Fact: Most kayakers who die at sea do so because they get cold then drown. From what I have read and experienced, there are two main types of cold water immersion problems. Here is my layman’s non-medical understanding of these phenomena.
Cold shock occurs when you are suddenly dumped into frigid or very cold water. I once jumped naked into a small alpine lake dubbed Iceberg Lake, because of the icebergs floating in it. I wanted to feel what it was like. I felt it all right. Instantly, my body froze up, I gasped, and I got a splitting ice cream headache. The bad thing was I panicked, and frantically dog paddled to shore within ten seconds. I doubt I would have lasted ten minutes, and I was a great swimmer in very good shape at age 22. Ever since then I have had an aversion to freezing water.
I believe that a person with medical issues could suffer a seizure or heart attack in water that cold. Even if you are an Iron Man or Maiden, you may still have a hell of a time trying to survive in ice water. As for me, once I got out of the lake, I shivered and blubbered, then strangely felt euphoric after I dried off and donned warm clothes. Ten seconds….
Hypothermia means a person is cold, too cold to function, too cold to live. Hypothermia takes longer to set in than cold shock, and has many faces. As related in CONFESSIONS OF A WAVE WARRIOR, I once got hypothermia by swimming alone in cold water (56F) too long. I was 19 and body surfing at Black’s Beach north of San Diego in the winter when I realized my arms and legs were numb to the bone. I managed to feebly swim to shore but collapsed in the fetal position on the sand and passed out. Luckily, the sun came out and warmed me, and I was okay an hour later. That was close.
The symptoms of hypothermia are often subtle. The person becomes irrational, slow in making decisions, and her fingers and limbs don’t work right. Eventually, metabolism shuts down and the victim is in deep trouble. The scary part is the water doesn’t have to be that cold. The water could be 65F but if it’s windy, heat quickly leaves a person’s body. After three hours in wind spray, anyone could get hypothermia, especially if wearing cotton.
The five-part solution to cold shock and hypothermia is simple. Here we go:
- Dress for immersion! When kayaking in cold water (down to 48F or so), wear a full wetsuit and neoprene hood and booties. In frigid water, wear a quality drysuit with thermal layers underneath and a thick neoprene hood. In either cold or frigid water, wear a good-fitting PFD, as that will keep you a bit warmer and make it so you don’t need to actively swim, as your limbs may not work properly. Remember: Never dream that you won’t capsize. It happens. Even if you don’t, spray can chill you to the bone. Be prepared.
- Be sure to drink water and eat good food so your body is properly fueled. Don’t be dieting when kayaking in cold water!
- Carry signaling devices to summon help (e.g., an EPIRB, PLB, VHF radio, cell phone, flares). If someone in your party gets hypothermic, you may need medical and rescue assistance fast.
- When on the water, if you or someone in your party exhibits possible hypothermia symptoms, as described above, get off the water immediately and get warm.
- Once on shore, if a person is not able to properly walk or talk, treat him very tenderly and get him warm—and to a hospital. If you are hours or days away from a hospital, don’t rub or pat a victim to warm her; get her to a warm and dry place and surrounded in down and others’ body warmth. Once a victim is fully conscious, give warm water and then later a bit of sweet food. It may take days to recover, so abandon your plans and deal with this medical emergency.
To learn more about cold shock, hypothermia, and related cold water immersion disorders, read up on it. You’ll find plenty of good information in print and on the internet, if you search judiciously. Books about hypothermia and some sea kayaking books also give good information and advice.
If you have experienced cold shock or hypothermia, or have dealt with someone who has, please relate your story. If you want to correct me or add to what I’ve written in this post, please do! Just click on the “add comment” button below.
Eric,
I just blogged about hypothermia recently too. Be sure to check out the cold water bootcamp video if you haven’t seen it before.
http://liquidfusionkayak.blogspot.com/2011/01/life-jackets-save-lives.html
Stay warm,
Cate
Thanks Cate,
I just read your blog post on getting cold. From what I read in your post, and what the video said, life jackets are very important for survival in cold water. I agree. The only thing I would add is don’t think a life jacket will suffice to prevent cold water incapacitation–you need to wear a wetsuit or drysuit! It’s imperative.
Here on the east coast of Australia (ie in Paradise) the water is warm all year round, so paddlers tend not be concerned about this sort of thing. This is particularly dangerous when us lucky ones travel to parts of the world where the water is not quite so balmy, or when conditions in our part of the world are not so good (hard to believe, but it does happen!).
In my case, the first incident happened when I paddled glacial lakes in Alaska. I was in a drysuit but had on neoprene paddling gloves I’d brought from Australia. Over time the ice-cold water held against my hands did their level best to give me frost bite and after removing the gloves, I had a great deal of trouble trying to get my hands to function again. Not ideal when floating amongst icebergs in the Alaskan wilderness.
