Just as we got off the freeway at Tamarack I got a call from Don on my cell. He said Jack had rolled his truck on the way there. Don said that Jack had passed him along the way (Don drives a little slow and Jack a little fast) but a while later Don came on the scene where Jack's truck had rolled several times, up onto an embankment and up against a tree. From the shakiness of Don's voice I gathered it was a serious accident. He said his hands were bleeding, but he was up and walking around - apparently ok. Paramedics were arriving. The truck was severely damaged, but the WW boats tied up in the back were apparently unharmed. In a later discussion with Jack I found that Don had gotten pictures, and they would be suitable for the "X-files".

We were pulling into the Tamarack parking lot just as I was getting off the phone with Don. I could see already that conditions were sporty++. The "shore" break was running to 6+ feet on sets. I got out to take a look at the channel and it had the look of storm water: waves forming, breaking, reforming, and exploding off the rocks of the south jetty. There was a strong northern component to the swell so a rock bashing on the south jetty looked like a real possibility. It was still early, about 9:15, and a few of us were just watching and socializing. There was already a paddler just outside the channel who seemed to be struggling to make sense of the waves and put them to good use. I would later find out why when I got out there. After a few minutes I couldn't stand to wait any longer, declared: "too much talk, not enough surfing" and went to the van to get ready.

A few minutes later Vickie came to the Van and told me that the lone paddler had hit the south jetty, missed his roll, was in the water and swimming away from his boat. I told her to go back to the jetty and not to lose site of the swimmer.

It took me a few minutes to get ready. I usually don't use my tow belt when surfing, but this time I assumed I would need it. I tried to launch too close to the North jetty and the combination of lateral shore current form the northern swell component and the eddy from the channel current were conspiring to force me into that jetty. Eventually I figured it out, but it took me a long time to get out, including several back enders and a little helmet scraping on the sandy bottom. The real "shore" break was almost right on shore at about 3-to-4 feet, with a seeming interval of about 3 milliseconds. The main break was much bigger with sets to 6+ feet. My recollection is that before I made it out, Vickie came and told me that the swimmer was on dry land, but the boat was still in the channel. Order of events may be somewhat confused.

OK, a boat rescue. Not nearly as important, but still worth doing. When I got to the channel I immediately decided that tying a tow line to anything in there was out of the question. Outgoing current seemed stronger than my previous trips here, and there was a very strong north-to-south component caused by wind and swell. Waves were breaking anywhere and everywhere. It was a constant struggle to stay off that south jetty. Later Vickie asked me later why I didn't get the boat. I never saw it. After a couple of minutes I just started surfing, assuming that eventually I would come across it in the channel (hopefully not too abruptly!).

Evidently, after being recirculated a few times between waves and current, the boat made it out of the channel and down the beach a half mile or so where it was retrieved. The report I got later was that it took the swimmer about 20 minutes to get out of the water and that he didn't roll up because he broke his paddle on the jetty.

If that swimmer would like to share any lessons learned with the rest of us it might be helpful.

Back to surfing:
I think Dick was the first paddler to join me, then several others (3-or-4?). I think most put in at the channel up by the bridge to avoid the hassle of getting out through the shore break. Smart planning and what I should have done!

Unfortunately, almost everything in this report is from the small bubble of my vantage point, but that's the kind of day it was. It was ALMOST every man for himself. I really had to stay focused on staying off that south jetty. I hardly worried about other paddlers unless I suspected they might run me over.

At one point I thought I saw Dick hit the jetty. I couldn't tell for sure because he disappeared in the explosion of water. I was too close myself and just couldn't stop to look. I had to paddle away from the jetty as fast as possible to avoid being the next casualty. I saw a paddler out of the corner of my eye and said; "did you see what happened to Dick"; but he didn't hear me. When I got into a safe position I turned to look over the area and became increasingly concerned that I still couldn't see him. Luckily, in a few moments I realized he was the paddler I had spoken to. He was fine. In my last near miss with the jetty, I found myself back surfing 1 foot from the rocks, using the strongest static draw I could muster just to maintain that distance. After that I started all my rides (or attempts) from near the end of the north jetty. Still, virtually all my paddling was north. The current carried me out, and I just tried to go as far north as possible before the next onslaught of waves.

Others worked out their own system of coping. Dick and some others (I should know their names, but I forgot) seemed to find a sweet spot on the outside where they were catching some really large waves that didn't seem to carry them into the rocks (they might say otherwise). In hindsight, I wish I had joined them.

After an hour+ or so when I was so exhausted that my roll-to-ride ratio had reached 2:1, I decided it was time for a break. After a while Kim, Lew, Cindy, Vickie and I went back out to surf the shore break. It was fun and the board surfers were friendly. Eventually the swell petered out and we called it a day, followed by pizza

Was it a fun day? Absolutely, but I did learn a healthy respect for what I had previously thought was a fairly benign surf spot!

I was that "lone paddler".

I learned a few things on Saturday. Two of them were a) I need to work on my handroll, and b) a hand roll wouldn't have done me any good.

Other things learned: c) swimming through 6+ waves is a ot harder with a PFD, skirt, and helmet, than with just a wet suit; d) it never hurts to put the float bags in, but it can really hurt if you don't.

