BCU 5-star sea assessment, day two. I wasn’t feeling so great. I dislike assessments at the best of times, and this one was going badly. I’d already made a fundamental passage planning error in the navigation test and bungled a surf landing. On top of this, I’d not slept well; a thrilling but noisy electrical storm had kept me awake much of the night, so I started the second day feeling out of sorts.
John, Paul, Anthony and I were being assessed by Andy Stamp, a BCU Level 5 coach, at Land’s End in Cornwall—the very southwestern tip of the U.K.—while a Force-7 wind and a swell to match were coming in off the Atlantic. On Saturday, we’d spent five hours going nowhere, paddling our hearts out against the rollers; today, the wind had eased slightly, and we were going to attempt to paddle out to Longships lighthouse a couple of nautical miles off shore.
The journey out was smooth enough, although I found I was feeling unusually unstable in my boat. I just put this down to tiredness. There wasn’t much swell, but the water seemed to be sliding around haphazardly under my boat making me feel slightly seasick. The swell increased as we approached the lighthouse and the string of rocks it guarded. The water was much more turbulent with largish waves breaking over the rocks, but it was nothing exceptional.
We took shelter in an eddy, and our assessor instructed us to rock-hop out along a reef and regroup behind another large rock. I was first to go and headed across a gap between two rocks, aware that a wave was surging in from seaward. As it started to pick me up, I readied myself for a low brace into it, but the wave seemed to explode upward, and suddenly I was in a high-brace position with water and spume all around me. I felt a tugging at my right shoulder, and as the wave passed, I found I was falling to my right and unable to support myself.
Once upside down, I tried to roll and at once realized that my right arm wasn’t working. Panicking that I’d dislocated my shoulder (it turned out I hadn’t—I’d just torn some tendons), I bailed out and broke the surface of the seething water, wide-eyed and spluttering with anxiety. John, Paul and Anthony came to assist me, but even with their support, getting back into my boat was a nightmare with only one working arm. The swell and the proximity of the sharp black rocks made escaping an urgent necessity.
The four of us under assessment set up to tow me the two miles back to shore. I certainly couldn’t paddle—I was too shaken even to keep myself upright. John rafted up against me while the others arranged the towlines and I flopped against him, sniveling and crying from a mixture of pain and fear. John kept me upright and reassured me. I knew that everything would be fine—this was the sort of incident that we had trained and trained for, and I knew I really couldn’t have been in more capable hands—but I was still surprised at just how scared and anxious I had become.
Our assessor had decided to treat the situation as an exercise and let the four of us set up the towing system. We had chosen Paul as the leader for the first part of the morning, but he and Anthony had linked themselves up to tow me and John, who was rafted up with me. Progress was appallingly slow. The tide was running against us, and the swell seemed to have picked up. I was feeling nauseated with the pain in my shoulder and slumped onto John’s deck.
Paul quickly realized that he couldn’t direct the tow and keep an eye on me from his position at the front. Because he was in charge, he swapped positions with John, which gave him a clear view of the situation: of me, the assisted kayaker; how well the tow was working; and the state of the other two towing kayakers.
Because we had to pick our way out through a fairly narrow gap where a fan tow would have been awkward, we had gone for an in-line tow—John towing Anthony towing Paul and me. Paul had rafted up to me on my right so that my injured shoulder was against him. This was far more comfortable for me, as my shoulder was immobilized and supported, and it left my good (left) hand free. All our energy and attention was taken up with keeping the raft together. In training sessions, I had always assumed that a paddler with an injury such as mine would be able to support himself and even help paddle with his uninjured arm. There was absolutely no way I could have done this. I was wholly incapacitated from shock, fright and pain at first, and then from the cold that was starting to take an all-consuming hold on me.
At this time of year—the end of September—British coastal waters are almost at their warmest. I was well dressed for the conditions, wearing neoprene shoes, neoprene shorts, two long-sleeve thermals, a neoprene spray deck with a full waist tube, a dry cag and a helmet. I hadn’t been in the water that long either, two or three minutes perhaps, and much of my torso was still dry. But the cold crept over me insidiously, slowly, until I was shivering all over. The wind had dropped off as we approached the shore, and the sun was shining warmly, but I was getting chilled through and through. Paul wasn’t much better off, and he hadn’t even been in the water. I was completely surprised by just how quickly I cooled down and how disastrous the whole episode could easily have become.
It’s very easy to assume that once the assisted kayaker is out of harm’s way and is being towed back to shore that the danger has passed. This is profoundly not the case. Had we not continually assessed and reviewed our situation, our problems would have worsened considerably. Having Paul monitor me and evaluate the progress of the towing kayakers was crucial to our success in getting ashore, which—after what seemed an age—we did.
