Rip Tides and Ocean Safety (or how I nearly drowned/got eaten)

From: Edward W. Scott (edscott@apple.com-DeleteThis)
Date: Fri Aug 13 1999 - 12:12:46 PDT


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Subject: Rip Tides and Ocean Safety (or how I nearly drowned/got eaten)
Date: Fri, 13 Aug 1999 12:12:46 -0700
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From: "Edward W. Scott" <edscott@apple.com-DeleteThis>
To: "Wind Talk" <wind_talk@opus.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis>
Cc: "Ed Scott" <edscott@best.com-DeleteThis>
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In response to Roland's query, here's an account.

June 16, 1999. I had driven by Davenport to check it out, but was
meeting some friends at Waddell, so I decided to drive farther north.
Plus it looked a little scary, even at the upper break. As I pulled out
of Davenport Landing, a deer darted right in front of my car. To this
day, I wonder if there's an indian tribe somewhere where such an event is
an omen. Maybe because I spared the deer spirit's life, someone would
spare my own.

Waves were head to logo high at Waddell and pretty much closed out.
Sailing looked good, but gnarly. No one appeared to be riding down the
line, but some folks were catching some decent waves. I went out on my
4.9, making only a couple short reaches out and back, not really getting
any wave rides. I was a little op'd, but didn't want to go too small,
and didn't want to be sucked into any barrels or get wiped out punching
through. The adrenaline was pumping while punching out and riding in.
It was a day which, in military parlance, had a fairly high pucker factor.

Anyone who's sailed the coast in on to side-on winds knows that when
waves, especially big ones, jack up in front of you, they have the
tendency to kill the wind, making it difficult to waterstart and/or make
any forward progress. Makes getting out through logo-high stuff
interesting to say the least. I made a couple attempts on one reach, got
underpowered and worked, went downwind where the creek mouth lets out. I
continued to attempt to punch out - bad idea. In retrospect, on a big
day like this, I'd go in all the way now after the first attempt or two,
and walk it back upwind.

I got pasted by a first set, then a second. Come to think of it, the
waves weren't really coming in sets that day, they were just constant
marching in, one after the other, with maybe a 6-10 second period. Near
shore it was solid whitewater. There was a lot of water moving in and
out of the breaks at Waddell.

I got rinsed a coupled times, not a problem, but with the size of the
sets, I was having trouble water-starting, getting going, and having
trouble punching through. I think on the third or fourth wave I went
over the falls and lost my rig. I was about 75-100 yards out.

So, I was just downwind of the creek mouth, and I thought, no problem,
I'll just catch a wave and ride it in or catch up with my gear. The
waves were coming in pretty consistently. I was duck-diving down to
avoid getting worked, but as time passed I was getting winded. My gear
was washing up near shore. I was paddling but didn't seem to be making
any progress.

It turns out that south of the creek mouth for about 50-100 yards,
especially on a big day like this when lots of water is going in and out
of Waddell, there's pretty serious rip-tide there. It's hard to perceive
on a small day, but on a big day you can actually see the difference on
the surface of the water by a big patch of whitewater that is just
downwind of the creek mouth. I've heard it referred to as "The Hook" by
at least one sailor, but I don't know if that is a well-recognized name.

Though I wasn't panicking, my energy reserves were dwindling, and I was
waging a losing effort to conserve oxygen and energy. It seemed as
though as soon as I broke surface from a duck dive, another logo-high
wave was waiting for me. I wasn't really getting physically tired, but I
was getting winded. Moreover, shore wasn't getting any closer, and in
fact, seemed to be actually getting farther away. I've actually seen
people at both Waddell and Davenport do the swim for long periods of time
and have to be helped/dragged out of the water. I hoped it wouldn't come
to that ... or worse.

My worst fears about the tide were confirmed when my gear, which had gone
all the way in to the beach, about 100 yards or so, got sucked back out
again, and passed upwind of me. I had already surmised I was in a pretty
good rip, so I what I'd been doing was swim diagonal to shore to achieve
two goals: 1) get out of the rip; and 2) get closer to shore. My gear
went past me upwind, turned and went back downwind of me about 25 yards
back towards shore. I figured that if I could last that long, I would
eventually make it out of the rip. I think at this point, 20-30 minutes
had gone by since I first got rinsed, but I'm not sure.

Sometime thereafter, two friends of mine went down onto the beach south
of the creek mouth and started waving. They were very small figures and
seemed like they were very, very far away. It was comforting to know now
that at least others knew of my predicament. Until this, I'd been on my
own and figured if the worst happened I'd either just disappear or be
found washed up onshore somewhere farther south. Now, I figured if the
worst happened, someone could call the calvary and at least drag my sorry
carcass, alive or dead, out of the water. Thankfully, no one, surfer or
sailor, was foolhardy enough to attempt a rescue. Though I was almost
gasping for air at this point and the waves were still relentless, I
seemed to be finally making some progress towards shore.

Eventually, after paddling diagonally to shore for what seemed like an
eternity, maybe 30-40 minutes, I touched bottom. While anerobic, I
really wasn't that physically tired, and was able to walk up onto the
beach without assistance. G1 had my gear, no worse the wear except for a
broken outhaul on my booms. My other friend G2 said, "Hey, Ed, I'll lend
you my spare set of booms and we can go out again." Yeah, right.

When I get back to the parking lot, G1 asked if I talked to Bruce, my
other friend who'd been waiting up in the parking lot. I ask him what's
up, and Bruce says that he was watching me for awhile through the
binoculars, and that a dorsal fin was pacing me when I got closer to
shore. I guess this marine mammal was doing a pretty good imitation of a
distressed sea-lion. To this day, I can't help but think the rip-tide
there is the shark-equivalent of one of those sushi-bars that has the
little boats that go around, with sailors as the main course!

To keep things in karmic balance, I ate sushi for lunch the next day.
Sailed Waddell about three days later to get back on the horse, waves
were chest-head high. I steered clear of the creek mouth. I'm still
wary of it. After talking to a few friends, I found out that my
experience was not unique at Waddell, that I personally know at least a
half dozen people who had the very same thing happen to them.

As I said, in this instance, I swam diagonally to shore to get out of the
rip and to make some progress towards shore. Don't know if it's the
right thing to do, but it worked for me. That's what I've always heard
on ocean safety programs. Waddell is kinda C-shaped, so diagonal to the
waves is almost straight onshore farther down, though a lot farther away.
 I don't know what the best strategy is for conserving oxygen, though.
Duck-dive or not? The times I didn't, I got worked, went over the falls,
and it seemed I expended lots more oxygen getting ready for the next
wave. But duck-diving also consumed air. I guess it's a no-good-option
situation, and you have to maximize the least-worst.

I've also heard, but can't confirm by personal experience, that some say
just swim straight to shore as fast as possible to get in, but it seems
like that would consume inordinate amounts of energy that you might need
later. Someone else suggested to not duck-dive at all and catch the
waves and body surf in. I don't know. Hey, I only know what worked for
me in this situation, and I'm still here and in one piece to tell the
tale.

The elements are indifferent to your welfare - it's your responsibility.
To a shark, you're just another food source, to the ocean, you're just
another piece of flotsam. Be careful.

-Ed

PS - To read a really scary and life-threatening account, read about Dave
Kalama's Wipe Out from Hell at Peahi (Jaws) in Issue No. 3 of this past
May's Generic Sailboarder. It'll make your hair stand on end.



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