Again, just curious (and feeling chatty I suppose). For me, I can only recall a few times I felt truly apprehensive while paddling over the last 28 or so years. Once, fairly early on while paddling in approx. 7-foot post-hurricane swells near the mouth of Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island. I discovered that paddling in long wavelength waves where you lose and gain the horizon is not at all like an exaggerated version of paddling in 1-2 foot chop, but is qualitatively different and takes some getting use to (I didn’t get use to it on that trip and as I haven’t been in such conditions since, I still haven’t); once while paddling back to the ramp in my first kayak, a Sealution II in somewhat modest following seas (the Sealution didn’t have much bow volume and I learned about bow burying); once not that long ago paddling a twitchy rental boat in following seas (I think it was a Looksha but I may be mistaken - to me it felt twitchy but not sure what other’s experience is), once while paddling in a 35 kt tailwind that came up while I was camping in the Norwalk Islands in CT (I tried to wait it out but after a couple of days felt that I really had to get back to work). There have probably been a few additional times I can’t remember. These were situations in which I actually felt nervous and trembly. Another time I was coming back from a full day’s paddle in Bulls Bay SC and found some tall chaotic wave activity along a bar (I think the tidal current was opposing the wind or something) that stretched too many miles for me to want to go around. In that case, I didn’t feel nervous as I could avoid the bar by taking a much longer and physically exerting route through a windy salt marsh.
There have also been a few animal experiences that made me quite anxious. Once while unavoidably paddling over the top of a large alligator (I’ve been around them often enough by now to not care all that much but still try to keep a respectful distance), once while paddling alone, pretty far offshore from Elliots Key in Biscayne National Park when I started hearing mysterious snorting sounds (turned out to be sea turtles), and one time in the Chesapeake Bay on a day with no other boaters around when I saw what looked like 100’s of shark fins a bit off in the distance, and then closer and closer and closer until I was surrounded. Turned out to be the pectoral fins of a humongous school of cownose rays as they swam in the shallows looking for shellfish.
I have never been nervous for my own safety while my head was above the water - probably because I am too stupid to realize that I am in danger. On two occasions I have been trapped in the kayak below water for a short amount of time and that certainly made me (more than) nervous. On a few occasions I have become nervous for the safety of others I was paddling with.
Anyway, I found this quote from your post especially interesting:
@Monkeyhead said:
Once, fairly early on while paddling in approx. 7-foot post-hurricane swells near the mouth of Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island. I discovered that paddling in long wavelength waves where you lose and gain the horizon is not at all like an exaggerated version of paddling in 1-2 foot chop, but is qualitatively different and takes some getting use to (I didn’t get use to it on that trip and as I haven’t been in such conditions since, I still haven’t);
I recently read about a - perhaps similar - experience by Nick Cunliffe. Nick is an internationally known BCU 5 Star sea kayaking coach which I have had the pleasure of being taught by once. Despite his long experience in tough conditions, he found himself mentally overwhelmed by a “huge, windless swell”.
Quote from his story:
“I estimated another two hours to reach protected waters; however, a new problem had emerged. I started to experience a physical disorientation in this huge, windless swell; my sense of equilibrium began to desert me. After decades of confidently balancing my kayak in the ocean, I gradually became uncertain of my capacity to remain upright. There seemed no obvious solution to this problem; my only strategy was to drive the boat forwards, focusing on the occasional glimpses of land. In between, I fought back the feelings of panic. In my first paddling year, I had read John Dowd’s inspirational sea kayaking manual and had learned of sea kayakers gradually becoming ‘overwhelmed by conditions’. I had never properly grasped that concept, having never experienced it. Today, I finally truly understood Dowd’s words… although this new-found wisdom was no solace in my predicament.”
I have paddled a fair bit of whitewater in canoes and kayaks and taken many swims. Most were trivial but some were challenging and strenuous and 3 or 4 were potentially life-threatening.
My experience is that when you find yourself in the water you are usually too busy planning your swim to safety and self-rescuing your boat and gear to be fearful. Also, while actually paddling a challenging rapid, you are usually too busy with the execution to be afraid. But I remember scouting many rapids where all of a sudden I felt like I needed to use the bathroom. And during the approach to a difficult rapid or a big drop, I recall becoming rather tense a fair number of times.
