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===== Monday Madness 12/11/2006 =====

**Two Views of Monday Madness** \\
surfskilady\\
12/13/06 #2225

HEATHER: At put in, we decided to go in two groups. Morris and Jeff teamed up, and Brandon and I did. I was in the S1-X Special, Brandon was in my V10. It had been blowing SE which is an offshore wind, so my preference is always to stick close to the shore.

At first, up until Governor's Point, wave height was mellow, maybe 2-3 feet. Brandon and I had made the plan to chat at Gov's to see if an eddy-out was in order, but when we reached it, there was no need to stop and so we kept surfing north.

Within a few minutes of passing Gov's, wave height began building and the south waves were mixing with ones coming from southeast from within Chuckanut Bay, adding to the complexity of the rides. At this point, though, I was feeling relaxed and was just starting to get some fun rides. I was totally warm in my drysuit, and within shouting distance of Brandon.

BRANDON: After our last big wind day when we were out with Don, I'd chatted with Simon about my less-than-ideal experience with the V10. His advice was simple: Be way more aggressive. So I went into this day with those simple instructions, and my paddle shafts newly adhered together. From the first few minutes on the water, I knew I was going to have an awesome day. By the time we'd reached the bigger waves past Gov's, perhaps 5 to 6 feet by that point, I'd figured out to not waste any energy trying to power into a late trough, as it was a guaranteed swamping – literally up to my chest in water on a wave peak. By actively backing off the peaks and then powering for the trough directly behind, I found I'd eliminated 90% of the swampings, and was still catching mega rides. At the end of every ride I'd check for Heather, who was staying within ten boat lengths of me without a problem.

The two-directional waves gradually became one-directional, south- southeast, and grew in size as we neared Post Point. By that time, I had watched Jeff and Morris get further and further out into the Bay. They were laterally about dead even with us, maybe just ahead. Wind strength was building, and I remember feeling pity for the upwind paddle they would have to endure to get back to Marine Park or Fairhaven Boatworks.

HEATHER: By the time we were even with Marine Park, I was struggling to hold any direction but straight down wind. We were well inside the Post Point buoy, close enough to wave to someone on the beach. Brandon, who was then 5-8 boat lengths behind me, made the turn to take out comfortably, but I shouted that I couldn't make it, and he turned back downwind and surfed up to my side. I gave it one more try, and got the ski turned roughly perpendicular to the wind, but could not make an inch on that last 90 degrees. I turned downwind again, as did Brandon, and we were back to riding the wind and waves.

Paddling "off the wind" even at a steep angle was extremely difficult, and it seemed futile even trying to "stairstep" our way towards, say, Boulevard Park. We were both plenty warm and were getting good rides, so rather than waste energy struggling against the wind, waves and my boat, we made the quick decision to keep heading down wind.

Brandon shouted out, "Let's go to the delta." We'd talked about this option in the past, and in drysuits, being on – or in – the water an extra hour or so was entirely doable. When in doubt, we had said, (and when there's a miles-long beach waiting like a catcher's mitt at the end), go with the energy.

BRANDON: The decision to paddle on to the delta was comforting. Paddling into or traversing this wind was like paddling in concrete. I knew the delta was a cushy landing area because I'd taken some kite-surfing lessons there, had dragged myself around the knee-to-waist deep water that's miles wide and better than a half-mile out from the beach, was laced with staircases and trails leading to houses and condos, and on and on. I yelled over to Heather that we could stash our skis under some trees, walk up to my buddy Andy's house, and call for a ride. What I knew would be the crux was the increased fetch between Post Point and the delta, which would allow the waves to grow God-only-knew how big.

It was at about this time that I started seeing the Coast Guard helicopter hovering over the beach where we were headed, then flying out over the Bay. I wondered what they had found so intriguing at the delta, which was still a good hour away for us.

HEATHER: As we traveled, the wind and waves continued to pick-up. We were constantly within sight of each other and were always in position to assist the other. Brandon was having a great day, and I could hear him letting out howls behind me as he was dropping into yet another eight foot face. As I was prepared to help him the last big wind day when we were out with Don K, we had switched roles, and on this day, he was ready to assist me.

Wave face height, by the middle of the bay, was over 10 feet. Wind was sheering off the peaks, and spray exploded at us like it was shot from a fire hose. I could not imagine taking the blasts in the face. I was beginning to have a hard time controlling my ski, and so I slowed down and let everything roll under me.

