think have been mentioned.

1. Keep in mind that there are several reasons people fear being upside down in a boat.
1. Drowning
2. Jellyfish
3. Aquatic plants that are not good for you (Venice , Florida had some sort of algae in the water that was detrimental to health).
4. Obstructions (submerged post outside of the Zion nuke plant).
5. Rebar from construction of a bridge/road
6. Conveyor belt thrown in river (I think the Chattanooga river).
7. Gas, water, and sewage lines that cross the river.
8. Old pieces of sewage pipe that a boat can fit in (Desplaines River).
9. Undercut rocks
10. Sea caves
11. Not called a sea wall but the one that goes out away from shore to keep the sand from washing off the beach? (Charleston, S.C.)
12. Sharks
13. 2x12 floor joist, downstream of 5 foot falls on the Peshtigo River.
14. Big a-- rocks on section 4 of the Wolf River before the gorge.

I am often asked when teaching a class if I know how to roll.  I often give the speech that I am an old paddler and like to keep my head above the water.  I figure that is better then telling them that the above is waiting to get you!  LOL

The point is that the roll is nice for confidence as John Tebbens pointed out but having a good grasp of the fundamentals to make sure you don’t need to use the roll is even better. 

In my opinion (and you know what they say about that), the younger generation of boaters do learn their roll first and rely on it very heavily. 

Also two other notes:  Teaching folks to roll with no class time on the basics makes for a really long class.

Last note.  I recently did an ICE with John Browning, and he had us do self rescues using a paddle float in rough seas.  I did not pass this section because I flipped twice while pumping my boat out and waves were hitting me from the side.  I did roll back up both times and did not come back out of my boat.  But the lesson here that I took away with is practice paddling with your boat fully flooded and also without a paddle.  Like John, I can roll on a dime but I think what John and the ACA also want is a good solid understanding of the very basics.  I almost never flip over because of my braces and boat control.  I seldom roll the boat under poor conditions and I have never practiced paddling a sea kayak in poor conditions flooded.

Good to know that you can do it all!

Paddler's Book Club Launches

By:  Tom Bamonte

Rick Isaacson is starting a on-line paddler's book club.  The following is his announcement:

To everyone following our current title, "Sea Kayaker: Deep Trouble," the post for chapter one, "Drifting with Currents" can be found at this link:

http://paddlerbooks .blogspot. com/2009/ 12/sea-kayaker- deep-trouble- chapter-1. html

Look forward to your thoughts on this weeks installment!

 

Rick Isaacson

How Necessary Is A Roll For Safe Paddling?

By:  Tom Bamonte

With Chicago temperatures in single digits and nearby paddling destinations freezing up a mischievous local paddler decided to warm things up by posting the following poll to the CASKA Yahoo Group:

Please indicate what you think about the following statement:
"Everybody who wants to paddle on Lake Michigan should learn how to roll." 

o Agree 
o Disagee 
o Can go either way 
o Don't know 

To vote, please visit the following web page:
http://groups. yahoo.com/ group/caska/ surveys?id= 2255705 

This poll sparked a vigorous discussion, reproduced below.  Join in via a comment here and join the CASKA Yahoo group and vote.  There is also a lively and extended discussion of the topic in the Qajaq USA forum.

Erik Sprenne-

Perhaps a second statement to vote on would be the same, except for the added word 'solo', e.g.:

"Everybody who wants to paddle solo on Lake Michigan should learn how to roll." 

DM-

Being able to roll your kayak does not guarantee your safety on Lake Michigan.... :-) It's just one thing in your trick bag. 

Humberto Garcia-

Ditto.

More than rolling one should be able to brace, high and low braces.  If you have good braces in your "trick bag" you would never need to roll.  I know great paddlers that cannot perform a roll but their bracing is great and they are super comfortable kayaking in High Water. 

 

It would be great if you can do it but if you can keep your balance, aid by your bracing, why would you have to roll?  I only roll to get cool in a hot day, but in a cold waive day, my braces will help me not to need to roll.

 

Practice Bracing! 

Erik S.-

I'm not going to argue with the opinion about needing only a good brace, except to ask these questions:

 

"Is it possible to learn a 'good' brace without learning a roll?"

"With the brace being such an important part of the roll, shouldn't anyone who has 'good' braces also have a roll?"

Henry Davies-

Erik-- I think that those are fair questions.  I personally am a decent roller (taught at the Michigan training camp this year and have performed many Greenland rolling demos, including Door County Sea Kayak Symposium).  I learned to roll after I had been kayaking for something like 12 years.  I believe that those 12 years gave much experience in boat control which made learning to roll much easier and intuitive, when I actually got around to learning to roll.

Also, the brace that I use most often to recover balance is a low brace.  That isn't the brace that is part of most people's rolls.  The high brace, which is part of most people's rolls, is more often used in surf or extreme loss of balance.

Most of the time when I need to recover balance it is because I was playing around and edging too far and a wave changed the balance of the kayak (or I just edged too far).  You are right that having good braces makes this type of experimentation/ play uneventful and having a roll would make up for not having good bracing.

