Tag: disaster in the water?

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Were You AIMING for the Bridge? (Part 2 of 2)

The arrow is pointing at the pillar where the canoe got pinned.

(View Part 1 here.)

I sat in the van, more than a little worried. Remnants of a hurricane had swollen the river to a level that wasn’t safe for recreational canoe usage, which became painfully obvious on our last canoe run. Earlier in the afternoon another lifeguard and I had accompanied a group of canoers on our standard trip, but one pair of boaters somehow managed to broadside a bridge pillar. The current was so strong that it dumped the boaters and bent the canoe around the pillar. My boss, Allen, and I were on our way to retrieve the “shipwrecked” canoe, and I was a teenager that was getting less and less comfortable.

Herb, the director of the Christian conference center where I worked, was driving us upriver. The plan was that we’d get into a single canoe, paddle over to the spot where the bent canoe was still pinned against the bridge pillar, and break it loose. If it was in good enough shape, one of us would transfer to it and we’d each paddle a canoe back home. If it was too damaged for that, we’d both remain in the same canoe and tow the damaged one behind us.

We could see the pinned canoe from the boat ramp. I buckled my life jacket and climbed into the front of our canoe. Allen skipped a life jacket, but had a rescue tube (one of those big red floats that you see pool lifeguards standing around with) wedged under his seat. We shoved off and right away got swept into the bright brown water’s swift current.

The river moved so quickly that we barely had to paddle. As we approached the bridge, we started paddling backwards to slow ourselves down. We slowed down perfectly, turned so we were parallel with the pinned canoe, and gently bumped up against it. A perfect docking.

The problem was the current was moving so quickly that when it crashed against the bridge pillar and the two canoes, it pillowed up and created undercurrents that we couldn’t see or anticipate. Even though we sat completely still in relation to the shore, the water churned and frothed angrily beneath us as the river pounded the keel relentlessly. Our boat shuddered, then flipped over, dumping us both upstream.

That water was flowing hard. I didn’t even have time to be pinned against the canoe; I got dumped in and immediately got swept under the boat. I was able to get a hand onto the side of the boat, and hung onto it with one hand, and held the paddle in the other. I was laid out horizontally, completely underwater, flapping in the current like a flag on a windy day.

I had no idea where Allen was or what his status was. He had probably safely cleared everything and was downstream by now, but maybe he had managed to hang on somehow. In the event that he was still there somewhere, I needed to get into a position where we could make something happen. I needed to breathe, but if I let go, not only would I be unable to help Allen with recovering the canoe, but the attempt would be over because he’d have to abandon the recovery effort and come after me. Still horizontal underwater, I tried to do a chin-up so I could get my face out of the water enough to catch a breath and maybe see where Allen was, but the current was so strong I couldn’t do it. I think I tried again, probably with both hands this time, but it still wasn’t working. With no choice (and not knowing how long it would be before the river let me get to the surface), I let go and got flung into the current, now at the whim of the river.

Honestly, when I surfaced, I expected to see Allen downriver. When I came up though, I didn’t see him. I turned and looked upriver, but didn’t see him there, either. I couldn’t see him anywhere. The only place he could be was still with the canoe, somewhere underwater.

The current pushed me into the eddy behind the pillar, but I was about to be carried out of it. Once I left the eddy, there would be no chance of getting back upstream. Allen was in the process of drowning about 20 feet away from me; I swam with everything I had, but I barely got anywhere.

While I was still fighting to get upstream, he popped through the surface. I found out later that the strap to the rescue tube wedged under his seat had somehow wrapped around his leg, so even though he wasn’t hanging onto the canoe at all, the canoe was hanging onto him. He had been dangling by his knee at the end of a strap, batted around underwater without any way of getting air. It must’ve been his guardian angel that shook the rescue tube loose from under his seat.

Just relieved that we were both alive, my sense of humor returned. While we were still drifting downstream, I asked him “well, do you want to try again?” Thankfully he said “uh, no.” We were able to swim to shore and get out of the water, but we were down another canoe.

What would’ve happened if Allen’s rescue tube hadn’t come loose? Could I have made it far enough upstream to be able to help him at all? If it meant I would exhaust myself, what should I have done, considering I’d probably still need a good reserve of strength if we both needed to rely on me to get out of the jam we were still in? Thankfully, I didn’t have the chance to think of any of this at the time. Allen bobbed to the surface before I had time to think about it.

