Sunday, November 15th, 2009. The deluge.
Three weeks ago, adverse fate broke the Valley Anas Acuta of Hans Heupink while surfing in Castricum. The hull was cleanly severed a few inches after the pressure line behind the cockpit’s bulkwark with its light blue deck lines clinging the Kevlar-carbon kayak together as shown by the photo above. I suspect the author to be unknown as would I have been Hans, I would had been cuddling in the wet sand muttering agonized death throes.
As it was, a mere few month ago, I would had rushed with a tortured furrowed brow to my Ming liquor cabinet to sniff a few whiffs of invigorating distilled spirits.
That was then. Now truth is that it hurted me to have missed the cataclysm: I would have had Hans double wrapped in survival bags and duct taped like a fajita in no time, assess dangers in the area, clear and maintain an open airway, hold the head in a spine hold, have a preliminary survery, assess pupils size and reaction, monitor level of consciousness and vitals signs every 15 minutes, nominate a team leader, record grid reference, make out a plan of action, arrange for evacuation, go through a secondary survey, ask for past medical history, allergies, last intakes and medications, ask for onset, palliation, quality, severity, changes over time, radiation and description of any pain, prop up a bothy bag to fight hypothermia, hydrate and shelter Hans from the elements.
The Wemsi First Responder course was great, by the way.













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