|
The opposite
Stark fear tends to to make me goofy, rather than vengeful.
Long ago, on a Pack Cat trip down Deso/Gray, I stayed left on Steer Ridge Rapid, hit a hole, and flipped. Water was warm, I had a grip on my boat— no sweat. The boat was overloaded and I figured it would take a while to swim it onto an eddy where I could right it.
But my sweetheart was freaked, trying to grab my boat while paddling one-handed, etc. Thinking she'd flip as a result, I asked her to cut me loose. She squawked and redoubled her efforts. We went into the little riffle after Steer Ridge, and she let go (good). I waved a hand and said "Bye-bye."
In the next eddy, as we were righting my boat, she told me she thought my farewell (which I thought would be comforting) meant that I'd given up and would thenceforth drown.
I thought it was funny, but the look on her face warned me I'd better not laugh. She thought that a) I'd drown, and b) She'd be alone on the raging river. So what was to me a mildly embarrassing fluff was to her a major brush with death.
What I learned was just how differently people (even those who know one another well) can see the same event.
What helps most is to talk about the issue beforehand and agree on a set of signals (there are standard ones) and then to abide by them, regardless of one's own perception of risk or danger. For all you know, that chickenshit bastard flailing around after a wet exit might have broken a femur on a rock.
If someone signals for rescue, you rescue them. Period, underline, bold.
If it's a misunderstanding, better to err on the side of safety.
Chip
|