Mountaineering Accident - when your ego runs the show and you get too far ahead

1306 and I'm still mucking around...?  For some reasons I couldn't sleep until very late last night, so I woke up tired.

Decided to join Dennis' Trailwalker group, so we start training this Saturday.  I've always thought, as soon as I land, all is well, nothing could harm me.  Ha!  Funny girl.  I'm rather helpless on land, which is not a good thing, especially when I have to take care of myself for 3 months or so in NZ in the wilderness.  And contrary to my screwed beliefs, shit can happen on dry ground.

This reminds me of the incident when I took my Kayak Proficiency Gold exam with Danny, the sea was heavy and Danny picked a somewhat difficult route (considering the heavy tide, wind, and rain anyway), the other 2 examinees seemed to have troubles paddling against the head wind; I was moving steadily ahead, but kept glancing back and noticed they were stuck in the narrow passage between Grass Island and Kung Chau.  

At the time, I reasoned that it would be easier for Danny to take care of two incapacitated students, instead of three, so I lowered my head and paddled hard against the headwind, moving away from the "crux" to wait for them in the next designated check point.   I kept looking back, they still weren't making any progress, but Danny did not give me any signal to come back, so I paddled on.

After I left the narrow passage, I realized the current was still rapid and I would be sucked backward if I remain stationary just ahead of the passage, so I decided to paddle to the next check point just around the Northern point of Grass Island.  I reasoned that once I rounded the Northern tip, the wind will come from behind me, so it would push me forward, instead of backward.

The wind did exactly that, but I soon realized my body temperature dived once I stopped paddling, so I decided to paddle just a bit further ahead to find a sheltered area to try to stay warm.

I've never seen Danny so angry; when he finally left the other two students behind to look for me, he didn't even yell at me or anything, he just stared at me in complete disbelieve.  He told me he was ready to call the center for a powerboat to search for me when he didn't see me in the previous 2 checkpoints.  He asked me what I would do if I were to capsize and nobody saw me.  

Looking back, that's probably the shittiest "prank" I've ever pulled on my kayaking trip leaders.  I was the only girl on the trip, and I wanted to prove myself capable of handling my own craft despite being a girl.  Looking at the fatal hiking accident in NM, I suddenly realize what a nasty, self-centered megalomaniac I have been.  I still have a tendency to leave my companion behind, I really need to change that habit.

In the mean time, as the title suggests, shit can happen on land, so I'm committed to really work with the rest of the program (strength, resistance, CV, jogging...), and not just the water-logged bit.

Will head to shatin now with a decent pair of runners; I'll work on the land stuff till I drop, then get down to the water if I have time; or bus back to Sai Kung and get my 20+k launching from Fred's.

Don't think I can pester Dennis about safety calls at that kind of ungodly hours.  Or maybe I can get him to phone police if there is no mail in his inbox by early tomorrow morning.

Tai Long Tsui snafu

I sank Indian Summer on Sunday, and nearly lost my paddling buddy too.

This is my perspective of what happened.  Would be interesting to hear what Dennis has to say.

0845 - launch (Fred's)

0925 - Ko Lau Wan

?? - Mai Fun Tsui

1012- Tune Tsui

??- Cheung Tsui

103x - snack and 5 minutes break.

1056- outside Ham Tin

1105 - first capsize

1130 - resume paddling after re-entry practices, turned around

1212 - Cheung Tsui

1221 - game over.

Everything was fine in the morning.  Was going to launch without breakfast, but Fred got up to cook for us.  I think, if I hadn't eaten breakfast, we would both be dead.  Which means we owe Fred a boat, some breakfast, and two lifes.

We were preparing to launch, the breakfast made us a little later than I expected, so I was in a rush and decided to be lazy and careless.  I thought about adding the inflatable tubes into Indian Summer, because we expected sea condition to be nasty; we were also planning to go through rescue scenarios at Long Ke.   But a brief search yielded nothing, so I quickly gave up the idea.  I've never needed it before, I didn't see how I could need it that day.  How wrong was I.

I'm comfy with big waves and Dennis did really well in Lantau, so I thought we were ready.  Looking back, Dennis didn't really want to come, he expressed that he would rather paddle more long distance calm water like Double Haven.  But I was being pushy and talked him into coming with me to Long Ke right after the new moon, and on a day when we were expecting BF5 NE.

