Two years after a tragedy on Shoshone Lake, rangers reveal details of the search for two lost canoeists, including one who remains missing.
The Boys and the Lake
The Boys and the Lake
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Happy Marine Mammal Rescue Day! 🐳🐬🦭🦦
A cautionary tale of deaths on Shoshone Lake in Yellowstone.
- Thread starter dogbrain
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My wife and I did this same trip on Lewis and Shoshone Lakes back in late August and early September of 2016 after doing a Yellowstone Lake SE arm trip just before it. I can attest to the wind problem. We ended up camping with a young couple one night at one of the sites near the Moose Creek mouth on the south shore. They couldn't continue their trip because they got up too late in the morning and the wind was already blowing too hard for them to paddle into it by the time they got on the water. They were in inflatable kayak sorts of things and way overloaded (maybe those packboat things?). My wife and I had paddled from a site near the Cove Cabin on the north shore and crossed at the Narrows, reaching the site I think before they even got up that morning. They were pretty beat from getting this far the day before. They couldn't even paddle across the bay to get to the Narrows (probably a good thing), so they came back and spent the night with us. My wife and I had no problem with wind, beat most or even all of it by getting on the water early as is recommended (conditions on our trip reinforced the lesson).
Great trip, highly recommended. The Shoshone Geyser Basin is not to be missed if at all possible. It's like the others but minus the boardwalks and cannot be driven to. Hiking in about 9 miles or boating are the only two ways to get there. Hardly anyone compared to the hoards of people seen at other geyser basins. My wife and I spent 3 or 4 days hiking around in that basin and I'm not sure we saw more than 20 people there during those 4 days, all who had hiked or paddled in, and permits plus assigned campsite registration is required for overnight camping, so that restricts visitation right there. Worth it though. Yellowstone Lake also.
Great trip, highly recommended. The Shoshone Geyser Basin is not to be missed if at all possible. It's like the others but minus the boardwalks and cannot be driven to. Hiking in about 9 miles or boating are the only two ways to get there. Hardly anyone compared to the hoards of people seen at other geyser basins. My wife and I spent 3 or 4 days hiking around in that basin and I'm not sure we saw more than 20 people there during those 4 days, all who had hiked or paddled in, and permits plus assigned campsite registration is required for overnight camping, so that restricts visitation right there. Worth it though. Yellowstone Lake also.
That was a good article.
Mountain lakes are special places. They can change from beautiful to threatening in a few minutes. The wind can change directions in minutes. One side of a half-mile crossing might be calm, and the other white capped.
I've even seen it blow straight down once. The wind seems to swirled down behind the mountain like an eddy behind a large rock. It hit an area the size of several football fields like a helicopters downwash, only gentler. It was magical and spooky.
These guys had impressive credentials, but they seem to have been unprepared for a swim in open water. I encourage everyone who paddles open water to practice swim recovery in safe spaces. It keeps your skills and respect for the water sharp.
Mountain lakes are special places. They can change from beautiful to threatening in a few minutes. The wind can change directions in minutes. One side of a half-mile crossing might be calm, and the other white capped.
I've even seen it blow straight down once. The wind seems to swirled down behind the mountain like an eddy behind a large rock. It hit an area the size of several football fields like a helicopters downwash, only gentler. It was magical and spooky.
These guys had impressive credentials, but they seem to have been unprepared for a swim in open water. I encourage everyone who paddles open water to practice swim recovery in safe spaces. It keeps your skills and respect for the water sharp.
Cold shock, hypothermia, aspiration, paradoxical undressing. The cards were stacked against them making the PFD just a recovery tool.
Recalling my 2012 paddle at Shoshone. From my trip report:
”As I was packing, I heard the noise of a distant train across the Lake. Of course, there was no train, and I thought it must be the wind. Wrong. It was rain, and it rained hard for about a half hour.
Then a wind came up such as I had never experienced. It was the suddenness that shocked me. It was like somebody flipped a switch on a giant wind just 0 to 20+ in an instant. Waves took 30 seconds before they stood up, and within minutes I was churning head-on through serious wind waves. I recalled reading that afternoon winds came up quickly on Yellowstone lakes, but this was beyond my expectation for coming up quick, and it was morning.“
So, I can see how the ill-fated pair got caught. I wasn’t even in the Narrows where conditions reportedly are amplified. Also, to be honest, I was in a sea kayak. I was heading for a Pacific Sea kayaking trip, and a sea kayak was what I brought. I like canoes the best, but when waves are breaking overtop of the hull, there’s less to worry about in a kayak.
