In hopes of saving lives | how Charles died & SUP safety
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Charles death is a tragic accident that could have easily been avoided.
Discovered 6 months after his death, His autopsy showed a BAC of .27 (4x the legal driving limit)
It likely explains why he did not pull his leash. Read on for the full story.
My worst nightmare unfolded on July 27, 2023, when my beloved fiancé and soulmate Charles Claassen floated into a snag, getting caught and not making it out alive. The trauma of that day will never completely go away and sharing is difficult, but I am committed to helping save lives through proper education and training. Paddle-board deaths are on the rise and many are on flat water in seemingly harmless conditions.
For the last 12 years, paddle boarding on the river has fed my soul and body more than ever imagined. I’m a standup paddle-board instructor trainer for SUP yoga, for River SUP and Flat- water SUP. I am paddle board professional who podiumed in several races in my early days. I am highly trained in wilderness and river rescue. We had ALL the right gear: helmet, PFD, detachable river leash, footwear, river specific SUPS.
The snag/strainer was just under the surface. In the previous 3 months- I taught him like I have hundreds of people and even warmed over 10 times about strainers. We’d done that same stretch two dozen times. His mega man- adventure, climber, mountaineer ego was used to risk and he gave me shit for being “overly-cautious.” After a few hard days at work, I suggested we get on the river to cheer up him. It was about 20 minutes into an hour run on nearly flat-water with not more than 6 inch waves. The last time I kissed him alive was on the rocky bank of the Skagit river in and eddy 5 minutes after our launch.
The accident happened on a curve with current pushing directly into the log, just under the surface of the water. The shore of the river was piled high from a massive high water washout with logs and old growth trees. Every time we passed that snag- I pointed positive to let him know to avoid. That day, he was even on his knees per my recommendation. As I looked back to watch him pass it, he floated right and tipped over with him going under and board going over the tree. I was annoyed because it shouldn’t have been a big deal. He had a river specific detachable leash. I yelled upriver to pull the leash as the current carried me, my dog and my SUP downstream. The farther I got, the more panic set in. He was trying to get to shore, not taking the literally one second action- to pull the little red bob on his leash that would free him to float down to where I could pull him on my board. I could’t understand and the current was too strong for me to paddle upriver. I went into rescue mode.
I couldn’t get to shore without risking my own life because of a second strainer just down stream. All rescue wisdom puts yourself and your survival about that of the victim. So I got around the next and frantically pulled my board to shore, threw down my paddle and ran as fast as I could, worrying if he finally pulled the leash that I might not know it because with the debris on shore, I couldn’t stay in visual sight of the river. Even with the level of panic and adrenaline pumping through my veins- it probably took me 5-6 minutes to get to him. By that time, he was floating face down, still attached to his leash and the board.. He drowned. I was in rescue mode. Anything to save him.
Despite the snag downriver, I knew I could get him to shore to do CPR. So against what some would call irrational judgement- I jumped in and released the leash and pulled him and to shore as the board floated down river. I started doing chest compressions and CPR. Time dissolved. I knew he was gone, but I couldn’t not try. When water and puke started pouring out of his mouth, I kept trying, screaming, crying, cursing God in the heavens. What am I going to tell his daughters? What am I going to tell his mom. Just keep trying. Just keep trying. Just keep trying. In honesty- I don’t know how long I was there trying to bring my love back to life. My guess is probably about 15 minutes before I knew I had to get help. Charles was dead. The trauma of that day is seared into my body’s memory. I have severe PTSD and my relationship to the river and paddleboarding is not on stable ground. J
Just a week ago, I found out his blood alcohol content was .27 (nearly 4 times the legal driving limit). I’m furious at him. I had no idea. We had our customary launch beer. We’d partied a little the night before. We had our own little mini festival in the front yard. He played guitar and I put a blanket down I cheered and danced and threw the ball for my Buddah dog. As far as my estimates- he might have had 6-8 beers. Not even close to what would equate to a BAC that high. He must have been drinking at work, maybe driving to and from work? There is no way for me to know.
In response to this post, his brother replied “the Coroner had told us toxicology came back mostly clean. They said head injury knocked him out.” A head injury was the only thing I could think of until the alcohol piece came out. Perhaps it was a perfect storm. It’s hard to see how a head injury could have happened in the way he fell, as I watched it happen. I am eagerly awaiting seeing the coroner and autopsy report once the family receives copies. His daughter- who is next of kin is the one that told me the BAC- as the coroner read the report to her in the early days after his passing. It’s challenging to have no power or control and I am extremely grateful to his family for including me in all the facets of the end of his life, with no shame or blame. I have been met with love and compassion and welcomed into the family, as that is how Charles would have wanted it.
In some ways, I’m grateful to have this heartbreaking piece of information because it likely explains why he didn’t pull his leash. He went into panic. Discussions with dear friends who are emergency responders and paramedics led us to conclude he went to the what his brain knew as the most likely way to save himself. Unfortunately his judgement was so impaired- getting to shore became the only strategy I saw him try. The leash that was attached to his core on his rescue life jacket didn’t occur to him. I pulled the leash with no problem to bring his limp body to shore. The timing was about perfectly wrong. Per Sascha’s paramedic knowledge it generally takes 5-6 minutes to drown- or at least that’s the amount of time before brain damage sets in due to lack of oxygen in the brain.
Because of the nature of where the incident occurred- it took a long time to get his body off of the river. I was in hysteria along the road as emergency responders tried to get to his body. They intubated him and still tried to revive him even though it was probably 45-60min before they got to his body on the river bank. As it was approaching dark, they had to have a boat retrieve his body, into the ambulance to the fire station to be transferred to the coroner’s vehicle- where I got to hold him, kiss him, and say goodbye to his body. That was not the last time I got to love on his cold, dead body. I gathered with his mother, brother and sister in a private viewing as we made arrangement to cremate his body and celebrate his life.
No matter how many times you see and kiss your beloved’s dead body- it still doesn’t feel real for weeks, if not months.
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