The 2nd incident was during a night-time ultra-marathon here in Australia. After about 65kms I stopped at a major checkpoint to use the bathroom. Whilst paddling I was warm enough, but by stopping, getting out of the boat and wandering around wet in 0C degree temperature, I was soon a blubbering dysfunctional mess that couldn’t work out mentally how to remove my shorts to go to the toilet.
So it’s not just you crazies in arctic waters than need to watch the cold, and its not just full immersion that can cause a problem. It just goes to show… it’s always import to prepare for the cold.
Cheers – FP
I agree completely. My first long kayak trip was in south America, in Uruguay. We were for an 80km trip in three days. Day one 15km, day two 45km, day three 20km. It was late March (end of summer), and the air temperature was really comfortable during day. Water was probably around 64.5F. I was using a new (to me) kayak, very short, and pretty bad in terms of water displacement. Needless to say, it was really hard to paddle, and even harder to keep up with the group. In day two, after about 8hs of continuous paddling (with only one 45 minute break) I arrived at Camp 2. Exhausted. I managed to be only 15 minutes away from my group. I unpacked, set the tent, took a bath in the river, and put some dry cloth. Ten minutes after being dry my body lost its ability to control temperature. Hypothermia kicked in heavily. I guess it was a combination of physical exhaustion and a river bath with some wind. I dressed many layers of dry cloth and went directly to the tent. Inside my (winter) Coleman sleeping bag, it took about half an hour to stabilize my shivering and breath normally. Lesson learned.
I learned to identify hypothermia’s early stages by looking for the “umbles,” which are the stumbles, mumbles, fumbles and grumbles. When someone shows those signs, take action. It’s basically the same as what you wrote put into an easy-to-remember mnemonic device.
I love the memory aid… going to use that with my kids and students in the future. Wish I had known that one in the Army. They love these little tricks.
Fat Paddler brings up an important point–there’s also frostbite to consider in extreme cold. Of course, in his native Australia, probably HYPERthermia is the biggest concern.
Bryan, thanks for the “umbles” mnemonic. Those are the signs to look for in a person incapacitated by cold.
Great blog, Eric, especially with spring around the corner, which in my opinion is the most dangerous time of year for novices. They see warm air temps, and aren’t very concerned about the water temp., figuring they won’t be in the water anyway.
Two things to add: 1. When it is REALLY cold, it’s a good idea to not even BEGIN to chill. What this means to me is that I am in my wetsuit or drysuit before I leave the house…well, O.K., I do live on an island, very close to the water, so I don’t mind being “ready to go” for a few minutes. But even when I didn’t live so close to the put-in, I’d at least have on my drysuit liner (very comfy!), or the bottom of my wetsuit with booties. Sometimes you have to be flexible (eg. change in the car once it is heated). It is my experience that it is easier to stay warm than to get chilled, then have to warm up after. and, 2. Limit the time you spend on any lunch or snack break. I find that some chilling always occurs at these times. Of course, you could use one of those convenient, windproof foldable shelters, which can be quite effective.
Tony
Good suggestions, Tony! Thank you. I do my best to stay warm before I kayak, but will pay even more attention to it in the future.
Regarding your second suggestion of limiting time during food breaks, I think that on the one hand you are right, because sitting around (even for a few minutes) slows overall blood circulation which makes a person get cold. On the other hand, it is important to take breaks for fluid and food replacement. Your idea of a portable windproof shelter is good, and it would be even better if it’s also waterproof.
I think the main thing is to always concentrate on keeping body heat in the body, and not let it dissipate in a cold environment.
“The person becomes irrational, slow in making decisions…”
This is why you don’t paddle alone, and you watch your fellow paddlers. You may be the last person to realize that you are in trouble. Of course, with many Tsunami Rangers it is difficult to notice the subtle signs of mental impairment, so you need to actively look for the signs. Early signs might be as simple as someone not keeping up, not paying attention, or having difficulting opening a hatch. If you notice any of this, go close and have a conversation with them.
Glen, I’ve spent a lot of time with several of the Tsunami Rangers, and I totally agree with your statement that “with many Tsunami Rangers it is difficult to notice the subtle signs of mental impairment.” 😉
Dr. Gordon Giesbrecht refers to the “1-10-1 principle” when talking about coldwater immersion. I.e. You have 1 minute to get your breathing under control (recover from cold shock). You have 10 minutes to get out of the water (before “cold incapacitation” sets in), and 1 hour to get yourself warm and dry. Cold incapacitation is the stage between cold shock and hypothermia. At this point you are not yet hypothermic as your core temp has not changed much. You are however very Cold, and your body is trying to conserve heat by slowing circulation to your limbs and outer layers. This is when most people drown, they become physically unable to keep their heads above water by swimming, floating , or even trying to hold on to something.
