Dear friends, members of the Omeo community, and the boating community of Australia and Victoria: Regarding the recent death of a kayaker on the lower Cobungra River:

I realise that there are many people distressed about the recent tragedy on the Cobungra. There will, no doubt, also be some who don't understand why in any case anyone would even be on a river such as this. Several people have expressed concerns regarding things like the affect on local tourism, liability insurance, and bemoan the confusion about what happened and why. I will try my best here to explain, from one long-time river runner's point of view. I believe that knowing and understanding the truth can help us move on, and also serves to slow the spread of rumors.

Kayaking in general is a growing sport in Australia. It is, by it's very nature, extreme and dangerous, though while the very rare deaths are dramatic, it is safer

statistically than driving, motorcycling, even fishing and horse riding. There is not one kayaker or rafter who boats anything greater than a class 2* river that hasn't "pushed the envelope", going with others of greater skill and/or with knowledge of a particular new stretch of river in order to hone their technique, experience a new river, have a wonderful experience of success and completion. This is not a sport of manic thrill seekers. On the contrary, most boaters I know love rivers and running rapids more for the beauty of the environment, the camaraderie this shared experience brings, the sport, and the feeling of completion and a challenge well met at the end of the day around a campfire. It is no different than any other sport people pursue in this regard.

Of the thousands of people who have rafted or kayaked the Mitta Mitta, Bundara, Cobungra, Gates of the Murray, Snowy, Mitchell, Macallister, and numerous other rivers and creeks in Victoria in recent years, there have been less than a handful of deaths in two decades. I cannot comment on the nature of the other deaths, as I was not a party to them in any way. However, I can say the following about the latest event:

The Cobungra river is famous within Australia as a fun, beautiful, challenging class 4 to 4+ run, and entices many boaters, both expert and those who wish to become expert, to its waters. The "upper" Cobungra run is typically considered to be the more difficult, with 6 steep rocky rapids of class 4+ difficulty. It is about 6 kilometres long, starts at Smith's crossing and ends at the Omeo highway at the Blue Duck Inn. The "lower" run begins at the Duck, and ends where the Cobungra flows into the Mitta Mitta about 5 kilometres downstream, where the rapids then become class 3 and are run frequently by all sorts of boaters and commercial clients. The lower Cobungra to it’s confluence with the Mitta Mitta is usually considered to be class 4. There is no official water height gauge on the Cobungra, but water heights are estimated based on the Mitta Mitta gauge at Hinnomungie, as well as an unofficial gauge. Normal boatable flows range from a "bony" (low and rocky) 1.0 meters to 2 meters and above in flood (for extreme experts). Good levels are usually considered to be perhaps between 1.2 and 1.5 or so. (Nobody dictates these things....they are simply generally agreed upon somehow...).

On Saturday, October 27, there were several parties of kayakers camped at Anglers Rest. The Cobungra was flowing at about 1.4, an ideal medium flow. Six kayakers went up to Smith's Crossing that morning to paddle the upper, more difficult stretch. All but one of the party had previously paddled it and some had paddled this stretch more than once. All had the proper rescue gear, and most were either trained or had good experience in river rescue. The upper section was run successfully. The more difficult rapids were scouted, sometimes from boats and other times from the shore (that is, an effort was made to stand up on shore to look at the next drop and decide how to negotiate it). The other paddlers later commented that the person who lost his life on the lower section was paddling well. His choice of which lines to run through the rapids was very good and he was able to keep to these without difficulty.

The party rested for lunch at Anglers Rest after enjoying this excellent stretch, then continued downstream for the lower stretch. The first half of this stretch is class 2, with only numerous willows to negotiate. The last and difficult portion begins with a long rapid broken up by small pools. Near the bottom of this long rapid is a steep drop. It is short and fast, the line flowing over a flat rock and short drop, then moving very fast towards a rock in the middle. Just above the rock, there is a small "seam" in the water, signifying underwater rocks. There is a choice to go right, into a chute between the rock and the cliffy shore, or go left between that rock and a house-sized rock, through a small but powerful "reversal" or "hole". After this is some relatively calm but moving water before the hardest drop on this section, which some portage.

The leading paddler scouted and then ran this drop. The second paddler followed and together with the first paddler continued downstream to retrieve an empty kayak. The third paddler also ran the drop without difficulty. After quickly noting the progress of the first two paddlers he entered an eddy and looked upstream to check on the progress of the paddler behind him. When he looked back, all he could see of the paddler following was his head to the river left side of the final rock obstacle, barely visible in the foam. The boat was underwater and broached against the rock.

