water, ship’s papers, wallet, passport, binoculars, winter
clothes, bedding and pillows, first aid kits. I figured on three-to-
five days adrift.
When the water was well over the bunk-boards I got to the
port quarter. I checked that the raft’s drogue line was clear
of the SSG, and in one fluid movement I left the yacht and
tumbled into the liferaft and cut the tether. We drifted free.
I grabbed the plastic box, got my phone out, put it to camera
mode and turned to get Waimanu in her final moments. There
was nothing. She had gone.
Sorting my gear out, I took a seasick tablet. I didn’t feel
the least bit ill, but the training says you should take one as a
liferaft’s motion is different and it can have a peculiar smell. I
took a good drink – I was really thirsty.
After some nut bars I settled down for a long wait. I tried to
sleep but couldn’t so I tried reading – that just made me dizzy. The
seas were atrocious. We slid down big walls of water, the drogue
grabbing and snatching to keep the raft from being tumbled.
The huge breaking seas collided with the tiny raft and
spume, spray and solid water went right over the canopy,
shooting water into every vent. The canopy was droning and
humming in the wind. One drone seemed insistent. I looked
out. A great big Hercules aircraft went over. Wow! That was
quick! What a relief, at least someone knew where I was. It kept
circling. I leaned out and waved, giving them the thumbs up. I
put in earplugs. I’d been in the raft about five hours.
A bit over three hours later the Herc dropped a smoke flare.
A ship must be nearby. When I spotted her she looked tiny. She
was rolling in the big sea and I thought she was a small local
fishing boat. She was, in fact, a decent-sized freighter!
As she loomed near she slowed and headed up into the
weather, the bow bulb heaving clean out of the ocean and
plunging back down, burying the bow under plumes of foam.
Then the ship’s prop would come out of the water as the waves
passed under her stern – chuff, chuff, chuff – throwing water
everywhere. I didn’t like it.
When they got close I yelled: “Use the rescue boat!” They
yelled back: “It’s too rough!” There was no way I was going
from raft to ship; if they didn’t get me with the bow, I’d be
mincemeat in the prop. After a while a little red tinny came
around the stern of the monster and made its way toward me.
I’d never seen Tongans so pale!30 Boating New Zealand
GEAR – Spend the money and get the right gear. Save your life as
comfortably as you can. I thought carefully about what went into
the life-raft: Food, Drink, and Comfort. My Grab-Bag had more
‘goodies’ than just the recommended.
THINK – Don’t think ‘this won’t happen to me’. Positive mental attitude
will save you; practice being positive in any circumstance. Think
through procedures for different emergencies. If you have crew, write
out the procedures together. ‘If this happens, I do this’: essential for
solo sailing. Good sailing isn’t not being afraid; it’s being prepared.
TRAIN –Get physically involved: way more powerful than reading
instructions or being lectured at. I had never seen a liferaft inflate, or been
in one until the very intensive liferaft training with SeaWise. By the end of
the day we swam to the raft and did everything while totally blind-folded.
Response comes from training; reaction comes from emotion.
WHAT WILL YOU DO IF SOMETHING GOES WRONG?- Think about it NOW.
WHAT IMPORTANT GEAR DO YOU NEED? – It WILL save your life.
HAVE YOU ACTUALLY PRACTICED WHAT YOU NEED TO DO? - You won’t remember theory.
LESSONS LEARNTRIGHT
Phil (left) with
the crew of
the Norfolk
Guardian and
the red tinny.I threw them a rope and pulled myself toward them. Once
my bags were in, I followed. I hung onto the raft rope but we
decided it would be too hard to save. Sadly I let the rope slip
from my fingers and it drifted away. Getting aboard the ship
wasn’t easy but once I was committed I went up that rope ladder
like a rat up a drainpipe. I was safe.
The rest is, as they say, history. BNZ