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Acadia cold water kayaking hypothermia sea kayaking

‘Perfect Storm’ of Conditions Leads to Kayaker Death

The kayaker launched from Hancock Point and was found near Hulls Cove. His kayak was found further south near the Porcupine Islands.
In a tragic accident during a honeymoon trip, a kayaker died of accidental drowning in the waters of Frenchman Bay last Sunday.

The purpose of this blog post is not to judge the decisions made by this kayaker or to determine exactly what happened but rather to learn from the incident so that other kayakers can avoid this type of accident in the future.

Sunday, June 19 dawned brilliantly sunny and clear. Visibility was a near perfect 10 miles. The 7:00 a.m. air temperature was listed at 59 degrees. The surface water temperature in Frenchman Bay was 58 degrees.

The young man involved in the incident, Eric Hogan, 28, of Webster, Massachusetts, left the shore of Hancock Point in a sit-on-top kayak, wearing only shorts and a life jacket. The lightness of his attire together with the reported fact that he and his wife were planning to leave their vacation cottage that day, seem to indicate that he only planned a short trip. The perfect visibility must have made the mountains of Acadia appear almost close enough to touch.

Waking up in Belfast that morning, I noted the stiff wind blowing and immediately decided that, for me, it was likely not a paddling day. However, weather records in the Bar Harbor area indicate winds of less than 10 mph at 7:00 a.m. The wind direction was from the WNW, which means if he launched from the east side of Hancock Point, he would have been in the lee of the wind and might not have felt it until he had paddled away from the shore. Even if he launched from the southern end of Hancock Point, he may not have been fully aware of the sea conditions, since — when looking out over the water — it is easy to underestimate waves that are not breaking straight onto the shore.

Low tide on Sunday morning was at 8:08 a.m. The tide is listed as 0.5 feet below “normal,” meaning it was a lower than average tide. At 7:00 AM, the tidal currents when move in and out of Frenchman Bay were nearly slack. Although there would be no clouds or rain that day, that early morning stillness was truly “the calm before the storm.”

By 8:15 a.m., the wind was coming out of the northwest. This may have pushed the kayaker further offshore and made it more difficult for him to return. Average wind speed increased to 12 mph, with gusts up to 21 mph. At shortly after 9:15 a.m., wind gusts of up to 25 mph were recorded in Bar Harbor. By this time the tidal currents that push north up the bay and ultimately west through the Mount Desert Narrows would have begun to increase. When tidal currents are in direct opposition to waves, as they were this day, it results in a rough steep-sided seas. By this time, wave heights at the Eastern Maine Shelf Buoy south of Mount Desert Island had increased from 3.0 to 3.8 feet.

Likely sometime between 9:00 and 11:00 a.m., Eric Hogan’s kayak was capsized and he was not able to get back aboard. Perhaps it had already capsized several times. One feature of sit-on-top kayaks is that unlike standard (“sit-in”) kayaks, they do not take and water and cannot swamp. Following a sit-on-top capsize, a paddler need only flip the kayak upright, clamber back aboard, and resume paddling.

The combination of the wind and wind-blow spray as well as the waves sloshing up onto his kayak undoubtedly started to lower Eric’s body temperature. If he had already capsized one or more times, this would have lowered his body temperature further. When the body gets cold, hands and feet start to lose dexterity. Next, arms and legs begin to lose strength. The mind also slows down. Coordination is lost. Judgement becomes clouded.

On one of the capsizes, Eric may not have been separated from his boat or paddle or both. Or, his arms may no longer have had the strength to pull himself back aboard.

At around 11 a.m., after his wife reported him overdue in returning from his outing, police and emergency response personnel began searching for him. Hogan was unresponsive when the Coast Guard found him floating off Hulls Cove around 1:30 p.m.

For the vast majority of people, kayaking is a relatively low risk sport that enhances health and provides a lot of joy. A study of paddlesport deaths in Maine shows that there were 12 kayaking deaths in the years 2000 – 2007, four of which occurred in ocean waters. However, even one death is too many. Following are some guidelines for reducing the incidence of this type of accident in the future.

