Once, I was camping with some buddies by a watershed lake (more of a pond) in WV in early April.
A storm came up and we had to abandon camp due to rising water. We were camping where the feeder creek entered the lake, The next day, our camp was underwater. The jon boat that I had beached on the side of the creek was gone.
My party walked around the perimeter of the lake, through the woods. My friend’s little brother, who was about 14 at the time, went ahead of us. When he got to the wide part of the lake, he saw the boat on the opposite side, about 100 yards away.
Without waiting for us, he jumped in and swam after the boat. Even in early spring, the water was cold enough to pose a real risk of hypothermia. He didn’t bother to take his boots off.
He made it to the boat and paddled it back to us. Only later did we learn how close to death he came that day. He’d gone under a few times and struggled to the surface. Despite that, he never called out to us.
When he told his dad about it afterward, he cried.
If he’d drowned, I’d have never forgiven myself. Today he’s got a lovely family with four kids.
I guess the moral is: water is a jealous b***h and not one to be trifled with. Like you, I tell everyone in hopes that they don’t end up making the same mistake.
When you are hypothermic it is very difficult to speak, much less yell out. I had no idea until I experienced it myself. When Frank first ask me if I was OK, I tried to yell but nothing came out. When I finally was able to speak, it was not loud at all.