PFDs. Personal floatation devices. Life jackets.

Call them what you will.

If you're not wearing one when out recreating on the water, you take a huge risk. Should you have an accident and end up in the water, your chances of survival are greatly reduced if you're not wearing a PFD.

It's Survival in the Water 101.

Sadly, we experienced yet another tragedy this weekend, when a Waterville man boating on Great Pond in Belgrade drowned after his craft capsized.

"Their boat became overloaded and a wave came up and literally flipped the boat over."

Thomas Kopp did not survive.

"Neither Thomas nor Michael Kopp was wearing a life jacket."

How very sad. And unfortunate. And needless.

My heart goes out to the family and friends of Mr. Kopp. We are so sorry for your loss.

A tragic mistake. One that is all too often repeated.

Boating season is fast coming to an end. But snowmobile and ice fishing seasons are fast approaching. When will we read of the first death(s) of people venturing out onto the ice in unsafe conditions?

It's much the same thing. Why do people do it? It's not like we don't know these things that can help us avoid tragedy and keep us safe. But we choose to ignore them with horrible consequences.

I don't get it.

Please take heed. Don't be a statistic. THINK, and LIVE.

Do you wear your life jacket when boating or paddling? If you snowmobile or ice fish what safety precautions do you take?

Bad idea.

But not so, according to officials at the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife.

Yep, sitting there at breakfast the other morning, quite relaxed, reading the paper, cup of coffee and bagel half stuffed into my maw, I read the latest take on saving people from themselves in Maine's out-of-doors:

"We are now telling people who plan to be involved in outdoor activities to take their cell phone, especially if they will be in remote areas," said Mark Michaud of the Maine DIF&W.

{Coffee spilled, and bagel chunk spit out onto the floor here}

Jeez, you've just gotta continue to wonder what the heck is in the water up there in Augusta! (Note to self: When in Augusta drink bottled water only. Or beer.)

Where do I start?

First of all, what good is a cell phone in remote areas? For chrissake it only works half the time out on our heavily-traveled highway corridors.

Claims are that a cell phone with advanced technology has a GPS chip embedded in it, and that when turned on, can help locate a lost outdoorsperson.

If a signal can be picked up. And exactly how likely is that in the back-of-beyond?

Not very.

I was out hiking last weekend in a remote region along the Maine-NH border. At one point during the day I happened to reach back and feel my cell phone still in my back pocket.

Did I have it along to rely on in case of an emergency? Not hardly, bub.

I'd forgotten to empty my pockets and hence it made the trip with me. And just for yucks I flipped it open to see if I had a signal. Nothing.

Good thing I wasn't in trouble, eh?!

Let me tell you a little something about cell phone use in the backcountry: Crap!

There's nothing I loathe more than some shmuck atop a 4000-foot peak on his cell phone yakking at high volume: "Hey honey, you'll never guess where I am?!"

Cell phones in the woods? Nada.
Image courtesy StickerGiant.com

But that's not the real problem.

It's giving Joe and Jane Hiker the idea that he/she can blast off into the woods willy-nilly and no matter what happens, one quick call on the cell phone and voila! Salvation will arrive and rescue them from their own stupidity.

Do you really believe this is the way to go? Something that our outdoor officials should be promoting?

I think not.

The alternative?

Hold on to your hats here, folks.

The most important piece of equipment a person can take into the backcountry with them is...

A brain.

It must be turned on, of course. And while out hiking, paddling, x-c skiing or whatever it must be used to observe one's surroundings, consider the weather and its variability and compensate appropriately, monitor the physical functioning of the individual and other group members, and formulate and carry out a continually changing plan that ultimately ensures one's own safety and survival.

Emphasis on "one's own." Who in their right mind would enter the backcountry thinking frivilously--and dangerously I might add--that, hey, if anything happens somebody will come and fish me out. That's exactly how countless numbers of people and their hoped-for rescuers have perished.

No piece of technology is more important in the outdoors than the brain. Bring it with you every time you go out and use it. It will save your life.

Gadgets fail. Batteries die. But a well-prepared, well-fed, well-clothed, well-hydrated outdoorsperson will always have the advantage in a tough situation.

Don't fall into this innocuous trap. Rely on yourself and your know-how, otherwise referred to as common sense. Yes, technology is cool. Except when it doesn't work.

Feed you brain and it will work every time. And there's a high probability it will keep you out of trouble, too.

What do you think of cell phones in the backcountry? Had an occasion to use one in an emergency?

I'm a woofer.

Or a WFR.

More specifically, a Wilderness First Responder.

Yep. All re-trained, re-certified and ready to go for another three years. For backcountry emergencies big and small.

You get injured out there on the trail--hang nail, pimple, mosquito bite--I can help!

Fortunately, and more seriously, so can many others, thanks to the intensive backcountry medicine training courses put on by SOLO and several other groups, including WMA and WMI.

Last weekend's 16-hour WFR refresher course (I took the full 80-hour course 10 years ago) was hosted by the Hurricane Island Outward Bound School at their L.L. Bean Mountain Center facility tucked deep in the woods in Newry.

The actual instruction was done by SOLO, the Stonehearth Open Learning Opportunities, experts in teaching wilderness and emergency medicine for 30 years.

For two very full days our class of about 20 students reviewed and practiced (through a combination of class work and scenarios) everything from patient assessment to the Big Three body systems (respiratory, circulatory and nervous), recognition and treatment of shock, dealing with head injuries, splinting all kinds of fractures from wrists to femurs and much more, all in a wilderness context, utilizing simple tools (i.e. whatever might be on hand while you're out in the woods).

Oh, and CPR, too. The new procedures: A ratio of 30:2 compressions to breaths. That's it.

It was fun and intense and always eye opening. I feel more prepared than ever to handle backcountry emergency situations. I've handled nothing more than a broken wrist, a dislocated shoulder, and some burns and scrapes and the like to date, but who knows? Spend enough time outside and stuff's gonna happen. To you or someone else.

I especially enjoyed the focus on the simulations. There's nothing like coming upon a screaming person in the woods, covered in blood and writhing in pain to jerk you into action. You know its fake but your body and mind are fooled and you go to work IDing the problem and fixing it as best and as quickly as you can.

It's good learning. Thanks SOLO. Special thanks to our instructor Gabe who was patient and knowledgable and skilled with the group process.

And thanks to the nice folks at HIOBS for the cozy digs and the hearty meals.

If you spend any amount of time out in the woods and on the waters you should get yourself at least some basic first aid training. A little goes a long way. You may not ever have to use it but...

What kind of first aid training do you have? Where did you take your course? Have you used your skills in the backcountry?

Emily of MA and Whit of RI display a leg splint.

SOLO instructor Gabe leads a post-scenario discussion.

Ken of NH unraveling a TIP femur splint.

That's me bound up with a burned hand and sprained ankle.

On the way back from the course I stopped in to the nearby Sunday River South Ridge Lodge base area... it won't be long skiers!!!

If you happen to maintain a section of the Appalachian Trail these days, as I do for the MATC, you are now required to take a chainsaw safety course if you plan to use a machine to get your trail work done.

And seeing as how a good part of any AT maintainer's job here in Maine is devoted to removing blowdowns (also known as blowdownus painintheassus) that block tha trail, a chainsaw is the only way to work efficiently. Especially when you might have to cut out 75-100 of them in the course of a few miles of trail.

And so, much to my AT Section Overseer's delight I would imagine, I attended one such 16-hour safety course this weekend at a woodlot in Windham, sponsored by the Appalachian Trail Conservancy.

Driving there Saturday morning I was wondering just what in the world we were going to learn about chainsaws that was going to take up an entire weekend.

Well, did I ever find out!

We spent 3/4 of our time right out there in the woods running through just about every possible scenario and practicing most every needed type of cutting method, from limbing, bucking and felling to boring cuts, calculating back lean and side, and figuring your face cut and hinge width.

What you say?

Exactly.

It was a lot of stuff jam packed into what turned out to be quick course.

But the 14 attendees no doubt came away safer and more knowledgable chainsaw users who will now be able to approach both routine and more complicated trail maintenance situations with an expanded knowledge base.

And what a thrill it is to now be able to properly and safely assess a tree, the hazards, escape plan, it's lean, make a cutting plan and so forth, and be able to drop it pretty much right where you'd planned to.

I'd like to thank both Lester Kenway and Peter Jensen, certified sawyer instructors for the ATC, for their professional approach, their patience and their sense of humor. You guys did a terrific job! Thank you.

Many thanks also to Larry Clark for the use of his beautiful farm and woodlot.

And thanks to the ATC for supplying personal protection equipment (chaps, helmet, ear and eye protection) free of charge to each maintainer who successfuly completes the course. That's a real nice bonus.

