On a weekend where camaraderie and adventure were the main
course, the Grim Reaper served up a rotten egg. Forming stronger
friendships, playing on the bay and enjoying a small portion
of Alaska, were interrupted by tragedy.
Three Alaskans entertained three visiting friends from San
Francisco. The group planned to kayak in Prince William Sound.
The outing was an opportunity to see some of Alaska and to
get to know each other better. They would take the train to
Whittier, their jumping off point, forty miles southeast of
Anchorage. From there a charter boat would transport them,
their kayaks and gear to Blackstone Bay where they could kayak
at their leisure. Blackstone Bay runs 13 miles northeasterly
from the face of Blackstone Glacier to the mouth of the bay.
The fjord is a couple of miles wide. They anticipated no problems
as any rough water dangers of negotiating Passage Canal would
be eliminated by utilizing the charter boat.
The group planned to spend a couple of days in the sheltered
waters of the bay out of reach of the wilder waters around
the mouth and beyond. Once they reached Whittier, they met
their charter and quickly made their way to Blackstone Bay.
Picture this. Six kayakers, gliding over the green-blue waters
of the bay, green-black spruce trees climbing from saltwater
up the slopes and a wall of glacial ice, face riddled with
huge cracks, gazing from the head of the fjord.
The six pleasure seekers were divided into four kayaks-two
double sea kayaks and two single kayaks. Michael Seblusky
and his brother Greg manned one of the doubles and Billy Herzberg
and Judy Marantz paddled the other; Beth Phillips and Carol
Rothstein each paddled singles.
It was Michael's second kayak trip. An attorney, he had come
to Alaska within the past year or so to work for the Public
Defender Agency in Anchorage. He had invited his brother Greg
and friends Billy and Judy from San Francisco. The kayak trip
was a first time kayaking experience for the three. Carol
was Michael's girlfriend, and she had limited experience.
Beth was the most experienced of the group, having kayaked
several years.
During their activities Sunday the group agreed that the seas
were rough. In spite of that, however, they'd had no problems.
When they camped for the night, they were assaulted by powerful
winds that pounded their tent. They were not overly eager
to spend much more time "camping"-some of the group
just wanted to go home.
Their sleeping bags were wet, their food supply low, the wind
never ceased and they got little sleep. All in all it made
for a pretty miserable night. Home sounded good.
By Monday morning there had been little change in the blustery
weather. The unrelenting wind kept up a steady drumbeat. Gray
clouds swept by overhead and a constant drizzle fell on the
campers. Pounding seas turned the normally calm bay into a
boiling froth.
In some ways it seemed they were trapped on the bay. It wasn't
calm but it didn't seem as rough as the day before.
By the time they decided to leave for their appointed rendezvous,
they had spent several hours sitting on the beach and glassing
the bay with binoculars.
Phillips was aware of the group's lack of experience and limitations
and struggled with the decision to leave. She'd kayaked here
years earlier in 1984 and 1985 and had made a number of outings
in between. The others were novices.
Even though she felt the group lacked the necessary experience
to face the rough waters of a kayak crossing, the more inexperienced
in the group felt the water had calmed and they could make
it. It would be hard but safe.
The kayakers launched from a cove on the west shore and into
the ebb tide and wind pushed waves between the shore and Willard
Island, a mile distant. Their objective was Decision Point,
the north point joining Blackstone Bay and Passage Channel,
where the charter boat would pick them up.
Once off the beach, the group recognized the immensity of
the waves and the impossibility of their task. They wondered
if the waves were that large earlier or if the increasing
wind created bigger waves.
Phillips was the only one who had any control of her craft.
She tried unsuccessfully to warn the others to hug the shore
in case of problems. They couldn't hear her because of the
overpowering winds. The others headed for Willard Island.
She followed. Their decision placed them immediate jeopardy
because the seas came from the rear, and they couldn't see
the approaching waves.
With her back to the seas, it was impossible for Phillips
to see the huge wave that swept toward her and knocked her
over. Dumped from her kayak into the frigid waters, she felt
its breath-taking and death-like grip. Beth knew life expectancy
in the glacial water was only ten to fifteen minutes. She
floundered to the surface looking for her kayak. It was gone.
Her only choice was to swim and drift with the tide downwind
to a beach on the island. By the time she neared shore, she
was hypothermic and hyperventilating. She crawled onto the
rocky shore of Willard Island, dragging herself along until
she was able to stand.
Stumbling along the beach, she found a kayak paddle and used
it as a crutch. She awkwardly shuffled down the beach and
spotted a double kayak floating upside down a hundred yards
away off the shoreline.
Before long Carol Rothstein came to shore in her water-filled
kayak. She shook with hypothermia and Phillips helped her
to shore. They embraced and discovered that both were as cold
as ice.
Then Phillips noticed objects floating ashore, "I was
afraid they were people." 1
That's when she discovered Greg's body floating facedown near
the beach. Then Beth spotted Mike's body floating twenty to
thirty feet off shore. She thought both brothers were dead.
She forced herself back into the water to bring the brothers
to shore. Carol was so hypothermic that Phillips didn't ask
her to help. Beth said, I thought I had lost two friends and
I was about to lose another." 1
By then Hertzberg and Marantz had reached shore safely. Marantz
was an intern in a San Francisco hospital. They worked as
a team and administered CPR for hours to the brothers. Although
color returned to their friends' faces, their first aid efforts
failed to bring the brothers back to life.
Phillips then went looking for the kayak that contained a
Thermos of hot tea and a sleeping bag. Phillips retrieved
both and returned to the group. Marantz crawled into the bag
with Rothsetin. They poured hot tea down her to warm her up,
and she began coming around by early evening.
When the group failed to meet their charter at the appointed
time and place, the Prince William Sound Kayak Center alerted
authorities of missing kayakers. The Goast Guard requested
Alaska Department of Fish and Game to respond with a boat.
The Fish and Game boat rescued the group and took them to
Whittier where they received excellent care. Mike and Greg
Seblusky's bodies were flown to California.
EPILOGUE
Beth Phillips admitted the group's haste to return clouded
their judgement. She admitted it was a better weekend to camp
than to paddle.
Initially Phillips was reluctant to be a part of the outing.
In retrospect she thought if she'd stayed home, the others
wouldn't have gone. She said, "I feel awful…I should
not have agreed to go with so many beginners."
Hopefully this pain of loss will be lessened with time and
others can escape such agony without thinking that it could
never happen to me.