The third paddler immediately got out of his boat, blew three whistle blasts (the river signal for help), and scrambled along the shore to assist the kayaker in trouble. The first two kayakers had retrieved the empty boat and having heard the distress signal headed upstream from where they were, about a hundred meters downstream. As the rock was inaccessible from shore, or from anywhere safe, the third paddler swam as close as he could to the struggling kayaker, yelled to attract his attention, and threw his rope, which washed past. He then scrambled up on the house sized rock to the left, again yelled for attention, and threw the line again. This time he felt tension on the line, and pulled. Unfortunately, after a brief time, the line went slack and drifted away. Until this point, a struggle was evident. After several minutes of heroic attempts to free him, there was no more movement. More retrieval attempts were made, including jumping into the water in a last ditch attempt to jar him free (which injured the rescuer’s knee), and climbing onto the rock from an eddy below and attaching a line to a tow line on the life jacket, which was then pulled on with a z-drag (a mechanical advantage system), but which only pulled the tow line off.

His boat was pinned against the rock with such force that the kayaker could not be retrieved. Ropes were attached to the front safety loop of the pinned kayak and the kayaker’s buoyancy vest. Neither the kayak nor the kayaker would budge, regardless of the direction ropes were pulled from, and despite the use of a z-drag. . Only after a long and exhausting effort, at great risk to the rescuers, and after all chance of survival was gone, did they finally give up.

They then proceeded downstream, paddling or portaging the final drops into the Mitta Mitta and to the dirt track about a half a kilometre downstream, and hiked out to the Blue Duck Inn, where locals assisted in calling the authorities.

I have talked to the comrades of the deceased, and have gone down to the site of the accident to spend time with the body of the poor fellow. I've thought long and hard about the sport and the profession I've spent my life pursuing; about the lives I take in my hands when leading a trip of adults, or students, down a river. I have nearly 27 years of experience in the field, with many many rescues, some body recoveries over the years, and have myself made plenty of mistakes. Fortunately for me, none of my mistakes, to date, have been fatal. But it happens. Truck drivers go off the road because they took a curve too fast or got sleepy or turned the knob of the radio at the wrong moment. Or, perhaps you’ve just crossed the yellow line by accident just that once…and a car appeared out of nowhere. Fishermen go out onto that slippery rock to reach that perfect hole and slip in with their waders on. Maybe hit their head or the current took them. Bike riders take a curve too wide or hit some gravel. And on and on. Fortunately, 99.9 percent of the time, we get away with a whistled breath, a wipe of our sweaty brow. I've hit plenty of rocks, capsized a few boats. I've swam out of my boat, twice, recently, on the upper Cobungra as a matter of fact. I've stupidly put my boat in at a late hour, shaking my head at the deed yet feeling somehow that things would work out alright, and they have, pretty much. So far.

I've also come across difficult rapids where there was a choice. Left or Right. Sometimes it's getting late, and even for a scout-pedant like myself, I rely on the "probe" to tell me the line and run it blindly. Infrequently, I've made the wrong decision, or made it too late, or lost a stroke while bracing myself back upright, or didn't move aggressively enough to make the slot, or made a decision to go one way, when the water was actually taking me the other, thus smacking me right into granite.

It happens. It has happened to any and every boater that has boated class 4 or harder....or it will, soon enough. It's a hazard we assess, and when we feel right, we move on.

What happened to this kayaker in those two or so seconds after going over the drop and hitting the rock we will never know . Apparently, this poor man not only hit a rock, but hit it with such force, and with just the wrong angle, to not only pin his boat inextricably, but to drive him back and pin him into his boat against the back of his coming (the hole he sits in), and, with problem piling on top of problem, also completely prevented him from reaching his spray deck to be able to remove it and perhaps free himself. Anyone who has experienced a pin or near pin, or being stuck in a turbulent hole, knows how fast one is overwhelmed by the need to breathe, how exhausting it is. He had a knife, though it was a rope knife, which has no sharp tip or long blade. One of his comrades does not believe that having a regular knife would have made a difference. We will never know. He was paddling an RPM, the most popular kayak ever made, and one of the most conservative boat styles in the group. He'd paddled this stretch of river before.

In the ensuing days, experts had to wait 3 days for the water level to go down and for special equipment before they were able to remove his body. While this was agonizing to some, it only illustrates how difficult and unusual the rescue attempt was.

