The
following took place nearly a year ago, before I started
my canoeing journal. But it's a good story that I've
been meaning to write about, so here it is.
I
purchased my first kayak, a red Dagger
Delta, to use as a solo training boat. It's not
a fast boat, but it's durability, stability, and portability
would make it suitable for solo training runs on the
tight Upper San Marcos River. I can beat this boat
against the rocks, log jams, and dam portages without
worrying about hurting the boat.
The
Delta is also a great boat for fishing, which is what
Sly purchased his Delta for.
Last
winter, on Saturday, January 4th, Sly and I loaded
up our twin Delta kayaks and headed out for a day
of fishing on the San Marcos River. Our plan was to
fish the 5.5-mile stretch of river between the FM
1979 bridge and Staples Dam. We dropped off my Jeep
at the Staples Bridge, and then drove Greg's Jeep
with our kayaks to our put-in at the Shady
Grove Campground.
The
weather was unseasonably warm (about 55°) and
sunny. The river was running exceptionally fast, and
was still littered with fallen trees and other debris
from the recent flood.
I
had a small 6 lb anchor with about 20 ft. of rope
tied to a ring on the stern deck of my kayak. As we
floated down the river and found spots where we wanted
to fish I could drop the anchor to hold myself in
the current while we fished. When we got under way
again, I just set the anchor down on the flat stern
deck.
The
fishing was slow. After about 2 hours of fishing we
had caught one fish each. We were still about 2.5
miles above staples dam, on a remote section of river.
I
had drifted about 100 yards ahead of Sly, and was
approaching an S-curve in the river that looked like
it had a several trees in the river, and some sweepers
protruding from the vertical bank. The S-curve created
an even faster current.
A
sweeper refers to branches, roots, or other vegetation
that protrudes from the banks over the river, or a
downed tree in the river, usually on a sharp bend.
The river current flows strongest and most rapidly
around the outside curve of a bend. If this is where
the tree is, the current attempts to sweep your boat
into the tree. If this happens you can be swept from
your boat, while your boat gets pinned against the
tree, or swept under it.
You
can see where this is going, can't you?
I
paddled through a gap in the first downed tree and
floated into the eddy behind the tree where there
wasn't any current (#1 in the drawing). This looked
like a good spot to drop a line, so I cast a few times
while waiting on Sly. I moved into the current, and
started to reel in the line when I the line snagged
underwater. Since I was using Sly's borrowed fishing
pole, I hung on to it-even asI was being swept towards
the large tangle of roots that were protruding from
the steep bank.
The
first root that hit me nearly knocked me out of my
kayak, but I righted myself. But I was caught in the
full strength of the current, and as the fishing pole
snapped, my kayak got caught in the roots and the
current flipped me and everything in my boat into
the cold river (#2).
I've
capsized in swift water before, and know from experience
that if I just hang onto the boat, I can usually angle
it over to a bank as soon as the current allows. Luckily,
I was able to grab and hang onto my new $300 graphite
paddle.
I
was wearing large cotton cargo pants, a long sleeve
cotton shirt, and a fishing vest. The weight of the
water in the large pockets of the vest and pants were
making swimming difficult, and the extremely cold
water was causing my muscles to cramp and quickly
tire.
The
stretch of river that I was being swept down was about
150 yards long before it made another sharp turn to
the right. The bank nearest to me and in the heart
of the current was about 15' tall and completely vertical.
There was no way to get out on river-right. River-left
was a flat gravel sandbar, but the deep water was
too swift for me to pull the kayak towards the safe
bank.
I
was in the water for what seemed like 3-4 minutes,
but in reality was probably no more than 30 seconds
when my kayak came to a sudden stop in the river.
It was then that I realized that the anchor had fallen
off the kayak, and had caught on something below the
surface (#3). The kayak was ripped from my hands,
allowing me to struggle to the opposite bank (#4)
I
looked downstream and saw my yellow Pelican box floating
away. I yelled for Sly (still paddling behind me)
to go get it, since it contained my car keys and cell
phone.
Sly
and I stood on the banks, and watched as about 1'
of the bow of my kayak bobbed up and down in the current.
The stern of the boat was pulled down with the anchor.
The spot where the line was attached to the kayak
was about 6-8' under water.
I
kept expecting the line to break at any moment, and
to see my kayak bob to the surface. But it never did.
We momentarily thought about swimming out to it and
attempting to cut the line, but the water was too
fast and too cold. Plus, just further downstream,
the current flowed directly into a large sweeper/strainer.
