J. P. Bell, Tom Kennon and I, three open boaters with a combined 90+ years of experience paddling whitewater, wanted to go for a Sunday afternoon paddle, probably on Frog Bayou. J. P. introduced me to whitewater canoeing over 20 years ago. He has good river sense, and has pulled me out of rivers on occasion. Tom and I have paddled together and taught together at Canoe School for over 15 years. Tom just completed his requirements for Level 4 (whitewater) ACA Canoe Instructor, solo and tandem. I have been certified at that level since 1995. The three of us paddle together whenever we can. That day we were all paddling solo canoes.
It was May 16, and an innocuous looking line of rain was approaching the Frog headwaters from Oklahoma. Just 6 days earlier, on May 10, a strong line of thunderstorms, some remnant of a bunch of Oklahoma tornadoes, had blown through Lee Creek and Crawford County. Early that Sunday afternoon on the 16th, the line picked up a lot of steam and dumped a bunch of rain at Winslow, Clear Creek headwaters. Clear Creek joins the Frog just above Mountainburg, and we wanted to see if the Clear Creek run from Chester to Ash Street (Mountainburg) was there. In the parking lot of the Baptist Church in Chester, we got our answer—Clear Creek had railroad ties and trees from upstream running with it, and did not offer the experience we sought.
We drove from Chester over to Arkansas 220 to check out Lee Creek. We stopped to look at the 220 Bridge steps, but Lee Creek there just looked like wide fast flowing water. It was up over the bottom step. When we drove to the take out steps below Buck and Flush, we ran into some kayakers from Fort Smith who had just run from the 220 Bridge. They said it wasn’t too big, and our quick survey confirmed that. Later I checked the gauge at Short, and Lee was between 6.5 and a little over 7 feet, toward the upper end of optimum. We moved all three boats and gear to my vehicle and left Tom’s truck at the take out.
We pulled in to the new Forest Service gravel parking lot just above Fall Creek and drove to within 30 yards of Lee Creek. We did have one other on the trip—John’s dog Buckley. John had taken Buckley on many solo and tandem whitewater trips, and Buckley was a good canoe dog. Buckley has his own PFD and pouts if I go canoeing without him. John is living in Honolulu, and Buckley has been staying with us and canoeing with me. I was expecting nothing more than a moderate level, so I decided to take Buckley. He was designed for canoeing—half Black Lab and half Bassett Hound. He has a low center of gravity and readily high sides in a canoe when there is a threat of a flip. Otherwise, he stands very still.
Two things we noticed right away about the water in Lee Creek—it was muddy, and it had a lot of downed trees in it, some falling in from the banks and others out in the middle of the creek. The trip was uneventful until we got below where Fall Creek flows in. A short distance downstream, the river turned to the right and a strainer made up of several trees extended from river left about 30 feet into the current. The current was fast, and I was following J. P. and Tom. They had both cleared the strainer to river right, and I was paddling left to right across the current driving hard to get away from the strainer. I had started the move with plenty of time to avoid the strainer. I am a left-handed paddler, and my paddle hit a rock on the downstream side of the canoe, slid off, and the blade went under the boat. I was thrown off balance and flipped to my on side before I could low brace.
At this point things happened fast. I held onto my paddle and got upstream of the boat. The current was really fast, and within a few seconds I was committed to going into the strainer. I did notice downstream that J. P. had pulled his boat onto a gravel bar just below and river right of the strainer. My boat went into the strainer and broached. I was still in a defensive swimmer position until just before the boat lodged against the strainer with the bottom facing upstream. I was slightly toward the river left end of the boat, and the current was forcing me against the boat. I managed to push off the boat, face upstream and slide off the end of the boat nearest the bank. My back was now against the strainer, and I had moved a little closer to the bank.
The current continued to force my back against the strainer. I made one last attempt to hold onto a limb that was above my head and downstream of me, but that was futile. I was already too far into the strainer. I got a breath, rolled into a ball, turned loose of the limb and let the current push me backward and down into the strainer. During those few seconds when I was upstream of the strainer and swimming, I was acutely aware of the danger. And in that second or two before I turned loose to let the current take me into the strainer, I was aware that my life could soon be over, but I was not resigned to die. I didn’t panic. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I still had options. My mind took on a surprising clarity and peace.
When I let go and rolled into a ball, the current immediately propelled me backward and down under the trees. For a few seconds I was held fast under the water, and I could feel limbs against my back. But the limbs either broke or gave way, and I could see light coming toward my face as the current carried me along. When my head broke the water’s surface, I don’t think it had been more than ten seconds since I committed to go into the strainer.
I was already below J. P. and probably out of reach of a throw rope from him. He told me later that he was seriously considering trying to hit me with a rope when he saw me pop out downstream of the strainer. But when he beached his boat on the gravel bar, he pulled up next to a large water moccasin. His ethical dilemma was resolved for him when I swam past the reach of his throw rope. He was left to deal with the snake.
Tom was in his boat in the current and several yards downstream of me. He slowed his boat, and I caught up with him in probably a hundred yards or so. We were able to talk, and Tom offered his stern to me. I crabbed on, and he paddled us into the first available eddy. The eddy happened to be on river right, and the accident had happened on river left. I thought about Buckley for the first time. I could only imagine that he had drowned in the strainer or had gotten caught between the boat and the strainer. I couldn’t wait to get back upstream to the site of the accident, but the vegetation on river right was incredibly dense and hiking through it seemed impossible. I could see J. P.’s boat still beached on the gravel bar about 300 yards upriver. We could see a reasonable eddy just downstream on river left, and Tom agreed that it was reasonable to put me on the stern of the boat again. He made that maneuver without any trouble.
I secured the boat’s bow line to a tree. Tom and I each took a paddle to help us on the hike. Tom took his dry bag with the river survival and rescue kit he has accumulated over the years. We also took Tom’s throw rope with 3/8” 4500# test Spectra line and a loop of tubular webbing about 8 feet long. We both had on swift water rescue PFDs with knives and quick release rescue belts and cow tails. I had prusik loops and carabineers in a PFD pocket. Tom also had prusiks and carabineers along with some pulleys. We were ready to start our hike along the river back to the accident site.
Larry Pearce
(To be continued)
