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 False Bay was covered in breaking 2m waves and the wind, already 30kts, seemed to
be strengthening. But the worst problem
was that it was already almost dark.
And as I
paddled into Fish Hoek at the end of what should have been a classic downwind
run, I was frantic with worry - I was almost certain that one of the group was
off his ski, in the water, about ten kilometres back near Millers Point.
Autumn
I love the Millers
Run - we do it whenever the southeaster blows, which is pretty much all the time
in summer. As autumn arrives though, the
southeasters become few and far between and we try our utmost to squeeze every
run in, sneaking out of the office early so that we can start in time to finish
before dark.
On
Wednesday 18th April conditions were ideal - but it was getting dark
as we arrived at Fish Hoek and we agreed that perhaps we were pushing our luck
a little far. The southeaster was
forecast to blow the following day and we agreed that we'd meet a little
earlier, at 16:30 to be on the water by 17:00 at the latest.
Guest Paddlers
Thursday
arrived and three of us, Damian, John and I met at Fish Hoek. We've all done the run many times and have
confidence in each other's capabilities.
When we arrived, Simon introduced himself and asked if he could join
us. He's a vastly experienced paddler
(about to set off on a 30,000km round-Africa paddle in December - but that's
another story).
John had
also invited Gordon. I knew Gordon from
races but had never paddled with him. I
figured if John had invited him, he must be ok - and I knew that he'd done the
244km PE to EL challenge in December last year.
 Team photo: Simon, Gordon, Rob, Damian & John
Things start to unravel
The first
problem was that we weren't prompt about leaving. A couple of the guys arrived a few minutes
late, then we had wasted time sorting out which vehicles were going to carry
which skis, and the upshot was that we got on the water at 17:20, twenty
minutes later than we had intended.
The second
issue was that although Gordon is normally very confident on the Millers run
(and did a number in much more hectic conditions when he was training for PE to
EL), he had a new boat about which he was slightly apprehensive, and he hadn't
paddled on the sea for a couple of months.
This made him tentative in his paddling and he felt unstable.
Notifying the NSRI
On the way
to the start I sent a text message to the NSRI (National Sea Rescue Institute,
an all volunteer equivalent of the US Coastguard) station in Simonstown letting
them know that five skis were setting out and that our ETA in Fish Hoek was
18:30. (A few weeks previously, being
mindful of the fact that we might need them one day, I'd introduced myself to
the station commander, Darren Zimmerman, and told him what we were doing and
why. He'd invited me to contact him by
SMS whenever we were on the water. If he
knew we were there, he said, it would speed up activation of the rescue boat -
and that could save lives.)
Conditions
at Millers Point itself were relatively mild but were more challenging outside
the little bay where the swell was large and breaking, with cross chop making
for confused seas. The swells were not
breaking on the ramp as they had done on the day before and the wind was also
less strong. We set off for Bakoven Rock
(the turning point to go downwind) and the three of us waited for John and
Gordon.
 Conditions at the ramp weren't so hectic
More Delay
After some
minutes, we turned around to see that Gordon was off his ski, some 200m inshore
of Bakoven Rock. John was with him, and
as I paddled towards them I saw that Gordon was back on his ski and that John
was paddling fast out to us.
When he got
to us he said that Gordon was feeling a bit tippy but that he, John, would stay
with him.
 But further out to sea it was a bit more frenetic.
We lose Gordon
With that,
we all turned around to start the run.
But Gordon was out of sight having already started. We spread out, hoping to see him. From my GPS track I can see that we went
about 500m then stopped to look; another 500m or so and then we stopped for
some minutes to discuss what to do. John
said that he'd paddle back upwind to Millers Point and then sweep back close to
the shore and that if it looked as though it was getting very late he'd get out
at Simonstown. The three remaining
paddlers spread out, with me taking an inside line, Simon in the middle and
Damian on the outside. We were a couple
of hundred metres apart and swept down towards Fish Hoek, arriving there at
6:25.
I
immediately called the NSRI to let them know that we were one paddler short and
that we might have a bad situation on our hands. Darren immediately alerted his crew who
started congregating at the Simonstown NSRI station. We started trying to contact John and sent
his wife around to Simonstown in case he and Gordon had come in there.
Gordon later
confirmed that we were quite far seaward of him when we passed. Shortly after that he fell off again and then
he couldn't get back on. He blew his
whistle but none of us heard it. When
John went back to look for him, he went inshore to within 200m of the boat ramp
to the north of Millers Point and then swept back. He must have passed very close to Gordon who by
then was in the water. Neither of them
saw the other.
John then
paddled all the way to Fish Hoek, arriving some 15min after the rest of us.
The NSRI Activates
Around this
time Darren called me back to say that a member of the public had phoned into
the NSRI to report that a flare had been fired out to sea, between Millers
Point and Simonstown. The NSRI
immediately launched their two boats.
Gordon fired
his first pencil flare (of three) when it was dark, popped another about 30
minutes later, saving the last one for when he could see his rescuers.