And I was reluctant to get caught swimming in the
current and getting swept into that mess (#5)
The
scariest and most deadly part of a sweeper is if it's
also a strainer. A strainer exists when the downed
tree has created a major blockage in the river...usually
when other downstream debris and trees become lodged
against the first tree. Since the water usually can't
go over the obstacle, it forces the water, and everything
else to go under the tree. Getting caught on a tree
branch or root is a very real possibility if you go
under the tree. The underwater roots and branches
act like a strainer, allowing the water to filter
through, and straining large things…like a person
or boat. The chances of surviving are slim if you
get caught underwater in a strainer in a strong current.
After a few more minutes, the kayak disappeared completely
below the surface. I wasn't sure if it was still being
held by the anchor, or if it had broken free and was
now somewhere down river.
Since
Sly's kayak is also a solo kayak, we decided that
Greg would paddle down to my Jeep, and I would hike
out to the road. The property we were on turned out
to be the 1800 acre Hart Ranch. I hiked towards some
cattle pens where I could see some men working. I
asked them for directions to the FM 1974; they pointed
south and told me to walk about a mile to the gate,
make a right at the next dirt road, and then walk
about another 3 miles to the paved road. Luckily,
about the time I got to the gate, a rancher stopped
and offered me a ride after I explained what had happened,
and why I was on his property.
I
was waiting at my Jeep when Greg arrived.
We
decided to go back and try to salvage my kayak the
next day. It would turn out to be nearly as disastrous
a day as the first.
On
Sunday morning, Greg and I took my Jeep back out to
the Hart Ranch to try and get my kayak. We were able
to drive down to the river's edge, at the exact spot
where we had last seen my kayak.
I
had a line attached to a grappling hook. Our plan
was to try to hook the kayak or the anchor line, and
then pull it out with my Jeep. I backed my Jeep down
to about 15' from the edge of the river. The moment
I got out of my Jeep I knew I might be in trouble.
I was parked at the bottom of a slight incline, but
noticed that the ground beneath my tires was extremely
slick river-mud. I should mention at this point that
my Jeep is only 2-wheel drive.
Before
we tried to blindly hook the kayak beneath the water,
I walked about 75' downstream, up a hill to the bank
directly above the downed tree spanning about half
the river below. If my kayak had broken free overnight,
the current would have carried it directly into the
jam. Much to my relief, I could see about a ¼
of the bow sticking up through the debris, pinned
against the jam. The bad news was that we had no way
of getting out to the boat. It would be too dangerous
to try to swim out to it since the current was too
strong, and the risk of being swept beneath the strainer
was too great. We realized that our best bet would
be to try to paddle up river behind the jam. This
would allow us to climb onto the large tree trunk,
which was about 2' wide on top, and about 18 inches
above the water.
But
we didn't have Sly's kayak with us. We decided that
we would come back the following weekend and try again.
When
we tried to leave, my Jeep couldn't get enough traction
to get up the bank. The wheels spun in futility in
the mud. We tried to call Sly's wife to bring his
4x4 jeep out to help pull us out, but we didn't have
a phone signal out in the middle of nowhere.
So,
we spent the next 4 hours trying to get my Jeep unstuck.
We had to jack up each back wheel, put scraps of wood
beneath them, and then drive forward until the wheels
started slipping again. Using this method we were
able to move the Jeep about 2-3 feet at a time. By
the time we got the Jeep up the hill, we were both
exhausted and nearly dehydrated. At this point, I
didn't care if I ever got my kayak back.
Two
weeks later, Sly and I were heading to San Antonio
to watch the Spurs vs. Rockets. We left early, and
went back out to where my kayak had last been seen.
Much to our surprise, it was still there. The current
still had it pinned to the jam just in front of the
downed tree.
I
paddled Sly's kayak around the jam, and then paddled
hard back up stream behind the jam. I climbed onto
the tree trunk, and was just able to reach the grab
handle on the bow of the kayak.
I
was able to pull about half of the boat up onto the
log with me, but the weight of the water inside of
the hull was too great for me to pull it up all the
way. I tied a line to the bow, and Sly helped pull
from the bank until we had the boat resting balanced
across the tree. I was finally able to turn it on
it's side, letting the water, sticks, and two-weeks
worth of debris pour out.
I
tied it to Sly's kayak, and paddled them downstream
about 100 yards until we found a suitable spot to
portage.
I
took the boat home and hosed it down and scrubbed
the slime and mud off of it. Amazingly, after being
submerged and pinned in strong current for 2 weeks,
the only damage was a small hole in the rear hatch
cover.
If
Dagger ever wanted a testimony about the strength
of their Tupperware boats, this would be it.
So,
Sly and I embarked on a pleasant little river fishing
trip. I ended up swimming for my life in the freezing
winter river, lost my kayak beneath the water, spent
four hours stuck in the mud trying to get it out,
and two weeks later finally muscled it out of the
river.
But
a couple of valuable lessons were learned:
