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False Confidence (August 12, 2006) 
We found out our friend Steve Ng drowned in the Salmon River, in the Klamath National
Forest of Northern California. He was 35 and in excellent health. From what we can gather,
it seems he had gone snorkeling. The friend he was with (someone unknown to us) had swum on
ahead, and when he looked back, he saw no sign of Steve. After repeated dives failed to find him,
the friend drove off seeking help. So remote is this area that the Sheriff's office is
reportedly an hour's drive away.
Although no one will ever know exactly what transpired in those few minutes, I suspect Steve fell victim to a false confidence in his swimming and diving skills. Having paddled around a reef-protected area in Hawaii with a mask and snorkel, he may have felt he was experienced enough to swim/dive in a river. Sadly, he was unaware of the dangers specific to rivers--strong currents, very cold (snow-melt) water, obstructions such as sunken branches, slippery rocks, etc. We suspect he went beneath the surface, allowing water to flow into the snorkel, which he then inhaled. Without proper training and experience, he may well have panicked, sucking more water into his lungs. I am not an experienced diver, but I do know you must always retain enough air in your lungs to blow the snorkel clear of water when you surface. Even this sort of very modest knowledge can save one's life, if you have the presence of mind not to panic--a difficult thing to do when you're desperate to breathe but cannot. Unfortunately, I don't think Steve was very experienced in the water, and so his sense of confidence was fatally misplaced. It is so very easy to feel this sort of false confidence, especially when faced with potentially risky situations you don't even recognize as dangerous. Examples abound: rock climbing, diving, body surfing, motorcycling, driving fast, working on ladders, working with power saws, etc. But snorkeling in a calm shallow reef-sheltered cove is not the same as braving the open ocean or fast-moving river water. Several months ago Steve and I had taken a walk along Ocean Beach in San Francisco, after lunch at an Islamic Chinese restaurant. Steve grew up in San Francisco, so I was surprised when he asked me if I would go in the choppy surf that day. Ocean Beach has a notorious riptide-- incautious swimmers fall victim to it annually--and that day the sea was roiled by heavy, choppy surf--very nasty even for a strong swimmer. Anyone in the water would be pounded by wave after wave, with no break to reach calm water. I told him it was way too dangerous to even think about entering. Thinking back, I realized he simply didn't know how to judge the safety of the sea. Having lived in Hawaii for so many years, I am respectful of the sea. I will not go in heavy shore break (the kind that goes "wump!" when it crashes on the sand), expecially if the bottom falls steeply away, as it does in certain stretches of Makaha and elsewhere. I have read that life guards in Hawaii report the typical drowning victim is a male tourist in his 40s or 50s, who undoubtedly recalls body-surfing as a teenager but who no longer has the stamina for swimming in heavy surf. False confidence in the benign nature of the water and in their own experience puts them literally in over their head. The same appears to be true of those killed riding today's powerful breed of motorcycles: the middle-aged guy who fondly recalls his Honda 90 takes his new bike out for a spin and finds, far too late, that's its extraordinary power and acceleration is far beyond his control. We all have our close calls; almost falling asleep at the wheel (another very easy way to die), getting caught in an undertow or being pounded against the bottom by a big wave (or two), ditching the bike when we missed a turn on gravel, almost slipping off a knife-edged trail, falling off a roof, almost cutting off a finger or two, etc. etc. This is just a short list from my own experience--no doubt you have your own list of close-calls. How many resulted from false confidence, or faulty risk assessment? Almost all, I reckon. My wife had seen Steve waiting to be picked up by his camping buddy, and she reported that he was enthusiastically looking forward to the trip which would be his last on this Earth. So what can any of us gain from such a senseless accidental death? Perhaps only a renewed respect for the fatal potential of any body of water, and a renewed appreciation for the limits of our own experience, skill and endurance. For more on this subject and a wide array of other topics, please visit my weblog. 
copyright © 2006 Charles Hugh Smith. All rights reserved in all media. I would be honored if you linked this wEssay to your site, or printed a copy for your own use.
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