Rescuer laments lake tragedy
Algonquin Park was in its peak autumn glory on Thanksgiving weekend Saturday as Glenn Wallace and his wife, Krista Petrie-Wallace, and another family launched sea kayaks into Opeongo Lake on the start of a three-day wilderness getaway.
It was warm, just shy of 20 C, but a brisk 25 km/h wind whipped down the lake from the northwest.
The water was choppy, but no problem for the sleek kayaks, which sliced northward on the Y-shaped lake, the largest in the park. The Wallaces are seasoned wilderness travellers, and Glenn, 41, is a whitewater paddler, rock climber, skier and hiker with years of experience.
That experience would be tested by a tragedy that would claim the life of 32-year-old Xing Lin of Toronto. That two others survived was due in large part to Wallace's rescue efforts.
Wallace wrote about what happened in a Facebook post that has been widely shared on social media, including on Petrie-Wallace's popular blog KPW Outdoors. He hopes others might learn from the tragedy.
“It's certainly not to seek out publicity for myself. (But) writing it down was something that helped me put it together in my mind,” he said in an interview from his Burnstown home.
“I've been involved in serious rescue scenarios before, although, sadly, this is the first one that's turned out with a fatality.”
Reaction to the post has been “a bit surreal,” Wallace said, uncomfortable with the attention it's brought him.
“At the end of the day, someone lost their life, and I certainly don't want the loss of that man's life to be overshadowed.”
Petrie-Wallace was first to spot the overturned canoe. The couple and one other young paddler were halfway up the 14-kilometre-long lake, near the centre of the “Y” and a few hundred metres behind the rest of their group. Wallace turned to investigate while Petrie-Wallace continued on to accompany the less-experienced paddler on the rough water.
Wallace dug his paddle blade deep and closed the kilometre distance to the accident scene in just minutes.
He found two men and a woman in the water alongside the overturned canoe. Two other canoes, each with three people in them, were trying to help, but the conditions were poor and the other paddlers were inexperienced. Wallace recognized the makings of a potential catastrophe.
“Opeongo Lake is known for having nasty weather at times, and it was living up to its billing,” he said.
“I realized very quickly that, given the combination of the cold water and the inability of the group to enact a self-rescue, it was going to be a life-and-death situation very quickly.”
He knew it would be up to him to devise a plan and carry it out.
Despite a language barrier, Wallace was able to direct the other canoes to shore, about 200 metres away, and told them to start a fire.
The weakest swimmer of the three people in the water was the woman, so Wallace had her hold on to his kayak as he aimed for shore. It took 20 minutes of hard paddling to get there, into the wind and with her weight dragging behind him. As soon as she was safe, Wallace turned and went back onto the lake.
The wind was blowing harder, carrying the two remaining swimmers farther from shore.
Two of the other canoeists paddled back to the scene to try to help, but couldn't manage well in the worsening conditions and were soon blown clear across the bay to the far shore. Wallace was on his own.
The second person in the water was a better swimmer and kicked his legs as Wallace paddled toward shore a second time. By the time Wallace dropped him off and turned around, the third swimmer, Lin, had been in the water for more than an hour.
The waves were up to four feet high. Weak, cold and exhausted, Lin could barely cling to the kayak as Wallace turned for shore once more. Weighted down and battling the increasing wind, Wallace made little headway. He turned around and tried paddling with the wind at his back for the opposite shore. But it was hopeless.
“I knew at that point that, if there was going to be a successful rescue, I'd have to get a power boat to do it,” he said. “In order to do that, I had to leave him. That was a hard decision. But I knew, if I didn't leave, the odds of a successful rescue would be basically zero.”
Leaving Lin in the water, Wallace started south as fast as he could on the seven-kilometre paddle back to the dock. He passed a couple camped on an island and stopped just long enough to get them to call for help, which they did using a satellite-based emergency beacon. It was 4:20 p.m. and that call was the first alert to police and paramedics of the disaster.
Wallace set off again and within a few minutes encountered one of the powerful water taxis operated by Algonquin Outfitters. He told the operators what had happened and the water taxi took off at high speed toward the accident scene, radioing for a second water taxi to join the search. Wallace followed in his kayak, arriving about 20 minutes later.
It took more searching to again find Lin, his black jacket and dark blue personal flotation device blending in with the waves. Limp and unresponsive, he was brought aboard the water taxi, and, joined by Wallace, they set off at top speed for the dock. It took just 10 minutes to get there, but the ride was so rough that it was impossible to begin first aid. Wallace never learned the names of the young men driving the boats, but called their actions “exemplary.”
After the water taxi arrived at the dock, people there began CPR. An ambulance arrived almost immediately. But it was too late. Lin was pronounced dead in hospital.
Power boats were dispatched to pick up the stranded canoeists, who were brought back safely. All of them, including Lin, had been wearing personal flotation devices, which probably prevented an even greater tragedy.
“That was very important,” Wallace said. “I don't want to say it was a successful rescue because we weren't able to save everyone, but for my ability to get the first two people out, that was important.”
A PFD can only buy time, though. It can't save an individual from the inevitable hypothermia that follows cold-water immersion. Despite the warm air temperature, the water of Opeongo Lake that day was dangerously cold.
“Cold water kills. We're very quick to forget that in Canada,” Wallace said. “Our boating season basically corresponds to hypothermia season. If you're on the water in the spring or the fall — it doesn't matter what you're doing, whether you're canoeing or in a duck blind or power boating with your friends — if you end up in the water for a significant period of time, your life could be at risk.”
In addition, Lin's black jacket and dark PFD made him hard to spot in the water. Bright clothing, a yellow jacket or red hat, would have made it easier for rescuers to see him, Wallace said. In the end, going into the wilderness carries risk and it's up to people to understand and manage that risk, he said.
“It's a reminder to people how quickly what was supposed to be a pleasant adventure into the outdoors can turn tragic. I would never want to discourage anyone from doing it, but you need to be aware of the real and significant risks we run when we do these things.”
Lin's death weighs heavily on Wallace, but he says he's proud of what he did. “All that anyone can ask is that you do your best. That's going to look different for everyone. But if you do everything you can, there's not really anything anyone can ask of you.”