A Cold Shock on Lake Tahoe: Paddling through Fear

Words for the WandererLocations
Written By Candice McCoy

It was a beautiful day in Lake Tahoe as we unloaded our boards and paddles and life jackets.  It’s always a bit of an ordeal to get everything aired up + ready to go, everyone sunscreened, snacks and water packed…so much work. But always worth it! 

At least most of the time.

We launched our boards and set out across the lake with Emerald Bay in our sights, just a couple miles of  paddling to get there and a couple miles back. We’d done longer paddles before, and nothing had ever really phased us on the boards.  But we were kind of bummed when the wind almost immediately picked up.  We were paddling straight into it, and the water, a chilly 60 degrees, quickly drenched us as the waves lapped up over the edges of our boards.

We stayed positive and pressed on, sure that once we got closer to the bay, we’d be protected for a while and the wind would be behind us the whole way back.  Besides, we were just so happy to be experiencing the beauty of Lake Tahoe.  I kept thinking of the turquoise waters in south Thailand…a place I never thought anywhere else could compare to.

We were correct in thinking the wind would die down, but we weren’t quite prepared for the onslaught that hit us once we rounded the point into Emerald Bay. Between the boat traffic and the winds, we knew right away it wouldn’t be smart to enter the bay, so we started paddling back when suddenly Jon and Linc flipped their board, dropping their paddle but thankfully saving everything else.  We found out that the paddle does NOT in fact float as one might assume as we watched it fill with water and sink slowly out of view.  I separated my double ended paddle and tossed half to Jon so he could paddle their board, leaving both of us with just half a paddle, as speedboats zoomed around us and we spotted the lake patrol making his way toward us.

I was certain the lake patrol was making his way over to tell us to get the heck out of the way, but it was actually just a friendly check to make sure we were okay. Despite my doubts, I assured him everything was fine and he cruised on.  Now that Jon and Linc were dripping wet and freezing, they paddled fast, making a beeline for our launch spot, just a speck in the distance across the lake.  The girls and I followed, but being three as opposed to one board, we quickly began to lag behind and soon it was just us and the waves.  

I had Pippa,  the dry bag, my phone, Jon’s phone and my power bank all on my board, trying to get some power stored in case we needed to make a call..but with little success.  Now alone, the girls and I paddled, rested, regrouped, paddled some more…trying to hug the shore and keep out of the wind, which had changed direction and was in our faces instead of at our backs like we had thought.  It was tough, but the beauty around us helped keep perspective, and I kept reminding myself how long I had dreamed of paddling Tahoe. We were finally doing it!! 

As we neared the beach that marked the halfway point between our original destination and our launch spot, we paused and I unrolled the dry bag to retrieve a snack for the girls and my go pro. I figured if my phone was dead, I’d use the go pro to catch some video of these moments.  A documenter at heart, I can never help myself.  

I grabbed the flotation handle of the go pro, pulled it out of the dry bag and pressed power.  Just as the camera flashed on I lifted it to realize our car keys were attached to the lanyard and dangling from the handle.  I made a mental note of how genius Jon was for attaching the keys to the one thing we had in the bag that floats, and took a quick video of Violet paddling her little heart out (what would be the only documentation that would survive the day).

Moments later I lifted the camera again and as I did, I saw our keys in slow motion, fall from the go pro, and land with a tiny splash into the cold, clear water.  Panicked, I lunged toward them into the water, my fingers grazing them but unable to grab them in time as the coldness took my breath and I went fully under.  From that point on, I think I was in a bit of shock - from the sudden unexpected cold, the image in my mind of our keys sinking just out of my reach and the realization of what it meant.  I paddled desperately toward my board, which had been pushed away from me as I lunged, checking on the girls to make sure they were okay and that Pippa hadn’t fallen in.  I reached my board and hauled myself up over the edge, only to make a new and equally alarming realization that everything that had been there (aside from the dry bag) was now gone.

It was all gone. My phone, Jon’s phone, the power bank…in a matter of seconds all of it plus the keys were just gone.  I re-situated on my board, trying to regulate my breathing and assuring the girls that I was fine (I wasn’t fine).  I sat there, blank faced and just stared into the water.  The moments before we left, when I suggested we leave the keys at the van somehow, flashed through my mind. The repercussions of it all were like an old school film playing just for me  - being an hour from camp, not having a spare car key, not having a way to call anyone, how much our phones are worth, the sun beginning to set.  The coldness had set in and my whole body was shaking and cramping up - my back, my jaw. I looked toward our launch spot and mentally calculated how long it would take to get back, especially with the girls and the half paddle I’d been using since separating it for Jon.

There was only one option - start paddling. It took about 45 minutes to paddle back, which gave me plenty of time to think about how I was going to tell Jon what had happened. But also to ruminate on all of it…replaying it in my mind and questioning if I should go back and try to dive down for everything. I’m an over analyzer by nature, so I felt right at home in my crazy brain, but made sure to pause every few paddles to put on my biggest smile for the girls and assure them everything was fine (it was still not fine).

I held it together until we finally pulled up to shore and I saw Jon. Then I lost it.  Shaking, crying….all the tension releasing at once into his arms. In the grand scheme of things, this incident is not that big of a deal…but the cost of it all and the shock of the cold water, being alone with the girls on the windy lake, what felt like a never ending paddle back…and seeing the image of our keys plopping into the water over and over in my mind was overwhelming. 

With the sun having started its descent below the horizon’s edge, I couldn’t get warm or stop shaking.  We had discovered that somehow the van had been left unlocked ( a miracle I say) so we were able to get dry clothes and towels out. We borrowed my sister’s phone to call every locksmith in South Lake Tahoe to find someone who would come out on a Sunday night to help us.  By some miracle, Kev from Tahoe Lock and Key was not too far away and actually had the base key he needed to fit the van and get it started.  A little over an hour later, as darkness had fully set in, he finished programming the key, turned it and the van came to life.  

The day did not go as expected.  We were out about $2500, and it was a rare time I have to say I’m not sure the views were worth it.  But at the end of the day, I want the high highs and low lows. I spent years living in a place where I felt unchallenged, less alive.  Going through the motions, going to Target yet again, driving from parking lot to parking lot in our suburban city, Getting into bed at night with feet a little too clean and not enough sun on my skin.  In a lot of ways, that was way easier.  But I’m not going for easy.  Easy is the road to feeling dead inside.


Give me grit. Give me tears. Give me scraped up knees and dirty feet and sunburned shoulders.  Give me a plethora of “I don’t know if I can do this” moments.  Give me a face full of saltwater, being tumbled in the big waves with my surfboard flying. Give me getting lost for the third time in one day and coming home to sand/dirt all over our camper floor. Give me the shock of falling into cold water and feeling afraid. Give me not knowing if I can get us back across the Golden Gate on our bikes in one piece. I want it all.  

Every single time we fall down, it’s an opportunity to come back that much stronger.

*Sadly, none of my photos or videos from paddling Tahoe on this day made it to the cloud before my phone went for a swim, so here are a few beautiful glimpses of a much calmer and more peaceful day on the lake.

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Candice McCoy

Candice McCoy is the founder + editor of The Great Wanderlust.
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