This event helped put things in perspective for me. In this life, there are things you can control and there are things you can’t. When you can’t handle it, God will take care of it. If the only way out of a situation is via something that’s beyond you, there’s only so much you can bring to the table, and you have to rely on Him for the rest. Life has countless opportunities for you to bear witness to the fact that you’re not in control as much as you like to think you are. Every day brings new challenges, and a lot of them need God-sized help to overcome.

It’s important to remember that if God hands you an assignment that you’re totally confident that you’ll be able to accomplish, the task just might be too small. By all means do it, but recognize that if it’s something you can handle on your own, there’s not much room for God to be glorified. On the other hand, if you get to be part of something that you could in no way have accomplished on your own, it’s harder to take the credit for it. I give all the credit to God for shaking Allen loose and granting us overall safety that day, and pray that recounting this story glorifies Him further.

(Also, hypothetically, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation with shipwrecked canoes, don’t forget to call the local fire/rescue folks and let them know that everyone’s safe and accounted for. Otherwise, someone will eventually report two canoes pinned against a bridge, the rescue team will get all kinds of excited, and then they’ll let you have an earful when they find out what actually happened and that you didn’t fill them in.)

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Were You AIMING for the Bridge? (Part 1 of 2)

Lots of rain that week…

This week’s posts took place at roughly this time one July. I got certified as a lifeguard very late in the summer when I was 15, so I didn’t get much experience actually working on duty that year. The next summer was different.

The Christian conference center where I worked not only had two pools that needed lifeguards, but it also conducted waterfront activities on the Delaware River. It had a boat that guests could use for waterskiing and tubing, but it also did a lot of “canoe runs.” A canoe run was where someone on staff drove guests a few miles upriver and dropped them off with canoes, along with a lifeguard to guide the group. This stretch of river was mostly flat, but did have a few sets of progressively choppier or rougher rapids that helped break up the monotony. Canoe runs usually occurred four or five days a week, many times twice a day. As a result, the lifeguards became very familiar with the river and where they might encounter trouble spots or submerged obstacles. They almost never went more than a few days without being on the river, except for once each summer.

There’s a week every summer where the organization’s program offerings change, and it does not offer any waterfront activities. During this particular summer’s no-river-activities week, the remnants of a hurricane blew through our area. It rained hard for a few days that week, swelling streams and tributaries locally and for miles upstream of us. The water level rose and the current quickened many times over as that water made its way into the river.

For the first canoe run of the following week, plenty of people were excited to go. Recognizing that the river had risen substantially, an extra lifeguard went on this trip. I was one of them. Things started out uneventfully, but we were still within sight of the boat ramp when something very unexpected happened.

Here’s the bridge, with the supporting pillars. The one in question is the one right over this guy’s shoulder.

Soon after the put-in point there’s a bridge that crosses the river. The bridge is built for vehicles, so its pillars are pretty solid. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I think the two men in one of the canoes were trying to get past one of the columns and got surprised by how swift the current was moving. They somehow ended up slamming broadside into the pillar. The current was so strong that the impact dumped both people into the river and the force of the water physically wrapped the canoe around the upstream side of the pillar.

With the current moving so quickly, everyone else who had not hit a bridge went flying past the site of the impact. The other lifeguard and I, still a little stunned that someone had actually run into the only thing they could have possibly hit, spun our canoe around and began paddling upstream as hard as we could, but it was all we could do to not lose any further ground to the current. Just about all of the other canoes did the same thing, but with varying degrees of success. The two guys that got dumped in the water didn’t quite know what to do, and were stuck in the eddy downstream of the pillar. Everyone paddling hard was getting tired, so we had to shout to the guys to start swimming downstream, out of the eddy, so we could reach them. They did, and we eventually reached them and placed them in two of the remaining canoes.

This all happened within sight of where we put the canoes into the water. We still had almost three miles to go! I started worrying about all kinds of things. “What are the rapids gonna look like?” “If the current’s moving this fast, is our whole group going to be able to make land if they all arrive at our destination at the same time?” “How do I tell my boss I lost a canoe?”

The rest of the trip wasn’t nearly as eventful as what I feared. The river was so high that the rapids no longer existed, and the current moved so quickly that we made it downstream in record time. It was a struggle at the end, but we were able to get everyone back on land at the right spot. After counting heads and accounting for all of the gear (minus one boat and a few paddles), it was time to go tell the boss.

You might remember Allen from an earlier post. He’s the guy that recruited me into lifeguard training. He was in charge of all the recreational activities, and he was the guy I needed to tell. Allen’s the kind of guy that usually has the same facial expression whether he’s happy, sad, conflicted, ecstatic, flabbergasted, or thinking about a baloney sandwich.