More and more, I was staying in a low-brace support position with an occasional forward paddle to catch a ride. Even so, I eventually got knocked off the ski. My Huki ankle leash instantly stretched to it's max under the force of the wind and waves, but held beautifully. I was able to reel in my boat, climb onto the upwind side, then rest with my stomach across the seat well so I was perpendicular to the boat. I held my paddle parallel with the boat and just out of the water.

BRANDON: I was three or four boat lengths off Heather's left side and a length or two in front of her when I saw her get knocked off her ski. I immediately dropped my legs in the water and started paddling gently backwards. I wasn't sure if she'd try to re-mount on her own, but I was comforted to see her watching me with a smile on her face. Within two minutes, I was floating just downwind of her, then I grabbed her ski right behind the seat with both hands, (my left hand also holding my own paddle). She side-saddled with her legs upwind, got her paddle in position, then swung her legs in.

We stayed rafted up just long enough to "check in" with each other, then I gave her a nudge away from me and she was pointed downwind and surfing again. By the time I got my legs back up and paddled to catch a wave, Heather was a good ten lengths away. It was moving that fast. But in the space of two rides I was again right next to her.

Before Heather swam and while I was back-paddling toward her, I watched over my left shoulder as the Coast Guard chopper hovered over what I guessed were Jeff and Morris. It was a mile or more behind us and seemed like a mile further out. There's nothing quite as ominous as wondering if what you're watching is a rescue or a recovery. It's not something I've witnessed before, and it seemed like forever that that big red bird stayed hovering there, well within the plane of "liquid smoke" that filled the air for meters above the water. Well after Heather had remounted and we had set off again, the chopper was still hovering.

HEATHER: After Jeff called the Coast Guard, they picked him up, then Morris, then came and located us. I was actually in the water, (the second of two swims), and climbing back into my boat as they hovered overhead, descending closer and closer to the water. The coast guard swimmer had one flippered foot out the door, but when I was back on my ski we signaled that we were OK and were heading for shore. They watched us get going again, then flew off to take Jeff and Morris to the airport. Jeff said he told them we were dressed to swim and had a VHF.

BRANDON: Through the final third of the paddle, the waves had indeed grown to just a gigantic size for Bellingham Bay. Heather had read me the forecast earlier that morning, that they were calling for 9 to 12 feet, and I remember we looked at each other across the breakfast table with furled brows, thinking: "Is that for real?"

As the chopper took off after hovering over us, the wave height well within the predicted range, the wind absolutely broke loose. It was surreal: the Coast Guard chopper flying off overhead, at that exact moment the sun breaks through the lead-colored clouds, back-lighting the thick haze of spray blanketing the bay around us, and a "gust" hits clocking over 60 mph that just did…not…stop. (Peter Marcus would tell me later that the weather station on his oil-spill response ship, which he was sitting in out in the bay while we surfed by, indeed showed steady wind speeds in the 60s).

And as the wind peaked, we reached the delta. The water turned muddy brown, the wave height dropped to 3 feet, and the rides peeled along for hundreds of yards, a gentle crumbling wave just pushing the skis along, a low brace for good measure, like long-boarding at some classic, interminable beach-break.

As we approached the beach, drift logs were piled high in either direction as far as we could see, and with a high tide and a bit of a storm surge, there was no sand "beach" per se. We aimed at a giant, stationary log, and when we were within a boat length of reaching it, just hopped off in knee deep water and wrestled the skis ashore. (The sight of this miles-long ribbon of churning, tumbling drift logs didn't exactly inspire confidence that Terry's lost V10 is still among the living. Terry, if you haven't recovered it yet, my condolences bro.)

HEATHER: As soon as we pulled our boats up, a storm watcher came over to greet us. This happened to be Rob Campbell, a kite surfing buddy of Shaun Sullivan's. He had hiked down to assess a sailboat that had washed up into the logs, (which is likely what the Coasties were hovering over an hour earlier). He welcomed us with a warm smile and immediately invited us up to his house, saying something about a hot tub!

While his wife made us tea and we started making phone calls to the Coasties and Debbie Arthur, we watched out their bay window in total awe as the wind tore across Bellingham Bay, up the cliff in front of their house, and ripped huge patches of shingles off their roof as it went by.

