Not ironic.
Rip-currents can be real sons of bitches. Growing upon Oregon’s wild and wooly coast, I was no stranger to their clammy grasp. I lost a very sweet Nev potato chip with much rocker, once, as I clung to the barnacle’d rocks while the the ocean tried to steal me. The current was a raging river hurtling to Japan and I snagged the rock at the last second but my New potato chip was not so lucky and the leash plug popped right out and I watched it bob up and down, violently, until it was lost over the horizon.
Very sad.
But not as sad as the tragic story of a leading federal meteorologist who drowned in rough Outer Banks, North Carolina surf after his agency issued a warning about rip-currents in the area. Not to be glib, but if Alanis Morissette was still writing her hit single ‘Ironic’ I feel she would include this incident even though none of the incidents in the song were actually ironic as, like this, they were all just bad luck.
But enough about Alanis Morissette and let us turn to NBC News for more.
The director of a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration division for predicting weather died Monday in North Carolina while swimming in dangerous conditions that federal forecasters had warned about.
William Lapenta, head of the NOAA‘s National Centers for Environmental Prediction, drowned Monday while swimming at Pelican Way beach in the town of Duck, according to a statement from the town’s director of public information, Christian Legner.
An off-duty ocean rescue supervisor spotted Lapenta, 58, struggling in the ocean, and lifeguards responded within minutes to pull the scientist from the water, the statement said. He was unresponsive.
Emergency responders tried to save Lapenta, but he was pronounced dead at the scene.
“Monday’s surf conditions and a rip current in the area were likely a factor” in Lapenta’s drowning, the town’s statement said.
And we all know what to do when caught in rips, don’t we? Swim parallel to the beach etc. but I suppose it’s good to refresh our memories. Like shuffling feet during stingray season. Speaking of, I went for a cute little surf this morning. It was small but very fun and the water was crystal clear. After a little runner, I paddled back out, sat on my board and peered through that crystal clear. There were no less than ten stingrays swimming below me.
My feet did not touch the sand after that.
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Almost every surfer here on Cape Hatteras has a story about rescuing some swimmer (or swimmers) from the ocean.
All Outer Banks drownings happen when the water is warm, because no one ( in their right mind) tries to swim here when the ocean water is cold.
Some who vacation here become intoxicated by the sheer beauty of the island, ocean and other mind altering substances.
We refer to these humans as being ‘High on Hatteras’.
Our ocean area was labeled the ‘Graveyard of the Atlantic’ for a reason centuries ago.
That’s a really sad outcome. Tell me I’m a pussy, but I won’t swim at beaches here in Australia unless its between the flags and the head high and under. I’m a pretty good swimmer, but I just don’t feel comfortable at all as Australian beaches are pretty good at drowning swimmers in benign surf.
Irony is a fire station burning down
Irony is a cow getting hit by a milk truck
Irony is WSL and Leemore telling me not to use a plastic straw
The folks behind the curtain at Lemore love stories like this.
The only ironic thing about Alanis Morissette”s Song is it’s a song about irony – that doesn’t mention a genuine example of irony. As you said Chas it’s mainly Bad luck and also a simile if I remember right
“none of the incidents in the song were actually ironic” Either Alanis Morissette is uneducated and doesn’t actually know what irony is, or she’s a profound genius who created meta-art wherein the true irony is that a song about irony has not a shred of irony in it. I vote for uneducated.
The rips on the OBX are no joke. I shared my story about rescuing folks out there in the comments a few weeks ago, but I also almost got swept out to sea on a big Nor’easter day south of Rodanthe. After paddling for 45 minutes and duckdiving about a hundred times to get to the in form middle bar, once “making it” I suddenly found myself getting pulled parallel and out at an alarming rate. I was traveling hundreds of yards a minute. I couldn’t get out of the rip no matter where I paddled. Simultaneously, a fog bank started rolling down from the North, and it became difficult to make out the grassy sand dunes through the mist. My son was about 3 mo. old at the time, and all I could think of was him not having his dad. I knew I was paddling for my life, while I choked down tears as nourishment to keep my strength. If it wasn’t for a huge set that broke on an outside bar just as I was getting to it, I might never have made it in. I proned straight in, prayed. walked a mile back up the beach to my truck and drove home. My experience is that the extensive bars in Duck and North to Carova or even more difficult to navigate. However, I’ve also had head high, inside bar hurricane swell days on Pea Island, where the water was almost static and otherworldly in its clarity and emerald hue.
Heavy, glad you’re ok
It was gnarly, but ten years ago. Still, I get a little anxious when I think on what could have happened.
Sounds terrifying. Glad you came out unscathed.
I’ve been in the ocean my entire life and the first time I got caught in a massive rip was about 5 years ago. Luckily, a few months before the incident, my gf had taught me how to swim and breathe properly. I’m pretty sure if I didn’t have that paddle/breathing technique and training, I would have been swept out to sea. It took me a few years to get over the PTSD and now I know a lot more about far-shore life-saving.
Yeah, I’ve been humbled in Hatteras. That place is serious.
The rip current faces trial in the court of public opinion. Charged with murder by depraved heart. Tried and convicted with never an utterance of presumption of in ole’ sense recognized under common (sense) law.
Exhaustion is the real killer.
Why is the greater surfing world preoccupied by death. Every year 1 pole vaulter dies. There are approximately 50,000 pole vaulters. There are 5+ million surfers in the USA. 1 death finds the press pages as such is worthy of note, in the surfing world? Was it Stalin who said 1 death is a tragedy, 1 million is a statistic.
Reminds me of this TSJ article:
https://www.surfersjournal….
How do almost 200 people die a year…fishing?
Is there an offshoot of extreme, base-jumping fishing that I’m not aware of?
Rock fishing getting dragged off rocks by bigger seats
People are exceptional at “who-woulda-thought-but-shoulda-seen-it-coming” injurious exposure.
I think it’s more an offshoot of the classic “brought a knife to a gun fight”. Brought a fishing rod to a sword fight:
https://youtu.be/yF8UOqzlyRM
As a grom I used to hitch rides to the beaches south of town w/ my granddad when he’d comb for cans, bottles, etc so I could get in a surf before school.
One morning I was looking to the beach from the lineup and saw him standing next to a gaggle of cops at the high tide line. His dog had uncovered a fisherman who went missing two days earlier.
It’d happen every few years…someone fishing in the shorebreak on an incoming tide, wearing waders, and didn’t know how to swim. Rogue wave smacks em in the chest, down they go, their waders filled up and they are suddenly in a world of shit…
A guy lent me waders with a few holes in them, I didn’t know. Standing about twenty feet from the beach, I realized I was carrying at least ten additional pounds per foot. They kept filling as I tried to walk back until I eventually laid down and dragged myself out with my hands in the sand. I thought what a $hitty way to die. Once on the beach, it dawned on me that he knew about the holes and maybe wanted to kill me?
Still friends?
This guy was not surfing.