Safety Culture
I've paddled rivers since I was a little girl. I've canoed with my dad, rowed big rivers in the west and kayaked steep creeks in the east and west. I've run rivers on other continents. I've guided paddle rafts and trained new guides. I've taught canoeing, kayaking, and river rescue. If there's one thing I've learned from all of that, it's that the culture of whitewater paddling is different everywhere you go.
TG’s second kayak was a fiberglass Noah Pulsar, seen here below Nantahala falls.
Sometimes I struggle against the culture that I find. I want all my paddling buddies to have the same vigorous safety consciousness as raft guides on the Chattooga, or class V boaters on the Little White Salmon or the Green Narrows. I know that you can drown in a teacup so it doesn't take class V to get me excited.
I want everyone to be hypervigilant even in class 2, because I am. This turns out to be too much to ask. You don't get hypervigilant from getting away with minor mistakes. You get that way from experiencing the worst that can happen. Most boaters get away with their mistakes most of the time, and this contributes to a survivor bias which says "If I can do it, it isn't that hard/dangerous." This is a perilous fallacy.
I prefer paddling with people who are strongly interested in keeping themselves and their paddling partners from harm. I would rather teach boat handling skills and river safety practices than spend my time doing rescues or first aid. I absolutely despise spending my day off doing a body recovery, and that's the tip of an iceberg of hurt when you lose someone on the water.
Matt Terry, ready to chase down swimmers on the Colorado River in Grand Canyon
In the interest of advancing whitewater safety consciousness, I'd like to explain a little bit about the cultural range that I see. On the broadest scale I label the two major styles eastern and western, reflecting my experiences in the U.S. This isn't entirely fair because there are western paddlers that use what I call the eastern style, and there are eastern paddlers who never set a rope. But let me explain.
Western style is the kind of safety that comes from running big open rivers, mostly in rafts. When rowing down Hell's Canyon, the Grand Canyon or the Salmon, what matters is that you can see the boats ahead of and behind you to verify that they're doing OK. Groups will commonly pull closer together for the major rapids and string out in the easier stuff.
Raft flips at Quartzite Rapid on the Salt River in Arizona
On big Western rivers most common serious problem is when a raft flips over. The biggest risk is flush drowning due to cold, continuous whitewater. When a flip happens the project is getting the people out of the water and the boat back right side up. If a boat gets stuck in a big hole, folks just wait for it to flush free on its own. Waiting a quarter mile downstream when a raft that flips means that people will be in the water a long time.
Boat-based safety makes a lot of sense on a big river, because you can chase down anything that gets away, and pull a raft back upright midstream. Setting rope on shore could be pointless because the rope may not be long enough, or your arm not good enough to reach a swimmer. You’ll hear the sayings "Upright is alright" and "It all comes out at the bottom". This kind of river running is where "Keep the boat behind you in sight" comes from.
Eastern style safety comes out of running small rivers that are chock full of rocks. On little, rocky creeks people use smaller boats. The most common serious problem is getting pinned. People get stuck in sieves, undercuts and strainers. Injuries from hitting rocks are more common here than on a big river.
TG kayaks Jordan Creek of the Wilson drainage, in Oregon
To help people out in these kinds of situations you have to be close, not a quarter mile downstream. On small rivers more people get out on shore to hold rope, but a rope is only so long. Sometimes you must get hands on a trapped person to be able to help. If someone gets stuck under water, you have very little time to get them out. A quarter mile downstream but still in sight is nowhere near close enough.
Guide holds rope below Husum Falls on the White Salmon River in Washington
If you ever have the luck to paddle with class V paddlers, you will see that they tend to be in the right place to prevent a problem--long before anything happens. This is because they have learned from experience where things are likely to happen and what can realistically be done.
Effective signaling can sometimes prevent a crisis by keeping people away from hazards. Sophisticated signaling systems can be found in the West but are more typical of the Eastern style. You may not even see the signals, they can be so subtle. Experienced paddlers often know just from a glance what the other paddlers are thinking, and what is about to happen, which allows them to be in the right place at the right time.
There is a third style which I call Club style which emphasizes self-responsibility. In this culture no one is responsible for anyone else, and indifference is possible. I think of it as a kind of American individualism. This style is to some degree present in all of the styles because river running really does require it. You are responsible for your choices. Risk management in clubs is designed to limit liability for members, coordinators and boards. While this may dictate certain safety practices (like having a sweep boat), I find it lacking. The avoidance of liability is a minimal safety standard. It may reduce the odds of a law suit, but it does nothing to protect you from the real harm that can happen on the river.
TG and her dad in Idaho for a Main Salmon trip
When we care about the people we play with, we adopt practices from all the styles and adapt them fluidly to a range of rivers, hazards and groups. It is the caring that distinguishes serious safety efforts from half-hearted ones. Perhaps this caring is based in antiquated ideas about friendship and honor. I pledge to do my best to keep my paddling buddies away from harm, even though my best is not perfect. When I paddle with others who share this attitude, the feeling that my tribe is there for me adds to the joy of playing on the river and makes a river trip special.
This article is an updated version of one that has been previously printed in the newsletters of the LCCC and the ETWC.