Water in Tai Tan was flat.  Even Ko Lau Wan was mild.  Things got interesting near Mai Fun Tsui, but I think we were still having fun.  By the time we passed Tune Tsui and tried to point to Cheung Tsui, we had a problem.  

At that angle, the waves hit us right on the port side beam, and we are talking about some pretty tall waves.  They came crashing like a wall. Dennis isn't used to riding waves like this, and it took me a while to notice that he wasn't enjoying it at all.

When we got to Cheung Tsui, the shit really hit the fan.  We were fully exposed to wind and currents from NE and SE, adding to it the near shore contours, the waves were powerful and irregular, worse yet, it mostly came from the beam.  

We took a break shortly after we passed Cheung Tsui, Dennis refueled with a Mars Bar, we discussed our route and decided we would still go for Long Ke.  But I think that's where our trouble begins.  After the break, Dennis got motion sick.  We tried to stay close to each other and we managed to chat a little as we paddled.  Dennis expressed that it's getting very challenging for him, assuming everybody to behave like I do, I thought he meant he was having fun ^_^;;;  But that's not the case, and it became apparent when he ... capsized.

He helped himself back in with a paddle float, I tried to turn around to get near him immediately and was surprised at how much time it took me to get to him.  We emptied his Prijon with a sponge, Dennis favors a cup for bailing but I'm pretty happy with what we had. 

As we sat there after the self-rescue, it started to sink in that Dennis was having a bad day, he finally told me that he didn't sleep well last night, he wasn't feeling well and was feeling motion sick even as he rode the green top minibus this morning.  We discussed about what to do and decided to turn around.  

Thinking back, we should have turned around a lot sooner -- which Dennis agrees.  I also offered to tow him; but I was being flippant all day and made it very difficult for him to communicate his problem.  It's an expensive lesson to me, but being flippant can be very costly.  Next time, I'll remember to be humble, and Dennis isn't going to be shy.  

So we turned around.  I suddenly decided I might as well "do it."  I told Dennis to wait for me while I have a go at jump-out and self-rescue.  That was obnoxious and stupid.  After jumping out, I realized it was a major battle to just put on a PFD in that condition.  When I finally got back onto my kayak, I started to feel cold and iffy as well.

But I took off the PFD anyway, and slipped it back in as a seat.  We paddled on, I tried to stay close to Dennis, I knew he wasn't feeling well and the waves were starting to build up into something much nastier than what we faced in the morning.  Worse yet, they were coming from behind us -- to me, that's like surfing and was fun.  To Dennis, it's something that made him nervous, so he tensed up all his muscle and ... capsized again.

To be exact, he capsized after we passed Cheung Tsui.  BTW, I remember thinking, Cheung Tsui was the crux of the trip.  It was also a bit of a struggle for me to stay upright and stay away from the sharp rocks that kept trying to suck us in like a sinkhole.   

I was still trying to be polite, I wasn't sure if he wanted me to help or if he would just do a self-assisted re-entry.  But I knew we hadn't much time to lose, the rocks were sucking us in.

I tentatively offered him my bow, he agreed to try to eskimo-roll himself back in, but couldn't.  So I moved alongside his kayak, righted it, stabilized it by placing the paddle shaft across it and leaning onto it, and told him to climb back in.  I meant for him to do a cockpit-side re-entry, but he tried the stern-deck re-entry, which he favors, which didn't work very well with me leaning on his stern-deck.  So he fell out as soon as he climbed on.

We were getting too close to the rock, so I decided to have Dennis hold onto both kayaks while I tow him away.  His body in the water plus the capsized kayak created a huge anchor, and it was very difficult to move.  Every inch was a major battle, but I thought, even if progress was slow, as long as we were moving, we would be okay.  

What I forgot was how easily you get hypothermia in rapidly moving water like that.

When I decided we were at a safe enough distance from the rocks, I had Dennis holding my bow while I turn his kayak around.  The water was so turbulent I tried to capsize a few times. (I couldn't hold onto my paddle and move his kayak at the same time!)  In the process, I also broke my paddle leash -- this is the 6th time I've broken a paddle leash.  I really need to get better quality lanyards!  Anyway, this time, it worked.  Dennis climbed back in, I was able to stabilize the kayak as he recovers, but we were getting alarmingly close to the exposed sharp rocks, and I was in a hurry to go, and I told him as much.