It was only then that we learned that Jeff and Morris were O.K. and had been dropped off at the airport. "And their boats?" we asked the Coast Guard official on the phone, hoping they hadn't also become drift log food. "They were recovered on the water," he answered with pride.

BRANDON: As a whitewater paddler, whenever something epic took place on the river, one of us took just a wicked trashing, got pinned, took a hellacious swim, etc., it seems that there was always a corresponding material sacrifice. A drybag full of goodies would come unclipped from the back-band and be lost to the river. Sometimes it was something as simple as a sponge, or a carabiner…but it was spooky how it always played out.

Yesterday, after having a wild two-hour ride with countless high-speed surfs and other thrills, watching our buddies getting heli-vacc'd, us ending up a long way from home but at a warm house with good folks and a hot tub and hot tea, not a scratch on either ski or so much as a lost tube of Chap Stick… I might have been caught wondering if I'd cheated karma just this once.

But I would learn how painfully wrong I was, as we reached put-in at Larrabee State Park to retrieve my van. We pulled up at 4:30 p.m., darkness just setting in. My parked van's passenger side window was smashed and laying in shards on the gravel. My heart sank. I opened the door and could tell the van had been rifled through. I'd started the day with a quick walk-through at a buddy's remodel, and had driven straight to the Bay from there. All my inspection tools were on board… and now they are gone. My leather jacket, a gift from my folks two Christmases ago, gone. My gym bag, workout clothes, jump rope, gone. And my digital camera, the picture of Larry's pelican undoubtedly still gracing the flash card… gone with the wind.

Aghhh… the cost of high adventure.

Be sure to check out the new pictures, and visit (//no longer valid address//) to see kite surfer Andy Holmes' collection of delta pix taken sometime early on December 11th.

\\
**josephdbarker** \\
12/13/06 #2226

WOW! Thanks for a great report guys. Who says you need to be "out in it" to be learning? Sorry about the loss of gear but who can say the value of passing on what you learned from the experience to others? I sure value it!

Joe

**Jeff Hegedus <jhegedus@…>** 12/14/06 #2228

Sheesh…my father, who lives in Princeton New Jersey, just told me that the rescue video was on TV there, and he was looking to see if it was me…

**Michael Gregory** 12/14/06 #2229

Whut Tha? You guys are like Celebs now. Wonder what yer Nielsen Ratings are? Probably had to bump CSI Miami to get the news out. Spielberg might be calling to talk about movie rights. How exciting! Mike.

**Larry Bussinger <lbussing@…>** \\
12/14/06 #2230

My thoughts exactly. Well almost. But I am impressed. As hard as he's tried, even Mike G hasn't been able to attract this much attention.\\
After I found out that everyone was OK, I had to laugh. It must have scared the Bejesus out of you. Reminds me of the notorious San Juan Challange years ago when the wind was hitting 50 mph. Took me a year to recover my calm after that.\\
Larry B

\\
**Dale McKinnon** \\
12/14/06 #2234

…somebody should ask Debbie what my reaction was when she told me Morris was pulled out of the water by the CG.\\
Dale

\\
**(More Misadventures in Bellingham Bay)\\
Morris Arthur <marthur@…>** \\
12/11/06 #2215

Brandon, Heather, Jeff Hilburn and I launched from Larrabee around 12:30 this afternoon in strong SE winds (20s gusting to 40s). Jeff and I were catching great rides a half mile off-shore; I'm pretty sure Brandon and Heather were having a great time too a little closer in.

By the time we closed in on the Fairhaven bell buoy, the waves were big (8-10 feet?) and often cresting. I felt OK until I tried to turn upwind. The best I could do was a slow ferry just off the point of the wind. Not very re-assuring…

Jeff had turned downwind and was now headed toward the Nooksack Delta. I chose to continue ferrying east towards the dry dock and alert the Coast Guard (yeah, right.) In reality, I alternated between wimpy low strokes in the (30 mph) lulls and frantic braces in the (60 mph) gusts. After about one and a half hours of this– you would think that I'd try a different plan by then, huh?– I was surrounded by a huge Foss tug upwind, a Coast Guard cutter downwind, and a serious-looking Coast Guard rescue helicopter overhead. With Jeff grinning down at me from the helicopter window, the huge tug bellowed "Are _ you _ in _ need _ of _ assistance?" I knew the right answer…

After checking to make sure that Brandon and Heather had successfully made it to shore (somewhere below Marine Drive), Jeff and I were dropped off at the airport. Our boats were generously retrieved by the Fairhaven-based Coast Guard. Great guys, those Coasties…

Corner me, Jeff, or the Nelson's, and you can probably get more interesting details.