I was stripped of my paddling gear—another excruciating experience, but I was adamant I didn’t want my expensive clothes cut away. Newly wrapped in layers of fleece, I began to warm up. While the others went off to finish their assessment, I was left ashore to consider just where everything had gone wrong. I have also been on the sharp end of a tow. Once, on Poole Harbor near my home in Dorset on the south coast of the U.K., I had taken a group of students out on a short day trip. One of them capsized and, despite being well dressed for the conditions, she started to cool off and became hypothermic quite quickly, to the point of losing consciousness. I rafted two other students alongside the assisted kayaker to keep her upright and confidently set off towing all three of them back to shore, a mere couple of hundred yards away.
Having practiced rafted tows regularly as a BCU coach, I was certain I’d easily be able to tow three boats the short distance to shore without much effort. I made no progress whatsoever. Towing a healthy paddler role-playing an incapacitated kayaker on a training exercise is one thing, towing a genuinely incapacitated and unstable paddler in real conditions is quite another matter.
The two students I’d rafted alongside the assisted kayaker were wholly engaged with keeping her upright and preventing her spray deck from popping off as she swayed from side to side; there was absolutely no other assistance they could provide. Any notion I’d had of their being able to paddle with one hand while supporting the assisted kayaker with the other was complete nonsense.
It only took me a few moments to realize how futile my efforts were and that the situation was very likely to deteriorate drastically if I didn’t do something quickly, so I called the coast guard. They sent a lifeboat and helicopter to our assistance. Having this experience in a location I was so familiar with affected me deeply, and I still mull over what might have happened had we not been so near assistance of the Royal National Lifeboat Institute. Its headquarters were just round the corner from where we were paddling.
The lessons of both these events have informed and altered my approach to towing and teaching towing considerably. Both incidents showed me that towing is an extremely difficult and arduous exercise that requires considerable training, practice, experience, good group management and determination to succeed. It is tempting to think�and certainly prior to these events I always did�of towing as something that can be rehearsed once on a training exercise and then remain a tool for use in dire circumstances only. My experiences have taught me that such an attitude leaves the potential towing kayaker largely unprepared when these skills are needed the most.
Tow System Methods
I�m not going to dwell on equipment for towing or different towing systems because there have been articles about both before and there are plenty of books and films to inform paddlers about the range of tows and towing equipment available. Suffice it to say that for sea kayaking, most long-distance towing systems divide into two main categories: waist mounted and deck mounted. Each has its devotees and its detractors. I use waist-mounted systems so I can move into different boats and have the same towing system with me.
Familiarity with whichever system is used and ease of deployment is far more important than the differences between the two systems. However, I will add a couple of points I�ve discovered through my experiences�first, repacking 50 feet of wet towline can be a nightmare, especially in wind and swell when you�re feeling tired and harassed. The easiest method I�ve found is to use a towline with a nice, roomy pouch to stow the towline in and then adopt the cavers� system of packing ropes�flake it all in loosely so that each loop lies on top of the last (this can in fact be done one-handed if necessary). This method will usually allow the towline to be paid out again without tying itself in knots, but it is as well to beware that it can still snag and to pay it out carefully and patiently.
The second point is that anything and everything on the back deck will obstruct the towline�hand pumps, spare clothes, water bottles and especially split paddles. It�s a good rule of thumb to store as little as possible on deck because it increases windage and might well be lost overboard or get in the way of some maneuvers, but obviously such things as split paddles need to be readily available. Some paddlers get around this problem by permanently stowing paddles on the foredeck. I�m not a fan of this, as it disrupts the nice, clean lines of my boat and sends spray up into my face when paddling into a headwind and a wave washes over the deck. Instead I keep them on the rear deck like most paddlers but have fitted plastic loops and elastics on my foredeck so that I can quickly and easily switch them from aft to fore as occasion demands.
Training and Practice
Regular training and practice are crucial; until towing a number of different paddlers in a range of conditions has been tried, it�s not possible to always anticipate how any towing system will operate. As part of my expedition training for students, I try to introduce the notion that rather than just an emergency technique, towing is a useful expedition skill that can be used to keep a group together physically and working together emotionally and psychologically.
Before an expedition, particularly as part of the training when a group�s paddling skills can be quite disparate, I will often coach my students to link together in an in-line tow to slow the paddling gazelles down and bring up the tail-end Charlies. This technique means that those paddlers with bags of oomph can share some of their energy with those who are flagging. The side benefit of this is that should a real towing need arise, everyone in the group already has experience of what to do.