1. Wear a life jacket, but also understand its limitations. Although the life jacket does not ensure survival, it does extend survival time when swimming in cold water.
2. Choose a kayak appropriate for the waters you are paddling. For paddling in cold waters, kayaks with enclosed cockpits and sealed bulkheads (provide reserve flotation in case of capsize) are recommended.
3. Leave a written float plan indicating where you are going and when you intend to return.
4. Dress for air AND water temperatures. When paddling the Maine coastline, this may mean wearing a wetsuit or dry suit. When it is summer on the land, it is still spring on the water.
5. Listen to weather forecasts. Winds of more than 12 mph may be too much for beginning paddlers. Winds of more than 18 mph may make conditions unsafe for intermediate paddlers.
6. Be prepared for changes in weather. Dramatic and unexpected weather changes will eventually affect all outdoor adventurers.
7. Study charts. Know the areas you will paddle. Understand the effects of tides and currents. Stay along shorelines as much as possible.
8. Carry a waterproof/submersible VHF radio and/or a cell phone in a waterproof pouch.
9. Practice self-rescue and assisted rescue techniques. Take a class to learn these if you have not done so.
10. Paddle in a group when possible as doing so increases your ability to successfully handle an accident or other unexpected situation.
11. If paddling alone, be more conservative in your decisions regarding all of the above
12. If you are unsure about any of the above, strongly consider going with a guide or more experienced paddler.

*Weather and sea condition data are from Gomoos.org and Wunderground.com

Categories
Downeast Maine Maine islands sea kayaking

Litte Birds, Big Ocean: Paddling with the Puffins of Petit Manan

We rose at dawn and drove to a rocky beach south of Steuben, Maine. After carefully packing our kayaks with safety gear, food, water, and extra clothing, we donned the thick black wetsuits needed to paddle safely in 50 degree waters, launched from the rocky beach, and paddled south along Petit Manan Point. Even as we did so, we monitored the weather on the VHF radio, as this area is renowned for fog and turbulent sea conditions. The mainland slipped away behind us. The ocean yawned wide in front of us. With excitement and trepidation, we continued paddling south for two miles along the shoal that frequently provides some of the diciest sea conditions along the coast of Maine.

Manan means “island out to sea” in Micmac — and, amidst that landscape in which the mainland recedes in all directions, the name seems highly appropriate. The 120 foot spire of Petit Manan lighthouse provides a singular reference point amidst that big sea. We diverted our course to the west to trace the shoreline of adjacent Green island, our eyes alert for what we had come for. But there were only hordes of jeering gulls on the shoreline.

Then we moved onto Petit Manan itself, which is connected to Green, at low tide, by a series of bouldered ledges. On this island which has been called, “one of the most important seabird colonies in Maine,” we saw guillemots, cormorants, eiders, terns, and laughing gulls, but none of the little black and white penguin-cousins we had come for. We saw the puffin blinds used by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service naturalists to study and monitor the puffins. We scrutinized the rocky shoreline for sights of puffin nests. We scanned the sky and the water for puffins. And saw none.

By this time, we had circled three-quarters of the way around Green and Petit Manan. On this, our second trip out to the island, we had just about resigned ourselves to not seeing the puffins. Then we rounded the southern tip to the area of Petit Manan reef. Suddenly the sky was alive with Atlantic puffins torpedoing through the air as they circled from the cliffs to our left, swooped out over the the shallow waters of the reef, and then wheeled back toward the lighthouse. These puffin “wheels” I later read are common in puffin areas where gull predation is high.

We rested our paddles on our kayaks, marveling at the sight, and ineptly trying to take photos of the fast-moving birds. Puffin flight is best described as frantic. These foot-tall relatives of penguins have short wings and long stout bodies more adapted to swimming than flying. In flight, their wings, which flap at up to 400 beats per minute, are only a blur. The short wings don’t allow puffins to soar or float in the air. Instead, they dive-bomber through it at speeds of 40 to 50 miles per hour.

Seconds turned to minutes. The sun filtered more brightly through the clouds. Gentle green swells lifted and lowered us as they passed toward the cliffs. We pulled our eyes out of the viewfinders of our cameras and lowered them from the sky to the water. The tidal current had slowly eased us to the north. The water around us was suddenly, magically full of puffins.

Undisturbed by us, seeming to accept our presence, they drifted in groups, preening and puffing and dipping their heads beneath the surface. For a time, we were lost to the human world and joined the puffin one. There, as we drifted, it was possible for a few moments to forget that we were not puffins. To forget that the gentle sea that stirred around us was not our home.

Of Maine’s 4,000 islands and ledges, puffins nest on fewer than ten. Once they leave those nests, they spend up to five years far out at sea before ever returning to land. To say they live on the periphery of human civilization is an understatement. To spend a few minutes among these rare and marvelous birds is a privilege and a gift. Part of that gift is the reminder that beyond the human world lies a much larger one, of which both we and the puffins are just a tiny part.

Resources:
Maine Coastal Islands National Wildlife Refuges
Maine Birding.Net: Atlantic Puffin
Seabird Photography
Bird Fact Sheet: Atlantic Puffin