“Dude, Al! We lost a canoe! These guys hit one of the bridge pillars, the canoe wrapped around it, they got dumped out, we picked ’em up and made it back, and as far as I know, the canoe’s still there, stuck on the bridge!”

He just kind of stood there and blinked at me, digesting what he just heard. He asked me a few clarification questions, paused to think for a few moments, and then hit me with:

“Well, let’s go get it.”

Then it was my turn to stand there and blink.

I should have protested more, maybe making more of an attempt to convey the river’s strength. I was fresh off the situation…I had just been there and seen the power of the current, and how crazy high the water actually was. Allen knew the conditions were much different from what they normally were, but he hadn’t been there to witness the ease with which the river destroyed a canoe. At 16 years old, though, I wasn’t confident enough to challenge my boss and say “I’ve been there, I’ve seen it! You’ve gotta believe me!”

There’s a difference between knowing something with your mind and having experienced that same thing in person. If you follow Christ, He enables you to do things that you can’t do without Him. The Bible talks about how we’re supposed to go out and tell the world about Christ, being bold and taking steps forward when we can’t see what’s in front of us. It talks about being strong and courageous, and it even talks about how, if you’re faithful with a few things, you’ll be granted authority over more resources so you can further demonstrate your faithfulness.

Yet it’s one thing to read about and say “yeah, I know that, I’ve known that for years” and quite another to do it. Keeping your keister parked on the couch instead of being obedient is a loss for Christ’s kingdom. You, as a child of God, need not fear even when seemingly impossible and daunting obstacles stand before you. If you know that God will empower His followers to do His work, do you believe Him? Going a step further, if you know that God has charged you to do something overwhelming, are you stepping out in faith even when you can’t see what’s in front of you?

Take the next step. Step out in faith. He’s going to give you what you need to succeed in His name. I’ve been there. I’ve seen it. You’ve gotta believe me!

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Tomorrow Might Never Come

Picture courtesy of GoogleMaps

I don’t remember if I was 16 or 17 but I worked as a lifeguard a few of my teenaged summers. The Christian conference center where I worked was always very busy in the summer time, so when I wasn’t doing lifeguard or pool stuff, I usually had some other type of work to do.

One morning I sat in an office near the conference center’s front desk, doing data entry for some upcoming summer programs. I heard someone come running in the front door, and breathlessly told the front desk attendant, Kari, that there had been an accident down on the river. On the other side of the Delaware River, right across from us, there was a rope swing. Apparently a pair of guys that had been paddling down the river stopped to play around on the rope, but the rope snapped on one of them while they were mid-swing. According to the guy who came running in, his buddy was conscious, but couldn’t get up. Since there were some people hanging out on the conference center’s dock, the uninjured guy saw them and paddled over to ask for help.

Kari called an ambulance to get them rolling, then came back to where I was. She asked if I could just go see if there was anything I could do to help or if there was anything I could find out.

As I ran across the street and arrived down at the dock, the guy in the boat was just paddling away in his boat, heading back over to his buddy. I asked the people on the dock what was going on, and got the same info I already had. It sounded like the guy in the boat was super panicky, and it wasn’t clear if the injured guy had a hurt ankle or a hurt back. There were no other boats around. A canoe would have been absolutely fantastic at that point, and the conference center’s ski boat would have been even better, but the waterfront equipment wasn’t going to be set out for the day for another half hour or so.

I didn’t know how long it would be before the ambulance arrived. I looked across the river to where the guy was still laying in the water. That was too far to swim. Well…maybe? It was, right? I had never tried it, but that didn’t mean it was too far. I’d been swimming laps in the pool; in fact I swam hundreds of yards most weeks, but I never went more than 25 yards without touching a wall. This was probably only four or five pool lengths. The guy over there might have a broken back, and if his buddy did anything crazy, it could have a lasting impact. Before I knew it, I ran up to the pool and grabbed a big red rescue tube, then ran back down to the river. I was already wearing swim trunks; I kicked off my shoes and took off my shirt. I put the rescue tube’s strap across my chest and waded into the water to start swimming across the river.

No big deal, right? It was the same thing that I did in the pool. Everything went fine at first. I swam with purpose, I was confident I could do it, and the adrenaline gave me a boost. I had swum hundreds of laps in the pool, so I knew to lay as horizontally in the water as possible, even though it felt unnatural, so I could streamline my body and reduce the effort I’d need to expend.

