On a hot sunny Wednesday afternoon this July, I was out on a small Bayliner boat with my EO Forum buddies for a day of tubing and water skiing. After a few hours tubing and touring Hayden Island, we pulled into the mouth of the Willamette River and cut the engine to prepare for a bout of water skiing. As we organized and fought over who was going first, we noticed a rather large tanker in the Columbia River approaching. We initially assumed it would continue on up the Columbia River instead of the smaller Willamette. After only a few minutes of watching it approach, we realized it was coming about (directly towards us).

Without much hesitation, our trusty captain and boat owner agreed we should move post haste. Unfortunately, when he turned the key, the engine didn’t turn over. He tried three or four times before the tanker’s horn blew, informing us we were clearly in the way and that he would likely win any coin toss as to who has right-of-way. We waved back anxiously, indicating we were aware, but unable to move. The watchman on the bow of the ship talked excitedly into his radio as we all assessed our situation and prepared for the worst.

The group of men I was with are all successful business owners and are steeped with life experiences. Unfortunately, none of us were prepared for possible abandonment and sinking of our vessel. The first of the boat, not surprisingly, was the banker in the group. Four more followed, in various states of anxiety. All jumped in without life vests on, while two carried backpacks. I took a few extra moments to strap on my life vest and took one last look at the tanker (probably 40 feet away and approaching at 6 knots) before jumping in. I had the presence of mind to take off my flip flops and sunglasses.

I looked back to see the final passenger in our boat, a seemingly stupid but actually very brave and skilled member of our group, promptly paddled with a water ski to position the boat properly to save it from being crushed by the oncoming tanker. The bow wave pushed the boat to safety (a margin of less than 5 feet). As the ship motored past, the crew yelled a variety of questions and accusations at us while we floated helplessly in the water. Once the tanker passed, we all read the name on the stern: Colorado Voyager.

Back in the boat a few minutes later, we collected our wits, thoughts and gear. The only casualties turned out to be two pairs of sunglasses and a soggy cell phone. We were still dead in the water and had to get out of the boat channel. As luck or fate would have it, a sheriff boat happened by us within a few minutes, and after signaling, came over to tow us to a nearby doc. Right before mooring, we were able to get the boat started (the culprit appeared to be a corroded battery).

The boat turned over and we quickly thanked the sheriff and motored directly back to our dock. Smiles were all around the table over beers once we were back on solid ground in one piece. Turns out the 652 foot tanker was one of the largest ever built by Gundersons in Portland. It was a priceless adventure and wonderful bonding opportunity I will never forget.

Tags: eo, bayliner, colorado voyager, freighter, tanker, boating, accident, near miss, columbia river, willamette river, water skiing