Possibly the most tense I have been in a canoe was during a fairly lengthy crossing of a big lake in Ontario when the water was still quite cold, just my wife and I, when the wind and whitecaps came up midway across.
The one that sticks in my mind is way beyond nervous. Frightened. Skeerd.
Paddled with a buddy around Shackleford Banks. A nice, gentle transition from sound to ocean at one inlet. A very different story at the other inlet. Let’s call it an outlet. No. We’ll call it a firehose. I was so damn dumb and green that I was trying to paddle into the sound as the tide was rushing out. Big standing waves. The water pushed me backwards and I somehow got turned around without capsizing. Good thing 'cause I had no real brace or roll. Turned out fine but it was definitely a motivator to acquire some skills. And some smarts.
Given I paddles white water for years, don’t scare easily. White water, a series of huge holes in Costa Rica. Hit the the edge of all three. Each time I rolled and got one stroke to miss the center of the next. The guide told us they were all terminal holes, but omitted not at the current level. Next guy in our group swam through all 3 (or hung out upside down, do not recall).
Sea Kayak
trying to help with a rescue in a gale only to see a sunken kayak being tossed down at my deck, followed by rolls and flips in the waves, followed by swimming out of sight from land. I hit my rolls, only to get maytaged by waves about 3 times. I managed a re-entry (with paddle float), but could not get water out faster than it came in. In all fairness, we did discuss the terrible conditions and did do a risk assessment prior to going into that washing machine. Water temperature was probably in the 70’s (gulf does not chill that much during fall) and tide and wind would both blow us back to shore, and they did in about 15-20 minutes. We spent a good part of the rest of the day picking up the stuff we lost from our Kayaks. I thought it was hilarious that I found my flares - they washed out of a closed pocket in my life vest. It taught me that bulkheads were not optional on a sea kayak’s if you want to do a re-entry in bad conditions.
reflections of waves while exiting a jettie - massive (15’ or so) elevator ride. The fear was if my skirt imploded as I stabbed the bottom of the wave (I was burying the bow to my waist at about a 40 degree angle) , I could not imagine the wind not crushing me and my boat on the granite blocks that made up the jettie. This was in an instructor workshop - we did have quite a large group of spectators watching us perform this foolishness (only 3 of us completed the days itinerary).
A couple of us got caught in the “washing machine” near the inlet of the North Edisto. We had had a blast running down a 20 Kt wind, until we had to turn around. That piece of water is aptly named.
Although in no real danger, it was a slog upwind in surf flying every way possible.
It was fun in a masochistic sort of way.
I pulled a groin muscle that bothered me for a few years.
Try to keep myself out of trouble. Not a big expert. Been in 30 mph winds short small chop in small bays 2.5-3’ breaking waves is enough for me. Few times it was hard to make headway. Not as brave as water temps drop below 55-60* F when I am usually alone. Not as comfortable in following seas. I am more on edge then. Depends on which kayak I take also. Worst water is when two to four boats slam their wakes together crossing each other for totally confused water popping up like small mountains, people here are nuts.
Oh, and I forgot the biggest one of all. My first paddle day of the year, Easter day in fact, maybe my 3rd year of kayaking, out of New Haven harbor (CT), when I began to sense that my bow was riding kind of low. After a bit, there was really no doubt about it. I tried to paddle to shore but by this time the bow was so low in the water that it was like paddling a bulldozer. Plus, I was battling a fairly stiff offshore wind and outgoing tide. Next stop Long Island, by which time I’m sure I would have succumbed to hypothermia (I was wearing a 3mm farmer john as I recall). Well, although my progress was minimal, I paddled with all my energy and finally managed to get to a small rock outcropping not too far from shore, the kind that isn’t there at all at high tide. I opened the forward hatch and discovered the problem. My boat at that time was equipped with both a regular hard hatch cover and an internal neoprene cover which is actually what kept the water out (the hard external cover by itself minimized water entry but was not really meant to be water tight. At the end of the previous season I had removed and washed but not re-installed the neoprene cover. Fortunately, this embarrassing and potentially life-threatening incident happened early in my paddling career (I would like to think I’ve learned a lot since then) as I’m not sure if I would have the sustained strength today to paddle back to safety.
l have felt challenged enough to feel nervous here and there. One time because l had not spoken against a stupid judgement call by the group that turned into a major mess saved by the fact that we were all in dry suits. Other times because conditions were hitting or exceeding the limits of my experience to that point. This is stuff guaranteed if you are gaining in skills and experience. Just have to settle down and take it in pieces, remember that you likely can handle it if you focus on solving the problem.