I make this approach a mandatory part of expedition preparation, even though it�s not always popular�paddlers with plenty of energy often want to steam ahead, not be held back. However, I feel that the practice and experience of how exhausting towing is and the maintenance of the group dynamic and attitude justify this. It does of course mean that each paddler has to carry a towing system, and for longer or more exposed paddles, I treat this as standard practice. Should I ever be in a genuine towing situation again with a group of my students, I want them to be able to tow the assisted kayaker and me so that I can constantly assess the situation as Paul did when I was injured. Furthermore, such training provides an ideal opportunity for rehearsing group leadership. If you establish the rule that whoever is at the back with the assisted kayaker is the group leader, the paddlers have to rotate as the towing kayakers tire, and the leadership role naturally rotates among the group.
In-Line Tow
Within an in-line tow, swapping positions can be a logistical conundrum. There are numerous permutations, but through trial and error, I�ve found the best to be as follows (remember waist-mounted tows are used throughout, and obviously this is for a tow involving two or more towing kayakers):
- The group leader starts the tow alongside the assisted kayaker.
- When it�s time to rotate positions, the group needs to stop (and have a breather, snack, etc.), and the front towing kayaker disconnects from the tow and repacks his or her towline.
- The front towing kayaker replaces the group leader�the assisted kayaker should never be left unsupported.
- The (former) group leader moves in behind the rearmost towing kayaker and inserts into the system�tricky! In effect, everyone moves forward one place. The kayaker supporting the victim has the best position to evaluate the progress and becomes the acting leader for that rotation.
- When the towing kayakers begin to tire, the whole exchange reoccurs. It may seem like a cumbersome process, but it assures that everyone gets a chance to have a rest and a chance to lead the group.
Fan Tow
For fan tows, the swap-over is much easier; again assuming waist-mounted tows are used, any member of the towing group can drop his or her towline while leaving it clipped in to the assisted kayaker�s boat and swap places and roles with the group leader. The leadership role can either be circulated throughout the group or just shared between those with appropriate experience.
Role of the Leader
From the start, the leader needs to make not only an assessment of the state of the assisted kayaker but also an overall assessment of the situation�the morale and energy of the other paddlers within the group, their equipment and experience, the weather and forecast, the sea state, the tide and conditions, location, opportunities for egress, getting help and signaling�and quickly formulate a flexible working plan to get everyone to safety as quickly as possible. After any necessary first aid is administered, the leader needs to keep an ongoing assessment of the assisted kayaker and the towing team as the tow progresses, remembering always that those being towed will be getting colder, and those doing the towing will be subject to -exhaustion.
Communication with VHF radios or a prearranged system of whistle blasts will make it easier to attend to needs for various items such as snacks, drinks, spare clothing or adjusting the length of the towline to suit the conditions.
Constantly reviewing and revising the plan based on the changing state of the conditions and the group is one of the toughest jobs and will require a combination of good leadership and group consensus. Being willing and able to lead and to follow a leader�s instructions is absolutely crucial, particularly if the leadership role is going to move from one individual to another. A towing situation is no time for alpha personalities to try to assume dominance, but for everyone to work together to an acknowledged plan. The �leader� is simply a role that any suitable paddler can adopt wherein they have access to the most information and are best able to judge the situation and make appropriate decisions.
Another duty of the leader is to manage the rotation of the leadership role. A leader may have to overcome his or her own unwillingness to relinquish the role and to counter the tendency of people in stressful situations to soldier on in spite of exhaustion. Some recognition that leadership has been handed over may be required even if it�s only to say: �Okay, you�re in charge now.� The new leader will also need to be made aware of the latest developments in the assisted kayaker�s status and any changes to the plan as well as being put in charge of any communications.
Of course the leader is not the only person with responsibilities; all the team members (including the assisted kayaker) have a duty to work to support the team and any group decisions. Paying attention to details, such as having everyone paddle at the same speed and listen for instructions or signals, will make all the difference between a successful and unsuccessful tow.
Group Mentality
All this can and should be practiced in protected waters first and then in choppy, windy and tidal conditions to get a real feel of the difficulty involved and aim to make each stage as effective as possible. Everyone should become as comfortable as possible with all the different roles involved. Obviously, it�s easier to rehearse these skills with a regular group of paddling friends, and it can add spice to evening paddling sessions or day trips and boost confidence about being able to cope with events when things go wrong. Most paddlers tend to go out with either a club or a fairly regular set of friends, so there�s always plenty of scope for practice over a period of time.
I have found that training and working together is excellent for group cohesion; it gets people thinking about the demands of group leadership as well as developing the bond within the group and crucially prepares paddlers for the rigors of towing as well as reducing the complacency which surrounds the -exercise.
With enough practice, setting up for a long tow becomes second nature, and all the little niggles that can add stress to an already stressful situation can be more easily considered and solved. Having been on the receiving end of a tow, I know how reassuring it is to trust my safety and well-being to confident and practiced colleagues.