But that was in a nice clear pool, with goggles. There were no lines on the floor here telling me I was going in the right direction. I had to keep picking my head up to check where I was, where my destination was, how fast the current was taking me, and if there were any boats coming. Picking my head up meant my body was more slanted in the water, so I had to work harder to go the same distance. Without goggles, the water kept getting in my eyes and I had to squint or miss half a stroke to wipe my eyes to see again. My feet kept kicking the rescue tube or the strap it was attached to, so I had to modify my kick. The adrenaline burned off, and I was in the middle of the river, getting tired and starting to doubt myself.

I ended up switching strokes for awhile. I didn’t move very fast, but it helped me rest enough to resume my previous stroke. After what seemed like forever, I made it to the other side. I was glad when my feet touched land again and I was able to walk up out of the water to find out what was going on.

It turns out the guy hadn’t broken his back or anything quite so severe, but his leg was probably broken. The river bank was too steep to get him up to the top, especially since he was a bigger guy and I didn’t have any shoes. The rope swing was on the back edge of a field. Any emergency vehicles were probably going to have a rough time finding the dirt road that led to us. I sent the injured guy’s buddy out to the main road to help the ambulance find us, while I stayed with busted-leg guy.

The emergency folks didn’t have all the information they would have liked, so they activated the swift-water rescue team. Now, my hat’s off to volunteer paramedics and river rescue folks, because they never know what they’re going to deal with when they show up to a call. I have to say, though, I was a little amused when a guy in a life jacket, wetsuit, and a helmet tossed a throw-bag (a rope with a weighted end) near us as I sat on the shore of a gently flowing river, wearing only swim trunks, while the water gently lapped our feet.

They got the guy out and loaded him into the ambulance. They patched him up, and I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure he was fine after a few weeks on crutches. Thankfully by the time they were driving off our waterfront equipment was getting set out, and of all people, my dad came idling up to me in the conference center’s ski boat to give me a ride home. I was glad I didn’t have to swim back.

What a crazy story. Where in the world am I going with this? I have three things to elaborate on:

First, no matter who you are, daunting tasks lay before you. Whether it’s the struggle to make it through yet another mundane day or fighting against something that threatens to annihilate your way of life, the choice to either stand on the sidelines and watch or step forward to get your feet wet is up to you. The road will be hard, but things God placed in your pathway previously have helped equip you for the journey.

Secondly, you don’t have to have all the answers in order to be helpful. I was afraid this guy fell off a rope swing and broke his back and that I was going to have to deal with some crazy complicated scenario. I wasn’t an EMT, I was just a teenaged lifeguard that was trained in CPR and first aid. I don’t think I even had a driver’s license yet. If the guy had been in real bad shape, the only thing I had with me was a glorified pool float. I knew more than either of those two other guys did, though. I may not have done anything to save the day, but by deciding to wade into the river, I kept things from getting worse. We’ve all been there. Maybe you see something at work or at church where you know it’s not going to end well, despite the best intentions of the people involved. If you see something they don’t, even if you’re not the expert, consider offering some insight that can keep things from getting worse.

Finally, when God made you, He broke the mold. While we’re all made in His image, you’re not like anybody else on Earth. Think about the things that come naturally to you…the combination of talents, interests, and traits that are unique to you. We’ll call that unique combination your X factor. In this day and age there is an urgent need for people to make use of the X factors God gave them. There is nobody else in the world that possesses the exact same X factor you do. You might be thinking something like “but you don’t understand…I don’t have a position of authority…I don’t even talk with that many people…I’m a nobody.” Let me tell you something: the Bible is full of “nobodys” that chose to get out of the way and let God put their X factor to good use.

Many, if not all, of us have been given opportunities…opportunities to do whatever it is that we’re best at. It’s one of the greatest gifts a person can receive: a chance to do what you were made to do. Incredibly, many of us put it off. “I’ll do it tomorrow,” or even “next week.” What kind of arrogance is it we have when we assume “the same opportunity God is giving me right now will still be there in the morning”? The only thing you have for sure is right now. If God’s been nudging you to do something, what are you waiting for? It’s time to do it right now. Call that person right now. Stop delaying and set your idea in motion right now. Get it done right now. Wade into the water…right now.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. -Philippians 4:13

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It’s Not Just About You (Part 2 of 2)

The guy in the back with the dorky pose…don’t know him

The sun came out for our second day on the whitewater. The rain and gloom had passed, and we were all much more relaxed now that we had survived the first day of paddling. The mood lifted once the gray skies, drizzle, and apprehension gave way to sunshine and confidence.

As far as the water level, this was a perfect scenario; it was an April weekend that followed a large amount of rainfall in New York’s Adirondack Mountains, but the warmer temperatures and rain helped melt a lot of the snow, which also ran into the river. The result was a river so swollen with churning whitewater that even many of the local guides had never seen it quite this big.

