When I returned from Everest two and a half months ago, I declared a hiatus on blog posts. However, a recent experience motivates me to share an update.
As background, the time since my return has been great. I gained back the 15 pounds I lost on the mountain and re-started my workout routine. Meanwhile, I allowed myself the summer to figure out what mix of non-profit commitments, for-profit work, and further adventure I should pursue in the years ahead. It has been a relaxing and satisfying time; prioritizing some of Jill’s interests, and having the flexibility to skip a workout here and there to pursue other activities. There is also deep satisfaction in having gotten to the top of that mountain.
Here is a photo Jill took a few days ago as we sailed across Buzzards Bay. It captured my mood perfectly.
The day after this photo was taken, I hopped into our motor dinghy and headed out to the boat to do some routine chores. It was a calm morning, still early, and it was nice to be out in the harbor. After dispensing with the chores, I sat on deck absorbing the beauty. Then I got back in the dinghy, pulled the outboard motor, and headed back to the dock.
It was low tide. I needed to navigate shallow water to get to my usual tie up spot. I did what I frequently do in this situation, turning around to lift the idling motor into the shallow water setting. This moves the propellor to just barely below the waterline. The new motor we bought this year doesn’t raise and lower quite as easily as our old one did, so I had to jiggle the motor to get it to lock into position. As I did this, the motor tiller brushed the side of the dinghy and jerked into full throttle. The dinghy surged forward, then swerved violently to starboard. I felt myself being thrown from the dinghy into the shallow water.
Outboard motors are sold with “kill switches”. These are rubber lanyards intended to be worn around the operator’s wrist, with the other end connected to a switch on the motor. The idea is that, if the operator is inadvertently thrown into the water, the lanyard pulls the switch and immediately shuts off the motor.
These kill switches are designed to avoid one of the most dangerous situations in motor boating. If an operator is thrown overboard with the motor running, the motor jerks immediately to one side and causes the boat to start spiraling in circles. It is almost impossible for a person in the water to get out of the path of an oncoming motor boat, and the rapidly rotating propeller blades, sharp as knives, can easily shred human bodies. This situation is widely known as “the circle of death”. However, few boat operators bother to actually use kill switch lanyards, especially close to shore. The lanyards are mildly cumbersome and the risk of accident is low. Unfortunately, I fall into this category. I was not wearing a lanyard.
I now faced the circle of death. I stood up in waist deep water, turned, and saw the dinghy coming straight at me, full throttle. In the milliseconds available, I had two clear thoughts: “this may be it”, and “must get as low as I can”. The water was shallow and the dinghy was almost on top of me. I submerged as much as possible, my back on the ocean floor, trying to shield my face. The dinghy passed over me, motor screaming, circling hard to the right as it did.
I resurfaced, trying to assess how badly I was hurt, and realized I had to get out of the way of the dinghy’s next pass. I grabbed onto another boat tied to the dock and held it to me as a shield. Eventually the circling dinghy hit a rock, broke out of its spiral, and ran itself onto the rocky beach; motor still on full. My legs were bleeding profusely in multiple places. I kept splashing salt water on them.
It feels a miracle that I escaped serious injury or death. The propellor blades passed over my right thigh, making five parallel cuts. But the propellor was just high enough, and I was just deep enough, that the cuts are shallow. One blade cut more deeply on my left knee, but the cut was clean. As the doctor who stitched me up said, “you are incredibly lucky you aren’t in surgery right now, with us trying to save severed muscles or limbs, or worse”. If the dinghy hadn’t turned exactly when it did, the blades would have hit me in the face.
My cuts will heal in a couple of weeks. For now, the bigger problem is contusions in my legs, caused by the propellor shaft and metal boat bottom slamming into them. Walking is a real challenge. This too should heal soon. I am beyond fortunate.
This really spooked me. It was an incredibly close call. Nothing I have encountered in the mountains compares.
