HOW TO SURVIVE A CRASH IN WAVES AND ROCKS WHILE KAYAKING IN AN OCEAN ROCK GARDEN
Why do most sea kayakers stay away from waves and rocks? They don’t want to die! Any paddler with a lick of sense dreads the scenario of getting smashed head first into a rock by a breaker. Today, let’s look at how to avoid this situation, and at what to do if you get caught between a rock and a hard wave.
Follow these ten progressive tips to stay alive:
- Don’t paddle anywhere near a surfzone that has rocks, reefs, or cliffs. For most kayakers, especially beginners, this is all you need to know. But if you are feeling adventurous…
- Scout out waves and rocks before you enter a rock garden. Don’t wander pell-mell onto a reef or anywhere with rocks. Take several minutes to observe and picture yourself in the froth and boulders. Look safe enough? Then…
- Stay away from rocks, crevices, and other features which have no exit. If there is no back way out, or the rock face is too wide to skirt around, this is bad news. However, if this is where you are…
- Turn your boat so you face the waves, and can see danger approach. You can then back in to the rock feature of interest. And if a big wave comes…
- Paddle forward hard and break the wave barrier. You will go airborne and clear the top of the wave. Then paddle hard to make sure you bust through the next wave and the next until outside the sets. If a really big wave breaks outside and the aftermath is roaring toward you…
- Paddle hard straight into the foam, dig in and create a cushion of water between you and the wave, do a hard rudder and broach hull first into the rock or cliff. When the turbulence slows, spin around and head back outside until safe. Now, if a humongous wave rears up in front of you and will break right on the rock behind you (the worst-case scenario)…
- Paddle forward hard (as in #5) up the wave, and if you start to pitch head first toward the rock, pirouette a half turn and let your hull hit the rock. This is the Sinclair Corkscrew Maneuver. To do it, as the breaking wave strikes you, jerk your hips to the right or left until your hull faces the rock and your head is in or near the wave. Then hit the rock with your hull to protect your head and body. You may then be upside down underwater, so…
- Instantly roll or paddle vault back up and repeat #5, 6, or 7 until you clear the danger zone. Paddle vaulting occurs when you cram your paddle blade against a shallow reef or rock face and lever yourself up to the normal paddling position. If your vault or roll fails…
- Ditch your boat and paddle, dive under the next wave and swim to safety outside the surf. You may have to dive under several waves to clear the danger zone. Have your paddling partners assist you in retrieving your boat or just get to safety. If you are swimming and a big wave picks you up…
- Climb inside the wave and ride it up the rock, land front first with your whole body on the rock face, and cling to the rock as the wave recedes. Clamber up the rock to safety and figure out a rescue plan. Or jump back in the water when it calms, and do #9 until you are safe.
I’ve performed all these steps at one time or another and can vouch for their efficacy. On more than one occasion I would have been dead if I had not followed this progression. The key is to protect your head. That’s why every action is designed to let the hull of your boat take a beating instead of your body.
Assuming you are a good boater (e.g., have a bomb-proof roll and can surf) and a competent rough water swimmer (refer to my blog post on swimming for more information https://tsunamirangers.com/2010/12/14/swimmer-first-kayaker-second/), then purposefully venturing into rock gardens with surf is something you might enjoy. If you choose to do this, get with your trusted teammates and practice the ten steps above in small waves in a place you can easily escape. Practice will make the sudden emergency of being caught between a rock and a hard wave something you will survive—and you may find it fun to challenge yourself in the narrow zone between land and sea.
Getting caught between a breaking wave and a rock is a complex situation to deal with. The tips I suggested each deserve several paragraphs. I will elaborate in future posts. But please, feel free to ask questions now or to lend your experience and expertise. You can add your thoughts by pressing the “comments” button below.
Really great stuff, Eric. This edifying post provides the armchair rock garden sea kayaker (such as myself) with a very succinct answer to the perennial question: “Why aren’t there hundreds and hundreds of Tsunami Rangers? The “ionization bath” does indeed look quite exhilarating, particularly from the safety of the fantasyland couch where I sit writing this, but were I there on the water, in the real world, it would frighten me so much that I fear I would heavily soil my knickers. You mates rock!
Great post Eric! The lads of Team Fat Paddler recently did a 4 hour session of rock garden training with Captain Kuk where we were able to benefit from his amazing knowledge and experience. Not that we remembered everything… as proven when one our boys came out between a wave and a cliff and quite thoughtfully protected his boat perfectly with his soft body – haha! Naturally we made sure he was ok after being battered repeatedly against the cliff before we all pointed fingers at him and laughed uproariously. And despite his “cliff rash”, even he had to admit it was the most fun he’d had for a very long time.
