Non-Witness Narrative by (do not publish name) on 2006-05-09 (okay to publish): The day began innocuously. Ron Ray and I connected with a Mason Dixon Canoe Club’s scheduled Class 2 trip on the Needles at Harpers Ferry. Out group was large, with perhaps twenty boats. We had one novice who was just trying whitewater. The weather was May like, eighties, clear blue sky. The waterhad warmed to just beflow swimming temperature, perhaps 55 to 60 degrees. To run the broken dam, the group split. The more adventuresome paddled across the river to the Maryland side chutes, out of sight. The rest paddled the safest and least difficult route on the West Virginia side, along the wall to assist the newbie. She managed the first riffles and eddied out shakily, stopping to obtain much advice and encouragement. I dropped down the next riffle, planning to direct the best line to the grup if needed. After fifteen minutes passed as I did small ferries to entertain myself. The gruop was still in the eddy near the wall, pretty much out os sight. An empty boat floated by being rescued by a young man. I asked him if “he had the paddle?” and looked upstream for it. Over 100 yards upstream, the swimmer was in the middle of a rapid formed by a fifty foot break in the dam, standing high and dry on a rock. She seemed to be rubbing her arm, perhaps injured. Although it was not an obvious emergency, I paddled upstream, still alert to the possibility that a paddle might appear. Three boats paddled by and landed on the rocky island to my left as I continued my attainment, well downstream of the rapid. One girl was getting out. I asked her if “the swimmer ws injured?” She said “no” but “someone was behind the log” I looked – and saw — upsteam, along the river right of the break was a large log, two feet in diameter, wedged fifteen feet into the river with an additional fifteen feet across the shore. On the river side was the remnant of a rootball. The log arched about one foot above the river near the center so that you could see under it. Near the rootball, I would see about two feet of the bow of the boat. I asked the girl, “Are you sure someone is in the boat?” She said, “yes.” “Alarm bells” went off in my head. I shouted to the three to “run.” They listened; they obeyed. I kept shouting to “run, run.” The slowest turned and said, “I am running.” I replied, “Run faster.” It was more efficient for me to paddle up as far as possible. About fifty feet downsteam of the log, I beached the boat, got out, grabbed my throw rope from behind the seat, and hurried behind the three. When I arrived at the log, the three were waist deep downstream of the log. A fourth member of their group was straddling the log. Heroically, the paddler had been extricated from the kayak. The back of the head was toward me. They were shouting that she was “stuck.” Thinking we needed more muscle, I began screaming for other members of my group and unraveled the throw bag, asking if the rope would help. Someone was blowing a whistle. Sudden the paddler was freed. Her head fell back. Her face was an awful shade of blue and her lips were purple. They worked as a team to get her to shore at my feet. Seated, I wasn’t strong enough to pull her up the rock face out of the water. Jim Norton, from my group, appeared. I slide aside. He grabbed both shoulders of her life jacket and pulled her four feet out of the water. Shelly, one of the member of their group, announced she worked as summer lifeguard and started checking her pulse. I removed her helmet, which allowed access to the carotid pulse. There was no pulse and no breathing…and that terrible color. We removed her lifejacket and unzipped the top of the farmer john. Shelly began CPR, doing both the breathing and compressions. As doing both by one person was awkward and obviously inefficient, I leaned over and did breathing. I could feel that air was going in. Shelly straddled her, counting the compressions. A voice behind us offered directions and suggestions. Expecting vomit, we turned her on her side, but it was not necessary and we turned her back on her back and pulled her up further. With CPR alone, the color started to improve. After only about five rescue breaths, the victim “gasped” and started breathing shallowly and very weakly on her own. We were afraid she would stop and continued breaths. Her breathing became stronger and somehow, we knew it would continue. Checking, we had a pulse. It had a count. It wasnt over. WE called her name, Dawn, over and over telling her it was going to be ok. She was cold to the touch. I had a paddling top in my dry bag and we put it over her. You could see visible warming. Over the fifteen minute period, her breathing came in strong “gasps.” She became agitated, throwing her arms around and moaning. We kept talking to her hoping her eyes would open and she would say something back but it never happened. She remained unconscious. We knew we needed more help. Taking time to look, I noticed her spray skirt was in tatters. It was the spray skirt, being snagged that prevented the rescuers from pulling her completely under the log. The deader of their trip, Jason, had a knife and hacked the spray skirt until it was freed. She also had abrasions along her neck and I was concerned she might have a neck injury but it was not the case. On shore, the fisherman had dialed 911. Shiela Chappelle of our group got back in her boat and paddled over to the West Virginia side to make sure the 911 call had been made accurately. An emergency vehicle appeared on the Maryland side – up the canal – over a third of a mile away. Oh no! They came to the wrong side! But before we had time to be distressed, another appeared on the WEst virginia side, much closer. Would we have to move Dawn across 300 yards of river to the ambulance? Could we? Jason, signaled by rotating a paddle that we needed a helicopter. A motorized jon boat with EMTs appeared. They almost spilled by trying to dock the boat upstream of the log. All available arms held ropes to make sure they could safely secure the boat. We used by throw rope on the bow, making sure the boat would not jerk into Dawn whose feet were at the water’s edge. Ron Ray manned the stern painter. We aided the EMTs in getting Dawn strapped onto a backboard. Simultaneously, the Maryland State Police helicopter appeared. It lowered a yellow guide line, then a rescue basket. The EMTs carefully placed the backboarded Dawn into the netted basket and hoisted her 50 feet up into the helipcopter which flew her to Washington County Hospital in Hagerstown. Shelly, very shaken, was offered a ride to shore by the jon boat. We gave her Dawn’s helmt and lifejacket. Next a Zodiac appeared and told all to get in. I refused because I needed to get my kayak. We looked downriver. The helicopter had scattered most of the boats and paddles, including mine, into the river. Dan Eigenbrode was patiently herding three empty boats 150 yards downstream, complicated by a strong breeze. An hour later we had strightened out our belongings. The crucial questions were: How long had Dawn been in the water? What had happened? Here is the story as I know it. The group was a Johns Hopkins University Outing Club. Out of the ten boaters, three were instructors and two were instructors in training. The instructors were well trained with wilderness first aid and paddling experience. Dawn Ruben was only non undergraduate in the group. In her late thirties, she is a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine at Hopkins on a fellowship. She had never been in a boat before. After the first boat spilled, all the rest of the “students” were herded into an eddy on the river right of the chute while the instructors proceeded with the rescue. One instructor chased the original swimmer’s boat. Dawn, being new, didn’t hold the eddy and slipped out and floated upright into the log. Three boats followed her down. Dawn, caught upstream of the log, was calling for help and holding on to both the log and one of the other boats. The boat slipped out of her grasp and three boats managed to paddle safely around the log, leaving Dawn trapped in her boat. There is where I met the three boaters. I feel Dawn had been underwater at least five minutes. Dawn was in a coma in critical care 19 hours. She woke without residual physical damage except that she cannot remember the accident. On Wednesday, she made a joyous call to me. She has a lovely voice. Her recovery is nothing less than a miracle. Barbara Brown