Swimming Against the Odds: An Account of Hypothermia

It occurred to me that I had been wearing sunglasses all the time I was swimming. I remembered their getting tangled as my clothes came off. At this point, I was wearing George’s pants, Vicki’s sweatshirt and a woolen pullover cap from—who knows. The pants were short and my feet were bare. I noticed how brown my legs were from having spent the winter in the south and how white my feet were from wearing shoes and socks. All these little things seemed interesting. George and I talked, but I couldn’t concentrate on what we talked about. I couldn’t stop shaking, and my teeth were chattering. But I felt reasonably warm. I was aware that it was my upper body warmth that counted, and with that wonderful sweatshirt, I was pretty well covered.

Around 45 minutes later, George spotted a boat coming south along our shore. After a while I could see that it was my neighbor Tom’s boat, but he went cruising by at full throttle. He was only about 50 yards offshore, but George, who was waving his arms as much as he could, says Tom was looking away from shore, out over the water. Obviously, he was chasing after my upside-down boat, which by this time was a mile or so farther south. At my boat, he slowed, then continued toward Gardiner. After three or four miles, he was lost from sight.

He returned a little while later, this time looking toward shore. He spotted George at the water’s edge waving his hands. Tom had brought some clothing. I was feeling some extra stiffness, but I got them on with only a little difficulty. I got in Tom’s boat and we headed north toward home. The boat was shallow, and we traveled into the wind. I was cold. The trip was only five minutes, but I was really cold.

There were several people waiting as we arrived at the beach. Someone made me put some boots on my bare feet to help in walking across the gravelly beach. The boots were so small, I couldn’t get my feet into them, but I got them on far enough to walk. Three women helped me walk the 60 feet to a waiting car. I could probably have made it with one or two of them, but it would have been difficult alone. I felt colder than when I was in my log nest on the beach. I was encouraged to get checked out by a doctor, but I insisted that I was fine. Our neighbor Jean drove me home.

Jeanelle wasn’t there, but knowing I must get warm, I headed for the shower. It felt great. I could function a little better, and after a while, I realized that the water from the tap was getting cold. That had never happened before, and it took me a little time to realize I’d used all the hot water in the tank. I toweled off and dressed. Jeanelle arrived, and after I told her what had happened, we went back to the beach to talk with whoever was still there. One of them said my words were still slurred. I returned to the house hoping the water heater had recovered. It had. I ran water into the tub and got in. I stayed a long time, adding hot water as much and as often as I could stand it. When I finally got out, I was really warm—too warm. It felt good, though.

I knew I was going to be fine. I thought about a lot of things, including sea kayakers Vicki and George, without whose help I wouldn’t be fine.

Chuck Johnson is retired from a career of teaching and lecturing on EQ (Emotional Quotient). He lives in Sequim, Washington, and Venice, Florida.

Editor’s Note: We published this account to provide a personal perspective on the effects of immersion hypothermia. Sea Kayaker’s regular readers may well be familiar with the many things that the author could have done to be better prepared for surviving in the water, but those are outside the scope of this article. The symptoms Chuck describes (his confusion while trying to count strokes, the lack of responsiveness in his legs and hands, and his slurred speech) may have indicated that he was transitioning from mild to moderate hypothermia. Since hypothermia affects judgement, self-assessment may not be accurate or appropriate.

The “passive rewarming” measures taken at the beach—changing into dry clothes and getting out of the wind—and the “active rewarming” measures Chuck took at home—a hot shower over the entire body—are appropriate for cases of mild hypothermia. In this situation, Chuck recovered without incident. More advanced cases require careful treatment. Physical activity, rough handling by rescuers, or rewarming the limbs can send cold blood to the heart and cause cardiac arrest. Sea Kayaker strongly recommends that all paddlers, especially those in cold water regions, learn to recognize the symptoms of hypothermia and get qualified training in its treatment.