Sea kayaking equipment

A Study in Brown – Waste in the Wilderness

Editor’s Note: With apologies to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (A Study in Scarlet) and gratitude to my son Nick Wantz who came up with our title we bring you a discussion of poop in the wilderness. As more and more people adventure farther afield the subject of how to handle the growing quantity of human waste that ends up in wild places is a hot topic. This is the Tsunami Rangers’ take on waste in the wilderness.

Lt. JG Nancy: Coincidentally, just before I started putting this post together, I read Tim Cahill’s book Pecked to Death by Ducks. Apart from being another of Cahill’s brilliant, witty, and hilarious travel books, this particular one contains a chapter aptly titled “The Throne of Terror”. Here’s Cahill: “Around home, bad bowels are an embarrassment best kept hidden… But oh, develop the most minor irregularities on a trip, and everyone gets to hear about your symptoms. In nauseous detail. The more remote the campsite – the greater the perceived distance from home – the more clinical these descriptions become. This is Cahill’s first law of bowel babble.” (p. 22.)

It’s true. Last year the Baja expedition was the furthest afield I’ve traveled with the Rangers and boy, did we talk about poop. We talked about poop before the retreat and after the retreat. During the retreat we literally drove a couple of our team mates away from the Batwing because some of us couldn’t leave the topic alone. And so, under the Batwing, a blog post was born.

It’s always fun to start with a story, so here’s Captain Deb “Tortuga” Volturno with her contribution:

Capt. Deb: Human waste in the wilderness is always a consideration, and it’s always worth having an action plan for the speciﬁc environment we’re in. There are diﬀerent methods of handling human waste in diﬀerent environments. Kayaking in Baja demands a human waste action plan that is suitable for the uniquely fragile desert environment. Poop that’s simply buried on land doesn’t decompose since the ground biome doesn’t host what it takes for decomposition. Burying poop in the intertidal zone is an acceptable solution in little use areas, but often that zone is not easily accessible except at the pristine beach where we’re camped – yuck! So hiking or paddling around the corner in the rocks is required to be able to bury human waste in the intertidal zone. That can be challenging in some places. Arguably the best way to deal with poop in parts of Baja is to have a system to carry it out – and there are many reliable, sanitary systems available.

Capt. Deb indicates an ideal fling vista

My all time favorite way of dealing with my own poop is the ‘Fling with a View’ method. Remote coastlines in Baja oﬀer excellent opportunities for this method. (Only recommended in remote areas!) Especially along the isolated coastlines in the Sea of Cortez, we tend to camp in sublime, protected coves with hills, bluﬀs, or headlands that wrap around the cove. That oﬀers favorable topography for the above mentioned poop process method.

In Baja, my preferred morning walk is up from camp to a high point overlooking the sea, and obviously away from the camping cove. Coﬀee in hand! The view will be predictably stunning, and especially so with the ﬁrst light of the day on the Sea of Cortez! With my vista above the sea selected, success follows in the details! I need to ﬁnd the perfect rock, which is rarely diﬃcult with the Baja geology. A ﬂat rock is essential, and it must have an ample surface area to hold the the amount of waste that will be deposited upon it. This will be diﬀerent depending on the individual, so the perfect ﬂat rock is an individual decision. The chosen rock must be able to be lifted in order to ﬁnish the project.

So to begin, take good aim, deposit your poop onto the rock, and when all is ready, my favorite part follows – ﬂing it con mucho gusto out from the bluﬀ into the sea! Keeerrshplasssshshh – and voila, the poop is broken down into very small parts! Quite satisfying! And the cycle of processing the organic waste continues – in the environment that has the wherewithal to decompose it. As mentioned above, this method is only suggested in remote areas. Other details? Before you ﬂing, be sure that nothing can be hurt or damaged in the water below you. Make your toss from a safe spot not too close to the edge. And toilet paper? Do not leave TP anywhere, or think it will go away if you stick it under a rock – super disgusting! It will not just go away on it’s own! Either carry TP out in a sealed zip-lock bag, or at some point, have a safe and legal burn below the tideline. And ﬁnally, never forget to wash/clean your hands – everytime!

Lt. JG Nancy: Awesome advice. As always, Capt. Deb is so on point. Now here’s Vice Admiral Jim Kakuk with his tale about waste in the wilderness:

Admiral Kuk: We arrived in Loreto a few months ago to kayak around Carmen Island for the Tsunami Ranger Retreat. One of the first logistical discussions we had was on the topic of pooping. Carmen, now a National Park, has restrictions on how to poo. Of the several options mentioned the method I decided on was to “paddle and poo”.