”As I was packing, I heard the noise of a distant train across the Lake. Of course, there was no train, and I thought it must be the wind. Wrong. It was rain, and it rained hard for about a half hour.
Then a wind came up such as I had never experienced. It was the suddenness that shocked me. It was like somebody flipped a switch on a giant wind just 0 to 20+ in an instant. Waves took 30 seconds before they stood up, and within minutes I was churning head-on through serious wind waves. I recalled reading that afternoon winds came up quickly on Yellowstone lakes, but this was beyond my expectation for coming up quick, and it was morning.“
So, I can see how the ill-fated pair got caught. I wasn’t even in the Narrows where conditions reportedly are amplified. Also, to be honest, I was in a sea kayak. I was heading for a Pacific Sea kayaking trip, and a sea kayak was what I brought. I like canoes the best, but when waves are breaking overtop of the hull, there’s less to worry about in a kayak.
Sobering reminder that even the most experienced paddlers (which I am most certainly not) can get into trouble.
I wonder what lessons could be learned from this episode. From MrPoling and Chip's descriptions of how sudden and variable the winds can be, what are the options for safety? Would staying near shore be enough? If the wind is offshore, what are the odds of making it back to shore is those conditions? I assume in such winds and only 1 boat, self-rescue would be nigh impossible - do you ditch the boat and swim for the nearest shore?
It's a sad story for sure. I think the lesson here for me is that being experienced is not a guarantee you'll be safe. Sometimes I think that the most experienced are at risk just because of the amount of potential danger they expose themselves to over time. Someone that only gets out a few days per year is less likely to encounter a low probability but high consequence event like a bear attack, tree fall or a severe sudden wind.
Maybe the older and more experienced we get need to keep our vigilance up. In the case of an open water crossing on a lake known for sudden wind, instead of having the attitude that "I've done this a hundred times, it'll be fine" maybe we need to think "I've done this a hundred times and gotten away with it , eventually my luck may run out."
It is a mystery why they weren't wearing the pfds. Is it possible they took them off to try to climb back in the boat?
Maybe the older and more experienced we get need to keep our vigilance up. In the case of an open water crossing on a lake known for sudden wind, instead of having the attitude that "I've done this a hundred times, it'll be fine" maybe we need to think "I've done this a hundred times and gotten away with it , eventually my luck may run out."
It is a mystery why they weren't wearing the pfds. Is it possible they took them off to try to climb back in the boat?
One of the pfds was zipped up. I'm thinking that It was not being worn.
Kathleen and I have done a lot of canoeing of the Barren Grounds, where winds can be serious and immediate. We always have wind in our thoughts, and prefer to stay close to shore. We are reluctant to make open crossings; but, sometimes it's necessary. The following is from my diary from July 12, 2022 on Lynx Lake, the day before we needed to make three open crossings to reach a fishing lodge where we had made reservations.
A little after 6:00 p.m. we began to look for a place to camp, but the entire surrounding landscape looked bleak and uninviting. We beached the canoe anyway, and strolled across the tundra to have a look—wet and rocky. We climbed back into the canoe, rounded a point and began paddling across the mouth of a bay. “I think I can see a sandy beach at the bottom of this bay.”
“It doesn’t look big, but let’s paddle in and have a look.”
Again we were disappointed. A wet, narrow beach with not enough room for the tent. Back in the canoe we paddled on. “You know, Kathleen, we gotta stop soon. We’re almost to where we have to make three open crossings to get to the lodge. I don’t want to make the crossings this late in the evening when we’re tired, particularly with this constant wind.”
We finally stopped around 8:30 p.m., very near to where we would begin to make the open crossings. Our campsite was not that much better than what we had just recently rejected. In fact, I considered the site to be our worst camp of the trip.
“I like this site, Michael. Flat, dry tundra for the tent. The rocky beach means that we won’t be getting any sand in our food while we’re cooking.”
There was no joy in paddling for me today. Just struggle. Without calm weather tomorrow, we will not be able to make the open crossings to the Lynx Tundra lodge. We gotta get there tomorrow, though. We had booked for July 13 and 14, at $400.00 CAN ($300.00 US) per night. I don’t know if we could get our money back if we don’t arrive on time. We shall see what tomorrow brings.
We had camped as close as we could to the beginning of the open crossings, at 62º 26’ N, 106º 23’ W. We were poised and ready. We just need calm weather. We did have red sky. That could be a good sign.
