On Saturday, October 2, I was at
the Russell Fork for the first release of the year. I was expecting
it to be another wonderful ho-hum day on the river but it turned out to
be anything but. I scouted the first major rapid (Tower) and ran
it cleanly with my open canoe. The next rapid to be run was Fist.
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Fist is just a straight shot down the left but not so far left that you
go under a 55 foot long boulder that's supposed to be undercut. In
the past I've seen scores of boaters bounce off the side of the boulder
and never saw any of them come anywhere close to going under it.
Hell, I paddled the Lower Meadow just the day before and had a great run.
The Lower Meadow is the most undercut river that I've ever heard of so
to me the boulder to the left of Fist was just another undercut.
I started my run with the intention of staying dry instead of going through
the meat of the wave-hole close to Fist rock in the middle of the river.
I went way left and when I got to the bottom wave I kicked my canoe facing
more left so that I would glance off of the wave and stay dry. The
move worked perfectly except that my canoe bumped against the face of the
55 foot long boulder. No big deal. I just leaned hard against
the rock with my hand with the intention of pushing myself around to the
side of the rock. I 've done it many, many times. Very suddenly
the entire 13 foot canoe went straight down with great speed as if being
sucked by a giant vacuum cleaner. I remember starting to jump out of the
canoe and the next thing that I remember is that I was floating on my back
in pitch-blackness with the
bottom of a boulder in my face. I felt some slow moving current moving
me along the rock head first so I started clawing at the ceiling, pulling
myself along faster. I also started to mentally talk to myself, giving
myself instructions and encouragement.
"I'm NOT going to drown! I'm going to get myself out from under here."
I kept pulling and clawing my way for what seemed like an eternity.
My lungs were hurting bad. I opened my mouth to take a breath of
air and took in a little water instead.
"Dummy! You're going to drown that way. Keep your mouth shut
no matter how much your lungs hurt. Keep pulling!"
I thought that there might be an air chamber down there but gave that up
as a hopeless fantasy. My only hope was to keep clawing my way out.
"The current seems to be going very slow. It's really black in here.
Keep your mouth shut. Keep pulling. Doesn't this rock ever
end?"
More clawing.
"Oh, my lungs hurt soooo much. I don't think that I'm going to make
it...I REFUSE to drown! Keep your mouth shut. Pull! Pull faster!"
More clawing. Finally I reached for another hunk of the ceiling and
my right arm shot straight up. An air pocket? No. I cocked
my head back andsaw a little light. I'M OUT!!
A breath of air never felt so good! I swam to shore and walked downstream
until I could see a guy standing on the big flat rock just below Fist.
I gave him a double thumbs up with both of my arms extended over my head.
I then walked farther downstream until my friends at the top of the rapid
could see me and I sat down for a little breather.
I looked at my helmet and life jacket. The helmet had several new
nicks and gouges and the top back of the life jacket was very dirty and
scuffed up like it was dragged. This had to have happened while I
was being sucked under the boulder but I have no recollection of it.
I wonder if I was knocked out.
I waited on top of the boulder until the water dropped. My friends
walked back along the railroad tracks and managed to pull the canoe out.
We tied it to a tree and walked out in the dark.
The next morning I walked in before the release with a bunch of tape, rope
and a sharp knife. I made a temporary repair with the tape and a
stick then paddled out before the release arrived. I made past El
Horrendo before the release arrived which was good because below there
it was easier to paddle the river with full flow even with a battered canoe.
In the morning the river was only running 80 cfs so before paddling downstream
I quickly checked out the undercut. The undercut is really a dome-shaped tunnel that goes from one end of the boulder to the other.
A very large slab of rock blocks most of the entrance of the tunnel.
The opening into the tunnel is therefore rather small; enough to fit a
person and a small kayak but not enough to fit a large canoe. The
opening is the only way that water enters into the tunnel so this causes
a great suction due to the venturi effect. The side of the boulder
rests on the ground so it blocks water from entering from the fast moving
rapid. This is good in as far as if boaters hit the side of the boulder they don't have to worry
about going under it. Just stay away from the front of the boulder.
Since almost all of the water comes in only through the relatively small
opening the water under the boulder is more like a slow moving eddy.
If I didn't claw my way along the ceiling I know that I would never have
made it through.
Directly above where the tunnel exits there's a plaque dedicated to Munn
who drowned under the boulder in April of 1995.
There are old boaters and there are bold boaters but there are no old,
bold boaters. I always felt that I was an exception to the rule because
at the age of 61 I usually manage to hold my own on class 5 rivers.
After this episode I plan on being a little more careful about my boating
and strive to be just a plain old boater.
I haven't slept very well the past few nights.
Jim Michaud
PS. Jim now says "And I'll never run the left side of Fist again!"
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