I remember a time many years ago in Pohnpei, Micronesia, when swimming through the giant coral heads with schools of colorful fish schooling around I dropped my drawers and delivered a plume of yellow and brown mixed with bits and pieces. I recall several fish swimming in to take a look and one in particular that took a bite and then ejected it with a sideways glance, took another taste and then spit it out before swimming reject-fully away. Most of the other fish were curious but kept their distance from the brown plume.

The mysterious ruins of Nan Madol in Pohnpei

On Carmen one morning, with coffee cup stowed in my crotch, I dutifully headed out to a place down the coast a short ways to a private spot to toss my chunky monkey (several days of consuming all sorts of mixed camp food makes for some interesting excrement).

About half way to my destination I realized I needed to “flatten the curve” and started looking for another rest stop right away. Along the blank rocky cliff, I spotted a small ledge just above the low tide line that looked like a miniature Rivendell. I seal landed and quickly dropped my togs while a covey of crustaceans scampered into the crevices. The buildup was intense and after the ass blast I turned around to see the scattered brown chunks on the landing, then noticed the crabs hiding in the rocks with wide eyes looking at the seismic event that had just landed in their front yard. But then they are crabs that live on dead things so maybe, I was thinking, “not a problem”.

Admiral Kuk and the crab — Admiral Kuk and the Baja Krab

After jumping into the salt water bath and washing up real good (no toilet paper needed) I hopped back into my kayak. Paddling away, I could see the crab colony emerging and shouted out, “Uber eats, Baja Fresh”. Thinking that maybe they had a good breakfast, I returned to camp to make mine.

Lt. JG Nancy: Prior to departure on the Baja trip, Capt. Deb informed us that our destination, Isla Carmen, is a National Park and therefore off-limits to pooping. My enthusiasm waned. No pooping on the island? Wtf??? But Capt. Deb was taking it all in stride and told us she and Paula were bringing Wag Bags, and that keeping the Park pristine for others was the Right Thing To Do. Still, I found the constraint depressing.

Pooping below the tide line at this camp on the Lost Coast was not a problem

But then I remembered a backpacking trip I took with my son up the Lost Coast of Northern California in 2014. All went well until the last campground, just before we hit the Mattole River. It was nearly impossible to find a place to poop even though the campground was quite large. The place was a zoo. Normally I would have pooped some place below the tide line, but when I walked over to the beach there were what seemed like fifty people hanging out, watching the waves. Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. I went back to camp and scouted around. In the first likely spot I began to dig I promptly encountered fresh poo. Ugh. Same at the second spot. I don’t remember where I ended up, but by the time the ordeal was over I was totally grossed out. I came away from the trip A. never wanting to go there again and B. recognizing that the Lost Coast has been officially found. It sucks because I remember backpacking that coastline in the 70’s and not meeting a single soul.

Thinking about that experience I understood the need to protect wild places. Times change. Till now it’s never occurred to me that I can’t just dig a hole, drop my pants, and poo when I’m out in the wilderness. But there it is. What to do? Emails went back and forth, and when I understood that while pooping on land is a no-no, pooping in the ocean is ok, I started to see light. With that, here are a few methods for disposing of poop in the wilderness, from the most basic to the most high tech.

As it turned out, some of our campsites were small pocket beaches where proper poop disposal was critical — As it turned out, some of our campsites on Isla Carmen were small pocket beaches where proper poop disposal was critical

The Swim and Poo Method Once we were on the island I started implementing a variety of waste management methods. First I tried swimming out a good way from the beach and pooping in the water. Easy peasy and the water acts as a natural bidet. By the time I swam back to the beach I was all clean. The only problem was the surge pushed the bits around and it was initially bit of a challenge to avoid them. If you try this method I recommend swimming further out to sea after elimination and giving your dispersing poop a wide berth as you swim back in.

The Poop and Scoop Method The next method I tried was pooping on land and scooping it up with a plastic bag. You put the bag over your hand, pick up the poo, turn the bag inside out, and knot the bag, just like you’d do for your dog. Each morning when we put in for our next destination I’d place the bag in the small hatch in front of me. When an opportune moment arose, I’d pull the bag out, dump the poop in the ocean, rinse the bag, and put it back in the hatch. This method worked pretty well but it wasn’t always opportune, and sometimes I had to wait till we made camp for the night and then take a special poop drop paddle.