And Phil, I do promise I'll be wearing it all out there this season!

Practicing boring cuts.

Releasing a spring pole.

Assessing the lean.

Felling the tree.

The crew and instructors look on.

Measuring post-cut tolerances.

Reviewing the cut.

Demonstrating the slab cut.

Explaining the practice boring stump.

Looking down a well-felled birch.

Chainsaw maintenance.

Crap!

Our hearts go out to the families and friends of the two young snowmobilers.

I'm so sorry.

The rest of you please take note. And please ride safe.

It's inevitable each year it seems.

Snowmobile deaths.

And now we've had the first deadly accident of the winter season. And there are, unfortunately, going to be more. But maybe, hopefully, fewer this year.

You just hate to see it.

Reckless riding. High speeds. Alcohol. Thin ice. Poor planning.

All factors that can and do add up to tragedy.

If you're a snowmobile rider make sure you know the rules of the trail so you and your partners can ride safely and have fun. Like riding to the right, riding sober, riding at a prudent speed, using hand signals, staying alert and riding defensively.

Get all the safety information you need from the good folks at the Maine Snowmobile Association. Like the interactive snowmobile safety CD produced by the MSA and the Maine Dept. of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife. It's free. Get it. Play it. Know it.

Or download the Ride Right, Ride Smart safety booklet.

And consider a snowmobile safety education course.

All good stuff to help keep you and others safe on the trail.

I'm very sorry that you lost your wife Mr. Packard. Very sorry. There are really no words to ease the pain, even now, two years later.

Packard's wife, Joyce Ann Packard, drowned on Sept. 20, 2003, after falling out of her kayak and becoming pinned against the grate of the dam at the mouth of Sebasticook Lake.

And Packard himself, who jumped into the lake to try and save his wife, might also have died were it not for the quick action of some local folks on shore, as I recall.

A tragic accident.

But now Packard is suing Cianbro, who built the dam, contending "that she died as a result of the company's negligent design, construction and installation of the screen."

Two important items to note in this case: 1) Mrs. Packard wasn't wearing a life jacket while out kayaking that day, and 2) The current was stronger than normal because the dam was open for its annual drawdown.

Being out on the water without a life jacket is inexcusable. And you shouldn't go out without some knowledge of the conditions (i.e. risks) you will face.

Two costly instances of bad judgement.

I just don't see where Cianbro is liable here.

It was an accident.

And I don't see how suing makes it any better.

There are countless ways to injure yourself on Tumbledown Mountain, whether you try to finagle your way up the loose rocks of the Chimney (which I believe is off limits, but is still traveled), scrambling up the various rock faces, bounding across the summit rocks, or technical rock climbing on the big alpine walls.

Apparently yet another person has found a way to get into trouble up there.

News is still a bit sketchy, but there's a high-angle rescue going on this morning to extract a man who fell down the face of the mountain sometime yesterday. Given the description of the accident, I'm assuming he was rock climbing, but I'm not sure.

Getting injured in th wilds is something none of us plan on, but stuff happens. We should always be prepared with a few "extras" in our packs--even if it's only a short day hike--like food, water, fleece, headlamp, rain gear, garbage bag, first aid kit.

I'm hoping this guy had the proper gear with him to spend a comfortable night out despite his injuries. And I'm hoping they get him down okay and and that he isn't hurt too seriously.

We'll see...

Every day is a gift because we just never know if we're going to get another tomorrow. That's for a higher power to decide, whatever or whoever you deem that to be.

This past weekend two people in Maine, out having a good time, probably not giving a second thought to any danger, died unexpectedly in outdoor accidents. There'll be no tomorrows for them.

Tragic and sad, but it happens.

One man fell to his death after slipping on some rocks above Sand Beach in Acadia. Something that seems to happens to unsuspecting visitors every few years. But we can't go posting and fencing off every potentially dangerous spot in the park. Risk is part of life.

Just like the risk you take when you go whitewater rafting. One minute you're hooting and hollering as the boat crashes through the rapids. A split second later everything is topsy turvy and you're in the river fighting for your life.

I know. The Dead River nearly took me for good in a rafting flip in the spring of 1994. And during Saturday's big Dead release, the river did take a man, drowning him at Mile Long Rapids.

Damn, I'm so sorry for both, and their families.

"Life is a daring adventure or nothing at all," wrote Helen Keller. And sometimes we pay a huge price for that adventure.

