Dead Mans Hang

Dead Mans Hang

                       "It does not, therefore, depend on human desire 
                         or effort, but on God's mercy." - Romans 9:16

       Contemplate water. As a substance, as an element. Without it we cannot live, our bodies nor our world. Salt water is remarkably similar to the very life blood coursing through your veins. It is the defining element, the one thing those who seek life on other planets and worlds initially look for, because again, without water, life as we know it is just not possible. It is the only element that exists naturally in all 3 states; liquid, solid and gas. One of the most erosive forces that helps shape our world, water forms, along with mountain ranges, natural borders and barriers that affect animals and humans alike. We know less about the deep underwater places on this planet than we know about outer space. We still find creatures unknown to us down there. I’ve never been on the open sea during a storm (does Priest Lake qualify?), but I’ve stood on shores and vantages at times during severe weather events, gazing out in awe at the malefic motion of water and air, wondering how it must be. I would not want to be out on the open sea at these times; in fact rarely, if ever, have I felt the urge to explore this frontier, or use it as a means to travel to distant lands. Something about all that water beneath that gives me pause. I’ve never been very comfortable around water; in it actually. I can be around it all day long with no ill effect. It’s when I get in…

      Being out in the middle of a large body of water can mess with me. I feel with immensity the vastness of the natural container I’m in, the vessel for all this water. I can mentally project myself above, way up and look down at where I’m at and really try and feel and understand the scale of things. Life is, amongst other things, a constant re-calibration of our sense of scale. Each new event can cause a change in perspective. I’m a small life-form floating in this organic mass of life and death.

      Water is also very dangerous. So very final in the way it can take your life. Submerge yourself for 30-40 seconds, a minute, and see what happens. The body must have air.

      When I was a boy, perhaps 12 or 13 years of age, I went on a summer outing with our church, a picnic social at Mica bay out around Coeur d’Alene Lake. The day was hot and there were a lot of kids, all yelling and splashing and having fun. A couple hundred yards offshore was an isolated dock; some kids were out there already. Although I was not a particularly strong swimmer, I thought I could swim out there. My mistake was not telling anyone.

      The swim out took longer than I thought. It also took more out of me than I thought, and I rested mightily upon reaching the little floating island, muscles not used to this. After awhile it was apparent I was going to have to try and swim in. The other children had gone in, and I was left alone.

      Halfway to shore I remember thinking I might not make it back, that I should have rested longer. I simply did not have the endurance. I remember somewhat calmly accepting this and objectively trying to decide what to do about it. At that very moment I remembered something I had read, something called the Dead Mans Hang. Essentially a last ditch effort,when you feel you can go no farther, take the biggest breath you can, and stop. Stop moving, kicking, struggling, anything… just rest. When I reached that moment my efforts became ineffective, I stopped. The decision was not easy to make. I believe I shouted before going under. My head slipped no more than several inches below the surface as my body found balance, and I hung there in the cool water thinking… about what? It was quiet; a couple of air bubbles snuck out of my nostrils and tickled my eyes on the way by. Fear.

       When I could take it no longer I began letting out air and kicked to the surface. I lifted my head, took a big breath of air, and yelled “Help!”. No one was even close as I slipped under the surface again. This time I was prepared for the lonely quietness of it and went zen, trying to conserve strength. I do remember the feeling of weightlessness, just suspended there, muscles numb with tension, listening to the pounding of my heart. I could hang here forever, if I just didn’t have to breath! I erupted out of the water a bit more serious the next time, scanning the shore as I took another big breath or two,yelling,”Help!”, before once more slipping beneath the surface. Had anyone heard me? More fear. It was not so quiet under the water this time. I could hear my body begging for air. I had reached a point where I understood all this couldn’t continue and began forcing my muscles to perform a dog paddle of sorts. I needed oxygen more than I needed rest. The 3rd or 4th time I came up there was this thing in front of me, an inflatable mattress. The old cheap ones with the long tubes of air and the integrated air pillow. This one was olive drab and a girl maybe not much younger than me… no, an angel not much younger than me was at the stern, pushing it towards me. I grabbed on and breathed hungrily, noisily, just resting. I was exhausted. We slowly kicked back to shore, not speaking much. I don’t remember what we might have said; I hope I said “Thank you!”, or something. At some point I believe I hauled myself further up on the mattress, and shamelessly let her kick and paddle the rest of the way in. I’d like to meet her some day, and thank her again. We may have told someone when we got back, I can’t remember. At that point it mattered little; I was just happy to be alive.

Note: With a bit of research, I’ve discovered the Dead Mans Hang is called Drownproofing and, I was doing it wrong. Apparently, you should strive to keep as much of your head as possible under water as you take a breath. Lesson learned. This happened approx. 1974/75. We attended Grace Bible church in Hayden although I believe other churches were invited. Anyone with info please contact me.

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