Seven things I learned capsizing at the boathouse

Well, this one wasn’t in my blog schedule but here it is nonetheless! We recently had a group of Guides at the boathouse, eight girls and three leaders, including the region chief commissioner (in her role as leader of said Guides; it wasn’t a region event) and long story short, I capsized.

It was a bit breezy – well within remit but a combination of retreating tide and onshore breeze was whipping up some bouncy waves and the smaller Guides were getting carried into the sea wall so our instructor was back with them. I was up front, leading them out to a buoy for our usual game of Head, Shoulders, Knees and Jump, along with the stronger members of the group. This included a girl who’s previously been in our boat club, who was a pretty good paddler but concerned about the waves. I did a lot of backwards paddling to keep an eye on this group (astonishingly, it’s actually easier than paddling forwards!) and this girl was doing fine. “Keep your nose pointed into the waves and you’ll be fine,” I said. “You are fine. You’re doing great. Maybe just overthrowing a bit, try to turn your brain off.” “I can’t,” said she, “I’m autistic.”

“So am I!”

I don’t talk about it much. I think that was the first time I’ve said it out loud. I don’t have an official diagnosis and it’s not something I found out about until my late 20s, so it’s not something I identity with as a key part of who I am. My parents apparently opted not to go down the diagnosis route when I was little because back then it would have been all stigma, no benefits. A past district commissioner who was a school nurse casually asked several times “Oh, you’re autistic, aren’t you?” and most of all, I do have an unofficial and totally informal diagnosis from someone qualified to do so who isn’t allowed to do it for me because he’s a close friend. So at this point, I believe it, point taken, but I still rarely allow myself to claim the title.

Anyway, I explained that I recognise when I’m thinking too much about something, like the sea being too bouncy, and can divert my thoughts. Practice, age and growing up not knowing how my particular brain actually works. The girl remarked that I’m “very chill” about the state of the sea and yeah, I’m fine, you’re doing fine, we’re all fine, but maybe we won’t play Head, Shoulders, Knees and Jump. Look, let’s just say it. I’m feeling confident in these conditions. I’m complacent.

I raft up, tie to a buoy, collect the four or five girls who’ve kept up and then our instructor sprints over to say that we’re not going to play – surprise surprise – and we’re just going to enjoy the paddle back, aided by the breeze. Off go the girls. I untie from the buoy and drop my sling into my boat.

This is where it all comes unstuck. The paddle is in my way so I’ve shoved it down the kayak. I’m broached at this point, taking the waves abeam, on my side, exactly where they can push me over. Can’t turn tail into the waves until I get the paddle out and between yanking it and being hit by a wave, over I go. I knew it was going to happen – I had that slow motion moment when you want to right it but you know you can’t and you’re just waiting to get tipped out but time has slowed, hitting the water is inevitable but somehow it still hasn’t happened.

A moment of shock and confusion, the kayak upside down over my head and then I’m free, water in eyes and mouth, spluttering, blind, then back into sharp focus. I grabbed my kayak and yelled for the instructor. I can’t empty my kayak on my own and she’ll rescue me in no time. Ha. I capsized a second time trying to climb back in. Quick decision: stop wasting time with me, we’ve now got eight Guides with no instructors. Tow my kayak, I’ll hang on and once we’re shallow enough, I’ll walk back dragging it behind me while you attend to the girls. Which is what we did.

So, here are the seven things I learned:

Attach everything. My sling is on the bottom of the sea and it took a moment to find my GoPro – at least I keep it permanently on its floaty handle. I had the pocket of my buoyancy aid unzipped so I’m lucky my phone didn’t fall out. By the time you read this, the GoPro will have a tether attached to my BA and the replacement sling will be clipped somewhere rather than dropped in the bottom of the boat and that pocket will remain zipped.
Buoyancy aids, wetsuits and neoprene socks are fine things for keeping you afloat but they make it really hard to swim – or perhaps it’s because I only know how to swim with a body inclined to sink.
If you let go of the kayak, you and it will probably part at astonishing speed. I don’t know which of us got swept away but I had to swim back at least three times during the attempted rescue and as mentioned above, that’s surprisingly hard.
The water is never as cold as you expect, nor is capsizing as bad as you fear
If you do get cold, trudging a couple of hundred metres in mud from waist-deep water to the shore will keep you warm
It’s more embarrassing when one of the instructors capsizes out of nowhere but still better than it being a Guide
If you’re going to make a fool of yourself, it’ll always be at the worst time, ie when the region chief commissioner is there!