The problem with the In-Water Method is that the tight quarters in the pocket beaches mean the poop can come right back to the beach, so dropping the load out to sea or along a series of cliffs is a better option — The problem with the Swim and Poo Method is that the tight quarters at pocket beaches mean you have to swim out a fair ways or the poop can come right back to the beach.

The Poop Flinging Method This became my favorite method of poop disposal, but I had to do it a little differently than the Captain described above. This method works great if you have leisure to take a stroll before go time, but the first time I tried this method it didn’t go as planned. When nature calls me, it’s urgent. It comes on quickly and demands instant action. So I pooped in the sand behind my tent and then found a flat rock and used my U-Dig It shovel to cover the poop with sand and then scoop it onto the rock. Then I picked up the rock and began trekking to the top of the bluff. It was a good 20 minutes up the rough, rocky slope while evading thorny shrubs and saguaro-like cardons. Along the way I got into this weird mindset that I was like some kind of Mayan priestess carrying a scatalogical offering to the gods. It was sublime yet ridiculous. Here I was, with both hands holding my excrement on a large, heavy rock like a platter carrying it up and up into the sky…

The U-Dig It tool. The sheath got lost but it's still a great addition to any camping trip! — The U-Dig It tool. The sheath got lost but it’s still a great addition to any camping trip!

When I finally reached the bluff top, I found I couldn’t just fling. The act seemed to require more gravitas. The point at the end of the bluff beckoned, and tired as I was, I hiked on for another couple hundred yards till I got to land’s end. Standing there I said a silent prayer for the benefit of our expedition and then flung as hard as I could. The rock sailed into space and plummeted out of sight. Three…two…one…foom! I heard the rock hit the water with a healthy splash. It was strangely satisfying. I walked back to camp feeling lighter both physically and spiritually, and highly entertained.

“Kevin” This method is a share from TRs Cate Hawthorne and Jeff Laxier. It’s also used by the Boy Scouts, but I bet they don’t give their PVC pipes names. “Kevin” is a section of PVC capped at both ends. Cate and her lovely husband Jeff carry it with them on wilderness trips. They use it to pack their poop out, and dump it at an RV station when they return to civilization. For more info on Kevin, here is a link to Cate and Jeff’s video on How To Pack Out Poo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2PODtBeCfQ&feature=youtu.be

Kevin the Poop Tube — Jeff and “Kevin” the home made Poop Tube

TR Jeff Laxier: Here [is] Kevin II the poop tube. This was checked during permit process with BLM prior to getting on the Rogue, and fulfills BLM standards, and guidelines. I will modify again with a 4” main pipe. This makes it less messy for dropping and cleaning. The use of doggy bags (corn starch) is no longer best practice. Burrito Wrap poop in sturdy napkin(s) and drop into Kevin.

The Wag Bag Some of us used Wag Bags on Isla Carmen. Wag Bags are high tech bags to pack your poo. Each bag is puncture-resistant and contains a hand sanitizer packet, NASA-developed solidifying agent, “poo powder” to de-stink your poop, and some TP. Rather than repeat what others have done so well, here’s a link to a great article on Wag Bags, where to use them, how to use them, and why to use them. Check it out at https://thedyrt.com/magazine/gear/wag-bag-camping-waste/ You can get Wag Bags from a variety of sources in a variety of prices. Just google “wag bag”.

All kidding aside, this is a serious issue. Human waste is everywhere, and I don’t mean litter. Think about Mt. Everest. Pristine, sacred Qomolangma, the Holy Mother, now polluted with tons of human excrement. Humans leave an estimated 26,500 pounds of feces on the mountain each season. Leave No Trace ethics regarding human waste are as follows:

Minimize social and esthetic impact
Minimize water contamination
Minimize the spread of disease
Minimize decomposition

This last is important because it’s estimated that human poo can take up to a year to decompose, especially in desert and high alpine environments. Coprolites, or fossilized fecal matter, stick around for a Very Long Time. Dried human excrement from Oregon’s Paisley Caves has been dated to 14,300 years old. And with the coronavirus ravaging the globe, disease should be on everyone’s mind. Our water sources are already contaminated by giardia. I remember the days when hikers could drink water in the wild without having to think about it. No one does that now without taking a risk of infection. We don’t need to exacerbate the problem. Lastly, if all other reasons don’t move you, consider this. You get to a seemingly pristine place, set up camp, and look around for a potential latrine site. You find the perfect spot, dig down a few inches, and encounter a big fresh turd. This happened to me on the Lost Coast. I’ll never see wilderness the same.