Hi Eric. Good blog. I read if you tale a cold shower once a day for three weeks before a trip you will not suffer from cold shock. In N.Z. It is hard to put this to the test but I take a cold shower most mornings and have not had trouble with cold while kayaking. Arthur Lydiard, the guy who trained Peter Snell to run the first sub 4 minute mile, had his runners take a cold shower too. He said if it was good enough for race horses, it was good enough for his runners. He produced many good runners. Keep up the good work.
Good article, though I think more needs to be said about cold shock. I know of several instances where people have drowned and sunk to the bottom the instant they hit the water. And the water in many of these cases wasn’t even that cold.
One chap last summer was jumping off a local bridge with a bunch of buddies (next to the local bar, oddly enough). He hit the water and they never saw him again. Divers found his body directly below where he hit the water. Another chap fell out of his canoe in Quetico Park this summer with the same results.
On the other hand, cold water research at the University of Manitoba has shown that people can last for hours in near freezing water. One of the test subjects was a buddy of mine. He’s skinnier than me and lasted over 8 hours in 1 degree water in nothing but a Speedo. (You do lose the ability to move very much after a little while.)
The video Eric (above) links to is very good. The commentary is based on Dr. Gordon Giesbrecht (U. of Manitoba) and his extensive work on cold water. His conclusion: one minute to control your breathing, ten minutes when you can still use your hands, and one hour until hypothermia. I would add one second at the top to manage the gasp reflex.
I believe the most important element of cold water survival is getting control of your breathing in the first few seconds. That would put PFD’s at the top of the survival equipment list, as it would help you keep your head above the water while you control yourself. Training (like roll practice) may reduce the chance of a strong shock reaction as well, though that’s just an assumption on my part.
End of rant… wp
Thanks, everyone, for your outstanding comments and observations. I have some replies.
1. Yes, with Tsunami Rangers it is difficult to tell if they’re impaired because they act the same way in the car, the restaurant….
2. Kevin may be on to something with the “cold shower” routine, as any of those polar bear swimmers will attest. That is, one can acclimatize to cold.
3. Glenn is right in that it’s good to keep an eye on each other when kayaking and look for subtle signs of incapacitation.
4. Speaking of which, I definitely should have put “cold incapacitation” as an added category, as that seems to be the biggie. Your limbs don’t work right, but you are technically (medically) not yet hypothermic, which takes more time and is indicated by a lowered core temperature. (But by the time you’re full-blown hypothermo, you will be toast if you are still in the water!).
5. Which gets back to the main point I wanted to make in this essay: Dress for Immersion! A PFD is NOT good enough (especially for cold shock, which occurs instantly). If you are dressed properly for immersion, as all kayakers and other boaters should, you significantly reduce the chance of suffering from cold water or air. Over twenty years ago, Moulton Avery wrote a great article in Sea Kayaker magazine on cold shock, and advocated dressing for immersion. I’ve been saying this myself for decades, and yet I keep reading about avoidable tragedies and seeing people still not dressed adequately. Please pass the word on this!
Dressing for immersion here in Australia isn’t quite so drastic. 🙂
Great comments – really informative.
I like the ‘umbles’ reference – I’ve found hunger has similar symptoms on and off the water.
I’ve heard of competitors training for rolling comps in Greenland having ice baths and putting their heads in buckets of ice water to acclimate, so the cold shower theory is probably a good one.
There are places in Australia where the water is frigid (Tassie) but I live in sunny Queensland and dress for sun protection. Even though it is generally warm here, I’ve experienced cold currents and air that has chilled me (not hypothermic) from time to time, so try to be prepared.
In a previous post someone mentioned your water is cold year round so isn’t it common sense to dress for immersion and to discover what it feels like to be in cold water – just in case?
Tess
More wisdom in what Tess said than I can say. Yes, Tess, despite the comments that many pontificating nimrods have made over the past 25 years, it is indeed common sense to dress for the possibility of immersion – just in case. If you’re ever Stateside or I make it to sunny Queensland, the drinks are on me.
I’ll hold you to that Moulton
Tess
A great piece on Cold Shock and Hypothermia, Eric, and some great comments from readers. To paraphrase the very supportive and thoughtful commentary you wrote 20 years ago about my Cold Shock article in Sea Kayaker, (20 years!?! Aaaack!) your article should be stapled to the deck of every sea kayak. As you might expect, I have some thoughts on the subject that I’d like to share.
People have indeed died as a result of heart attacks or strokes when suddenly immersed in cold water. Immersion immediately and dramatically increases both blood pressure and the heart’s workload As you also pointed out, a frigid baptism immediately and permanently alters the way one views cold water. That’s certainly been my experience. Cold water really scares me. I would never, ever paddle unprotected.
Dude Before Baptism: No big deal. It’s all good. Duh, maybe I’ll “suit up” if I think conditions are going to be “challenging” – uh, well, maybe not. I dunno, it depends….
