BENEATH THE WAVES

THREE KAYAKERS ARE NO MATCH FOR AN ANGRY LAKE SUPERIOR

- Jeff Moag

IT WAS MEANT to be the latest trip in a tradition that stretched back over a decade. Every other year, the long-time friends had kissed their wives goodbye and headed out for an expedition. Jim Farrington, 49, was an electrical lineman out of Alden, Mich.; Sean Royston, 48, worked as an electrical-grid systems manager in Cottage Grove, Wisc.; and Tolin Annis, 53, owned a craft distillery in Grand Ledge, Mich. In 2016, they decided to kayak the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, a challenging route on Lake Superior.

On September 13, they loaded up on food and camping gear, donned waterproof paddling tops and zipped up their life jackets. Each climbed into his kayak and at around 10:30 a.m. they pushed off from a beach near the national park's headquarters. They planned to return in a week.

The trio punched through small waves and headed northeast. Soon the lakeshore's trademark cliffs began to rise on their right. Their next chance to get out of their kayaks would be some eight kilometres ahead, beyond a towering rock formation called Miners Castle. Away from the shore, the headwind grew to the forecasted 10 knots and kept rising. The waves increased to over a metre high. Still, they never considered turning around. They'd already travelled around six kilometres, and they'd all paddled in worse conditions.

They'd been paddling maybe 90 minutes when, quite suddenly, the waves grew to two metres and steepened. The wind rose to an intense 20 knots, putting them in danger of capsizing. "When it went bad, it went bad fast," says Tolin, who was in the lead about 20 metres ahead of Jim. Sean trailed another 10 or 15 metres behind Jim. Sean was the first to tip over.

It was a bad place for a swim. The water was a chilly 16 C, and the wind and choppy waves were pushing him toward the cliffs. Miners Castle was a half-kilometre or more upwind, and the closest safe landing beach was another half-kilometre beyond that.