I didn't exactly answer your questions, but hopefully provided some insight into how it works for me.

Humberto G.-

Hmmm?  For many years I did not have a roll, but my bracing was always good, and as mentioned before, there are many people that I know that cannot roll, for one or another reason, but they are great in big water, better than some that have their roll.  Yes, the roll will develop from your bracing but it is not the other way around, you become a great bracer and then, next time you know, you will have a great roll.  Now is a roll proof that you can be safe in Big Water, no, but being able to control your boat and avoiding it for going over.... I think that this is what make you safe.

 

.... not to discuss it, but.... isn't this right?

 

Just my thought!

John Parker

Speaking as someone who recently ended up counting fish in the mighty Fox River.

The following is my humble inexperienced opinion. Nothing can beat experience. Experience would in my mind mean build bracing skills and then lead to a roll. I always thought having a roll would be cool. But, in reality, the ability to get almost laid out and then brace and come back up and avoid counting fish altogether would be great. Having a roll on top of that would be awesome.

In the spring, I'll be the guy in the yellow boat trying to be a better paddler so Ryan doesn't have to put me back in my boat again.

Has anyone found my glasses or hat or water bottle floating down the mighty Fox... wife is still mad about the expensive glasses, I miss my hat....

Haris Subacius-

The distinction between a deep high brace and a kayak roll is not great.  Like Erik suggests, I am not quite sure how one can have a good high brace but not the roll.  Low brace can stop working with surf that as low as 2-3' high--you can pretty much forget about it when a 4' wave or higher broaches the kayak.

Can we agree to define a roll as any recovery from being completely upside down under water and distinguish it from a brace as a recovery from any angle above the water including the body being parallel to the surface of the water.  With these definitions, no matter how good your braces, it is only a matter of sufficiently angry conditions until the capsize.  No one can brace themselves out of everything that the open water can throw up!

Lastly, as far as safety goes, a paddler with a good brace will have a good sea sense not to paddle into conditions that can overwhelm their skills.  If they do, they will have an exit strategy.  Risk versus ability assessment is even more important than the bracing skills when it comes to high water!  However, if the paddlers with good braces never paddle into conditions that could challenge their skill, how are they to grow, develop and test those braces?  

For me, personally, it is this borderline area where the limits of my skills are exposed and environmental conditions begin to take over the controls where a reliable roll truly pays off for the effort it takes to develop one.

Ryan Rushton-

Well said, Haris.

Jim Tibensky-

I was not going to get into this rather odd discussion, but now that Haris has said pretty much what I was thinking, I will add my voice to say that no one can be sure that they will never need a roll.  I found that my confidence in whitewater improved exponentially when I got my roll down pat.

 

I hope I'm not offending you, Humberto, because I know you are a very good paddler.  But it is not possible to run big whitewater or be out in big ocean conditions without sometimes being knocked over so quickly that you won't be able to brace successfully.  Especially (I know this from painful experience) when you are attempting a rescue in tough conditions.  Once in a while the other boat makes a high or low or any other brace impossible.  A quick roll puts you back in charge.

 

I do a combat roll about once a decade now that I don't run much whitewater anymore, but I keep the skill up just in case. 

 

And if any newer paddlers are keeping score, add me to the side that says a roll is a really, really good to skill to have.

Russ Johnson-

Anyone can learn to paddle safely on lake Michigan when the conditions are ideal. Knowing how to judge the conditions is a more important ability. 

Compared to Humberto, I had the opposite experience--learning to roll quite reliably before I ever practiced bracing. Knowing how to roll allowed me to learn to brace without ever having to worry about wet exiting.

Missing a brace on occasion will happen. Missing a roll can cause greater problems.  Again, neither will matter in ideal conditions.

Bill Burton-

I agree with Huberto that a brace is more useful, more often, than a roll. But, I don't think this is how people learn -- it may not even be possible.

Most paddlers, when they get hit by an unexpected force, will reflexively reach for the sky rather than their friend the water. I think this reflex may best (or perhaps only) be overcome by gaining confidence, probably by getting really comfortable hanging upside down underwater and knowing you can get up -- by learning to roll.

That's the chicken/egg dilemma of kayaking -- it's hard to learn to brace OR roll until you're totally at ease in the water, and you won't be totally at ease in the water until you learn to roll.

One thing I do know for sure -- despite his assertions to the contrary, there was not the slightest chance that Mr. Tibensky was not going to get into this "odd discussion."

Jim Tibensky-

Bill said it very well - at least, in my opinion.  I, like Humberto, have known some very good paddlers who could paddle in crazy conditions without a roll.  But most of the ones I know would say that they are at risk because they don't have that extra, bottom-line, safety tool that is the roll.  The famous adventurer and author Lone Madsen died in 1999 because she could not roll.  This is from an on-line description of her death:

 

A Danish woman, Lone Madsen, died of exposure when her Skerry kayak capsized on the West Coast ofGreenland. Lone Madsen had paddled extensively in the Arctic and was well known for her exploits. Her paddling partner on this trip was Tore Sivertsen. The pair were caught in a sudden gale which quickly whipped up large waves. When Lone Madsen turned over, Sivertsen could not come to her aid because they had never practised assisted rescues. Neither paddler could right themselves with Eskimo rolls and instead depended on paddle floats which would have been useless in the conditions. In any event, Sivertsen reported that Madsen's paddle had floated away during the capsize due to lack of a paddle leash. Sivertsen, unable to turn his Prijon Seayak into the wind, was forced further and further away from Madsen and never saw her alive again.