I pride myself in carefully managing risk, in the mountains and on the water. I have spent a lifetime doing so. But I lapsed, and almost paid a severe price. I still can’t believe how lucky I was. It is a fine line we all tread, often not realizing it.
Friends, wear those lanyards, or seatbelts, or whatever. And let us be grateful for every moment we get to inhabit this good earth.
Yikes and whew! So glad you are mostly OK. Thanks much for the prompt and reminder.
Speechless…other than “Thank God”!
Not normally a user of expletives in an audience, but
Holy sh*t, Tom!
I (too often) dispense with the seatbelt, and OB lanyards – your post makes me reconsider this bad habit.
Best wishes for a speedy, thorough recovery of body and mind
Tom – I am grateful for your luck. I would not want to hear of anything bad happening to you. Your story is especially meaningful to me today as I learned of another friend passing away this morning. Fishing with his grandsons yesterday, gone today. You may remember I left Sweden because my dad died in a freak accident at the age of 44. Since then, I have lived my life avoiding as much regret as possible and living on my terms. I am so grateful for countless miracles in my life, the people who have passed through for a short period but have made a lifelong impact (like you), and the people who are ‘my people,’ those who rub away the chaff and see the seed that is me. Thanks for the opportunity to tell you that you have mattered in my life. Now, wear the damn lanyard.
Yikes! That is nightmare spooky. I’m sorry to hear about the accident and relieved that you are ok! Because if your story I will look at the kill switch in a new light.
I’ve seen a couple of prop accidentes, enough to know better, but never use the kill lanyard on our dink. Like you, the distance we are traveling are short (usually boat to shore, less than 100 yards), the horsepower is very low and the chances of mishaps are slim. I’ve also somehow convinced myself that our electric Torqueedo would never harm me. Thanks for the reminder that things can happen in the blink of an eye!
Geez French! Scary stuff! Glad you are ok! Wishing you a speedy recovery! Namaste! ✌️🙏
Tom, You have inspired us with your challenging athletic endeavors. Today, you humbly remind us to be grateful for each day. Thanks for another amazing post
Holy crap.
Somebody get me a lanyard.
So thankful you’re ok.
Counting my blessings.
Yikes. Glad to hear you’re on the mend! Ditch the motor and just row?
I lost a very good friend to the “circle of death” when I was 19 as the result of a boat accident off of Duxbury beach. I wasn’t there (which would have been even more traumatizing), but have never forgotten him nor the story of what happened. While I’ve always been a “live every day to the fullest” type person – this experience made me realize how precious and fragile life is. You are indeed very lucky.
Wow. What a story. I’m so glad you are OK and we are not reflecting on the irony of our friend who twice climbed Everest and then was taken down by an out of control dinghy.
Have a great rest of the summer.
My heart skipped a beat reading this. So terrifying. Glad you’re mostly ok!
Accidente! You survive (in fine fettle) two trips through the Himalayan “Death Zone”, only to barely escape a thoroughly ignominious death and/or dismemberment while landing a dingy! I hope that you have not used up too much of your allotted good luck. Maybe I should get you a WWI vintage steel helmet for the golf course? -ghc-
Tom, how frightening– and I’m so glad that you’re okay! What a timely reminder for us. (Making a plan to dig out that lanyard.) Hugs to you and Jill.
Oh my, Tom. So scary and SO glad you were not mire seriously hurt. What a close call after all your many adventures so far from home. Take care , S and S.
Wow , what an incredible story ! Glad you are on the mend Tom ; how ironic that you sustained such an unfortunate injury at sea level !
Heal quickly , btw , you write a very captivating tale !
Holy Crap, Cousin! I kept you in my daily prayers when you were on Everest–now I’ll just have to keep you there in perpetuity! I’m certain that your quick thinking survival skills were honed by your experiences climbing. Thank heavens for that. Maybe the Universe is hinting that you should move someplace with no mountains and no water–Iowa perhaps???