Dude After Baptism: Holy sh*t, I’ll never do that again!
Fat Paddler’s ultra-marathon experience in Australia holds an important lesson: While you’re exercising, your body is producing heat. When you stop for a rest, lunch, or bathroom break, that heat production takes a nosedive. It’s analogous to cutting off the heat in your house for a while, and under the right circumstances, as FP discovered, it can quickly lead to incapacitation. BTW: Fat is a great insulator and offers protection against hypothermia, but it does absolutely nothing to reduce cold shock.
Brian’s “umbles” are great: an easy to remember and highly useful mnemonic. Stumbles, fumbles, mumbles, grumbles, bumbles, tumbles, rumbles (argumentative)… you can make a long list and their appearance is always a very bad sign. The umbles signify that deep body or core temperature is below 95 and falling. Unless that trend is reversed, you can start writing the Obit.
Tony and Glenn make some really important points that go right to the heart of the matter, and I want to elaborate on them a bit. Hypothermia is one hell of a lot easier to prevent than it is to accurately diagnose and treat under field conditions. There’s a world of difference between what I call “Early Warning Signs” and the actual “symptoms” of hypothermia. The “umbles” are symptoms. When they appear, the person is already hypothermic and in big trouble. Long before that point is reached, however, and long before core temp has dropped so much as 1 degree F, the Early Warning Signs appear. You can easily recognize them in yourself, and quickly find them in someone else by asking this simple question:
How do you feel?
Just great? Warm & Comfy? No problem.
Cold? Chilled? Freezing your booty off? Hands really cold or numb? Goose bumps the size of chestnuts? Chattering teeth? Shivering? Big problem, because you’re on the road to Hypothermiaville, dude, and you’ve only got 2 choices: one good, one bad:
1)Just keep driving along just the way you have been (bad) or
2)Pull over and do something really significant to cut the heat loss and warm yourself up (good).
If, for whatever reason, pulling over isn’t an option, you have one backup: paddle harder to generate more heat. But what the hell, why not just do it the easy way: dress appropriately and follow the key points about prevention that Eric makes in his post.
Granted, absence of shivering doesn’t guarantee absence of hypothermia, but when a person feels very cold and starts shivering: it’s a glaring, shrieking, early warning sign. It’s really that simple in the beginning. Where it gets messy is later in the game, if the early warning signs have been ignored.
If you’re into pain, you can reduce the cold shock response 50% by voluntarily immersing yourself in cold water for 5 truly hellish 2 minute periods – say, over the course of a week. Protection lasts about a year. But why? Are you nuts? You’re not a Navy Seal, you’re a recreational sea kayaker, so why not just dress appropriately for the conditions; particularly the water temperature. Tsunami Rangers may, like me, be a wee bit demented, but I’ll tell you this: They’ve known what the deal is on cold water for decades.
I know it’s all the rage these days in some circles, but I’m not a fan of the Cold Water Boot Camp and Giesbrecht’s 1-10-1 formula – for a whole lot of reasons – way too many to get into here. “Survival charts” are even worse. Chris Cunningham wrote a great Editorial in the February 09 SK Magazine Newsletter about the CWBC video. One comment about cold water immersion without thermal protection but wearing a PFD that I thought was particularly astute: “the increased survival time a PFD gives you” (by itself, remember) “is like the increased survival time you have jumping out of an airplane, without a parachute, at 10,000 feet as opposed to 5,000 feet.”
http://www.seakayakermag.com/2009/09e-newsletters/february/pdf-lifejacket.htm
Warren is absolutely right about people falling or jumping into cold water and just disappearing. It happens all the time. Before it was better understood, this whole cold shock phenomenon was called “Sudden Disappearance Syndrome”.
But you can’t “manage” cold shock on the front end, and you definitely cannot get your breathing under control in the first few seconds. Two – three minutes is about average. IF, IF, IF, IF, IF you don’t drown first. BTW: By his own account, Giesbrecht himself was totally incapacitated in six minutes – not ten – after swimming 50 feet in freezing water while wearing a snowmobile suit…
If you’re already cold to begin with, you can effectively lose the use of your hands in 60 seconds.
Be warm, be safe, and have a good time on the water.
Moulton Avery
Cate, tried to post on your blog, but I’m something of a Luddite and couldn’t get past the selection drop-down. So I’m going to say it here.
Good safety blog, Cate. The more voices in the choir, the better, and a happy ending is always a good ending in my book.
No PFD + No Thermal Protection + Cold Water Immersion = you are as good as dead, so it was a very good thing that the gentleman was wearing his PFD.
However, the real danger on the Noyo that day was not hypothermia but cold shock. Hypothermia takes a while to develop – even in freezing water – because the body mounts a bold and agressive defense when faced with massive heat loss. Rule of thumb is 20 – 30 minutes before hypothermia (body core temp < 95F) even becomes an issue.