 

I had read incident reports of this death and Lone had often said that she really didn't want to be bothered learning to roll when her self-rescue skills were so good.  Sadly, the last thing poor Tore heard her say was "Tore, don't leave me!"  I can't imagine the nightmares he must have.  Pehaps a solid roll would have resulted ina very different result.

 

Finally, I also agree, very whole-heartedly, with Humberto's point that boat handling skills should be just as important as rolling or rescue skills.  Makes it that much less likely that the roll or rescue will be needed.

 

[And I swear, Bill, that I intended to let this go on without me.  But I started getting headaches and the voices in my head absolutely demanded that I respond.  And I've learned not to ignore those voices!]

 

Jim Tibensky, et al

The Quiet At The Heart Of The Surf Zone

By: Tom Bamonte

I closed out the Thanksgiving holiday weekend with two hours playing in the surf at Montrose.  It was drizzly, with a 20 mph wind from the north northwest.  Air and water temperatures were in the mid-40s.  Waves were 2-4 feet building to 3-5 feet.  Perhaps because the wind had just risen a couple of hours before, the gap between waves was as short as I've ever seen at Montrose.   

Everything seemed damped down grey.  As I unloaded my boat and scanned the dark, desserted beach I found myself yearning for the winter solstice and its turn to daylight.  

Damped down grey

The day before I had paddled from Montrose down to Olive Park, hugging the breakwall each way.  It had been sunny and warm enough then for a few knuckleheads to strip down to their skivvies and go for short swims.  That day I had paddled south into the surprisingly strong sun. The reflection off the water made it difficult to peer below the surface.  I learned the hard way that the Corps of Engineers in its wisdom has placed rocks just a few inches below the water line along some of the breakwall, such as from Belmont to Irving Park.  Other areas appear to be relatively clear of such rock.

But back to surfing on this dark day.  I launched about 2:15 p.m. and vowed to stay closer to shore than usual because of the conditions and the fact that I was alone on the water and the beach was all but deserted.  I figured that with onshore wind and waves if I had to swim to shore I could.  I had several layers of fleece under my drysuit and was actually too warm most of the time.  My head was encased in a Kokatat Surfskin Balaclava, which was a luxurious alternative to my usual jerry-rigged neoprene hood with with a bicyclist fleece hood underneath.  Received wisdom is that it is essential to cover neck and head to minimize the possibility of the gasp reflex when your head gets immersed in cold water.

My glasses quickly fogged up and got covered with both rain and spray.  It actually is a useful learning tool to have to feel your way through a surf zone rather than be able to see the waves coming from afar.  

I did 4-5 runs to shore and several times was able to run a nice straight line.  On the last one I flipped, as if some cold, wet hands had grasped my stern and twisted.  My first thought underwater as I was being pushed around was "remember pool session."  So, in quick succession--relax, don't bail, be patient and wait for your body to signal which would be the best side up, set up paddle, begin to exhale, execute and up, bracing quickly into the next wave smacking the boat.  It was a good feeling to be upright again, none the worse for wear except for a wet, cold slap across my face.

I then criss-crossed the surf zone a few times, in the area between the soup near shore and the outer line of breakers.  This is my favorite part of surf zone play.  I like to trace a route that minimizes--but never seems to eliminate--getting hit by breaking waves.  By scanning the wave patterns ahead and making often small adjustments in course and speed I made my way through the waves without too much trouble.  The best was when I caught a wave just as it peaked before breaking.  My boat would be perched on the sharp edge of the wave and then I would slide down the back face of the wave as it passed, aiming into the face of the following wave.

At one point I stopped and around me there were no breaking waves.  I had reached the quiet heart of the surf zone.  For a few moments there were no breaking waves and I relaxed a bit.  Inevitably, the breaking waves returned, but I felt like I had stumbled on the secret of many surf zones--there are a lot of quiet spots even in the midst of the tumult.  You just have to find them.  Sometimes they find you.

Not surprisingly, in our training and play we emphasize punching out through the surf and then zipping back to shore with a hopefully dashing ride that will thrill an audience.  But as I learned this summer on North Manitou Island with Russ Johnson and near several islands in Georgian Bay with Tom Heineman, often it is necessary to paddle for an extended period in a surf zone.  Getting comfortable with paddling in a surf zone seems to me to be equally as important as learning how to paddle out of the surf zone, whether to open water or to shore.

After two hours it was getting dark.  I raced to unload the boat, get the car and strap down the boat before my fingers lost their ability to work in the cold.  It was 5 p.m. and as dark as night when I was done.  For the next day or so I felt particularly good and realized that at some level I was still carrying around the quiet heart of the surf zone.