Love, Amanda
Tom,
Your story is a good reminder that we should remain vigilant, even doing mundane chores. I remember hearing several stories of military veterans returning from months of violent combat, only to die in a traffic accident or falling off a ladder. You better get back to work, this Gap Year has become too dangerous.
Best wishes, Morty
Oh good grief! To the highest point in the world and back again and nearly felled by a lowly dingy so close to home! Crazy story. Very grateful your injuries from your terminator dingy aren’t as serious as they could have been. Heal fast so we can see you soon, and thanks for the reminder to take normal precautions seriously even if we’re not on Everest!
I was tense reading this from beginning to end. Harrowing. Your will to live and response under extreme pressure saved you. The experience of Everest might have saved you, too.
OK wearing that lanyard from now on, YIKES. They say most vehicle accidents happen when you are a few miles from your house, you think you know this territory and you will be safe. I guess this is a similar situation. So glad you are basically fine and it reminds me also that us long distance friends just have to make the space to see each other! Life is precious.
Betsy
Whoa! Quite a story and so glad it’s a happy ending. Heal well our friend so we can see you and celebrate you soon.
Xoxo
Tom, I am so glad the miracle saved you — and your quick thinking did — but so, so glad you are here to tell the cautionary tale. I may not need a lanyard (no boat) but will keep it in mind with my car’s seatbelt. Thank you and God bless!
Thankful you ok….what a scare. Get better soon 🙏
Good to hear you are okay, an ugly story very well told. You may not understand the obligation you have to others, but one of them is not getting hit by a bus for Christ’s sake.
Yesterday I saw that great photo of you that Jill took and thought “I wonder what’s up next for Frenchie.” Now I know. While you are certainly lucky to have come through relatively well, all things considered, I think there was more than luck at play. You clearly knew what to expect as soon as you were thrown out. For me, a land lubber if there ever was one, it would have been curtains for sure. Best wishes for a speedy recovery. Meanwhile, I’ll be wearing my seat belt while bush hogging like I know I’m supposed to.
Crazy how we both survive EVEREST and you almost got whacked by a small boat. This is why we climb. Accidents happen all the time and its usually the simple things that get you. So glad you are safe, healing and maybe a bit wiser next time you enter those waters. Stay connected.. MP
Very scary Tom. So glad you are ok.
Whew!! So glad you are fine Tom. Wish you a rapid recovery and look forward to seeing you soon!!
Thank goodness you are okay and healing! I remember as a young child my father’s constant reminders about the kill switch and boat safety every single time we went out.
Tom: the same thing happened in the Cuttyhunk channel last summer. Except the “victim” was a jerk standing up and horsing around. He ended up worse than you – but lived. So glad you had the presence of mind – and luck – to come through your CoD as you did. Come on over when you are healed. I’ll expect to see the red lanyard when you pick us up at the dinghy dock.
Late to this party, Tom, but so glad you are OK.
I think you made it through the “Death Zone” four times. This story just doesn’t end with you being turned into chum in Buzzards Bay!
I will relate the lesson (again) to the Level One Sailing Instructors at the New Bedford Yacht Club. A grim reminder but all too easy to let that lanyard slide. Thanks for sharing this.
Hope to see you very soon.
Tom Swift
Not a fun post, my friend. Like Patton almost getting killed by an ox cart. Good luck with the healing…settle in and enjoy the rest of the summer!
Hey Tom — only getting to this now, weeks after the post. Very glad you are “OK” (loosely defined as “not excessively mutilated”). I would think infection would be a risk with your healing process; hope you avoid it.
As you know, I’ve worked in manufacturing my entire career. “Safety” is a regular topic, but our reminders get stale. I’m going to use your story (with your permission) as a real-world reminder that accidents initiated by behavioral choices can happen at any hour of any day, including weekends. The example I always use is “wear safety glasses when weed whacking your yard”. Youngsters roll their eyes. I’m changing that to “wear the safety lanyard”.