The real challenge is making it through that first 20 minutes without drowning. Without the thermal protection of a wetsuit, drysuit, or something that reduces the amount of skin surface that comes into contact with the cold water, sudden immersion in water as warm as 60F causes the immediate onset of a number of potentially lethal shock responses (cold shock)that frequently result in drowning.
The most significant of these shock responses involve the total loss of breathing control. BTW – the initial gasp -or several gasps – involve huge, intense, involuntary inspirations of air. If your head is underwater or you get slapped in the face by a wave when you gasp, you drown. The hyperventilation that follows, along with a bunch of other nasty shock responses, only increase the potential for water inhalation and drowning. Nasty business, but easy to prevent by wearing proper cold water gear.
When the water is cold, always dress for the possibility of immersion.
Warm Regards,
Moulton Avery
Moulton, what can I say? You win the Tsunami Ranger Blog Post Rant Award hands down. Thank you so much for taking the time to write such thoughtful and important words here. When it comes to cold shock, Moulton is the Maestro!
I got so worked up reading your comments that I think I’ll go take a cold shower. Belay that. I’m going to the hot spring….
I’m honored, Eric. Thank goodness it’s an Award; and a very coveted one no less! I’m actually not a professional ranter or gassbag – with the notable exception of the subject under discussion, and I had to pull out the old choke-chain to restrain myself this time – otherwise, I fear you would still be wading through some pretty dense prose.
Long story short, I should have moved out to the West Coast 25 years ago; a huge error that I hope to correct later this year, before I get any further down the road to Geezerville. But better late than never (BLN), right? Would really love to meet you in person. 20 years earlier would have been a smarter move, but BLN.
I second the hot spring notion. It’s been an unusuall cold winter in the Washington, DC area & a cold shower would probably do me in….
Warm Regards,
Moulton
I just returned from the hot spring where I enjoyed soaking in the hot pool, then jumping in the cold pool and swimming a bit, then taking a steam bath, then jumping in the cold pool and swimming a bit again, then taking a sauna, then jumping in the cold pool and swimming a bit one more time. Now I feel just mahvelous. It sounds like I’m being a hedonist but actually I was doing serious research. My experiment shows that a person can take cold water if he’s nice and toasty beforehand, so much so that the cold water is welcome. What does this say to kayakers? It says “Warm yourself up (with proper attire and exercises) so you WANT to get into the cold water.” Now kayaking can be fun, and capsizing doesn’t seem like such a big deal.
I hope you do move out West, Moulton. I would be honored to meet you, after all these years of association through the ether. I’ll be speaking and teaching a rock garden class at the Golden Gate Sea Kayak Symposium in San Francisco in little more than a week. (Go to http://www.ggsks.com for more information). I’ll write a blog post on it in a few days. There will be some amazing people at the symposium, and I would love to meet you there. If that doesn’t work, something else will.
I spent 13 years growing up in Tokyo and then moved to Mill Valley in 1966 for my senior year in HS. The “Summer of Love”. Crikey, we had a blast. My dad was Army in Japah and died over there in 1955, and my mom worked for the Army Medical Command till we left for the states. Two years later she got cancer from smoking and passed away in 68. My brother and sister were younger and I didn’t know shit from Shinola, so we wound up with relatives in North Carolina. Otherwise, we would never have left. That was a really strange, hard transition, but life is like that sometimes. You just have to keep breaking trail or you freeze. Long way of saying that I know well the mysterious and magical hot spring / cold spring ritual & the siren song of the Bay Area. Get that skin warm enough and you can jump into an ice-choked fiord – as many plucky nordic types often do – and for a while anyway, you be warm as toast, bro.
Can’t tell you how much I wish I could make the symposium this year, but among other things, a divorce is underway and I’m a wee bit pressed for cash at the moment. Tossed my hat in the ring for a cold shock / hypothermia seminar slot at the sympo, but no takers, so that paddling party will have to wait until GGSKS 2012. Long before then, however, I’m going to slip the bonds and head West till I hit the ocean. It ain’t exactly Go West “young man”, but I’m still a pre-geezer and from what I hear, some of you Tsunami mates are older than I am. Gives me hope.
It will be an honor and also one hell of a lot of fun, I suspect, to meet you, Eric, and I’m really looking forward to it. You cut a fine figure of authority arresting that scofflaw Ranger, and I admire your courage – he looks like a real rogue. BTW- tried to send a reply to John Lull on that post, but it wouldn’t take. I can send it to you separately if you walk me though it.
Life is short, and this article saved vabulale time on this Earth.
Moulton,
Most GGSKS classes are on-water, so maybe that’s why they didn’t go for your cold shock lecture. Anyway, I’l talk with the organizers about having you in 2012. Meanwhile, I need your mailing address. Pls contact me at tsunamiranger@gmail.com.
thanks!
