This is the email that prompted our cold-water rescue class.

Subj: Adam’s cold water (mis)adventure

Conditions were not exactly ideal even before we got to the water. This being the first Saturday after the new year, I had spent the previous weeks doing little besides eating, imbibing, sleeping, and failing to sleep. I was a bloated, logy, sleepy and slightly hung-over sack headed to the river.

I do not exaggerate when I say that it was so windy that I had to lean into the wind to keep from being knocked over. When I got to the pier I found that Johna and Ted were equally unenthusiastic about the conditions. They were not beyond our skill level; they were just going to suck. We decided to just play in the embayment a little, which would be good exercise as, even in the protected embayment, major waves came crashing through.

I was the first to suit up and I went to retrieve my beloved new boat. Johna and Ted were still getting their boats ready when I attempted a seal-launch. You’ll notice I say “attempted.”

The boat slid easily enough down the side of the floating dock, but when I hit the rough water I started to go over. Quickly, I grabbed my paddle, but when I went to high brace, the paddle sliced awkwardly into the water. I hadn’t grabbed it quite straight. I barely had a second to get some breath before I was under water.

The sensation of unintentionally hitting the 44 degree water was new to me. It didn’t feel like cold as I know cold; it felt like pain. My body screamed and rejected it and I could feel a very visceral and primal need to get out of it as soon as possible. Still, I was very lucid under there and my mind was still very in control. I knew what I needed to do.

It was a little difficult getting set up for a roll. Even though I had just bled my suit, there was still a fair amount of air in there and I had to force my body over to the other side of the boat. By the time I was in position, I was feeling the lack of air in my lungs in addition to the cold and there was a sense of urgency to everything.

I tried a sweep roll and I got most of the way up. At the time it felt like my blade angle was still off, though with the clarity of hindsight, I’m thinking I might have brought my head up prematurely as well. I grabbed a gulp of air and went down again. I set up again. Again, the cold water felt like nothing but pain and something in some part of my brain told me I didn’t have much more time.

Again, what stands out was the clarity of my thoughts. I had ordered a new paddle, but it hasn’t come in yet, so Randy has been lending me a shop paddle. I prefer a small shaft, and this was a regular shaft, and I could feel the difference in my hands, numb though they were.

My second sweep was exactly like the first. I started coming up, but just didn’t have enough oomph to get all the way upright. As I was slipping back down under the water again, I realized that I wasn’t sure how I was holding the paddle. I didn’t know how much longer I could take this and I was the only boat in the water, so I decided to go for the wet exit.

As I reached for my skirt’s grab-loop, my hand felt like a slab of meat and getting my fingers around the loop was much harder than it’s ever been. Still, cold as it was, I felt quite a bit better once my head was out of the water. It was still cold, but my drysuit was seriously earning its price-tag as I pushed my boat back to the floating dock.

I imagine, had I needed to, I would have been able to pull my sorry carcass out of the water, but I was really glad to have Ted there to drag me onto the dock. With water draining out of my sinuses and my forehead throbbing like I’d bit into an ice cream bar, I just lay on the floating dock laughing. Cackling, really.

It really does make me reconsider the concept of “bomb-proof” in a roll. I thought my roll was pretty bad-ass, but I realize now that there is a big difference between a roll you’ve set up for on a nice day, and one you do out of necessity in rough and freezing waters. Hanging out and getting your bearings and setting yourself up underwater is a nice luxury. It’s maybe not a cold weather reality.

Anyway, we went for a short but athletic paddle. With all of that wind, it really was a workout. The wind coming from New Jersey meant that we got little respite from it in the embayment. There was ice on top of all of the moorings and the sea birds were taking refuge on the wooden floating dock (until I came to annoy them).

It was a relatively brief paddle; fighting that wind was exhausting work and I have a date tonight. Once our boats were away, however, Johna and I engaged in our exercise of jumping into the river in order to de-demonize the cold water and prove our faith in our drysuits.

The bad news, I guess, is that I need to practice my cold water rolls. Oh man, it’s going to suck. The good news is that the more I do, presumably the less it will suck. Whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, right? Right?