What are your methods for pooping in the wilderness? Let us know by clicking below!

Boats on the Brain

by Tsunami Captain Jim Kakuk and Lt. JG Nancy Soares

Capt. Kuk in the first working model of the X-C

Lt. JG Nancy: It was a celebratory weekend. I drove down to Guerneville on Friday to help with the setup. Capt. Jim and his lovely gal Patti were having a party, and what a bash it was! Jim and Patti had recently returned from an epic trip to Oaxaca only to find the Russian River in flood phase. Although their home is on high ground and consequently unscathed the floodwaters made it impossible for them to get to the house and they had to stay one night with friends before taking the back roads in. Once reunited with their dwelling, they decided what was needed was a PAR-TAY! So in true Tsunami/Sonoma County fashion, they put together a Zapotec party, the Zapotecs being a major local Oaxacan tribe. Mezcal, the smoky Oaxacan answer to tequila, mole, two kinds of flan, tres leche, chile rellenos stuffed with chicken… it was fantastic.

But wait, there’s more! Capt. Jim has had a new kayak in the works for some time, and the pieces were coming together. The day after the party the plan was to take the new boat out on an inaugural paddle on Bodega Bay. The weather gods cooperated and it was a beautiful day. Having learned some self-restraint over the years, we weren’t too hung over and the water was flat as a board, so it was perfect. We hit Doran Beach before lunch and paddled out around the jetty to some little rock gardens below the bluffs.

Capt. Kuk: The spirit in the boat comes from the passion of the builder.

Small boat building predates written history. It is our connection to the sea and is an extension of the human experience. It also allows you to get to the best places on the water planet and is the purveyor of many adventures. A small boat can take you and your stuff to far away places. There are plenty of quotes about boats and the sea in literature and song. My favorite is “flotation is groovy” by Jimi Hendrix.

In the Berkeley shop in 1986 with the early X-1

A boat builder is a multi-dimensional artist. From the aboriginal carving a dugout canoe to the traditional Greenland skin on frame, not much has changed even with computer-aided design and fiberglass-reinforced plastics. Designs keep evolving but small boats are still mostly done by hand and trued with the eye. Like chefs discussing a fine dinner menu I never get tired of talking about the subtleties of boat design. Some of the people I have worked with and learned from include Tsunami Rangers Glenn Gilchrist, John Dixon and Don Kiesling.

Eric, Glenn and Jim: the original X-1 in 1985

My first flotation experience was an inner tube “groove’n down the river”. My first boat building experience was a wood frame covered with thin plywood when I was in grade school. Since then I have spent about ten thousand hours (I am guessing) on shaping river and sea kayaks, way more time than I have spent paddling them. On a beautiful spring day the perfect place for me is in the shop tooling out a new boat design, shaping and molding curves that will meet the water with the least resistance, in the end producing something that is functional and pleasing to the eye and touch is very satisfying.

One of Michael Powers' shots for the Extreme Sea Kayaking book: Jim on top, Eric in the middle and Misha — One of Michael Powers’ shots for the Extreme Sea Kayaking book: Jim on top, Eric in the middle and Misha: two X-15’s and an X-O

The hull displaces water by weight, the deck is effected by wind and waves, and ergonomics is the interaction with the paddler who also provides the horsepower. In my building experience I have had more failures than success. It takes at least three times to get it right and then more changes.The only limit to perfection is time.

Saluting the sea - on the Oregon coast, late 90's — Saluting the sea – on the Oregon coast, late 90’s: a rainbow of kayaks

My last quote is a perversion of a line from the Freak Brothers: “Designing boats will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of not designing boats”.

Eric mixing it up at Sniveler's in an X-O — Eric mixing it up at Sniveler’s in an X-O

Nancy: We’re calling the new boat the X-Caliber. It’s a great Tsunami name, calling up the legend of King Arthur and Merlin (we’re all about myths and legends) and continuing the tradition of naming the boats after legendary aircraft but also suggesting a certain quality, or caliber of performance. The lineage for Capt. Jim’s Tsunami boats is as follows: X-1, X-15, X-2, X-O Crossover, X-3 Trident and now the X-C aka X-Caliber.