Our second day was a little different from the first. This time we linked up with one of the local outfits that knew the river pretty well, and we stuck close to them for a collective “safety in numbers” advantage. Laura was still our raft’s captain, and I was still paired with her to project the voice commands a bit further, but we rotated some of the paddlers around between boats.

In the afternoon, the local boat was in front of us, and then the next two rafts were ours. As we came around a sharp bend in the river, all the color drained from our faces. Spanning two thirds of the river was a gigantic standing wave that had a nasty rip curl at the top. It was a freak river feature that could only occur when extreme amounts of water shot through that section of the waterway. The guides didn’t know it was there, and none of us out-of-towners expected to see anything like it.

The local boat saw it too late, and all they could do was try to paddle through it head-on. It was too much for them; the boat got flipped right away and everybody got dumped in the chilly water. The rest of us paddled for all we were worth to get to the safer route. We safely made it past the wave, then surveyed the damage. Since we were the first boat on the scene, we made for the biggest group of helmets bobbing in the water. We started grabbing people by the life jackets and pulling them aboard. The raft behind us picked up the guide, but we got everyone else. Our kayakers started buzzing around the area picking up dropped paddles, disposable waterproof cameras, and even somebody’s bottle of Coke.

We were very near the capsized raft at that point. I thought back to all the raft-flipping I’d done in the pool during the dull winter months. I must’ve flipped a capsized raft at least 50 times in the pool. All that training was perfect for a moment like this; if I couldn’t use that knowledge and experience now, what was the point of doing it at all? I wanted to go after it…

I actually put my foot up on the rim of the raft to jump into the water. I turned back to tell Laura I was about to go after the raft, but that’s when I realized the state of complete disaster our own raft was in. It was pandemonium. Our raft was meant for eight people, but we only put six of us in it at the start of the day. Now our raft was bogged down with 14 people, only half of which had a paddle. Our raft was a self-bailer, meaning it had holes in the bottom so water that splashed in would drain out on its own. Instead of the normal inch or two of water on the floor, now it was midway up our calves. We were still flying down the river, but we were largely at the mercy of the current, headed towards God-only-knows what kind of waves, whirlpools, or strainers, and nobody knew the plan to meet up with the other rafts.

The people we just picked up were understandably chattering away about what just happened. They loudly thanked us for plucking them from the water, but all their excitement started causing a major communication breakdown for our crew and all we wanted was for them to stop talking! Laura’s tiny voice was yelling, trying to establish some sense of order, but it wasn’t doing much to get through to the newcomers. I was paired with her exactly for the purpose of echoing her commands loud enough for everyone to hear. I wanted so badly to go after the flipped raft, but it would’ve meant leaving them in an even more chaotic situation.

I turned my back on the capsized raft and started echoing Laura’s commands in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Our guests quieted down and our crewmembers in the front of the raft, no longer distracted by excited yammering in their ears, were able to hear us and start pointing us in the right direction. Everyone with a paddle dug just about as hard as they could, and we sluggishly moved out of the main current into the calmer waters near the riverbank. In the middle of it all, our trip leader, Tim, paddled his kayak up to the flipped raft and jumped on. I was pretty distracted with the situation in our raft, but the last I saw of him, he was laying on the raft with a big grin, paddling hard and looking like he was having the time of his life. (I know you’ll read this at some point, Tim…you beat me to it!) Anyway, it took awhile, but we eventually gathered all three rafts to reunite the guide and crew with their boat.

It was an adventure, for sure. In the moment, it was absolutely crazy and scary, but even now, more than 15 years later, I bet everyone on our trip remembers that portion of it. The trip had so many fun details that I had to journal about the experience (which is where I looked for a refresher)!

I can’t even tell you how much time I spent practicing how to right a capsized raft while in the pool at college. Most of it was done just for fun, but each time I did it, it helped contribute to the overall muscle memory and cementing the automatic steps that would need to occur when a raft actually flipped over on the river. What better time to use this experience could there possibly be than this opportunity?

Here’s the crux of it all though: just because you’ve focused so much time and effort into training or preparing for a specific type of ministry or situation that you ignore things that are “outside your lane” when God drops them in your path. To truly be a player on God’s team, you need to be willing to do what needs to be done, whatever that may be. Even if you haven’t prepared for a given scenario, He’ll make sure you’re equipped with everything you need when He presents a new challenge to you. The only thing you might be missing is a willing heart, and that’s something only you have the power to control.