Oh hell, I guess I should wade in here and try for the Runner-Up Award for blog post rant.
First; thanks, Eric for posting this very important subject, and it’s great to see all the replies. Some really good ones! Moulton Avery–I want to meet you, too! That bit about the PFD being analogous to the extra 5,000 ft. of airtime without a parachute really made me laugh. It reminded me of Steve Sinclair, who would often say that the primary function of a PFD was to aid in body recovery.
Back in the early 80’s, when Steve first started teaching 2- and 3-day open-coast kayaking seminars, many participants would balk at the idea of wearing a wetsuit for the paddling portions of the course, even though we supplied them free of cost. They would argue that they always wore fleece and nylon and a PFD (or whatever), and cited various experts and theories justifying their choice. Steve would do his best, then smile and nod and take the class to a beach with a small surf break. He would send one of us other guides to swim out just past the surfline, and then have each participant, one by one, swim out to us and back to shore, wearing the paddling garments of his choice. Reality therapy! It was very convincing, always, and participants gladly wore wetsuits after that. It turned out to be too convincing, as some paddlers became so tired from this one exercise that they couldn’t get much out of the rest of the day, and Steve eventually stopped doing it. But from this we learned something amazing—every one of these people told us that they had never tried to actually swim in the ocean in the clothing they normally wore while paddling!
We tried and tried but it was very difficult to convince people to wear wetsuits at that time, and most of the then brand-new ocean kayaking industry actively opposed the idea. Steve actually had one well-known outfitter pull him aside and say, “what are you doing? You’re going to raise the entry level of the sport!”. For the record, when I say “wearing a wetsuit”, I mean a good quality, well-fitted wetsuit appropriate to the conditions one is paddling in. And that means IMMERSION. A 3mm farmer john with some polypro and an anorak when paddling the Mendocino Coast is not “wearing a wetsuit”.
I don’t know the science behind all of this, and I would like to hear more from someone like Mr. Avery who does, but I have had quite a bit of real-life experience, and I have seen that cold shock, loss of (physical) function, and the classic mumbling, grumbling, sleepy hypothermia can exist independently of one another, although they may occur together or coalesce into one eventually.
I want to say a couple of things about the practical realities of “cold shock”. If you flip your boat in 50 degree (F) water, it’s shocking, even with a wetsuit; without one, it can be debilitating. The roll Joe Paddler had done so proficiently last week in the pool will be much different with the very physical “AARGHH!” he experiences. Without a wetsuit; more cold shock, less body control. Immediately. If he can’t roll, he must come out of, or off of, his boat. If he’s in a traditional climb-inside kayak and is wearing fleece and nylon, this shock is now full-body, and he’s trying to fiddle with the little plastic paddle-thingy that’s supposed to aid his re-entry. He’s gasping for breath and his fingers aren’t working very well. Meanwhile the heat is leaving his body very, very fast. And even if he manages to re-enter his boat, he is now seriously cold, his body is not functioning optimally, and his judgement, may be impaired. And guess what? Joe is still out on the water in the same conditions that caused him to flip in the first place. Let’s hope Joe is close to the beach.
This is not (just) my ranting; in the mid-90’s I was doing research for a lecture I gave at the symposium at Port Townsend. I called up the Coast Guard station on the north side of the Golden Gate Bridge and talked for awhile with one of the officers there. I asked him if they rescued many kayakers. He said “yes; many.” I asked him if there was a usual scenario. He said that in by far the majority of rescues, one or more paddlers flipped their boats. They were unable to re-enter, EVEN WITH THEIR FREINDS’ ASSISTANCE, and floated around until a passing boater reported them. Were they hypothermic? I asked. “Virtually always,” he replied. Were they wearing wetsuits? “Almost never,” he said. Then I asked, what do you think would have happened to them if there weren’t all those boaters to report them and the Coast Guard right there to pick them up? He said, “they would have died.”
Loss of function is interesting. A person can lose muscular function completely, and yet still be mentally functional. (Avery, I’d love to hear the science behind this). When I was a teenager surfing in the winter in Southern California, we called it “The Claw”. We’d stay out in the water, freezing our butts off, because the surf was really good. At some point, our hands would fold up into claw-like things and refuse to obey any commands from the brain. At that point, we’d reluctantly make our way to the beach, because you can’t surf without hands. Fortunately, this was happening at a relatively benign beach break where, with a wetsuit on, you could just flop and bob your way in (I guess this also might say something about the effects of youth and hormones on brain function…).
My father almost drowned while competing in a one-mile ocean swim in the spring. It was his second swim of the day, and towards the end his body just stopped obeying commands. He told me later that he was completely lucid, was watching his friends cheering him just 50 yards away on the beach, and realized he was going to drown. He couldn’t even wave an arm. Someone wading just a little inshore of him realized something was amiss, and went and got him before he went under.
