Playing Fair and Being Kind

They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters;
Psalm 107: 23-27

From the Boston Globe, 21 April 2020
By Abigail Feldman Globe Correspondent, Updated April 20, 2020, 9:55 p.m.
A man died after falling off a fishing boat near the coast of Gloucester on Monday afternoon, according to Coast Guard officials.
Crews responded to the boat, which was about 1.5 miles from shore near the Eastern Point Lighthouse, and began searching for the man around 3:45 p.m., according to Petty Officer Zachary Hupp. About 30 minutes later, the man was found unresponsive in the water, officials said.
Coast Guard officials performed life-saving measures on the man while returning to shore before transferring him to the care of local EMTs. The man was later pronounced dead, authorities said.

Other than excursions on the Nantasket boat out of Boston in my youth I didn’t go down to the sea in any type of vessel until my submarine days in the Navy. My first encounter with the open ocean was as a lookout watch stander on Sirago. I was a teen-ager. Full of piss and vinegar. My first view of the ocean deep gave me respect for that environment. Nothing is as powerful as the ocean when it is moving about as it generally does. Even during the most benevolent moments one can feel the tremendous energy that is stored in water in motion.

The ship under one’s feet, when in port in a safe harbor feels like part of the land. Solid, unmoving like a rock. Beyond the last protective reef or jetty another story writes itself. The surge of the sea is felt underfoot and one’s sense of balance becomes a slave to a master not one’s self. The tons of iron wrapped in an envelope of marine architecture, an inviolate steel cylinder, is enslaved, as well, to the ocean’s energy. Roll, pitch, and yaw motions follow the whims of the elements at sea. The boundary of safe harbor to open ocean is the place to get seasick. It comes on like a home invasion. Unexpected and chaotic. Anything sitting loose will become a flying missile and that includes human bodies. “Rig ship for sea!” is one of the orders given just before getting underway from the anchorage. Rig ship for sea has a ring to it that, to a seasoned sailor, speaks clearly and reminds one of what is to come.

Beyond the wild motion of a ship at sea there lies the element of the water itself. Water is made of tiny molecules and they are capable of penetrating the smallest spaces. Falling overboard can easily demonstrate this in an instant. Whether one is pushed or jumps into a body of water the unexpected and immediate greeting one receives from the water is beyond ken. Witness the facial expression of the person who surfaces after such an unexpected event. A mix of terror and surprise are expressed. And the person is thrown immediately into survival mode. All behavior is suddenly directed toward getting away from the feeling of water against the skin. Especially if the temperature of the water is cooler than that of the skin before immersion.

Water temperatures below seventy-degree Fahrenheit are immediately uncomfortable. Below that the body responds mightily to sustain warmth in order for the body core to remain heated. Look it up. Emergency responses from the body go into play right away. From “The Chilling Truth About Cold Water” by Captain Kevin Monahan: “Cold water carries heat away from the body 25 times faster than air of the same temperature and as a result, the body core immediately begins to lose heat to the outside environment. At first, the body tries to generate more heat by shivering, but this is not enough to offset the loss of heat to the water. Within 20 to 30 minutes, depending on water temperature, body core temperature drops to below 35° C (95° F) cognitive functioning and judgement become affected. This cooling, if not checked, leads to disorientation, unconsciousness and eventually death.” *

The body’s core temperature is in the nineties so cooling of the core begins with immersion. A check of the table contained in the linked article will show that at forty-three degrees Fahrenheit loss of dexterity occurs in less than five minutes. I’ve had that happen to me on a short swim of about 10 minutes from a boat on a mooring to shore in October in Maine. Luckily, I was able to stand up in water to my chest and walk ashore. Otherwise I would have floundered and gone under. I was concerned but not panicking as I would have been if I’d been out in the ocean.

I can imagine what it must be like to rapidly lose the ability to function in that environment. It must be the ultimate way to experience dying alone. I have been out on the open ocean alone swimming and finding myself unable to close the distance to the ship I had been swimming around just minutes earlier. The wind had increased and the ship was being pushed away from me faster than I could swim. I called for help and someone heard me and tossed a life ring.

In another case, I was out on open water in a rubber boat alone with an outboard motor for several hours maintaining station during a recovery of the Sea Cliff from the water. While the crew was struggling to get the submersible onto the deck of the Maxine ‘D’ using a fifty-ton crane the sea had come up with the wind whipping the surface to seven-foot waves. Luckily, I was wearing a wet suit in the boat so my body was prevented from chilling too rapidly. The worst part of this event was it was happening in the early hours after midnight. The only light came from the few flood lights on the recovery vessel and they were trained on the submersible. I was keeping the small rubber boat from capsizing in the building seas by maintaining a wide circular path in time with the cresting waves. That was a lonely time for me. I was on my own.

The last moments for the man overboard in the Boston Globe story that begins this essay must have been very lonely indeed. I cannot imagine accurately enough. I’m fairly certain that he was intensely focused trying to survive and that the end came gently with loss of consciousness. One can only hope.

Continuing Psalm 107:
“These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.
For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof.
They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths:
their soul is melted because of trouble.”

Gentle George
21 April 2020

*“The Chilling Truth About Cold Water”
This article first appeared in Pacific Yachting Magazine, February 2006.
“Back to Cold Water Survival”