Here's how it broke down for me. I was in a hurry to get wet, since I couldn't stay too long. So after looking at it for a while, I quickly got wet. Initially I had some serious trouble getting out because I tried to enter to close on the north side of the north jetty. I could see I was going to get pushed into the rocks (after getting knocked over twice just trying to get out through the "shore break" and drifing dangerously close to the north jetty), so I got out and reentered significantly further north. This time I got out past both the inside and outside breaks uneventfully.

For a while I hung out outside of the channel, watching waves and current, and trying to decide just how far north I needed to be to avoid that south jetty. I passed up one really big wave (probably 8-9 feet) because it looked like it might be so powerful that I wouldn't be able to keep far enough north. That was the only *really* big monster I saw while I was out there. I worked my way into the north side of the channel, very leery of that south jetty and the waves literally exploding off the jetty. As I got inside the channel things looked a little more manageable for a while, and Scott Ostrem was pointing out a spot about midway or slightly south of center where the waves seemed to be forming a little more cleanly. I eased my way over there, thinking that the lee of the north jetty seemed to be reducing some of that north current. Things were definitely looking manageable as long as I was careful.

Just as I made my way into the apparent sweet spot, a fairly powerful wave came up on me, and it was moving very strongly to the south. As I got onto it I tried to surf it to the north, but could not make any way to the north. I then tried to exit the wave, but I could not get de-established (in retrospect an intentional roll would probably have got me off the wave, add that to lessons learned). At the last minute I cut hard to south to present the bottom of my boat to the jetty. The good news is this tactic worked -- I heard my boat hit the rocks hard, but my body didn't hit the rocks at all.

Of course I capsized almost immediately. After waiting a few seconds for the turmoil of the wave to subside I set up to roll up, and in the process discovered my nearly new 7-two paddle was now just "two" -- pieces that is. At that point I thought about the next wave coming crashing into my location, and decided to eject (no attempt at a handroll). This was not a situation I would have had any problem swimming out of -- without all the paddling gear attached. (Another lesson -- swimming while in paddling gear is greatly to be avoided.) Actually had I managed a handroll there I would still have been in no small amount of trouble, unless someone had gotten a throw bag to me.

Scott tried to convince me to get closer to the jetty to take a throw bag, but I decided I wanted as far from the jetty as possible. I instead opted to go toward the center channel, where I let the outbound current suck me out and then around the jetty. The "swim" back in from that point was interesting -- without the ability to body surf or to duck under the still 6+ surf, I was pretty much at its mercy. Every wave that hit met sent me spinning. (I learned to try to stay as vertical as possible and sink myself as low as possible to miss as much of the wave energy possible. Another lesson learned -- in "surf" swimming technique. Don't try this on a river though!) I considered at several points ditching my PFD, but I think ultimately I was glad I kept the PFD -- it would have been a bummer to lose it -- especially since it had my car keys in it.)

After getting back, Scott and Kim were watching my boat recirculate in the still nasty surf in the channel. We watched Steve surf a bit -- he seemed to be doing very well staying fairly far to the north, but I didn't recognize him (I haven't met Steve before) I would have directed him towards my boat but a) I didn't know he would be willing or was prepared to help, b) it still looked fairly precarious, and c) I thought he could see my boat.

Scott and Kim agreed to go paddle out for my boat after it finally got sucked out and around the south jetty, while I watched to make sure we didn't lose sight of the boat. By the time they got there (they had some trouble getting out on the south side of the channel -- the surf there was still 6+ foot, and was completely closedout -- very dumpy), the boat had drifted about a half mile out and half mile south. It was only barely visible while I watched from the jetty.

I ditched my paddling gear (except the wetsuit) and swam out to meet them outside of the surf zone and swam my boat back in through the surf. All in all I probably swam about a mile in the surf Saturday. Scott and Kim had done an excellent job of getting the water out of the boat and were towing it in with a throw bag. I did manage to get rope burn on my arm when the throwbag line tangled around it when a large breaker caught the boat and left me behind.

If no one else does so, I think I can nominate myself for the triple crown -- golden goggles (obviously), golden duct tape (broken paddle), and golden band-aid (admittedly a stretch, for the rope burn).

I'd also nominate a new award get created, the golden throw bag (or maybe the golden life preserver), for meritous service provided by one paddler assisting another, and I nominate Scott O. and Kim J. as the initial recipients of this award. I owe them both a lot of beer.

    Garrett

Thanks for the candid write-up Garrett. Excellent set of lessons learned. Here's another one that is very clear from both write-ups: Good communication is one of the first casualties of a situation like this. No one seemed to know what anyone else was doing. A more coordinated effort by those on land would have helped significantly, but communication is a two way street. Once I got in the water I got a bad case of myopia (more bad communication) so any waving or gesturing may not have done any good anyway. Good teamwork and communication is always important to kayaking, but especially in difficult conditions.

FYI:
We sometimes practice rolling with half a break-down paddle to prepare for situations similar to Garrett's. It's surprisingly easy. Much easier than a hand roll. I have only used this in earnest one time in a rocky surf zone. Rolling up was effortless, but controlling the boat with half a paddle in that surf zone was a major handful. It's a useful technique in moderate conditions.

Fortunately for me, that situation was not nearly as difficult as the channel last Saturday. On Saturday I was stretched close to my limit of control and safety even with both blades. I don't believe I could have successfully paddled out of there with half a paddle. Attempting to do so would expose a paddler to a serious beating on the rocks. My opinion: Garrett was in one of those very-very rare situations when it is best to just cut your losses and take a swim.

    Steve Brown