And our final thoughts on it all? Be safe but not so safe that you don’t get amongst it. We had an absolute blast cutting grooves into our boats on the rocks and cant wait to get amongst it again. A massive thanks to Capt. Kuk and to all of the Tsunami Rangers for inspiring us to get amongst the froth. Cheers! FP
Moulton, you sell yourself short, mate! Almost anyone could start out with smaller waves and learn how to do this. Especially if they had a competent instructor to guide them. We started small (one-foot waves in safe rock gardens with easy exits), and worked our way up. You can too!
And Fat Paddler, you guys exemplify what can be done when you get out there and do the deed. It’s a lot of fun. Thanks for letting Jim Kakuk show his stuff. I bet he had been itching to really go for it in a beautiful seascape during his visit to Australia.
I’d sure like to hear from anyone else out there who has been in the situation of dealing with rocks and breaking waves. I’d like to read your story–good or bad, whether you did it on purpose or were caught from behind, whether you aced it or crashed and burned. Please share.
We’ll soon have an answer to that, Eric, because from the look of things, there’s some world-class rock garden instruction available out on the West Coast. Soiled knickers or not, I’m looking forward to it. No stain, no gain, as you Tsunami Rangers say….
When I first started river kayaking in the early 1970’s there was just a small band of paddlers doing the more advanced rivers (above class 3) that required skill sets like dodging rocks and “Eskimo” rolling. Now running class 5, first descents and water falls is what everyone sees as river whitewater kayaking. Dangerous, yes but with the right training and equipment is fun, but you have to be willing to take the risks. Like all action sports there are different levels of participation, and the possibilities of injury. Sea kayaking in rock gardens is just another form of enjoying the ocean environment. By starting easy and increasing you skills you can extend your reach into ocean whitewater. Having the right equipment, training and paddling partners is what makes it safe and increases the fun factor, especially later when sharing your experiences. With teamwork it is possible to reach farther, return safer and have the pictures to share.
Great stuff Eric !
Masterclass for fans of ocean whitewater – and for all sea-kayakers who will sooner or later meet up with a wave & a rock…
When you go intot he subjects in more depth, perhaps you might add a word or two on the challenges of weed/kelp and the usefullness of tuning into the wave-train patterns – or at least being awake to them.
Thanks for the suggestions, Paul. I’ll do my best to address the “weed/kelp” and “tuning into waves” issues in future posts.
And just as an aside to the main thread, how good is that painting at the top of the post?? Who did that? I love it!
I commissioned a painter from Peru 20 years ago to do this painting of kayakers biting the big one at Mavericks Surf Wave in Half Moon Bay, where I used to live. His name is Paolo ____, dang, I can’t remember. Jim Kakuk knows. Jim what is the name of that South American dude who did the painting above?
There are a couple of interesting things about the painting. First off, this is only half the painting. I posted the other half in a past blog post–see if you can find it. Second, he painted this on mylar–not canvas. Amazing. I have the painting hung in my study and gaze at it when I type my blog.
His name is J.P. Puchanello, or JP.
Found it! 🙂 *HINT* Always have FUN
Great post Eric! We will be sure to share it. One mantra that we teach our students is to “Moon the Rocks” or turn your butt/boat to the rocks when you are being pushed at them. This is pretty intuitive but a different concept for whitewater river kayakers because on the river you hug rocks to avoid pinning.
Ahhh . . .big suckholes have been my nemesis lately. Here’s a link to one of my tales – http://womanonwater.blogspot.com/2011/01/salt-water-is-good-for.html.
I recommend that everyone wanting to experience whitewater in ocean rock gardens click on Cate’s story. It is very good.
Great writing, especially loved the Moon Rocks. Another West Coastie I can’t wait to meet. But the suckholes! Big Suckholes! Aieeeee! Me bum, me bum!
Probably won’t be able to flush a toilet for weeks without shivering me timbers…
I agree that having a buddy is crucial. My buddy/husband was training me for the Sea Gypsy race and one day after messing around at Ross’s Cove I decided to try the slot between the cliff and the reef on the way back to the harbor. It was a pretty benign day and there was a great opening so I started paddling through fast. Eric had told me to go straight at the cliff and pull away at the last minute. I was doing pretty well when a wave picked me up and I started surfing. The cliff was on my left. Since surfing straight at a cliff is somewhat counter-intuitive, I allowed my boat to drift to the right away from the cliff and onto the reef. I might have been okay but just then another wave came in at more or less a right angle to my original trajectory. This wave smacked me sideways and I flipped over. I wasn’t worried since this had happened before and I had just allowed the wave to roll me over until I came up in the safe zone past the reef. I didn’t realize I had changed directions and was now being pushed into the cliff. Unfortunately, this wave packed quite the punch and I ended up smashing into the rocks hard. Luckily I was leaning all the way back on the deck so my right ribs took the brunt of the impact and not my head or face. The wetsuit protected me pretty well. Although in shock, I managed to self rescue by climbing up onto the rocks, but Eric had to retrieve my paddle and boat and yell at me to come down off the rock where I was curled up in a fetal position and get back to the beach. No permanent damage, and lesson learned. I don’t blame Eric – had I done exactly as he said I would have been fine, and thank goodness he was there to pick up the pieces. I went back a week or so later in the X-3 with Denise, my paddle partner and this time I surfed right at the cliff. At the last minute I stomped on the rudder and went right. It worked.