Dennis told me his kayak was filled with water and very difficult to balance, I told him we would have to empty it after we move away from the ever threatening rocks.  I told him I was going to tow him, he agreed with the condition that he would still hang onto my stern for support.

So I took his towline and hooked it onto his bow toggle.  As soon as I moved away, Dennis capsized again. 

That's when I realized we were in real trouble, but tried not to think about that.  I told him to just hold onto my stern again, I was going to repeat our maneuver -- if it worked once, why couldn't it work the second time?  

I can answer that question now.  Reason 1, We both wasted a lot of energy at trial-and-error rescues.  Reason 2, hypothermia was setting into Dennis at a rapid rate, and his energy was getting zapped.  Reason 3, both of our kayaks were taking in more and more water.  Reason 4, the wind and current were getting stronger by the minute.

As I struggled to move us away from the rock, Dennis shouted to me, "Lia, I'm very cold."  I turned around to look, sure enough, he was pale as a ghost, shivering visibly -- and violently.  In my head, I asked myself, "threat or challenge?" and I knew it was a lie, but told myself this was only a challenge, and we will get ourselves out, like we always did in our rescue practices.  It's a mental game I play with myself to control panic, it worked.

I weighted my options, and decided to move him onto my stern deck, so to reduce heat loss for Dennis, and to reduce drag in the water.  It would have worked if I had a CLG kayak, or at least, a kayak with some sort of reliable floatation devices inside.  As it was, all I had in there was a dry bag with my day trip gears.  With Dennis' weight on my stern, the boat trimmed backward and all the water from the bow flowed back as well.  My cockpit dipped below the water level, and water poured freely inside through my spraydeck waistband.  I soon noticed I wasn't making any forward progress at all, it was all I could do to maintain balance.  I told Dennis to get off, he did, but it was too late.  There was no way to stop the water from pouring in at that point.  I told Dennis to hang onto my bow toggle, I don't think he heard or understood me, because he just stayed back.   When he finally got the message and held my bow, I saw that even the deck top was submerged.

I tried to stay upright without my paddle while dragging prijon towards me at the same time -- I've made up my mind to switch boats.  Finally, I fell out of Indian Summer.  Such a mellow goodbye, I didn't even know that would be the last time I work with her.  Damnit, I miss her already.

I used a paddle float to climb onto prijon.  So it turns out, if you don't mind getting water in your nose, you can manage to set up a paddlefloat without wearing a PFD.  Hardly something to brag about, of course.  I fell out the first time I tried to climb in.  With Dennis holding onto the leeward combing, I tried again from the windward side, and got in this time.  Tried very briefly to pull Indian Summer out of the water, but Dennis said "forget it," which I wholeheartedly agreed.  I grabbed what's within my reach: my PFD, bottle of water, paddle float, and so we moved on.  I saw my electronic gear bottle floating sadly near my stern, I knew I would kill myself if I failed to get us out of there because I was too busy trying to grab my gears, so I gave that up too. 

Dennis held onto my stern, and told me to watch out for the rocks on the port side.  He is such an indispensable crew, too bad he isn't sailing anymore :)  Anyway, I'm not familiar with Prijon, I never liked her much, and it was a bit of a struggle to get her to obey my commands.  I tensed up, every sensation inside was a surprise to me -- the cockpit depth, the knee braces ... 

But there was no time to say hello. I tried and tried to get away from that murderous rock on the port side; waves were crashing and drawing mercilessly.  I did everything I knew how: extended my paddle all the way to my port side, tilted the kayak into the starboard side, kept paddling only on the port side, and even tried a stern-rudder on the starboard side.  I spend every last bit of energy I knew I had and then some ... I even cried out in frustration, the violent water made every stroke very heavy, I had to work every muscle to get it to move slowly through the water.   I got very angry at myself, I thought I was good at this.  How come I couldn't get a kayak to move the way I want it to, when I really need it to?

Thanks heaven, I finally managed to steer away from the exposed rocks into a somewhat sheltered area.  I meant to land on a pebbles-lined section of the shore, but got too close to the barnacles-lined rocks.  I wished and wished and wished it was within my power to move us away from that too, but knew it was time to reconcile my limitations.  I shouted to Dennis, "Do whatever you can to protect yourself, we are about to crash."