The interesting thing about these loss of function experiences is that we felt cold, but not debilitated; we were still OK, and, subjectively anyway, we were still together mentally. And then, very suddenly, our bodies were not working at all. This would be a bad thing out at sea in a kayak.
I’ve seen people get hypothermic in the usually understood sense of a slow decline of mental and physical function several times. I became hypothermic once myself hiking in the snow in the mountains and had to exert all my will to fight the urge to lie down in the soft, warm, fluffy snow and go to sleep for “just a little while”. It can be very difficult to convince somebody that they need help.
Some things I’ve learned to do to keep warm on the water: bring a windbreaker and something warm on the head. Most wetsuits now are predominantly fabric on two sides, which is far from OK for paddling. The fabric holds water, greatly increasing evaporative cooling. The best thing to do if you can afford it is to have a suit custom-made and specify skin on the outside (didn’t you do this, Eric?). A neoprene beanie can be worn under a helmet. Food and fluids are important. Think high-calorie. Honey and butter mixed together is good, and hot liquids are great if you can get them. When I worked as an sea urchin diver we usually took a thermos of hot miso soup with us on the boat (hard to believe how good that is if you’re really cold).
Alright, that’s probably more than my allotment of webspace. Have fun out there; be safe (within reason); stay warm!
Andy
Andy- about those questions you raised –
You ever see that film “What’s Up Tiger Lilly” by Woody Allen? The villain is a character named “The Claw”, but he’s an inscrutable oriental Claw, so he can’t pronounce the L and there’s this whole riff when he’s introducing himself to another character – Claw: “I am the Claw”. Other guy: “The Craw?” Claw: No, No, “The Claw”. Other guy: “The Craw?” on and on as The Craw gets really bent out of shape.
When you got Surfer’s Craw, it was because your muscles had been gradually getting colder and colder. Cooling the forearms interferes with hand function, grip strength and so on, but The Craw results from gradual paralysis of the small muscles of your hands as they get too cold for nerve conduction to work properly. It’s a pretty classic symptom if you know what you’re looking for – when the paws get cold- the fingers stiffen up and become “splayed” and you can’t really make them work at all. Because you can no longer cup your hands, swimming is also compromised.
Your dad’s problem is one hell of a lot more serious, but he experienced basically the same thing you did with your Surfer’s Craw, except that in his case, it was whole-body Swimmer’s Craw. So, in a word, you both got The Craws. When the muscles get cold enough, they just stop working. In both cases, body temperature remained normal, so your thinking wasn’t impaired. Uh, well, I guess since this is Eric’s Whonanny Grangers blog, I should probably qualify that last remark and say “wasn’t impaired any more than it is when you’re warm”…
Seriously, though, the decline in mental functioning has got to be no picnic. Some folks have offered the opinion that hypothermia might not be such a bad way to go. You know, you get sleepy and then … it’s over. Maybe on land, but in water, it’s got to be an absolute horror show. Picture it: Your body size is “average”, you’re wearing shorts and a T-shirt, you made it through the first several minutes of intense cold shock symptoms without drowning, but it really rattled your cage, and. now your muscles are painfully getting colder and colder by the minute.
If you’re wearing a “horse collar” style PFD or some other design that keeps you floating face up, and the cold water is pretty calm with no waves washing over you, you’ll get to gradually experience Floater’s Craw until your muscles don’t work anymore, at which point you’ll get to find out, first-hand, what it’s like to hang there in the water, helpless, with plenty of time to think about your situation, how you screwed up, all those if-only-I-had, why-didn’t-I regrets, thinking about the people you love, etc etc until eventually you get so confused that it doesn’t really matter anymore. Sounds to me like a really nasty way to go. Ugh.
Moulton—
Hey, thanks for the info! That makes sense; the muscles get so cold they no longer function, but the core is warm from all the exercise, so you can still think. The fingers definitely get “splayed”. It’s an odd experience to look at your hand, willing it to become the proper shape for paddling or swimming, and watch the fingers spread apart and curl up as if they belonged to someone else.
Your slow refrigerated death in the water does indeed sound miserable. I think what makes it so would be the pain of cold shock, and, because the brain would still be functioning clearly, the certain knowledge of impending doom.
I have to say though that in the snow situation above, it would have been very easy, very painless. In that situation the cold came on gradually, over the course of several hours. I WAS experiencing diminished brain function, and, as I said, I was so, so sleepy….and the snow so obviously warm and cozy….so easy to just go to sleep….In truth, the only reason that I survived was that I had only one week before (!) attended a lecture after school on safety in winter sports hosted by some local mountaineers (this was in Colorado). Hypothermia had been the main topic, and they described the symptoms in great detail, including stories from their own experiences. Through the haze of declining brain function, I remembered what they’d said, and realized what was happening: I knew that sleep=death, and that gave me the will to keep moving. But had I not known that, I would certainly have gone blissfully to sleep in the snow.