There was no wood on the beach for a campfire, so Kathleen prepared spaghetti on our small backpacking stove. Our day ended with Christmas cake for dessert.
Our camp on the evening before the three open crossings.
Route to the lodge, with three open crossings.
Wednesday, July 13. To paraphrase the opening line from Charles Dickens’ novel, A Tale of Two Cities, Today was the worst of times. Today was almost the best of times.
We woke at 3:40 a.m. Mostly calm.
“What do you want to do, Kathleen?”
Neither one of us wanted to get up. Another hour or so of sleep would have been welcome. It was mostly calm. We cogitated a bit. “We better get going. It’s mostly calm. And we do have those three nearly one-km (0.5 miles) open crossings between us and the lodge.”
Now a one-km open crossing might not sound like much to you. But let me tell you, strong winds, in seemingly calm conditions, can spring up suddenly on the Barren Grounds. I know of what I speak. It has often happened to Kathleen and me.
We quickly gulped down a granola bar for breakfast, packed up, and were on the water a few minutes before 5:00 a.m. I was worried about the route, not just because of the open crossings, but also because we would be island hopping. There were lots of islands around, and they’re all low. It would be way too easy to head off in the wrong direction. But I've got my map compass. We should be OK.
We came opposite the first island at the head of a large bay. My compass confirmed that it was the correct island. We paddled over. Only two crossings to go. The wind was picking up a little bit. Red sky last night was due to smoke, not favourable atmospheric conditions. There was red sky all night. There was even red sky this morning, a sailor’s/canoeist’s worst warning.
The next crossing to the north side of a pair of islands went well. One crossing to go. The sky was darkening behind us. The third crossing also went well, but rain began soon after. We stopped to put on our paddling jackets and rain pants. Based on the map squares, I estimated that we were still four km (2.5 miles) from the Lynx Tundra Lodge, located on the esker ahead of us. I had entered the lodge coordinates into my GPS, which confirmed that we were indeed just a smidge over four km away. We must be on the right track.
Onward we continued, but were suddenly assaulted by thunder and lightning. We quickly headed for shore to wait out the storm. Some sort of sandpiper and a Whimbrel both strongly objected to our presence. The lightning passed by in about 30 minutes, but the rain intensified. Better rain, then wind, though. The GPS said only 2.7 km (1.7 miles) to go. We could clearly see the esker where the lodge is supposed to be located.
We expected wind and high waves to follow the thunderstorm, as had happened soon after we were dropped off in the northwest corner of Whitefish Lake on July 5, but the conditions remained somewhat calm. We paddled onward, eagerly looking forward to a dry room at the lodge. Maybe there will also be coffee available in the main gathering area.
Ten minutes later a ferocious gale swept up behind us, creating large, breaking, rolling waves and whitecaps. Definitely dangerous. We were hurled onto an exposed one-metre (three-feet) high boulder-strewn ledge, and struggled to get out of the rocking, bouncing canoe. (See, didn’t I tell you only six paragraphs ago.) We sat on shore for about 20 minutes, holding the bow painter tightly, as we struggled to prevent the wildly tossing canoe from being swept away in the wind and waves. On numerous occasions I thought the canoe might actually roll over. We were not having fun.
Finally, the wind and waves calmed, and we headed south across the channel toward the esker where the lodge was supposed to be. “From the pictures I’ve seen on the internet, Michael, I think the lodge is on the other side of the esker.”
We rounded the western tip of the esker, and headed east along its southern shore. No lodge in sight. But the lodge has got to be somewhere near here. Suddenly Kathleen said, “I see something white up ahead that doesn’t look natural.”
Fifteen minutes later, around 10:00 a.m., we stood on the beach in front of Lynx Tundra Lodge. No one seemed to be around. We trudged over to the largest building, which was flying a Canadian flag. Must be the main gathering place. I knocked on the door.
“Hello?”
The voice belonged to Ken, a sociable and helpful manager of the lodge. Then Chris from Calgary, here on a 10-day fishing trip, introduced himself. After hearing about our morning adventures, he asked, “Have you eaten breakfast?”
“We had a granola bar,” to which Cris replied, “I’ll make you some breakfast.” Moments later Kathleen and I were dining on bacon, eggs, toast, coffee and juice. It was so fantastic to be enjoying this hot sumptuous meal after being so cold only an hour ago. “Thanks, very much, Chris. I didn’t realize that I was so hungry,” Kathleen said. “I think this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had!”