I heard Dennis said okay.  Next thing I knew, prijon hit the rock, the next crashing wave pushed her over; and I fell out.  Prijon banged violently into the rocks, while the water dragged me under into the deep, deep yonder.  I knew I was supposed to panic, but somehow I decided it was a challenge, and not a threat.  I felt confident that I could hold my breathe forever if I needed to.  I calmly pulled myself back onto the surface with the towline that was still attached to my waist and Prijon's bow toggle.  I took a deep breathe, and the next crashing wave dragged me under water again.

The process recurred a few times before I decided it wasn't fun any more.  When I broke the water surface for the last time, I treaded water to bring my upper body onto prijon, and rode the next wave onto higher grounds along with the boat.  Then I stood up, untangled myself from the towline, and fought the oncoming waves as I dragged the half-filled, heavy kayak further up the rock, as soon as it was stable enough, I looked for Dennis's gear bag and had him put on his wind breaker.  After some further struggle to stabilize the kayak, I made him climb back inside the kayak to keep his lower body sheltered as well, we were both bleeding a little from the barnacle cuts, but those were minor compared to his hypothermia.  

I found his phone, asked his opinion about calling the police for help, he just said "hmm." I doubted if he understood what he was agreeing to.  But my phone was floating in my nalgene somewhere out there; whereas his phone got wet and didn't work any more.  So it didn't matter anyway.

Knowing that we couldn't call for help, I looked through his gears and found an exposure-bag, but no matches or lighter.  I walked around to look for somewhere sheltered from the strong wind, and had Dennis move into the exposure-bag.

Once he's settled, I told him we had two choices: I stay with him to keep warm and wait for help to arrive, or I launch the remaining kayak to get help.   We decided to launch Prijon to get help, I gave him water and food and told him to eat when he is well enough to hold it down -- he was still vomiting at that point.  He said to me, "be careful, and take a paddle float."  It was an incredible relief to hear him say that.  Somehow, at that point, being told what to do felt good.

So I tried to launch, but I kept getting pushed back by the onshore crashing waves and wind, and got really beaten up, sandwiched between the kayak and the rocks as the waves crashed in.  I tried a good many times, often doubting myself, "is this the right decision?  Can I really leave him here for hours unattended?  Can I really get this done alone?"  I got mad at myself for doubting myself, for being so obnoxious all the time and chickening out when I really need to be strong.  I knew I wasn't trying hard enough, I knew I half decided I should stay with Dennis so I was dragging my feet when I tried to launch.  I kept telling myself, "don't think, just do."  

Finally, I decided to check on Dennis before I go again.  When I got there, he had his eyes closed, didn't respond to me immediately, and was very pale, but still shivering violently, I got really scared.  I seriously thought he was going to die if I didn't get help soon.  I got extra-determined to get the kayak out and get help, so I went back to try, and tried really hard, and got all banged and cut up from it, but still couldn't launch against the crashing waves.  By time time I finally decided I was wasting my remaining energy, it was already 1500. (we crashed landed at 1230)

So I climbed back to where Dennis was. There he sat, not shivering, I was scared out of my wit!  But then when I spoke to him this time, he opened his eyes, and I saw that his color returned.  I asked him some questions and he responded, I checked his pulse on the wrist and it was strong.  I was so relieved, I couldn't stop laughing.

We tried and failed a few other things, like looking for my nalgene and swimming for it.  Eventually we decided to stash our kayak and gears, then hike back to civilization.  

I was like a fish out of water on the hiking trail, totally out of my element, but couldn't help laughing the whole time -- I snatched my friend back from death, and I couldn't ask for more.   Oh, and don't ask, cos I'm certainly not going to blog about how I flopped around the trail like a stupid namazu (泥秋魚). 

We hiked from Tai Long Wan to Ham Tin, got something hot to eat and drink, Dennis called Anna and I called Fred.  The restaurant owner was really nice and called a boat for us. We  patched up our morale, and hiked from there to Chek King, took the boat to Wong Shek Pier, and walked back to Fred's place.  

I didn't feel totally absolved until Dennis was delivered back into Anna's hands.  There, I return your husband safe and sound, if somewhat cut up.  