The NSRI
shore crew arrived opposite his position and he could see the flashing lights
on their vehicle - he fired his last flare and he saw them flash the vehicle's
headlights back to him and knew that they had seen the flare.
By this
time John and I were at the Simonstown NSRI control room, listening to the
radios as the shore team attempted to direct the boats to where the flares had
been fired. Finally came the call, "we
can hear his whistle," and I breathed a massive sigh of relief.
No whistle
But... two minutes passed, then five. "We can't hear the whistle any more," came
the report. That was one of the worst
moments of my life.
After some
more fruitless searching, and much discussion, the NSRI team decided that
Gordon must be near shore. If he had
come ashore though, the danger of his being hypothermic would actually have
increased because of the howling wind blowing on his wet clothing. They started to organise groups to search the
beaches, and John and I drove to join the shore team.
My heart
sank still further when I arrived. The
wind had strengthened and I could see the tiny lights of the search vessel as
it plunged up and down the waves about a kilometre off shore. How could they possibly find someone in the
pitch darkness in that maelstrom?
Hoax Calls
Then I had
a call from Craig Lambinon, the NSRI's media liaison officer. "Has anyone contacted Gordon's family?" he
asked. "Someone's just called News24 to
say that two paddlers are confirmed drowned."
No, we hadn't called his family, we didn't have their number. I called John who had gone to fetch Gordon's
car from Millers Point and he began searching through the contact list on Gordon's
cell phone.
One of the
NSRI guys looked up from his radio.
"It's OK," he said. "We've got the police chopper on the way. They've got a FLIR (Forward Looking Infra
Red) scanner and they'll pick him up in no time." We heard later that the helicopter had been
undergoing maintenance and the pilots were off duty. On hearing what had happened, the engineers
had reassembled the aircraft in record time.
Out of the darkness...
Groups were
setting off to start searching the shoreline, when suddenly, out of the
darkness loomed the bearded shape of Gordon himself. He'd managed to swim with his ski to shore,
had run up to Main Road
and thumbed a lift to find us. He'd been
in the water about 2 ½ hours.
 Gordon - after swimming for nearly three hours (Photo: Ian Klopper, NSRI)
Gordon
reckons the NSRI boat passed within 20-50m of him when he was blowing his
whistle. Its searchlight had passed
right over him. When the boat carried on
searching upwind, he realised that he had to help himself and he carried on
swimming his ski to shore. Gordon is a
very experienced spear fisherman who has spent many, many hours swimming in
that very area. He said that helped him
not to panic. In fact given the warm 18.5C
water, the only thing that really worried him was the possibility of
sharks.
Lessons
- Don't leave
so late. If the slightest thing goes
wrong, you're literally in the dark and rescue becomes ten times more
difficult
- In marginal
conditions (e.g. late in the afternoon), never take ANYONE with whom you
haven't done a recent run - i.e. whose current capabilities you're not
intimately aware of. Apart from anything
else, it's not fair on them.
- Always,
always carry a cell phone (or VHF radio).
Gordon did everything right (had his leash, had flares and used them
properly, had a PFD, had a whistle) and still couldn't be spotted. He said he doubted whether he could have made
a call with his cell in the conditions, but, thinking about it, we could have
called him. It's a lot easier to receive
a call than to make one.
- If there's
any possibility that you'll be caught by nightfall, carry a strobe light. (I've got two of the damn things and didn't
take either of them.)
Thanks to the NSRI
One of the
moving aspects of this incident was seeing the volunteers of the NSRI all doing
their utmost to help us - and being so darned nice about it.
A heartfelt
thank you to all of you.
Exercising with the NSRI
We hope to
do an exercise in June with the Simonstown NSRI to try to prove (or disprove)
some of the theories and suggestions about what rescue kit one should use in
extreme conditions. For example we'll
actually practise make calls on a cell phone and directing the rescue
boat. If the conditions are right (i.e.
some wind and waves) we'll measure how fast a ski drifts downwind with a
paddler hanging over the side (any volunteers?). We'll film what happens when a paddler lets
the ski go - to show just why a paddle leash is important.
With any
luck we'll combine the fun with getting some really useful information.
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We started the run from our usual take off point. The guy looked pretty unstable but the conditions were not super big and we all thought he'd be OK. After 30 minutes and meeting at our typical rendezvous point, and then waiting for another 20 minutes, we decided to head down to the finish of the run and notify the Ocean Safety lifeguards. They sent the whole regatta out to find the guy, including jetskis and a helicopter.
It turns out the guy (wisely) turned around and went in to a beach park right after we started the run, and called his wife to pick him up. However, he did not have any of our cellular phone numbers (only a "saved" contact) and there were no messages on any of our phones. After notifying the lifeguards, and as I was driving back to the start of the run intending to stop at each possible place he might have swam in, he flagged me down from his wife's car.
We thought of one other "suggestion" for the guy who swims to shore - immediately call "911" or equivalent and let the lifeguards or whomever might be looking for you know that if they are searching for a paddler who meets your description, you are OK and they can call off the search and notify the interested parties. This will save much worry for all concerned.