We went to bed at around 7:30. Kathleen slept in sheets and blankets on a lower bunk, while I crawled into my sleeping bag on an upper bunk. We needed to rest. It felt good to be dry and warm. We were so fortunate to be at the Lynx Tundra Lodge. A day that began so poorly had evolved into almost the best of times.
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Tsuga8, I think lots of lessons can be learned from this, though, of course, those lessons won't reach the vast majority of the folks who need them.
Wind options vary a lot. Staying near the shore may not always be enough. I haven't paddled enough on Shoshone Lake (5 days) to know it much at all, but other lakes and rivers I have experienced indicate that it wouldn't always be enough. I've seen any number of long stretches of high, vertical-walled lakeshore and river canyons that would preclude escape from the water even if shore could be reached, and rivers usually push faster than lake waves. Usually escape on shore would be possible, but it's not a given. And that's if you can keep your head in that tense situation in order to accomplish getting there in tumultuous water conditions, cold-water waves slapping the shore no matter what the slope.
I'm sure that Mark and Kim both had cold-water experience as water released from the Glen Canyon Dam is a fairly constant 47 degrees if I remember correctly. They'd both be familiar with wind, as the Colorado in the Grand Canyon gets a lot of it, and it can come up quickly. Most river trips through Grand Canyon National Park are in hot weather, but the mid September conditions in which they died. warm was likely not present. Shoshone Lake's surface water temp in the time period in which they perished was mentioned in the article as 53 degrees, which is warmer than the Glen Canyon Dam release temp. The near-bottom temperature of 44 would not be a factor, though the thermocline mixing much closer to the surface could have lowered the surface water temperature a bit more. I don't know if it would be significant and tend to think not, but I don't know for sure.
In my opinion, experience and "credentials" only count when they're in like aspects of the sport. My own experience with my fellow participants indicates that whitewater paddlers often look askance at what they feel are the limited skills and repertoire of flatwater paddlers, not realizing that many flatwater paddlers require experience in very different and just as dangerous conditions or even moreso than whitewater paddlers (or rowers) have thrown at them. Most flatwater padders will never see such conditions. And my own experience with Grand Canyon boaters indicates they think they're at the top of the heap. "Wind and waves? Yup, we get 'em in the Big Ditch. Cold water? Got that too."
Both Mark and Kim seem to have done a fair bit of canoeing. I don't know if they've canoed the Grand Canyon or not. Likely most or all of it was in rafts. They'd likely have been fine in a raft on Shoshone Lake in the conditions they were in. They obviously weren't fine in a canoe. That they didn't have their life jackets on indicates to me some of that whitewater and Grand Canyon Boater attitude. I've paddled a (solo) canoe from Lee's Ferry to Diamond Creek four times, all wearing a life jacket. I wore my life jacket on Shoshone Lake, also. I've done a fair bit of big lake paddling, all in canoes. There have been times I didn't wear it in some very benign conditions, but none of those times were on Lewis or Shoshone Lakes (or Yellowstone Lake the week before).
Were Mark and Kim not at all worried about "simple" lake paddling and didn't put on their life jackets, and then maybe hit by one of the "0 to 20+" sudden winds like Chip described. That they were far enough from shore that cold water got to them before they could even think of trying to set out for shore without the boat and gear seems a likely conclusion. They wouldn't even have to be very far from either shore in conditions like that to be overwhelmed, even if it wasn't raining cold water on them, too. The shore is never very far away on the Colorado, though there are places a swimmer can't get out of the water even if they do reach it. They will eventually get to a place, though, especially with the swimming experience both Mark and Kim should have had. MrPoling above recommends "practicing swim recovery in safe spaces." I'm not sure it would be enough in a situation like Kim and Mark experienced. If they'd have had cold water survival suits on, maybe? Meaning wet suits at minimum, dry suits preferably. It still might not have been enough, depending on how far from shore they were. Keeping a swamped boat upright in big waves is very difficult if not impossible.
I think the easy answer is large crossings in those conditions need a dry suit.
Always wear your life jacket, if for no other reason than to help emergency workers bring quick closure to your family.
I suggest practicing whatever your plan is. If you think you can get back in a loaded, swamped canoe in cold water, practice it. In cold water. And then try to imagine doing it with waves.
If your plan is to swim to shore in 50 degree water, practice it somewhere safe. Try to swim in whatever gear you'll be wearing that day. You'll find out if your neoprene is too thin, or if the seals leak on your dry suit.