Dennis said he wasn't afraid to go kayaking with me again but would turn around sooner if we were to do it all over again; and he wouldn't want to paddle big waves like that until he gets better at bracing etc.

As for me, well, I'm not so sure.  It's one thing if he did his best and couldn't control his kayak; but I knew the water condition was going to be nasty, invited him anyway, launched an old kayak with no floatation device, launched without a cup to bail water with, and sat on my lifejacket instead of wearing it. In other words, I put my friend in a very dangerous situation knowingly and made a series of decisions that compromised my ability to help him.  To make things worse, I've always been obnoxious about kayaking -- I bragged about saving a lifeguard who capsized (in the same area, incidentally.), and how I also towed another lifeguard who got seasick for 12 km (also in the same area.)  I used to make it sound really ridiculous that people could get seasick on kayaks.  I think, because of these stories, and the way I told them, Dennis was reluctant to accept help when I first offered it.  And I didn't want to offend him, so I wasn't forceful about towing him when he first started getting seasick.

But all in all, we survived, and despite our mistakes we communicated really well during the crisis.  I've certainly been humbled by this experience, and am committed to put safety before fun, and focus on rescue skills instead of speed.

Lessons learned:

1. Fred is always right XD
2. use floatation devices, always
3. wear a PFD (Fred and Dennis said so) except in very hot weather or on calm water (I say so)
4. Wear runners and socks. (Fred said so)
5. Call off the trip and turn around when you think you can't handle it (Dennis said so.)
6. Work on boring basic stuff like bracing/ slapping/ sculling for support (Dennis said so.)
7. be vigilant about silent killers like hypothermia. 
8. Protect yourself and your friend preemptively - invite your patient onto your deck before hypothermia claims him; empty your cockpit of water before it gets so filled that it ... sinks. (no-brainer, I know.)
9. practice all rescue position and re-entry methods -- sometimes it's not possible to use our favorite maneuver. 
10. I should have used a cockpit-side tow instead of a long tow when Dennis pointed out his boat was very unstable.  It takes 15 extra seconds to set up a short loop; I was trying to save that 15 seconds, and got a disaster handed to me in return.
11. I must work on LHS techniques.  Part of the reasons I didn't want to setup a cockpit-side tow was because I wouldn't be able to put my blade down on the right side, and I was afraid my LHS techniques (sculling, bracing, tilting and righting) weren't good enough to keep me upright.
12. Get a better spraydeck with shoulder straps.
13. Get familiar with all the boats deployed in the trip -- you never know when you have to switch boat in a rescue operation u_u
14. Communicate better.  I meant to have Dennis focus on bracing and slapping for support when I towed prijon, but I just assumed that he knew, turns out he didn't.  I meant to have Dennis speak to me as I towed him on my stern, I even asked him to do so, and he said okay, but said no more.  Next time, we should agree on a protocol -- say, keep counting from one to ten, and so on.

Deep-Trouble reports: Day 3

This is part of a 4-days journey report
Day 3

• Fact about life: There is no situation so bad that things can't get any worse.
  
• Before sunrise, I got up and started moving around. I was too cold to lie on the ground any longer.
• suddenly realize all the rocks looked the same at twilight, but can't seem to see where my kayak is...
• From twilight till 1100, I kept looking and looking and looking for Indian Summer. But she's gone. She's definitely gone!
  
• The sun was high up and the sand warm again, exhausted, I lie down on the sand, completely dispirited. Pondered about what to do. Should I activate my epirb...?
• I felt so guilty about losing Indian Summer, I cried.
• Dug out my monocular, climbed up the hill and looked around -- saw something red... can it be..!?
  
• Found her, finally! I was so happy and relieved that I was laughing and crying at the same time.
• Repacked my gears, by the time I finally launched, it's past 11am. A bit of a departure from my routine of launching before sunrise.
• Found signals not far from Tung Ping Chau. Called Dennis, told him about the seal landing and losing my gears to the dump surf. I think my voice was still cracking a lil at the time, because Dennis sounded rather concerned.
  
