We had an accident on Cambio the other day.
It was a gorgeous day on the sailboat, almost no wind, and completely unexpected. The crew involved were experienced. There was no mechanical failure. In short, there was no reason for this accident to have happened. And no warning. And 2 guys got hurt in no time at all.
People jumped to help at a moment’s notice. They knew what to do. They did the right thing, mostly.
And we should do a few things further. First, find out what happened and share that knowledge. Acknowledge the people who brought their skills and earnestness to help. Acknowledge what was done right and identify what could have been done better. Communicate the experience.
Cambio was on her way to get her black tank pumped at the pooper dock in the marina. The wind was less than a knot, it was a sunny day, almost dead calm. It was about 400 yards from Cambio’s home dock to the pooper dock. We didn’t even need to pump out, but we were going to be working on the onboard toilet and it is just the right thing to do. Nobody wants to work in any poop that is unnecessary. It was a gorgeous day.
My brother Jeff was standing at Cambio’s entry way with the spring line in one hand and the stern line in his other. I remember thinking how competent he looked as we coasted at Cambio’s slowest speed towards the pooper dock. I went to neutral about 150 yards from the dock and drifted. It was a lovely day, and nobody was in any hurry.
The boat came alongside the dock, practically at a standstill. Jeff looked back and then stepped onto the dock.
The ball of his foot hit the dock and his foot bent upwards. His foot slipped into the water and his legs went down, slipping both feet into the water. He bent over from the waist and his chest hit the dock square on. His face hit the dock hard on the left side. He stopped still and I thought he had avoided a close call. I grabbed the stern line and loosely tied it to the nearest cleat and went forward to the entry. On the way he started to slip back in the water and I started yelling help. I got to the entry way and watched him slip back and under the water. I jumped fast. My knees gave way. I pitched forward and my eye hit the cleat on the far side of the dock. My knees were damaged. The dock was wobbling and I don’t know if or how long I was unconscious. Someone, Mike jumped over me and reached down into the water. He pulled Jeff up above the water and tried to lift him back on the dock but Jeff was wet, lifeless, and very heavy.
Noel appeared at his side and the two of them pulled Jeff up and on to the dock. He lay there on his back appearing lifeless. I was laying on the dock next to his ankle asking him to move his hand and rubbing his ankle. I could do no more but people were arriving. A nurse, her husband, and a number of others, crowding the end of the dock. I could hear the nurse coaching Mike and Noel and saw Jeff move his hand.
People started to organize, asking people to stand away from the dock. Franco stood where the dock hinged and tried to keep it from rocking.
I heard someone say that 911 had been called and that 2 ambulances were on their way. I told anyone who would listen to take care of Jeff first.
The ambulance teams seemed to swarm over the dock and Mike, Noel, the nurse, and her husband carefully traded place with the 911 teams as they brought over the stretcher. I had still not gotten up, and my eye was flooded with blood. I looked up and Jeff’s stretcher was carried over me towards the ambulance and then was gone. Those ambulance dudes were strong!
Then strong arms picked me up and put me in a chair for transport. My head was gushing blood and I could barely see.
At Niagara Falls hospital I took 24 stitches to my left eye, bandaged scrapes on my right knee, CT scan for concussion. I’m still waiting xray results to the knees.
Jeff was under dirty water for something like 30 seconds, lacerations to his face, broken bones in his cheek bone areas, possible water in his lungs, scraped quadriceps, a whack in the chest, and possible head trauma.
As soon as I became aware of what happened intellectually, I began coming to grips with what had happened. I suppose that this processing would resemble stages of grief. “It couldn’t have happened” “It is all my fault” I should have done x, or y, or done it faster or better.” I don’t suppose that will ever end.
I asked an experienced online group, (Ryan and Sophie’s Patreon WhatsApp group) the following question,
“I recall someone handling a bad burn on a long cruise and wondered what is in your aid kit now years later. I’m not asking about burn products but more about the process of rethinking based on tragedy. What did you change and how did you rethink it.
I had a nonfatal accident this weekend onboard and am looking for help in dealing with it.”
The answers, which were excellent thought leadership and relevant, tended to focus on big health risks causes on heroic passages. They focused on time to getting primary care (imagine days of burst appendix on a crossing.), advanced first aid, procurement of an effective set of drugs, courses in marine cruising medical practices, and other considerations.
“We realized a number of things after the burn accident. The first being you need way more equipment (bandages, gauze, tapes, etc) than you realize. Especially if you’re out on your own in the ocean. There is no convenient way to get more supplies or help. If you have a burn, cut, whatever and you’re 5 days away from shore and need to keep a wound clean you are going to go through a lot of stuff. Even more if there is multiple emergencies, which is typically what happens.
We now have three very big bins on board which is structured to support 3 crew for an ocean crossing. It includes 2 boxes with all the equipment of tapes, bandages, etc. and a third box for medication which range from 4 type of antibiotics to pain killers, stoppers and goers (if you know what I mean).
Also we are taking a wilderness first aid course is really critical. It allows you to think differently than just calling 911
Phil, specifically on how to cope with trauma and traumatic experience (if that what your asking) that’s probably above my experience level. I always tell people that you’re not the first one to do whatever it is you did and you won’t be the last. It’s best to share your experiences with others and we can all learn. That’s one thing I hope this space can be used for. No judgment from this group
Experience talking:
One thing I learned on my solo crossing. I was the weakest link. If I got hurt, the whole experience would have been a lot different. So you have to protect yourself at all cost, then the boat. Just remember, you will break before the boat does.
Another comment, probably closer to the scale of my accident said,
It’s at a lower level but that’s why I wear a life jacket when I’m out in a dinghy with little kids. They are in so much trouble if we have anything at all go sideways. Even if they are old enough to manage the dinghy. Who protects the protector?
Who are these wonderful people? Why are they the way they are? There were people who stayed off the dock to allow helpers to work on us and the nurse who coached Noel and Mike in the first critical seconds. There were paramedics and the hospital staff. There was the doctor who, while he was putting in my stitches, I asked, “Will my forehead shape be more of a Ferengi or a Klingon look.” My answer to his, “I don’t watch Star Trek” was “I guess it won’t help to ask if you are going for an original series Klingon or a TNG turtle look”. There were the team of friends who took my brother overnight back to Ottawa for further hospital care. There were many who called with concerns, and we were never alone.
Thank You.
