What the Coast Guard Wants You to Know

Distinguished Flying Cross recipient Shannon Scaff’s simple, experience-based lessons on how to not end up in a rescue basket—or dead.

Tough Love

Distinguished Flying Cross recipient Shannon Scaff’s simple, experience-based lessons on how to not end up in a rescue basket—or dead.

I first met Shannon Scaff during research for my 2021 book called The Ocean. The Ultimate Handbook of Nautical Knowledge. For the “Safety and Survival” chapter, I hoped to ask an experienced Coast Guard rescuer for the experience-based lessons a boater should know. Calling sector Charleston, Scaff happened to be on Public Information Officer duty. “Come on down,” he said. Soon, I had the lead essay for the book. What follows is a little tough love from Scaff. Read far more about this lifesaving American badass in the article “So Others May Live” on page 52. —Chris Dixon

I’d love to say there’s some rocket science to boating, but the reality is that anytime you get out on the water, it’s inherently dangerous. First off, get yourself an inspection at the local Coast Guard auxiliary. It’s not required, but it’ll give you some peace of mind and the feeling of being a responsible, prudent mariner. Second, make a solid plan and stick to it. Say you’re just going out for a day of recreation. Have a plan, voice your plan and have somebody who knows or cares about you know what your plan is. That alone is of tremendous value, because if something bad happens, that’s who calls us and puts a rescue in motion.

And by the way, if you’re able to, let us know that you’re going down before you go down. Just sayin,’ that would be wonderful. That means communication. If you don’t have flares, a sound producing device, a radio, a cellphone, a strobe light and a life jacket, or a life raft—what have you done? You’ve stacked the deck against yourself. Are you looking to commit suicide? I don’t want to overstate it because you’re looking at a guy who has pulled a lot of people out of the water dead. And I hate that. I hate it. I did not go through all the training I went through—holding my breath to the point where the entire world is closing up around me, just to come up and have an instructor screaming at me. I did not go through all that to pick your dead ass out of the water.

The simple stuff: The radio. Do you and your passengers know how to use it? We understand as maritime professionals that we’re going to get calls from the newest of the new to the saltiest of the salty. We don’t get wrapped around the axle about technical stuff. We’re more interested in you passing along the information that we need, because time is of the essence. What if you’re sinking and your radio may only work for ten more seconds? What would you pass along to us? Location and number of souls.

Here we go:

– Mayday, Mayday, Mayday Vessel Sea Ox to Coast Guard, come in.

– Sea Ox, go ahead.

– Roger Coast Guard, we’re taking on water, our position is blah, blah, blah and we have zero-two souls on board. Click. Done.

Back at HQ we’re saying, “Oh hell, they’re in the water.”

So what have you just done? One: You’ve narrowed our search range from 50 square miles—the transmitting range of your radio—to a single square mile. Two: You’ve told us how big a rescue we need to launch. Basically, you’ve taken the search out of search and rescue.

Today, what do we have at our disposal at every maritime store? A personal locator beacon (PLB). It’s a couple hundred bucks, but it sure beats drifting out in the ocean for three days holding onto a cooler. The very first time I pulled somebody out of the water, we got a hit on an EPIRB 70 miles offshore. A very slight signal. No maydays, nothing, but there’s a tropical storm overhead. Oh shit, we’ve got a debris field. There’s a life jacket. There goes a cooler, an empty gumby suit—those are always eerie. I see something. Might have been a guy waving. Then it disappears. An hour later, I’m sitting in the doorway. The signal comes again. And there it is, no shit, a guy waving—70 miles offshore, 25- to 30-foot seas. A dude with dreadlocks and nothing but a pair of boxer shorts holding a wooden plank. In his left hand he’s holding a friggin’ EPIRB. Out the door I go. Why was the signal weak? He didn’t have the antenna up.

If you must use a flare, use common sense. Don’t blow them off all at once, and please do not shoot them directly at our helicopter. Think about how sensitive our night vision goggles are. You light a flare off? We’re gonna see it from a country mile. But any light source, a lighter, a flashlight is gonna show up on our FLIR—the infrared.

Get a good survival whistle, audible to 1,000 yards. It might not do much for us, but it could make a difference when someone is close. It did for Rose in Titanic.

Check the weather. The weather can change. You’re the captain, that’s your responsibility. You take the family on the boat—it’s your fault if they end up in the water. So wear your life jackets and don’t drink and boat. It’s cliché, but this stuff matters. And even if you don’t plan on a long trip, what if you break down? It doesn’t take long to fill up a cooler—make sure you have enough food, water and sunscreen for the whole day.

The most common stuff I see is people having no regard for, or understanding of, the rules of the road—and being preoccupied with what’s happening on your boat instead of the water. It’s a good time. You’ve got your buddies and hotties on the boat. Next thing you know, you’re in the water with a bone sticking out of your leg.

I’m not trying to paint everything as doom and gloom. Go out and have a good time. But know the rules of the road, and have a lot of respect for the environment you’re in.

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This article originally appeared in the January 2023 issue of Power & Motoryacht magazine.

Source: https://www.powerandmotoryacht.com/seamanship/what-the-coast-guard-wants-you-to-know