One time…
Got caught in a hydraulic, beneath a waterfall.
Boat was on top of me & we were both getting maytagged.
Was able to catch a bite of air; got maytagged again.
Same thing happened 2 more times…
Just as I was running out of air on the 3 go around I popped loose, came to the surface, and my one of my buddies laid a throw rope on top of me.
Had a real hard time catching my breath, and couldn’t breathe normally for several minutes.
Another buddy helped me carry my boat back upstream.
Put in, ran it again; no problem.
Anxious? Oh yeah. Most recently while paddling a large inland lake that has a couple of narrow sections, I wanted to make a short (800’) crossing to the other side and was waiting about 300’ offshore next to a channel marker, as power boats were approaching the channel. They slowed and passed when I noticed another boat approaching at high speed. My kayak is red, I was wearing a neon green rashguard, yellow PFD, and neon ball cap. The driver had to have seen me waiting there. Rather than slowing down, the 30’ cruiser blasted thru the channel at full throttle, maybe 20 feet away (violating Michigan boating laws), leaving a wall of water aimed for my kayak. Big walls of water coming at my beam scare me. Don’t know if it was instinct or something I had read, but my reaction was to edge deeply and lean into that wave (something I had never done). Physically felt my kayak lay over on its hard chine and the force of the water skidding the kayak sideways. Probably braced as well; don’t recall as it happened so fast.
I stayed upright but was shaken, drenched from head to skirt and livid at the SOB who tried to wipe me out. Had I carried a radio, I would have called it in. The following week I returned to the spot because I was curious about water depth where I had been waiting to cross. It’s 18". Getting dumped there would have been painful (or worse) as I’m sure I wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to tuck.
Once in a while when paddling Lake Michigan, conditions get beyond my comfort zone. Sometimes that lake makes its own weather and there’s nothing I can do but deal with it and keep moving forward.
As a solo paddler, I accept that I’m alone out there and while I carry a PLB, I’d have to be in deep trouble before I’d ever use it.
At least once every trip to the Gulf of Mexico( Everglades) and Lake Superior… In the former I sometimes underestimate the tidal flows of rivers exiting the Everglades which produce pronounced eddy lines if the wind is coming onshore. with an outgoing tide… Even though the water is shallow I don’t fancy an upset… So far so good.
On Lake Superior the same outflow problem is even worse… For that reason we are very careful to align our boat with the outgoing current and ferry across it.
And once on Superior a very large black cloud appeared all across the horizon in back of us. We were paddling past cliffs with no landings. Remembering banjos I paddled with all my srtength… We arrived at the mouth of the Pukaskwa River just as the cloud was about a quarter mile in back of us…black as night… We got on shore and the black cloud went poof in a dense fog… It was the most threatening fog bank I have ever seen
Another was the final crossing of 3 km into Michipicoten Harbor We rounded Perikakwa point and got about 300 meters past when all heck broke loose. Someone hit the Power On switch… We were broadside in waves breaking at head height…
Turning wind to stern wasnt possible and turning at bow angle into wind wasnt working either. Somehow with semi dry underwear we made it to the mouth of the Michipicoten which was throwing up big waves… We wound up surfing… looking at the calm lagoon two hundred meters away…For ten minutes we were held by the wave.