Morris (who's doing a great job of precisely establishing his limitations :)

**More misadventures continued…\\
hilburnjjcl** \\
12/12/06 #2216

Morris isn't kidding about the huge waves. My GPS read a top speed of 17.0 mph! There were a number of times when I'd be launched down the face of a wave and even though I was leaning as far back as I could and leaning on my paddle, I'd still porpoise my bow up to my feet. Yes…up to feet..\\
Like Morris, I found I couldn't get turned in to Fairhaven either with the crazy wind gusts. I decided to just surf it out to the Nooksack Delta, but then remembered my wife was out of town and I needed to pick my son up at school. Son crying at school…office trying to contact parents…parents not home…office calling cell phone and reaching wife out of town… Bad, Bad, Jeff. I had my radio and my hands were getting cold and I was already past Fairhaven and heading towards the old Cement Plant. I was concerned that if my hands got too cold I wouldn't be able to remount my boat and/or work the radio. The more I was getting blown out into the middle of B'ham Bay, the more I realized it would be more difficult to spot me if I got separated from my boat, etc.. Would my GPS points be accurate enough for them to find me in the water? What to my wondering eyes should appear, but a Coast Guard helicopter from Port Angeles. So, I decided to call for a rescue. On a serious note…I thought they'd just send one of their small boats from the station at the Marina, not an armada of Foss tugs, a big Coast Guard boat and pull us out with a helicopter. I appreciate the work everyone put out to rescue us. It's serious business when others put their lives in possible danger to rescue you. Lessons to be learned:

1. always carry a radio and a GPS too.\\
2.Consider what happens if the wind changes direction.(It was blowing predominantly from the south when we drove along Chuckanut and looked at the water. We thought we'd have trouble staying off shore actually.)

3.Dress for immersion. (Heather and Brandon were in dry\\
suits)

Jeff

==== Radio Use in Big Conditions ====

\\
**Re: misadventures - handle the radio?\\
Reivers Dustin** \\
12/12/06 #2220

Jeff, Morris,

When I called CG for help, it was all I could do to manage radio/paddle/boat. I kept thinking, "no way could I deal with pyrotechnics or fool with a GPS". How did you reconfigure your GPS to display Lat./Long. and stay up on your boat?

In that heaving sea sitting there with my legs out and one hand on my paddle I found every button, strap and string to be an ever escalating mass of confusing befuddlement.

-I couldn't hold the paddle except near the upwind blade. The damn thing would weathervane around and spank me, or pull me off the boat when held any other way.\\
-The CG kept wanting to discuss and confirm my situation and position. I hung up on the boys a few times in order to re-pack my shit back in the bag.\\
-I was ok with my back to the wind, legs over. But once in a while a breaking wave would come up to my waist, you know with the nose and tail high and dry. Then the boat would try to buck me off.

Thinking back, I might have been better off to just jump in the water. I stayed on throughout the deal, mostly because my one brain cell was trying to keep everything simple.

The CG was there before you called them? Did they patch you direct to the rescue craft, or did you always go through a relay (dispatch)?

Did you actually get cold? I didn't get cold until after probably 30-45 min. of fooling around in and out of the water. I warmed up after the CG did their rescue and I started paddling hard again. So, I'm thinking my clothes were a good compromise after all. However the hands are a problem. I'm thinking about gloves for when it's really heavy weather.

One little side benefit: it's not a horror show to be rescued. (It's a horror-show to not be rescued.) The CG are some awsome folks with powerful tools. I got the impression they didn't resent sharpening their skills. Especially where the subjects of attention were "trainable". None of us abuse thier resources and we make an effort to manage our situation. As we learn our limitations and the recovery tools, we grow and they grow.

rd

\\
**Gracious Sakes\\
Reivers Dustin** \\
12/13/06 #2227

I've noticed before that a band of higher wind and seas can develop offshore a ways. It doesn't seem consistent. David S. sent me a photo of the Foss tug from the event. In that shot you can see the layer of "smoke" and you can see that the action is worse out there. Whereas nearer to shore looks less crazy. (I guess I better post that cool shot.)

