In memory of Kevin Tan, a heroic rescuer

Last night I went to the memorial service for Kevin Tan, one of the founders and principle partners of OpenSky Unlimited, a boutique adventure tour company in Malaysia. Kevin tragically drowned while successfully rescuing a client who was in distress while swimming at a remote jungle waterfall called Lata Hammer in Pahang.

I cannot claim to have known Kevin very well, but I think I might just about make it over the edge to qualify for the category of friend. Over the years I have talked to him at my adventure races, seen the distant tail-end of him at mountain bike rides or bumped into him unexpectedly at things like team building events. I know him as a fellow adventurer and outdoor professional, and of course I know him as half of the Golden Couple of exquisitely beautiful Adele and heartthrob handsome Kevin.


Like many in the outdoor adventure and racing world here in Malaysia, I have basked in the reflected glow of the domestic happiness of this beautiful, talented and loving couple. And rejoiced from a distance at the arrival at each of their beautiful young children, Zoe and Lukas. 

Somehow as we participate in Adele's races or shared Kevin's adventures we can't help but feel part of this Golden Family they have created. For no matter whether we are an acquaintance or best friend, they always brimmed over with their huge enthusiasm for the adventure of climbing the next hidden mountain or being the best person you can be as you cross that finish line. To know either of them is to know their joy and passion, their energy and enterprise and their velvet-glove tough professionalism that gently demanded that we bring the best of ourselves to whatever we did with them. 

I say I did not know Kevin very well as in his mobile number is not in my contact book, but I do know that he was a kindred spirit. I know he was a man who was uplifted by the view of a cloud covered mountain and that the sound of distant falling water in a jungle would thrill his blood. I know he was someone who knew how painful your throat can feel as you slog up a hill; a man who knew the satisfying click from a good piece of gear and the bittersweet joys of dealing with clients in the outdoors. I know he was a parent who spoke with love and pride about his children and I remember the expressions on his face as he talked about them. And then I think to myself that perhaps I did know more about him than I realise and that it is truly a blessing to have known what I did of him. 


This year I had the privilege of training Kevin and Amos on a three-day swiftwater rescue technician course under Rescue 3 International. It's a course designed for outdoor guides and rescue professionals on survival and rescue techniques in fast moving water. I can honestly say that both partners were among the most competent people that I have ever trained. Kevin was strong, smart and had exceptional leadership skills.

Ironically Rescue 3 International was started more than 30 years ago when a Californian river guide perished in a rescue. The stated mission of Rescue 3 is "to stop rescuers from becoming victims themselves". And so Kevin's shocking death has made me reflect quite seriously on the whole business of rescue.


There is this moment as a rescuer when you come upon a scene and you see someone drowning in front of you and you know that if you did nothing they will die.  You know it with every fibre of your being, you know it in the pit of your stomach. It is a long and chilling moment. All the fun and laughter and joy of being in the outdoors turns to ice in your veins and you realise, “This is real danger here”.

And in the space of a heart beat, you have to decide – “What shall I do?” 


It happened to me once, almost 20 years ago.  I was on a whitewater kayaking trip and I saw someone kayak down a small channel that they should not have. I ran up to them and I saw that this woman tumbing and being circulated in the backwash of a small, harmless looking pourover only about 3 feet high.   


It took me a micro second to realise that I had screwed up and my hands were empty. I had no throw rope, not even a paddle. I could see in my minds eye my throw bag basking in the sun tied to my kayak on the far side of the rapid. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. I remember that moment of cold chilling realization that this woman could drown right in front of me. SHE IS GOING TO DROWN. I remember that fraction of a second when I had to make a decision. I remember it being as fast as the blink of an eye and as long as eternity. 


I jumped into the water. And the moment I was in the water I remember thinking I AM SO STUPID.  I was in big trouble and I was afraid. Ohshitohshitohshitohshit. The words filled my head. But I didn’t have much time for that because I was fighting with every muscle in my body to stay afloat and out of the circulation. The current was pulling on my legs, on every part of my body.  I remember seeing the woman bob up suddenly in front of me and I reached out and miraculously managed to grab her and pull her out of the circulation.  I held on to her lifejacket and we were pulled down underwater together.

It was as if we were suddlenly plunged into darkness. The frothy water around me went dark as we were pulled downwards. I remember my ears popping with the pressure of the depth.  I could feel myself dragging along the river bed. Ohshitohshitohshitohshit. I remember the silence of that black underwater and how different it was from the turmultous roar of whitewater. It was white before and now it was black. Ohshitohshitohshitohshit. I remember waiting and I remember how my heart beat in my chest as I waited.
 
And then I came up into the air. The blessed air. By the Grace of God I came up. 


There is not much more to tell of that story. I remember afterwards panting like a mad dog on the river bank, my head pounding from the lack of oxygen. The client was shaken and walked every rapid after that, but we didn’t speak of the incident. We kind of just nodded at each other afterwards. My kayak buddy came up upon me and asked rather nonchalently, “Are you ok?”. Nothing really looked that amiss. The tiny innocuous waterfall still looked the same. The river still flowed on. 

There is this moment. A tiny enormous moment between fear and choice. A moment when all hangs in the balance.


For Kevin Tan, being the man that he was, I know in my heart that he made his choice the way he lived his life – with powerful determination and vast love in his heart.