The X-15 is the boat most of the Rangers paddle on a regular basis, although we all mess around with other types of kayaks. The X-15 is a great all-around kayak: suitable for surfing and rock gardens but with enough space and speed for expeditions. I have an X-15, an X-O, and an X-3. The X-O is a little rock garden kayak that turns on a dime and is quite fast as little boats go. The X-3 is a design that could include 3 cockpits for 3 paddlers but mine is for two paddlers with space to load gear on top as well as inside for long expeditions. I’m proud to say that I’ve actually surfed the X-3 successfully and done some nice surf landings with it as well. The X-3 Trident was the boat I paddled in the Sea Gypsy Extreme Sea Kayak Race with a buddy. One of the coolest things about the X-3 is that you can pierce through a truly massive wave if necessary as long as you’ve got up speed.

Coming in to Doran Beach after an easy day

The X-C is an ocean white water kayak. Capt. Jim built this model as a follow up to the X-15. It is both narrower and faster. Welcome to the Water World, little X-C!

Please note that all the earlier models are no longer built. Only the X-C is currently available for a limited time. For questions or comments, please click below. Thanks for reading about our boats!

Balance, Momentum, and Leverage: How to Get a 25’ Kayak Off A Truck By Yourself

The Tsunami X-3 Trident. Not a small boat.

Naturally I was devastated when my late husband died, but one of the things that really had me exercised was how the heck I was going to get kayaks on and off the truck by myself. It might sound silly to some, but I’m short, the rack is high, and the Kevlar boats are long and heavy.

Thanks to my friend Rebekah Kakuk, I learned how to get the X-15 up and down solo, so that was great. But what about the X-3 Trident? A boat that’s 25’ long and weighs 100 pounds? This summer I got a chance to see if I could manage it by myself and by golly I pulled it off. So for all of you out there who may find yourself in a similar predicament, here’s how to get a Tsunami X-3 Trident off a Rack-It rack on a Toyota Tacoma all by yourself, even if you’re 5’ 3”.

July 4th, Jim and I loaded the Trident onto the rack no problem. Jim wanted to try the boat out with his partner Patti because they were considering taking it to Baja. But at Russian Gulch they decided it was too tippy so I ended up taking it back home. Since Jim and Patti had returned to Guerneville, I was stuck unloading it myself. Actually, there are people I could have called to help, but I was walking with a friend the morning of my return and when I asked her if she could help she said, “Can’t you do it yourself?” She seemed to think I was totally capable. Of course, she hadn’t seen the Trident.

Jim and Patti at Abalone Pt. with the Trident and the X-15

But her words stuck with me. Could I do it myself? I’ve done practically every other thing I’ve found myself having to do alone since Eric died. Maybe I should give it a shot. So the next morning when it was still nice and early and cool I walked up to the truck where it was parked by the boat rack and took stock of the situation.

I thought about whether I’d be able to lower the bow onto the tail gate once I got the stern down. It seemed doable. I decided to do it. I untied the ropes and then took a break to Really Think about what was going to happen. I visualized the process of sliding the boat off the rack and analyzed where the stern would end up. Then I opened the back of the truck and stood on the tail gate. The first thing was to flip the boat over, because it was resting on its rails and it slides a lot easier on the hull. First check. I couldn’t flip the damn thing to save my life because I was positioned toward the stern of the boat and it was too heavy. So I climbed up onto the rack, made my way to the center of the boat’s frame, and it was an easy flip from there.

Got 'er flipped. What's next? — Got ‘er flipped. Now what?

I climbed down and thought about it some more. Then I got back up on the tail gate and holding onto a rail with both hands started to slide the Trident toward the back of the truck. Little by little I carefully worked the boat back. It started to tip but I controlled it so the stern slowly but surely lowered softly to the ground. Once the stern was established on the ground, I took a break and assessed the situation again. The Trident looked pretty impressive tilted up against the rack, its bow high in the air. Now came the tricky part.

Approaching the stern, I grabbed the back rails and again Very Slowly started sliding the Trident off the rack. Finally there was only a little bit of the bow still resting on the rack. I set the stern down and thought about the next step. I climbed up onto the tail gate and tried to lift the nose off the rack, but I couldn’t do it. The stern was stuck on the ground making it so I couldn’t lift the bow and I couldn’t slide the boat back without damaging the rudder. I wasn’t sure it would move anyway. So I got down, picked up the stern again, and slid the Trident back some more until just the littlest bit of the bow was still perched on the rack.