Tragic, needless.

A Limestone man drowned Saturday while canoeing on the St. John River.

He didn't know how to swim, and wasn't wearing a life jacket. Poor judgment, a simple mistake, but very costly one.

I just feel awful for the man and his family. It didn't need to happen.

If you're out on the water--anywhere, anytime--you've just got to have a PFD (Personal Floatation Device) on. Period.

A few years back, while guiding on the Dead River, my raft flipped in a big hole and dumped everybody in the river. My paddlers all got picked up quickly by other boats in our party, but I ended up taking a very long, very cold swim through the rapids. I was finally fished out of the water about a mile down river, and I can tell you, I wouldn't have made it without a life jacket. No way.

I'll bet many of you can tell a similar tale.

Don't take chances. Wear your PFD. Always!

Okay, here we go again...

Aron Ralston, trapped in a slot canyon, cut off his arm to save his life. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

And when his story aired on NBC last fall I taped it. Apparently I may have been one of the only people in the world to do so, because I have been beseiged with requests from all over the U.S. and beyond for a copy. More than a hundred queries anyway--and they're still coming--many with rather hefty offers of cash (but no beer).

Now, I could be one heckuva wealthy blogger over this if I wanted to run off some bootleg copies of the Aron special. But, as I've explained to you all and the kind tape-seekers before, that would be illegal. And since I'm not a big fan of jail food and confined spaces...

IT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN! NO TAPE FOR YOU!

Sorry.

By now, most of you know all about Aron Ralston, the 27 year-old Colorado adventurer who cut off his own arm in order to extract himself from a slot canyon in the Utah wilderness where he had been trapped for six days. And I trust many of you have read his heart-stopping book Between a Rock and a Hard Place by now.

Many of you have requested a copy of the NBC Dateline special on Aron Ralston, Desperate Days in Blue John Canyon, which aired last September 10th, and which I happened to tape. I've repeatedly declined, of course, as that would be illegal, and I'm not about to go there.

Well, thanks to reader Kal, you all have an opportunity to see it and tape it for yourselves.

According to Kal: TLC is showing "The Aron Ralston Story - Trapped in a Canyon" this week. May 18 Wednesday, and May 22 Sunday. It is a near carbon-copy of the same show as presented by NBCs Dateline last September. Tom Brokaw, 2 hours long. Make your own copy - save Carey from the bad food and 5x8 cell!

So there you have it. Settle in, make the popcorn and happy viewing (and taping!)

And thanks for letting us know Kal.

In early January, Carl Natale, an avid winter hiker and MaineToday.com editor, was hiking up Wildcat Mountain in New Hampshire's White Mountains with an experienced party of MOAC friends. The group was on the Wildcat Ridge Trail, which leads from Carter Notch to the summit.

Part way up, the route crosses an open slide with a significant drop-off down toward the notch. It's one of those spots where you say to yourself, "Geez, I really wouldn't want to fall here." It makes you think, but then you gather yourself together, step carefully, and make your way across without incident.

On most days.

On this day, though, Carl started carefully across, but snagged a crampon, stumbled, and went flying. Downward. At a high rate of speed. And with his dog Burly sliding right behind him. The pair sailed down some 200-300 feet, over a 20-foot rock ledge and into the trees, narrowing missing some large boulders. All while the group at the top watched in horror.

Immediately, several of the group descended to Carl, while others went for assistance. Carl was found at the base of the cliff, alive, alert, but injured. A miracle, really, given such a fall! A group of physicians who were hiking in the area quickly arrived on the scene and began to administer care. Carl's group was quite first-aid knowledgable, but these guys were g-o-o-d! With help from the AMC hutmaster at nearby Carter Notch Hut, rescue operations were started. In all, though, it took 12 people more than 6 hours to package Carl up and evacuate to the trailhead, a distance of about 4 miles. There, Carl was rushed off to the hospital, to be treated for a broken femur and ankle.

I saw him for the first time since the accident at the MOAC meeting a week or so ago. He appears to be recovering well, thankfully. Of course, everyone wanted to know the details, so Carl very eloquently recounted the highlights to a hushed room of adventurers.

Rather than dwell on the incident itself, however, Carl focused on a few of the lessons that he learned from his brush-with-death day in the mountains. They're good ones. I took copious notes. You might want to to also.

Here they are, paraphrased from Carl:

1. Everybody who goes out in the woods should have some kind of first aid training. You've got to know what to do and how to get somebody out if they get hurt.