Great story Nancy! I was almost in the fetal position just reading it! 😉
Good advice Eric. I would add a helmet. Also kevlar or plastic hulls advised. I’ve paddled over 5,000 miles and crashed only twice. I don’t know about rolling in a tight spot – the rocks interfere. Landing in surf on a rocky shore has always been touch and go, despite skill level. I try to stay on the crest of the wave. I agree with Cate – butting is better than hugging as in whitewater. Paddling hard is crucial in sloppy, clapoti stuff. The surf is very confused here in Guatemala.
Thanks.
It’s great to hear from you, Sid. Yah, yah, wear a helmet!! And don’t paddle any boat you don’t want to get scratched, cracked, or hulled in. Thanks for the additional comments.
I’d heard you have been living in Guatemala. We visited there two years ago and loved the place and the people. I had no idea it was so volcanic. We climbed an active volcano and could see magma flowing under our feet (gulp). The volcano erupted a few months ago. Then we went to Honduras and the next day they had a coup. Then we took a boat ride down the Rio Dulce and saw caymans and crocodiles (won’t be swimming there). Then we took another boat ride to Aguateca, landed, and there was a six-foot fer-de-lance coiled up right where we had to land (we took a picture and then went for a hike). Then we visited Lake Atitlan while there was a hurricane in Mexico (we got wet). We fell in love with Lake Atitlan. I could live there. Of course, Tikal was amazing. All of this happened to us in ten days. I can only imagine how interesting it must be to live there full time. Next time we go, we will check out that surf you describe.
Erick,
I live in Santiago Atitlán (on the shore of Lake Atitlán). For a long-distance kayaker the lake seems small. I married a Tz’utujil mayan woman and have gone (somewhat) native. The cayucos, carved from wild avacodo trees, is quite a challenge to paddle. The maya like to race with me but soon give-up. Ironically most of them can’t swim. There are gyres here; syphons created by fumeroles at the bottom of the lake, that suck down a fisherman now an then. The lightning here is close and fierce. Occasionally someone gets toasted on the lake.
I’ve been all over Central America. I enjoy paddling in Mexico as well. Almost ate it north of Puerto Escondido on a reef but managed to scurry out and drop over a 20 foot wave. Lot’s of crocodiles there too but they come out at night mostly. The surf is lousy in Guatemala – very changeable and sloppy. But El Salvador, Nicaragua and especially Panamá are especially appealing to me. The fer-de-lance is certainly a venomous creature. I love Guatemala, despite its many dangers.
You take care Eric!
You’re a good writer, Nancy! I really enjoyed your piece in “Confessions of a Wave Warrier”; felt like I was right there watching the entire event unfold – but, of course, like FatPaddler, viewing everything from a fetal position, yearning for sausages.
There’s nothing wrong with that Moulton. 😉
You got that right, FP! Sausages B Gooooood.
Distance you can paddle on a stomach full of low-fat yoghurt: 250 – 300 yards max. Distance you can paddle on a stomach full o’ yummy sausages: Unlimited!
Great advice, Eric! I would just like to expand on tip #2, “scout before you enter”:
First, scouting an area you may be entering for the first time requires more thoughtfulness than one you play in regularly. I know this sounds obvious, but it’s surprising how easy it is to charge right in to something that looks fun, especially when you’re with a bunch of friends and having a good time. Careful scouting may seem like a wet blanket on the general merriment, or be perceived as kind of wimpy. I can say from experience, though, that many unintended adventures have occurred from disregarding this basic protocol.
Second, quite a bit of thought should go into your decision to enter a particular rock garden, familiar or not. If it’s very familiar, that decision might appear to be hasty or even non-existent to someone watching, but it’s thorough nonetheless. You’ve been through this tunnel (for example) a hundred times before; you already know what’s in there, but you’re thinking, “okay, this tunnel is easy on even a very large N to NW swell, sketchy on a W, unrunnable on all but the smallest S. It’s unrunnable on a low tide, and you have to watch the ceiling on a high tide with much swell. Right now it’s mid-tide, swell 8-10 out of the NW, with no concomitant S or W. It’s a go.” And, of course, these swell observations are YOUR observations, not simply those of the often flawed National Weather Service.