• Told Dennis plan to get water and food on Grass Island, but beam wind/waves forced me to change the plan and decided to paddle to Ham Tin Wan instead.
• Ate beef with bokchoi on rice in HamTin Wan, drank 3 cans of sport drinks, called Dennis while I waited for food. Even got a shower. Dennis was annoyed that I didn't call till now. The food was disgusting, but I was hungry enough to eat it all anyway.
• procrastinated good and long at the beach. Wistfully watched the kids jet-skiing in the bay. For the first time I realized how very tired I really was, but had to dreadfully discipline myself to move on.
• launched after lunch, now that hunger wasn't so acute, I start to notice the salt-sore and the seam of my shirt rubbing against my armpit/shoulder. Since I was in god-forsaken sai kung and I thought there was nothing but clouds and rocks and water for company, I decided to change into my b'day suit as I paddled. It was past 1600 anyway so the sun wasn't so hard on the shoulder.
• shite, ran into a junkboat near Long Ke. Wonder if they noticed I was a girl, but opt to paddled quickly to get away instead of putting shirt back on.
• That panicy feeling again. Could it be...? Do I ever learn? It's sunset again and there is no obvious campsite ahead on the map. I really should have just made camp in Long Ke, but decided I would try for Clearwater Bay...
• Ended up landing in the dark in Sar Tong Hau/ On Gong. Again, it was total darkness by the time I managed to get self, kayak and gears all onto the Island. Had no light, SB and bivy both wet, so had to make do with emergency space blanket. Shin got really cut up from strugging to move kayak and gears up the rocky shore in the dark.
• As Santiago says, you are never really alone at sea... visited by a shitload of mosquitos and two stray dogs that night, but was so tired that I was beyond caring. They can eat me alive if they liked, but I can't imagine a salt-pickled human could be very appetizing...

gosh, I'm shaking a lil just typing up this report. And it's been over a year since the disastrous trip. Must not do this to self again.

Deep-Trouble reports: Day 2

This is part of a 4-days journey report

Day 2:

• Dan Ka Wan ->
• Grass Is. (called Dennis to check weather forecast and tide) ->
• Middle Is. (lingered around light house for no good reasons) ->
• Wong Chuk Kok Tsui -> Double Haven -> Crooked Is. (somehow managed to get lost. paddled around and around the Islands trying to find my bearing, and lost my primary map in the process... it just sank into the bottom of the ocean >_<) ->
• Sa Tau Kok (emergency landing for bowel-emergency... ^_^;; Also started hallucinating and talking to the clouds...) ---->
• turned around to head for TPC, suddenly turned foggy and couldn't see the boat that was right next to me a minute ago, then it started thundering without rain. Freaked out, turned off GPS, cell phones and radio. Five minute later the mist just spontaneously disappeared and I could see again. Felt very uncertain. Paddled on and on for 6 hours without the illusive TPC in sight and kept wondering if I'm heading the wrong direction.)
• Finally saw TPC at sunset. Wasted a lot of time taking pictures, had to paddle near-shore to look for appropriate landing sites. Paddled against the crashing waves until I turned around the south-east cape, and whoa! suddenly I started surfing with the waves behind me, and next thing I knew, a tall wave came crashing down from above my head, I managed to stay upright but all my decktop gears got washed off and my spraydeck was undone. Kayak filled to the cockpit combing with water and was very unstable. and then, ANOTHER dump surf crashed down from behind me and I thought I was a goner. Briefly lamented the fact that I was sitting on, instead of wearing, my PFD. Have never been so focused in my entire life. Entire mind just focused on bracing and balancing the watercraft, it's more than I can hope for, somehow I survived the second dump surf without capsize, but lose control (can't steer with kayak filled to the brim) and crashed into the rocky landing site -- then the water receded. Without meaning to do it, I managed an accidental seal landing.
• watched the dump surf crash against the rock shores for a long time, saw some of my equipments washed back to the shore so I snatched what I could. Recovered my electronic gears, towline and paddlefloat, but lost all my sport drinks, drinking water, snacks, compass, flashlight, clipboard with pencil and notes, insect repellents, whistle. (can't remember what else.)
  
• So happy to get the electronic gears (esp the cellphone) back; tried desperately to call but there was no signal. Was exhausted but continued to climb and hike around the Island to look for signals, but found nothing. I've never needed to debrief so badly. Needed to hear myself say "I've landed and I am safe." Felt acutely helpless.
  