I'm still trying to process all the information from these great posts. My lovely bride is trying to help me. She kindly suggests to not go when it's like that. So, er, guys - I mean you know I would be right out there with you. But she hid my safety whistle.

Maybe a useful decision point is where the paddler is unable to make way upwind. But that wasn't a problem when these four started out. I dunno. It can change so much, so quickly. Maybe I'm looking at this situation as if it's a case of "us" and "it".

"Us" is all paddlers. In reality we are different interests, abilities, fun quotients. I want to have a position about this winter's mayhem. An opinion. I guess, thank goodness the four out there are such great paddlers. Really the top echelon was represented.

"It" is the conditions. Shouldn't there be some rules about this? Like - the wind may only increase by 10mph over any given 30 minute period. Or, - if it is blowing over 30mph, nobody can go paddling.

Well, poop. Can somebody set the Wind-o-meter at about 20mph for Saturday morning?

…wonder where she hid that whistle…

rd

**My paddle/wind criteria**

**Morris Arthur <marthur@…>** 12/14/06 #2231

Reivers,\\
I've done the Larrabee-Marine Park run about 6 times in the last 2 months. The winds ranged from 10-60 mph, all from the S/SE. In all those conditions, I could paddle, [dump], and remount. That said, here is my personal wind chart for the east side of Bellingham Bay:\\
(Only SE-SW winds)\\
\\
< 10 mph: Pleasant, but a waste of a surf-ski\\
10-20 mph: Perfect for downwind efficiency and speed\\
20-30 mph: Adrenaline pumping fun\\
30-40 mph: Not fun anymore\\
40 + mph: Irresponsibly unnecessary\\
\\
I don't plan on going out if the wind's are above 30 mph or if there's a forecast of wind above 35 kts.\\
\\
Morris

\\
**Re: My paddle/wind criteria\\
fennmako** \\
12/14/06 #2232

Finally the voice of sanity (I like the chart)… I grew up paddling, sialing and windsurfing extensively in False Bay, Cape Town. If the wind exceeded roughly 30 knts, the rule of thumb was that no-one went out, or if they did, they were truly on their own. Of course in that environment, you had swell, and a 25knt wind on top of that created more than enough of a playground whereas here, we tend to look for bigger conditions that only 50knts can generate. In my view, once you get over 30 knts, you tend to fight rather than relax and play.

But to inject some humor, the wooden paddle award is almost a lock with "helo" hilburn….

Simon B

\\
**Re: My paddle/wind criteria\\
Larry Goolsby** \\
12/15/06 #2239

Geezussss….I leave town for one week and I miss out on all the action. There is now a new speed record for B'ham bay (17 mph) but does it count if you were ferried back to shore by the CG? As for turning in the high winds with a Huki, my experience was that it was difficult even with Jude's biggest rudder but I did manage to do it by speeding down a wave and pulling a sharp U-turn while in the troff in front of you. However, that only worked in 6 foot waves. We didn't have any news on our television in a remote part of Mexico so my first inkling that something happened was a message left on my cell phone (at home) from the Whatcom County Sherriff's office wanting to know how I was involved. Shouldn't they be calling Mike G. when it comes to headliners? I did manage to get in some surfing with a Perception Aloha 8.5 while I was down there. We had several days of high winds and rain and I manage to con the hotel into letting me use one. The Aloha is a plastic sit-on-top and is 8.5 feet long, with a wide tail and no rudder. Once you got on a wave, the only way that you could steer this thing was to paddle faster than the wave itself. The only paddle was a 5 lb. Hobie brand with a fixed right hand feather (I use left hand). As the wave would pick me up, I would accelerate at a high speed until the steepness of the wave would drive the nose of the Aloha down into the reef and the stern would pass over my head like a rainbow. The locals loved it. I would then stand up with sand filling my nose and ears with a Sea Urchin stuck to my forehead and the crowd would cheer. I was the king of Pitchpoling. However, after that first day, each time the hotel staff would see me coming down the beach, they would hide the Alohas and raise up a red flag to signal unsafe waters. It's good to be home……\\
Larry G.

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