In scouting a new play area, you must try to determine these things, and many others, by watching from outside, which is tricky, and takes time. Other important observations of a new spot would include; patterns of water flow over, around and through the rock formations as the sets move through, existence of shallow boat-breaking rocks & pinnacles and other hard-to-see hazards, probable best trajectories of approach and exit, alternate escape routes (if any), and risk relative to your skill and enjoyment level (i.e., would you be OK swimming through there?)
In situations where it’s important to know just how large a wave you might have to deal with and what that wave does to your play area, and especially in unfamiliar territory, it pays big dividends to observe what the predominant lull period is between sets, in addition to direction, size and wavelength. A good paddler is checking all this out before he/she even leaves the beach. Lulls can be long, especially on a building swell, and “lull” does NOT mean no waves. The waves you are observing in the moment may be large wind-waves, or the set waves from the remnants of a dying swell, while you’re thinking it’s the dominant one, or it may be, say, a small NW swell when there’s also a larger, or, more subtly, a longer period W swell just coming on with an 8 minute lull between sets. What you see after a couple of minutes watching looks great, and you go happily in only to discover in mid-play the horror of your mistake, with something big and scary bearing down on you, and no time to get out before it hits. (Makes a great story, though, afterwards; “dude, I broke my boat, lost my paddle, and dislocated my shoulder! It was EPIC!”)
I would also like to reinforce Sid Taylor’s advice to wear a helmet. Very important! A helmet (in the ocean) and a hardhat (on the job) have without any doubt saved my life twice, as well as protected me from numerous lesser bonks which would have likely resulted in stitches and/or concussions without one. Remember, too, that being knocked briefly unconscious on land may not be that big a deal; in a kayak in the ocean, swirling around upside-down in a rock garden, it’s likely the end of your story. When there is a reasonable possibility of being bashed on the head, protect the fragile contents within!
Andy
Andy, thank you so much for such a thoughtful, accurate, and important comment on scouting. Everything you wrote above should be studied by every person desiring to go into a rock garden.
I like all readers’ comments, and feel fortunate that every now and then someone posts a comment that really expands the envelope of the topic. Again, thank you for sharing your wealth of knowledge and experience on scouting rock gardens.
Eric-
I was just sitting around and (forgive me Fat Paddler) dreaming of chowin’ down on some Little Debbie “pasteries” when – totally unbidden – two alternate titles for your post flashed before my eyes:
1) Between a Rock and a Wet Place
2) Between a Rock and a Wet Spot
You have my permission to use these in any way you see fit……..
Wow Andy what a thoughtful and intelligent comment! I’m impressed, especially coming from the guy who took me into a cauldron in a Tsunami double, dumped me out, and then flew through the air and landed on my head! I still remember my helmet compressing under the impact and then scrabbling for sand on the bottom and waiting for as long as I could to let things clear out before I came up again. Good thing I can hold my breath for 5 + minutes hahaha. Guess we should have scouted that one a little more carefully, huh? I hope you know I’m kidding – it was actually really fun.
Yeah, well…as I said in the first paragraph above, “I can say from experience, though, that many unintended adventures have occurred from disregarding this basic protocol.” Case in point. Good thing you were wearing a helmet!
Having been an adrenalized knucklehead for a large part of my life, I’ve learned many important lessons through painful experience. Usually the pain is my own; my sincere apologies that it was not so in that case.
I’ve also been fortunate enough to have had mentors who taught me lessons from their own hard-knocks schooling which both greatly accelerated my learning process and saved me from more knocks than I got. I hope to be able to carry on that tradition.
Andy
Andy, the funniest part of that little crash with my wife Nancy was seeing you look over at me guiltily, like “Ooops.” Hey, stuff happens. I trusted you 100% then on the water, and I trust you 100% now. There is no one better in the world.
I remember when I came to Elk to pick up my new Odyssea surf ski in 1984, and Steve Sinclair said you’d be the guide who showed me how to use it. I thought, “Hmmph, who is this guy who is going to take the great [ha ha] Eric Soares on a tour of the local coast?” But after I tipped over as soon as I sat on the ski, and you didn’t burst out laughing, I felt a little better about you. Then we had a great time going through the surf and the sea caves. I went away thinking “Andy Taylor is a true waterman.”
I look forward to more adventures together.
By starting easy and increasing you skills you can extend your reach into ocean whitewater. Sausages B Gooooood. I thought, “Hmmph, who is this guy who is going to take the great [ha ha] Eric Soares on a tour of the local coast?” But after I tipped over as soon as I sat on the ski, and you didn’t burst out laughing, I felt a little better about you. Dangerous, yes but with the right training and equipment is fun, but you have to be willing to take the risks.