I was injured in a boating accident up the BC coast a few (6) years ago. Not too badly. I am fine now. But, it was somewhat dramatic and scary at the time. I wrote this up:
My wife and I are constructing a small wilderness cabin up the inside passage of the BC coast on a sparsely populated and un-serviced island. It was around noon on a hot July day when we left our building site for a trip to the local store. We are located ten nautical miles Northeast-ish from the nearest settlement with roads and telephones, 30 miles and a ferry ride East-ish from the nearest small town and 2 miles South from our nearest neighbour. It is isolated by our standards. Remote by any standards.
I am 56. My wife is 52. We are basically healthy and relatively capable people but still citified to the extent that both of us have soft hands and a single day’s hard labour results in extremely sore muscles. We have more fat than muscle, more optimism than experience and more patience than skill. Fortunately, we like what we are doing and have each other to share it with. I don’t think it gets any better.
That day, my wife and I were riding along in our inflatable boat at full speed – at about 20 knots. Sally was at the helm. I was sitting up near the bow. I was sitting forward because equalized weight distribution helps level the trim of the boat and allows it to ride better. I was leaning in towards the center of the boat with my bum on the front tubes, my weight on my elbows placed on my knees. Most of my weight was well inboard. I thought I was sitting safely.
But I straightened to look at something on shore at the exact same instant we hit an inexplicably large wave. The momentum of straightening my posture together with the deceleration of the boat hitting the wave sent me over the bow. It was instant. I remember thinking as I went over, “Damn. The propeller!”
Then there was a huge ‘bang!’ and I remember thinking again, ‘Damn! The propeller.” As the boat passed over me, I was twice struck by the spinning blades attached to the 20 hp outboard. One blade cut along the part line of my hair and the second cut almost at right angles near the crown of my head. It felt like a single hammer blow.
A few seconds later, I bobbed to the surface with a view of the inflatable still moving away from me. I could see Sally’s back. That was not a good moment. She seemed so distant. And heading the wrong way. I could already feel hot liquid pouring from the top of my head. The pain was obvious and extreme but not incapacitating. I was conscious but not overly coherent. I remember instinctively calling out, “Oh, my God!”
It occurred to me at that moment that ‘Oh, my God!’ was not going to convey the appropriate instructions that I wanted to convey to Sally, so I took a deep breath, collected my thoughts and yelled again. This time I had purposefully formed the sentences in my head for specific instruction on turning the boat around and how to get me back in the boat. And so I let out at the top of my lungs, “…………….Oh, my God!” Again.
This involuntary and repetitive exclamation struck me as mildly amusing at the time. It seemed as if I was destined to yell prayers instead of instructions. Just as well, I thought, considering the situation. So, I shut up and began to swim towards the finally-stopped boat. It was about 75 yards away. It seemed like a mile.
As I swam I became more and more aware of my circumstance. I was fully clothed, injured and bleeding. I also seem to recall not being very calm. My immediate rescue was likely but medical assistance was not. We were a long way from anywhere. I was particularly aware of the temperature difference I was experiencing. I was in 50-degree water and my body was rapidly becoming colder.
In the meantime, of course, hot blood was pouring from my head and down my face. My head was covered in a gooey, sticky-warmth and my body was getting colder. Very strange. And not just a little disconcerting. I started to worry.
Sally had re-started the boat and covered the distance to me within seconds. She was very good. She could have easily come too fast or missed me altogether. Instead, she drifted up to me neatly, with the engine put in neutral at just the right time. We connected the first time we tried. After a few futile attempts to get me into the boat, I suggested that I hold on to the rope gunwale and that she simply drag me to the beach as quickly as she could. I adopted the harpooned whale position alongside which came somewhat naturally in the situation and Sally took the extra precaution of lashing me to the boat. It was a good idea. I felt as if I was losing consciousness.
Being dragged through the water increases heat loss. It was scary cold. After what seemed like an hour but was more like 10 minutes, we got to shore and I rolled into the boat holding Sally’s just-disrobed t-shirt to my head to stanch the flow of blood. I had inadvertently wrapped a button or zipper against my head and for the next two hours felt what I thought was a skull fragment as I held the shirt in place. In retrospect, that silly error was the worst part. I kept expecting brain matter to ooze out whenever I moved the cloth.
We drove ten minutes to the nearest neighbour and they called the Coast Guard. 45 minutes later two Coast Guard out-station, rapid response teams were on site and 15 minutes after that a helicopter arrived. Within the next hour I was at the Campbell River hospital and soon after that I was examined and stitched up. They even gave me a sandwich.
I was lucky. It seems the propeller had neatly sliced through my scalp in two separate places for about 12 inches of laceration but had not cut deeply into my skull. There was no skull fragment – only a bloodied button and an overly vivid imagination.
That kind of precision cut is not an easy thing to imagine. Try pinching your own scalp and see how much skin you get. Then wonder how two blades could have sliced only skin deep without cutting much deeper. I was more than lucky. I was saved miraculously. I guess I am also hard headed.
I was fortunate in more ways, too. I met fabulous neighbours (Theresa was an angel) who all came to my aid. People I did not know stayed to help. Blankets were volunteered and comfort was extended wherever possible. The Coast Guard personnel were perfect – just like you want them to be. They were proficient in the first aid and skills they manifested but also in their caring and humanity. They were not only skilled professionals but they were also decent human beings.
As I was being carried aloft by the e-vac helicopter, the remaining Coast Guard staff turned to assist my traumatized and worried wife. They took care of our boat and got Sally to the nearby town where the hospital was. They were excellent.
The helicopter crew and the hospital staff picked up where the Coast Guard left off. They, too, performed and behaved way beyond my expectations. In fact, I was catching a ferry back to my cabin three hours later. I looked a bit ridiculous in my blood-stained bandage and I certainly felt a bit ‘whacked’ but, all in all, I was intact and doing fine.
I remember entering the ferry passenger waiting room with a dazed look on my face and wearing a weird looking head bandage-cum-turban. Sally had gone to buy the tickets. I entered a room with about ten others already seated and waiting for the ferry. Some looked up at my arrival. They looked horrified. Blood was seeping through the bandage and trickling down my neck. I hadn’t noticed it.
Tipping my turban forward, I said, “I am a leader of a new island cult. Anybody wanna join?” Nobody laughed. Nobody even acknowledged my existence. The message conveyed clearly to me was that they knew a nut-case when they saw one. And after a few minutes, everyone left. They decided to wait outside. I don’t blame them.
I guess my echoing laughter at my own joke didn’t help allay their concerns. They felt safer outside. Sally did, too, now that I think about it.
As we crossed the last body of water in a chartered boat, I held Sally close for a long time and reflected on the day. I was very thankful to be there. “You know, Sal, with the exception of the propeller hitting me, it was a pretty good day!”
Our Off the Grid Home 
…. !! Dave. This post is a tear jerker. Scars? Sally is the best thing that EVER happened to you. Did you ever draw a time-line of 'a to now'? J
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