2. Carry a bivouac bag and sleeping bag in your group. It can take a looooong time to get somebody out of the woods. You need to have the means to keep an injured companion warm and dry during that time.

3. Carry hot liquids. Nalgene bottles filled with hot liquids (e.g. water, Gatorade) carried in insulated sleeves are essential for hydration and for providing critical, body-warming fluids in an emergency. A Thermos of hot tea or soup is an added bonus and may be a real lifesaver.

4. Hike with other people, experienced people. Potentially serious trouble can occur at any time, anywhere. You've got to have companions that are woods savvy who can handle emergency situations. And you've got to have numbers. Enough people to care for the injured, while others go for help.

5. Carry an insulated "sit-upon" pad to, well, sit on during rest breaks and for use in an emergency. Sitting on cold snow is silly and saps precious heat from your body. And for the injured, you must have a way of insulating them from the cold ground, especially when help is many hours off.

6. Luck. A little of this goes a long way for sure. How lucky are you when you take an ungodly screamer down a mountain, crunch yourself up pretty good, and there's six (count 'em) six doctors on the scene within minutes. Carl can tell you how lucky. Pretty damn lucky.

Every single one of these items came into big play during Carl's accident and rescue: First aid knowledge, bivy bag, sleeping bag, hot liquids, people of all experience levels, a foam pad, and a heavy dose of good luck.

Backcountry travel in winter ups the safety ante considerably. Remember that this happened only 4 miles from the road, not too far from a hut, and on a popular hiking trail on a weekend. Change these factors a little--a more remote destination, a mid-week day, a group of only two--and the outcome might be different.

Be safe. Be prepared. Be smart. Hook up with the experienced folks at the Maine AMC or MOAC or other outdoor club. Take a basic wilderness first aid course, like those from SOLO or Wilderness Medical Associates.

We're glad you're up and about Carl! And hoping for your quick and full recovery. And we're happy Burly came through okay too!

You remember Aron Ralston, I'm sure. He's the Colorado adventurer who cut off his right arm to free himself after being trapped in a Utah slot canyon for six days. It's a wild, emotional story that really hits home. Could you have survived? Could I? I wonder.

Anyway, I taped the Dateline NBC special on Ralston, Desperate Days in Blue John Canyon, when it aired last September. And a number of readers have since asked me for a copy of the video.

Uh, well, um, I can't do that. Sorry. Copyright laws seriously frown on that kind of thing. And I just can't get that excited about the idea of a 5'x8' cell with no windows and bad food. You understand, right?!

I did call NBC News about obtaining a legit copy, but the number was "no longer in service." It might not have mattered anyway, as I read something on their site about NBC News stories that were more than 50 days old weren't available. So no luck there.

A printed transcript is available from Burrell Transcript Service, although I realize that's not quite the same.

Digging further, I came across an NPR interview with Aron Ralston done by Alan Chadwick. It's about 8 minutes long and pretty intense. That may be the next best thing.

There's always the book, of course, Between a Rock and a Hard Place. Reed of Santa Rosa CA tells me it was a "gripping, and terrific, and terrifying book." It's up next (finally) on my winter reading list...

Last week's bicycling accident in Portland shook me up pretty good. All weekend long I just couldn't get it off my mind. Maybe it's my own sense of mortality reminding me that every day is a gift.

Accidents happen. But this one didn't need to.

Jeff Miller, Executive Director of the Bicycle Coalition of Maine, put it this way:

Initial reports are that the bicyclist wasn't just in the wrong place at the wrong time, he was riding against traffic, one of the most dangerous things you can do on a bicycle. Driving a bicycle in traffic is dramatically safer when you follow the rules of the road. Drive with traffic (on right), stop at stop signs and lights, use lights at night - these three will keep you out of harms way 90% of the time.

He's right.

So this is a gentle reminder. For bicyclists: Know your bicycle safety rules and practice them. We all forget. Now's a good time to refresh. For drivers: Know that there may be bicyclists (and pedestrians!) out there at any time, even in winter. Follow the rules for motorists. Be aware. Drive with caution.

Go a step further... Support the bicycling effort in Maine by joining the Bicycle Coalition of Maine, our best advocate for bike safety and education.

Join your local bike club too. You'll find new friends to ride with, explore new places and learn good bicycling practices. In the Portland area the folks at the Casco Bay Bicycle Club ride and have lots of fun all year long.