The middle of an cold mountain lake is the wrong time to find out your plan won't work.
Seems possible. A possibility mentioned in the article is "hypothermic paradoxical undressing", in which your brain function is so diminished by cold that you think you're hot and start to strip - it's fairly well documented. Could also have been hypothermic paradoxical logic of 'I'll do better swimming without this PFD in the way' or something like that.
But it's also totally possible they just didn't put them on because the water was calm when they started, and once it got rowdy they couldn't get them on because they were busy keeping the boat upright.
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Thanks to all for the stories and advice. I'm familiar in theory with much of the advice given (dressing for immersion, staying off big water in wind, etc). Unfortunately I don't have a good paddling partner to test myself in borderline but safe conditions, so I always appreciate hearing from the more experienced here. I've read the books, I'm a great armchair canoeist. But I because I lack real experience in challenging circumstances, I try not to push the boundaries when by myself. Even when I trip with friends, we're usually only 1 boat, so boat-over-boat rescues and the like are out. I think examining tragedies like this, especially with experienced people (not the "I took my 8 ft Walmart kayak out on Long Island Sound in 20knot winds in October while drinking") is always worthwhile. One common piece of advice is staying close to shore, but as mentioned that's not always a safe bet. Per MrPoling, I often wonder how hard it would be to swim, even fairly close to a shore that can be clamored onto, in real wind, waves, and cold water. Haven't had the opportunity to find out safely, so I haven't found out yet.
I do need to practice my self-rescues more. I had big plans for this summer but somehow my pond is already down to 65F and I seem to have missed the window. Though maybe I should be practicing in that 65F water....just need to drag my wife out to watch me flounder.
I always felt MUCH safer in whitewater up to class 4 than I ever did on big open water lakes or the ocean. Yes, there are remote risks of pin drowning in undercuts and sweepers or flush drowning in very long wave trains, but on rivers the rapids end within a few minutes at most and the shore is always nearby. Out a quarter mile or more on a cold, wind-prone lake or the ocean, without a solid roll or other self-rescue ability, is much riskier to me.
Sometimes you can't eliminate all of the risks nature can throw at you. A dry suit can save you, and probably be a good idea, but sometimes you would need a rescue boat nearby, and I don't mean another canoe.
When you do an open water crossing in cold water in a place known for sudden strong winds you are rolling the dice.
When you do an open water crossing in cold water in a place known for sudden strong winds you are rolling the dice.
Glenn,
I've always felt much safter in class 4 whitewater than I usually do on big lakes also. I understand whitewater, don't big open water. I don't paddle on the ocean at all. That thing can kill your *ss.
Funny, I'm just the other way. I've spent so much time on saltwater that it's my comfort zone. Usually I paddle salt marshes and bays, sometimes Long Island Sound. I have paddled a light double paddle canoe halfway around Cape Ann.
We all have our personal conceits about our abilities and sagacity, reinforced by our experience. As I head toward old age I'm coming to the regrettable conclusion that my few survival episodes were due to luck and youthful stamina and not much else. After 40 years canoeing Lake Superior I'm trying to tamp down the long-held idea of one last trip to explore the north shore (LSMCA). Feels irresponsible toward my partner, who won't be coming. PDF's and drysuits (hard to swim in), staying close to shore (50/50 advantage), the illusory potential self-rescue in rough conditions, none of that can equal the advantage of youthfulness. Maybe an EPIRB or SART will help. Sometimes the most assertive personalities on a trip dictate whether you live or die. Or it could be denial of insurance coverage!
we did a trip there in the early 90s, came out on 4th of July into a snowstorm ;-)
Up until then it had been cold but calm, a good trip. On the way out we paddled around the edge of the lake not more than 50ft from shore, and the same on Lewis Lake. It was chilling to see how big the waves became in just a few minutes from the start of the winds..
Agree with Glenn, whitewater doesn't spook me as much as crossing big lakes in a wind. This Sept we were in BWCA and got pinned down for a day by the wind, looked out the tent at the crashing waves and went back to sleep..
Up until then it had been cold but calm, a good trip. On the way out we paddled around the edge of the lake not more than 50ft from shore, and the same on Lewis Lake. It was chilling to see how big the waves became in just a few minutes from the start of the winds..
Agree with Glenn, whitewater doesn't spook me as much as crossing big lakes in a wind. This Sept we were in BWCA and got pinned down for a day by the wind, looked out the tent at the crashing waves and went back to sleep..
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