My whitewater swims have been (mostly) relatively benign. My most nervous moments have been in the Prospector 16 with my daughter in the bow. Once, coming off of the White heading to Hattie Cove on Lake Superior. The wind had been the day before. It was overcast but calm but we had 2 - 3’ swells. The coast there is not particularly hospitable and we were often a long way out. The swell was generally pretty smooth but there is a point there where things were a mite confused. I never felt a need to brace for our lives but the exposure was significant. The other was crossing Lake Manitowik (sp. I need to check) on the Michipicoten on our way to the Missinaibi. We had pulled off for a couple of hours after the wind came up but there was no place to camp (all boulders). We had to cut across on a diagonal to get to the arm that leads to Stoney Portage. Had to tack and work not to broach with the angle we needed. Again, fairly significant exposure and not a good time to be swimming. The next day on Dog Lake we had wind again but were able to find a spot what would work more or less to camp.
what’s scary to me is when others get scared, I was leading a group of boyscouts across grand lake matagamon in Maine when a sudden storm moved in. It quickly turned into “every boat for themselves” as the wind and waves increased. We all made it to the safety of Thoreau Island after paddling as hard as we could. Swimming would have been unpleasant as you would have gotten blown a couple of miles down to the end of the lake, While I had underestimated the weather, I did have the sense to insist everyone wear their pfd prior to launching. Beware of sheltered launch spots and quickly changing weather. Wear your pfd.
Lots of personal tales- there was a time when I liked to push the envelope. Swimming through hydro-electric on the chattooga (GA) and pinning a squirt boat under an undercut on the obed (TN) were close calls. Like Pblanc said, In the moment I just did what needed to be done so it wasn’t actually that scary for me, I think it shook others up more.
honorable mentions- paddling fayette station rapid (wv)at the precise instant a derachio hit, pulling the plug on the Cumberland (ky), White Oak Creek (Ohio), and Middle Meadow (wv) all due to rapidly rising water.
Finishing in the dark, taking multiple swims, getting exhausted from dragging, carrying , portaging due to insufficient water or lots of wood , becoming navigationally challenged (lost), losing boats, paddles, and gear, or visiting the emergency room for dislocations or stiches- all that stuff was part of the fun! Some of it was just not to be repeated.
@rival51 said:
. My most nervous moments have been in the Prospector 16 with my daughter in the bow. Once, coming off of the White heading to Hattie Cove on Lake Superior. The wind had been the day before. It was overcast but calm but we had 2 - 3’ swells. The coast there is not particularly hospitable and we were often a long way out. The swell was generally pretty smooth but there is a point there where things were a mite confused. I never felt a need to brace for our lives but the exposure was significant.
That is a big danger area… We poked up the White River ( on that trip in a canoe I wanted to go to the suspension bridge). Going in was fine… We passed several campsites going both in and out… When we reached the mouth again voila 3 foot waves oncoming wind and whitecaps… Did we do the sane thing and go back… nooo we waited till we were far enough out to determine it was too rough . Of course by then it wasn’t possible to turn around.
A few years ago I met a couple of paddlers who were going to reunite with their hiking friend each night so they picked sites along the Coastal Hiking trail. Of course this means going up the White and dealing with the outflow. They capsized. One died.
Dozens from unexpected headwind messing with downriver current creating chop.
to being on a lake during a sudden lightneing storm.
To rapids & rock garden that were worse than expected.
to…
That is a big danger area… We poked up the White River ( on that trip in a canoe I wanted to go to the suspension bridge). Going in was fine… We passed several campsites going both in and out… When we reached the mouth again voila 3 foot waves oncoming wind and whitecaps… Did we do the sane thing and go back… nooo we waited till we were far enough out to determine it was too rough . Of course by then it wasn’t possible to turn around.
A few years ago I met a couple of paddlers who were going to reunite with their hiking friend each night so they picked sites along the Coastal Hiking trail. Of course this means going up the White and dealing with the outflow. They capsized. One died.
Yep, we were aware of the dangers at the mouth. In fact, we used the campsite at the bend and had a short portage and a somewhat protected cove to launch from. If I remember correctly that’s also where Bill Mason has a difficult swim in Waterwalker.
My friend Jay captured this wave the day we arrived at our camp by the mouth. We were hiking the rocks, not paddling:
It’s happened a fair amount, again because I enjoy paddling in conditions which are challenging. I’ve had some “interesting” experiences in sea caves, gotten “up close and personal” with rocks, been pitch-poled in surf and been iced out of a harbor. Perhaps the most unnerving situations were getting caught in popup thunderstorms. It’s all just par for the course.
