Don’s excellent kayak adventure

From the June 2025 Issue

On April 4^th, the City News media organization reported that Ottawa “firefighters had saved the life of a kayaker with a little assistance from a nearby resident. Crews were called to the Rideau River near Bank and Smyth streets after Ottawa police told them a person had flipped their boat and was in distress. Arriving in three minutes, the first team saw a person wearing their lifejacket in the water near an overturned kayak.

“Firefighters called out to the person who said they were “extremely cold.” Teams weren’t able to use a throw bag because the kayaker was too far out. A nearby resident seeing the situation offered up his canoe to the team.

“Quickly, officials donned their personal flotation devices and paddled out to the kayaker, who was brought to shore within 10 minutes of crews arriving. (…) The person was treated for hypothermia with the help of paramedics.”

That person was Old Ottawa East resident and frequent contributor to The Mainstreeter, Don Fugler. In this article, Fugler provides his account of his brush with death on the Rideau River.

DON FUGLER

Let’s first talk about risk. Many people have told me that I should not kayak in the winter, or in spring when the water is cold and high, or in fall as ice rims the shore. I like being out on the water. Kayaks were developed in the arctic where water is never warm. With a skirt across the opening, they are comfortable and dry under most conditions. It is best not to tip over. Up until last week, I had been lucky enough to avoid that in some 35 years of kayaking.

And risk is relative. There are some of my activities that would be considered dangerous or inconvenient to many people – driving old VW buses across the country, cycling through winter, backcountry skiing, wilderness camping. I do not do these things to confront risk. I do what I enjoy and I try to minimize the hazards involved with those activities.

Now let’s talk about my kayaking paddle this past April 3rd. The Rideau River was running high: not high enough to play in the backyards of the houses along Rideau Garden Drive but flowing wide and strong, nonetheless. As is usual in such conditions, I headed upstream first. My rule is that, if I can paddle upstream against the current, I can probably handle the run downstream. When the water is cold, I hug the shore. If I tip, it is reassuring that I can find some footing quickly.

I first paddled under Billings Bridge where the current is very strong and the ducks wary of boaters. I continued up the north shore to the old swimming hole at Brewer Park where I scattered a dozen cormorants lounging there. I left the two herons alone.

Turning around, I traversed the river to the south shore and approached Clifford Allen Island (who knew it had a name) which is close to the shopping centre. The river splits at the island and there is a vicious conjunction where the main current and the strong back eddy flow in opposite directions. I have cautiously crossed this hazard dozens of times. This time, the river grabbed the back of my kayak, plunged my bow underwater, and the kayak rolled.

The five stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Let me introduce you to the five sequential actions in what was a slow-motion, near-death experience.

1. I was immediately underwater in a cramped kayak with a skirt. I cannot do the roll that saved the Inuit, so I had to undertake a “wet exit”. I remember thinking that I had 20 seconds to pull out of the kayak before I started inhaling water. I managed to get one leg out and catch a breath before yanking out the remaining leg, losing my shoe in the process.
2. Next step was to figure out what to do. I still had my kayak and paddle, and I stuffed my loose shoe into the boat. I should make my way to shore, empty the water from the kayak, and then paddle home and change into dry clothes. Unfortunately, while doing Step 1, I had drifted away from shore into the main current.
3. I tried to kick my way to shore, holding onto the kayak and paddle, but it was hard to progress in the fast current. It felt like the experience of ocean swimmers in a rip tide: you cannot fight it, so tread water until the current slackens. There was a group of trees, a summer island, nearby that I tried to snag with no success. My rescue plan was not going to work.
4. Make an alternative plan. Call for help. Drifting under Billings Bridge, I noticed a pedestrian on the sidewalk above. “Help!” I yelled. What would we do without cell phones? I do not know if she called or if someone in one the houses upstream had noticed me, but soon I could hear fire engine sirens. People were running along the shore, aware of my situation but unable to do anything. Meanwhile, after 10 – 15 minutes in near-freezing water, I was losing the capability to act or think.
5. In all this confusion, it occurred to me that I was not going to make it and that my life was going to end. I remember thinking it was an appropriate way to die given the way I lived. I knew that there were shallower spots downstream where I might manage some footing, but I doubted that I would be adequately conscious to take those steps.

Then I noticed a yellow canoe being launched from shore and hope blossomed. The two firefighters snagged me in mid-stream and towed me, boat and all, to the far shore and the waiting ambulance. I have no memory of anything beyond that until waking up, shivering wildly, in a heated hospital bed. Apparently my body temperature had dropped to 30C.

The gentleman who volunteered his canoe probably saved my life. The firemen were there but their boats were still on the trailer. When I visited him to thank him for his efforts, he asked if I was going to kayak in the Raisin River race the following weekend. I told him that I do not like shooting rapids. It was nice to have a fellow afficionado treat my capsizing as just something that happens when you go out boating – instead of reckless endangerment.

So my efforts to save myself proved fruitless and I had to depend upon the help of passersby, neighbours, first responders and medical professionals. A heartfelt “thank you” to them all.

I guess the question that some of you are asking is “What did he learn?” – and I am not sure I have a satisfactory answer. Will I stop kayaking until the water warms to, say, 15C? Probably not. I will go less frequently and be more careful, now knowing the ultimate repercussions, but it is not likely I will stop. Have you ever driven in snowy weather? Have you ever thought “This is dangerous. Why I am I doing this?” Did you pull over and wait for spring (or dry roads)? We evaluate our risks and act accordingly. Two days after the accident, we were walking our dog by the Rideau and the river looked entrancing. I just have to better calculate joy versus risk.