Thanks again,
—Andy
Dang! No sooner do I win the coveted Tsunami Ranger Rant Award than Andy comes along with his Whack-A-Mole post and blows me clean out pf the water. I want him arrested, Eric, with the same speed and determination you used to collar that scofflaw Powers.
Seriously, Andy, I think there’s got to be some serious Grog-sharing time between us in 2011; you’re a man after my own heart, and your post got me all lathered up & rarin’ to respond. If I wasn’t typing this on an Eye-Fone, you’d get an earfull from me this very minute. But don’t think for a second that I’m just gonna roll over and hand you the trophy. My Magnum Opus will arrive before another sun passes overhead…
Okay, Andy Taylor wins the Runner-up Rant Award. I wonder who will win Miss Congeniality? Anyway, I want to comment on a couple of things Andy wrote.
1. Yes, for years I’ve worn a custom wetsuit I designed many years ago to perfectly fit my body for paddling northern CA and southern OR. My wetsuit maker is a surfer in Santa Cruz going under the name Heat Wave. Version #3 of the wetsuit is in the picture above where I’m stepping up to Pillar Point reef. Other wetsuit makers can also do it for you. If you go to Heat Wave, say you want the Tsunami Ranger style. Note that there are good “off the rack” complete surfer wetsuits available now which are a bit cheaper and more available than a custom suit. And they are warm!
The suit is 5mm except for the arms, which are 3mm (for mobility). The core of the wetsuit has black “fuzzy” neoprene on the outside to reduce evaporation. I told the guy to put a bit of color (red, in my case) on the forearms and shins so Jim Kakuk & other scalawag Rangers wouldn’t steal mine. It has a half-zipper in the back (goes from C3 down to T8 on your spine) so if the zipper jams you won’t be totally screwed, and the spine has a 1mm neoprene reinforcement over the zipper to keep your spine warmer. The armpits are gusseted to reduce bungie effect. I have a 3mm hooded neoprene vest I wear under the suit when it’s really cold (windy or paddling in WA). I also have a neoprene ear-hat w/visor and a 1/2 mm “mystery” fabric scull cap I usually wear under my helmet (unless it’s really balmy outside and I want my head to get wet). I’d have to be pretty desperate to wear a wind breaker or anything over the suit, but would if I needed to stay warm.
2. I’ve never been hypothermo in the snow, but many moons ago a girl friend and I were cross country skiing in northern Ohio in -10F with a -50 windchill and she got overheated at the start, then within 10 minutes was lying in the snow, saying “I just want to sleep a little while.” (Key words!) I guided/carried her back to the house, made up a warm bath for her, and in an hour or so she recovered. Whew. If we had been in the mountains, it could have been rough.
The point is that it’s possible to overdress and overheat, then the body’s thermostat goes haywire, then a person quickly goes hypothermic (or some term like it) and wants to “sleep a little while.” That’s why wetsuits are so good. Say you get hot right off; all you gotta do is jump off your boat, or roll a couple of times, and you’re good to go. Right Andy? And, if you have been drinking enough fluids, and you’re starting to chill a bit, take a nice refreshing piss in your wetsuit, and you’ll feel warm and wonderful! I do it all the time.
Thanks to Moulton, Andy, and everyone who makes thoughtful contributions. I appreciate it, and who knows, your words might just save someone’s life.
Overheating reduces the effectiveness of insulation by introducing a lot of moisture into the system. The new high-tech clothing is a lot more forgiving than what we had back in the day, but the concept of using clothing as a thermostat to regulate comfort and avoid overheating still applies. Take it off before you roast, put it on before you chill.
Eric, thanks for the specs on your wetsuit! It also helps to explain the picture, which I initially took to be a portly, inebriated seal…
I apologize; my bad!
Wow, what type fest on this topic! Andy’s years of experience and knowledge of the waters of the Mendocino coast are spot on. I got a new wetsuit jest for the cold last year and what a difference it made in my comfort while in the water, especially when diving. It is hard to remember the effects of the cold Northern California water while down here in Oz, the air is warm and the South Pacific sea is warm, but even at that I will wear a thin wet suit if it is even a little nippy as this gives me a felling of safty from the elements (rocks and jellies) and some flotation for a longer stay in the surf. Kuk.
Jim, I’m glad you are enjoying the warm Aussie water. I heard that 2 white sharks just ate an ab diver in south Australia probably near you and another cyclone may be threatening northern Oz. Gulp.
BTW, the San Francisco Bay Area is getting whomped with storms right now, flooding and road closures abounding. It’s snowing at my house in Oregon. Oh boy, I sure hope it clears up before my rock garden class on Sunday.