• checked notes on tide and noticed it's going to keep rising through the night. Tried to move kayak and gears up and through the rocks but found I had no energy left to complete the task. Moved all gears and dry bags one by one to higher ground in the dark through the rocky terrain, without the help of flashlight. Was wet, cold, and relentlessly assaulted by mosquitos. Realized there was no way I could lift the kayak all by myself and climb through the rocks. Finally decided to tie kayak to one of the big rocks with towline and started to make camp.
• bivy still soaking wet =_= Changed into "birthday suit" and hang wet clothes on paddle to dry. Rain cloud started moving closer and closer, it's also thundering on the other side of the small hill.
  
• Found the only "food" item left from inside my cockpit-- a jar of peanut butter -- with no drinking water to wash it down with. Was hungry enough that I tried to eat peanut butter with a stick but was soon overwhelmed with dehydration and disgust. Eventually gave up peanut butter despite intense hunger.
  
• Lied down to look at the stars, occasionally a motorboat sails by and I thought about shouting for helps. Eventually convinced myself "I'm tougher than that."
  
• the rain cloud finally moved over to my side of the island. Whipped out an emergency space blanket and curled up naked inside it. Started shivering, was cold, hungry and exhausted. Briefly thought about Charles Dickens and Victor Hugo. Talking about Les Miserables...
• drifted in and out of sleep. Kept wishing the sun would rise so I could paddle out to find signals and call Dennis or Fred...

Deep-Trouble reports: Day 1

This is part of a 4-days journey report
Day 1:

• Lamma (PKT) ->
• Tung Lung Is. ->
• On Gong ->
• Nam She Wan (sunset, called Fred to report location) ->
• Ko Lau Wan (nearly crashed into bed of rocks) ->
• Dan Ka Wan (dark landing)

So far, so good. The only trouble on the first day was the fact that I had a humongous big head and imagined that I was incapable of such mundane things as screwing up, running into rocks, or dying.

Could have landed comfortably in Nam She Wan at sunset but decided against it, mostly because I saw a fishboat with lights on and was a worried that it could be I.I.

Would have taken me all of 3 minutes to paddle around the rocks just outside of Ko Lau Wan, but had to wonder what it's like to get in trouble, so decided to paddle right between the rocks...

The task seemed simple enough. As the swell fills the gap between the rocks, I will ride the current joyfully and shoot rapidly between the rocks, and enjoy the adrenaline rush as I go. There is nothing to it, just time it right and it should be just another joyride.

I meant to study the water movements first. There was a pattern to the cycle. It went up then down a little, up a little, down a little...

Except it was dark and it was difficult to study the swell movements until you are too close, and then suddenly you are commited to it, whether you like it or not.

I was already too close to the rocks when a chill ran down by spine with the new discovery: The two rocks were joint at the bottom, you don't get to find out until the water recedes particularly violently for the fourth cycle ... and then the water swells back up to fill up the void rapidly and violently. If I had entered the passage at the wrong moment, I imagined I would be slammed against the bottom where the two rocks meet, and then suffer the swell that pours violently back over the rocks.

It has nothing to do with skills, or making the right decisions, or good timing, or virtue of any sort. I was just very lucky that I got sucked into the rock at the right time. The bottom of the rockbed appeared in front of my eyes momentarily before I was swept forward with a particularly forceful wave, it washed me ahead with so much force, it was all I could do to keep my paddles from slamming against the rocks as I was hurled through the passage. It was over before I had time to ponder about options and solutions. After I came out to safety, I even convinced myself that it was fun, it was daring and it was a great advanture, but if I were to be honest, it's just another one of those immensely stupid moment in your life that no one in her right mind would want to brag about, ever.

Deep-Trouble reports: 4 Days disastrous trip of July 2007

It's about time I document the entire disastrous trip from Lamma to TPC back to Lamma.

Summary:
Day 1: Lamma PKT -> Sai Kung Dan Ka Wan (3-July-2007)
Day 2: Dan Ka Wan -> Sa Tau Kok -> Tung Ping Chau (4-July-2007)
Day 3: Tung Ping Chau -> Sai Kung On Gong (Aka Sa Tong Hau) (5-July-2007)
Day 4: Sai Kung On Gong -> Po Toi -> Lamma Channel (towed back to Lamma PKT by Authority) (6-July-2007)