Cautiously so as not to rock the truck and drop the boat I climbed up on the tail gate and found that I could now lift the bow off the rack. There I was standing on the tail gate holding the bow of the Trident in my arms unable to move. I couldn’t get it down onto the tail gate because the stern wouldn’t move and the boat was a little too long to lower down without cracking the glass in the back window of the camper shell. If I tried to muscle it I was afraid to damage the rudder or lose control of the boat. Then I realized that I could probably lift the bow over the back of the rack to the side and then lower it down that way. I slid the boat as far over to one side as I could and took the hull in my arms. I gently lifted the boat up and over the rack. There I stood on the edge of the side of the tail gate, cradling the bow in my arms. I realized I couldn’t just drop it on the ground. Now what?

The boat actually felt light since I was only holding the very end. With my arms glued to my sides, elbows bent at 90 degrees like a forklift to protect my shoulders, I slowly bent my knees and squatted down with the boat in my arms. I got as low as I could and eased my butt down on to the edge of the tail gate till I could slide my legs over and sit. Now I could hop down and lower the bow to the ground. Mission accomplished!

I washed the boat off and two friends who live down the street came over and helped me get the Trident into its berth. Easy peasy. While moving the boat at no point did I feel out of control or in danger of blowing out a shoulder, losing a limb, or breaking the boat. The entire process, including all those pauses to stop and think, only took about 15 minutes. So even though the Trident is almost five times taller than me and weighs nearly as much as I do, I wrangled that bad boy no problem. Whoever said, “Where there’s a will there’s a way” never said a truer word. I probably could have racked the boat by myself too but why push it?

I hope this information is useful, and I’d love to hear your stories about maneuvering boats in difficult situations. If any of our readers have a good tale to share let’s hear it! Vive la independence!

Tsunami Rangers Go Inflatable

by Tsunami Ranger Commander Michael Powers

Editor’s note: Thanks to photographers Rob Cala and Dave Norket, as well as our own Michael Powers, for the photos!

: TRs Steve “El Rey” King and Tim Sullivan breaking the wave barrier

On a day with moderate winter surf conditions, three of the senior Rangers – Steven King, Tim Sullivan and Michael Powers – and long-time friends of the Rangers Rob Cala and Davey Norket, converged at Moss Beach in northern California to test out a new inflatable Advanced Elements double kayak. The boat was one of AE’s “advanced frame expedition” boats that come with a unique zip-in deck with inflatable cowlings and spray skirts. Michael was considering using the inflatables for his upcoming multi-day paddling expeditions along the Pacific coast of Costa Rica, and along the remote southern coast of Cuba.

: Landing in rocks and surf: check!

Rangers King and Sullivan launched the boat from a little beach surrounded by the rugged and rocky coastline of Moss Beach, a favorite haunt of the Rangers for past paddling escapades. A short distance north of here was where Powers photographed Eric Soares, Jim Kakuk and Misha Dynnikov punching through surf and rocks for the cover of their book EXTREME SEA KAYAKING. Just to the south was infamous “Sniveler’s Slit”, where Kakuk crashed face-first into the rocks while attempting to surf into the Slit during the making of the Rangers’ first serious film effort, THE ADVENTURES OF THE TSUNAMI RANGERS – viewable now on VIMEO at: https://vimeo.com/39383078 .

During this latest Tsunami adventure the Advanced Elements inflatable kayak performed surprisingly well, even though AE designer/owner Clay Haller probably never envisioned his boats being subjected the punishing conditions of surf zone paddling for which the Rangers are well known. Even with repeated punching through breaking waves, capsizes, and surf landings over rocks, the AE boat and the Rangers survived without a scratch – which was much better than many hard-shell boats have fared at the hands of the Rangers.

Bring us you hard shell, your inflatable, your whatever and we’ll try it out! We’ll surf it, crash it, and maybe you’ll get it back intact. Or maybe not…

Questions? Comments? Click below and share!

Cold Water Safety – Golden Rule No. 5: Imagine the Worst That Can Happen and Plan for It

by Moulton Avery

Editor’s note: Moulton Avery is founder and director of the National Center for Cold Water Safety. He started out paddling canoes in the early 70’s and transitioned to sea kayaking in 1984. His pioneering article Cold Shock appeared in the Spring 1991 issue of Sea Kayaker.

