Thunder Supercharges Local Paddler

“Was that thunder?” I yelled up at the jogger who stopped to look up at the black clouds moving in from the northwest.

“Sure sounds like thunder to me” she yelled back as she ran along the path beside Tempe Town Lake.

I tried to recall, what was the park’s warning light signal for lightning? And more important, just where were those darn lights anyway? I was doing my best Brent Reitz race stroke around the 4.4 mile circuit and I was clearly the only boat— (the only fool?) — on the lake.

Thanks to freeway accident traffic, it had been well past 5 p.m. when I launched my boat and started my stopwatch. Crossing the lake’s west end I’d heard the loud clickity-clack sound of a railroad train running across a bridge, except there was no train. The sound was coming from the string of oil drum-sized orange plastic floats marking the end of the lake as they jostled one another in the violently pitching water.

Paddling up the lake’s south side, rain began—and that was definite lightning back over Hayden Butte and ASU—big powerful, zillion watts, hair-stands-on-end, horizon-lightning bolts with Wagneresque booming thunder. Lightning scares me, and I considered pulling ashore and hiking back for the truck, but carrying my boat in the wind didn’t appeal. I concentrated on the fastest, most perfect strokes I could manage.

As I rounded the northeast end, hail piled on my spray skirt till I looked like a giant shrimp on an iced hors d’oeuveres tray. I was hammered by the roar of hailstones driven against my carbon fiber boat. My paddle jacket and “core warmer” Patagonia neoprene vest kept my body bearably warm, but my arms and head were soaked and chilled.

I sprinted up to the boat beach, stopped the watch, and carried my boat through the deluge to my truck. In the light of the cab I finally remembered to check the time on my watch — 42 minutes, 19 seconds. Wow, that storm changed a potentially nondescript workout into a near personal record lap — and if you like being scared, it was almost fun! I think I’m glad. I didn’t see any flashing lights.

P.S. — Tempe town Lake headquarters tells me that flashing white lights mean winds past 15 mph; yellow warns of lightning within 10 miles; and red orders everyone off the lake immediately, although I’m not sure what the red light danger would be on that extremely civilized lake.

story by Norm Tessman

What’s a Paddler To Do?

If there’s thunder or lightning about:

1. Get off the water—you’re the tallest target for lightning.

2. Get into your vehicle, and don’t touch any metal while inside.

3. If stuck on land, crouch in the clear, don’t lay down, The less contact with the ground, the better.

4. Don’t touch graphite paddles, or any metal objects. They’ll conduct electricity.