It is natural for people to want to blame something or somebody when a tragedy results in death or injury. It happened locally only recently when a truck tragically went over the side of the road near Swifts Creek. People hate a mystery, sometimes going to great lengths to fabricate stories that wouldn't normally make sense to even themselves, just to have something to grasp on to in order to move on. I've already heard too many third hand stories about this misfortune, created by people who weren't here and who have no first hand information. The fact is that, after much reflection, discussion, and investigation, this was just one of those "things". A tragic misfortune that, one in a million, caused a death. We honor the dead by knowing the truth, and acknowledging that sometimes there just is no reason to die. We will never know what went on in his mind, never know if he missed a stroke, made the wrong choice. We do know he was paddling well, was himself trained in river rescue, was extremely fit and very strong. As prepared as humanly possible. We do know that the river level was ideal, that the group had good experience on this river, that they had plenty of time to run the lower section and were not rushing. It could have happened to any of us, his comrades, any one of the dozens of times we've all hit rocks ourselves. That is if we've pushed ourselves to become better, to experience more, to dance with the river.

People move on. Life flows like a river. Some will wonder if this will increase their insurance rates, others if local tourism will be affected. Some will choose never to

 paddle again, others to "get back on the horse". Some, myself included, will, when the waters again rise and the rivers beckon, will go down this same stretch, heart beating fast in anticipation and fear and excitement, not only to prove to ourselves that it can be done, but to honor one of our fallen by continuing to love that which he loved, see what he saw, and smile at the end of the day and share the experience with comrades around the campfire. I encourage others to do the same.

I would appreciate feedback regarding this issue. As our river community grows, we all need to grow with it. To the local community, we hope this tragedy will bring us closer together, not tear us apart. River runners all over Australia love this area, and will continue to do so through all the ups and downs life brings.

Best regards, Jeffe Aronson

*(Briefly, rivers are classed from 1 to 6, with 1 being flat water, 2 easy moving water with few obstacles, 3 being fast water with obstacles to miss and danger to the

 inexperienced (like the Mitta gorge), 4 being difficult whitewater with numerous obstacles requiring expert skills, class 5 being the limit of "runnability" for extreme experts only, and class 6 traditionally being "unrunnable".)

Epilogue: lessons;

A mature boating community in Australia will, perhaps, ponder the lessons to be learned from this unfortunate event. Possibly a discussion, or several, are in order. I

 myself, while not seeing any great mistakes to criticize in this particular event, do find here an opening to highlight some basic points which I harp on relentlessly, even in the best of times:

1.      When running steep, rocky creeks, consider your craft. Low-volume "rodeo" boats are made to play, to do "mystery moves", to dive. They are not made to run rivers, especially steep rocky ones. Higher volume creek boats are much safer, and there are newer models which blend the smallness and maneuverability of rodeo boats with the necessary nose volume of creek boats.

2.      Always have good rescue gear, and practice with it constantly. Replace worn out gear annually. Some gear is not optional, but is essential. This includes tow lines, rescue knife, throw bag, and at least 2 locking carabiners (This writer has seen several people accidentally clipped to their boats, over the side and head down, in large rapids, by non-locking carabiners. Under no circumstances should anyone have a non-locking biner on their lifejackets with the sole exception of the one on their quick-release tow line.). For those who have the training, 2 pulleys and 2 prussiks. Also, this experience teaches us that even tow lines have strength limits. Consider attaching ropes to the shoulder straps of life jackets when great force is involved. (Though even this isn’t foolproof. A friend of mine in the States tried to pull a pinned kayaker out by his shoulder straps. Unfortunately, the life jacket was old and worn, and the straps broke.)

3.      Always boat with others whom you trust. Watch out for them, and if you don't feel like they're watching out for you....find somebody else to boat with.

4.      Don't boat far above your level. Move up the ladder slowly and methodically. Hone your skills, learn from your mistakes, then move on.

5.      When in doubt; scout. If it's getting late, or you're getting tired, or you couldn't be bothered to get out of your boat....that's the signal to force yourself to scout...or portage. There is no shame in walking a rapid. Everyone, even the best paddlers, have off days, don’t feel right, get tired, lose focus. Walking a rapid does not diminish the experience of the river as a whole. Don’t boat with people who don’t have the patience for you to scout. Egos and steep technical creeks don’t mix. It takes more courage to walk in the face of smirks and sneers, than it does to give in to peer pressure and run something that feels wrong. It's not worth your life. Full stop.

Have a long life and tell lots of stories to your grandkids.