“Risk assessment is a key safety element of every sea kayaking endeavor.”
– Eric Soares

In the long list of things that can go wrong, one of the worst calamities that can befall a paddler, particularly a cold water paddler, is to lose his or her boat. This can happen because it blows away, it sinks, or the paddler is unable to reenter it.

More than twenty years ago, on a cold, windy day in February, I found myself – much to my surprise and dismay – swimming my guts out in near-freezing water and large, confused seas in the tide race at Cape Henlopen, Delaware. My beloved sea kayak was nowhere in sight, and unless things got better really fast, I was shortly going to wind up out in the Atlantic Ocean on Hen and Chickens Shoal, which I figured to be an even worse place for a swim on that particular day. It was, as the saying goes, a real “learning experience”. But I’m getting ahead of myself here, so let’s backtrack a bit…

Roughly nine out of ten sea kayaking fatalities result from capsizing in cold water without the protection of a wetsuit or drysuit. At the National Center for Cold Water Safety, we promote Five Golden Rules that enable any paddler to build a strong cold water safety net. This post examines Rule No. 5: Imagine the Worst That Can Happen and Plan for It.

When something bad happens out on the water and you’re unprepared to deal with it, you’re in trouble – sometimes big trouble. That’s why it’s a really good idea to make a practice of thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong, and making sure you have those bases covered before you go out.

Knowledge and Experience

The safety hurdle faced by many paddlers is that they don’t have enough knowledge or experience to imagine the all the things that can, and often do, go wrong – even on modest outings. This places them at a huge disadvantage when trying to plan for the unexpected. So what can these folks do to improve their odds? For starters, they can learn from the bad experiences suffered by other paddlers, and thereby avoid making the same mistakes – or at least be better prepared for them.

The Value of Second-Hand Knowledge

A lot of people believe there’s no way you can learn to kayak, rock climb, backpack, scuba dive, fly a plane, ride a horse, a bicycle, motorcycle or whatever just by reading about it – that the only way to really learn about that kind of stuff is by actually doing it. That’s true enough, but only up to a point – and it’s a very important point, because as it turns out, there’s a LOT of stuff that you really don’t want to learn about the hard way – by direct personal experience. Some sea kayaking examples:

Getting totally creamed when you decide to paddle out that little inlet or river mouth “just to check things out”.
Getting swept into a tide race or blown offshore into much rougher water even though the TV weather report you watched in the morning said nothing about dangerous tidal currents or small craft advisories.
Watching in horror as your kayak does a “Cleopatra’s Needle” or sinks like a stone because it has no floatation. Ditto watching your kayak blow away. (More on that later.)
Capsizing 200 yards from shore in 50F water and finding out that the guy who tried to warn you about the danger of cold water really did know what he was talking about.
Getting really and truly lost when fog rolls in and your trusty GPS runs out of juice, breaks, malfunctions, can’t get a signal – whatever – and now it’s getting dark and cold and you don’t have a map and compass and even if you did, you wouldn’t know how to use them.
Floating around in the dark, shivering and watching the lights of boats and helicopters searching for you but having no way to signal them because you have neither flares, a waterproof flashlight, cell phone, VHF radio, or emergency strobe light.
Breaking or dislocating a finger, or cutting it to the bone.
Getting to the take-out and realizing that Mary is missing – she capsized 2 miles back but nobody knew it because your group didn’t have a designated sweep.
Being unable to function because your hands are completely numb – even though your drysuit is keeping the rest of your body toasty warm.

The mistake that led to my 45+ minute February swim in near-freezing water at the mouth of Delaware Bay was basically a failure of imagination. I totally failed to anticipate having the kayak knocked out of my very firm grasp and blown away while I was doing a reenter and roll that I’d nailed hundreds of times before.

During that long, drysuit-assisted swim, I developed a visceral appreciation for the value of a boat tether and belatedly installed one shortly thereafter – as did a lot of our fellow paddlers when they heard about the incident. Ever since then, I’ve been a proponent of using boat and paddle tethers.

“Tethered to my trusty old 1984 Nordkapp HM with a short, stout line of marine-grade elastic shock cord.” — Tethered to my trusty old 1984 Nordkapp HM with a short, stout line of marine-grade elastic shock cord.

Many sea kayakers today use paddle leashes, and most carry spare paddles, but it’s worth pointing out that nobody carries a spare boat. Most board surfers consider tethers to be standard equipment, and it appears that most surfski paddlers do as well. For some inexplicable reason, however, sea kayakers rarely use them, although losing a sea kayak can be every bit as hazardous as losing a ski. Many cite a fear of entanglement – an understandable concern, but one that should really be a non-issue. For the record, you can’t get entangled in a yard-long tether.

My tether has a working length of 25 inches (<1 meter), and as the picture shows, it clips into a stainless steel ring that runs on a line across my foredeck. It doesn’t impede a wet exit from my smaller ocean cockpit or interfere in any way with a smooth reenter and roll.

I unclip if I’m reentering my boat via an assisted rescue, and also unclip when launching or landing in surf, but otherwise I remain tethered – particularly in rough conditions, tide races, or when surfing offshore bars.

After getting back into sea kayaking in 2010, I was surprised to find that commercial tethers were quite long, and appeared flimsy compared to what I use. The forces trying to separate paddler from boat can be huge at times, and under the wrong circumstances, a broken tether can have a fatal outcome.

On our National Center for Cold Water Safety website, each Golden Rule is followed by a description and analysis of one or more often fatal accidents. The case that follows Rule No. 5 involves a very experienced paddler who died when the tether to his surf ski broke in very windy, rough-water conditions. You can read it at http://www.coldwatersafety.org/Rule5.html

Food for Thought – What will you do if…

Incapacitated by cold.
Blown out to sea by high wind.
Paddle breaks, drifts away, or is lost in rough water.
Tether breaks and boat blows away.
Waves dump water into cockpit and boat fills with water.
Capsize and can’t get back in boat.
Cell phone and/or VHF radio lost when boat blows away.
Hit a rock and smash hole in boat.
Dislocate shoulder.
Caught in thunderstorm.
Night falls – can’t see anything.
Paddle float blows away.
Become seasick or exhausted and can no longer paddle.
Lose the cover to the rear hatch.
Lose prescription glasses– can’t see.

If at all possible critical elements should have a backup – even if the backup is to make a repair. Is all of this overkill? Maybe, but you don’t often hear about “overly prepared” sea kayakers getting into trouble.

Checklists Are Your Friend

It’s easy to forget stuff – at home, in your car, and at the take-out. Consider having a checklist for each situation.

Leaving Home – a list of all the things you want to have with you at the put-in.
Launching – a list of all the things you want with you on the paddle.
Returning Home – a list of stuff that you don’t want to forget at the take-out.

I’ve never regretted being too vigilant, or safety conscious, or infatuated with checklists and meticulous planning, or cautious about my choice of paddling partners, but almost every single time I’ve made the mistake of being sloppy, lazy, or complacent about those things, it’s come back, in one way or another, to bite me on the rump.

Full Disclosure: I’ve forgotten all sorts of stuff, on various occasions, because I got sloppy with my checklists. Among other things, I’ve left my VHF radio, tow rope, and swim trunks at home, forgotten to pack lunch, left my compass or headlamp in the car, and forgotten to bring my wallet, a towel, a comb, and sunscreen. I also lost a very nice paddle because I left it on a boat ramp at the take-out and on one truly memorable occasion, was fortunate that someone miraculously had a spare PFD…

Resources

Educate Yourself
One of the best ways to expand your horizon of knowledge is by reading about bad stuff that happened to other people and reading safety articles written by paddlers with a lot of real-world experience.

National Center for Cold Water Safety at www.coldwatersafety.o rg – Five Golden Rules and 19 case studies with lessons learned that drive the points home.

Deep Survival by Lawrence Gonzales is an excellent book that answers the question often asked after accidents: “What the hell were they thinking?”

www.tsunamirangers.com – The Tsunami Rangers website itself contains a wealth of information related to safety and preparation, including the following posts:

For additional articles on this website, click the Sea Kayaking Dangers category.

Sea Kayaker magazine is an excellent resource. Most issues have safety articles, and the magazine has also made 15+ years of back issues available online to the paddling community. See their website’s Articles and Resources tabs. The PDF section links to an excellent article by Doug Lloyd that appeared in the February 2000 issue: Staying Connected – The Case for Tethers.

Deep Trouble by Matt Broze and George Gronseth contains 22 stories and lessons learned that appeared in Sea Kayaker magazine. The stories are riveting, but the book’s cold water safety information is pretty thin.

Share Your Thoughts! Please share your comments about this post or any experiences you’ve had in which better preparation or equipment would have made a difference. What articles, resources or gear have you found particularly helpful? What’s your take on the issue of boat tethers?