At 11:45 PM, October 13, we were woken by something that every mariner fears.
"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday..."
By the time I got to the radio, the second call was coming in. It was a woman's voice,
"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is the Sailing Vessel TIMELLA. TIMELLA. We have struck a reef and we need assistance. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday."
I waited for some seconds to see if someone more appropriate than us would answer, like the authorities, or a passing cruise ship. No answer came.
"Vessel calling Mayday. Vessel Calling Mayday. Vessel Calling Mayday. This is the Sailing Yacht OCEALYS. OCEALYS. OCEALYS. Do you copy?"
"Yes, we copy. This is TIMELLA. We've struck a reef and we are hard aground. The waves are bashing us against the reef. We need help."
TIMELLA is a boat we've met before. A little blue sloop with "HANCHARD CRANES" in big letters on the hull. We saw them in Niue and just a week ago in Suva.
"TIMELLA, this is OCEALYS. Roger that. What is your position? What is your position?"
"Stand by..." About a minute goes by, "OCEALYS, this is Timella. Our position: One-Eight, Three-Six Minutes South. Eighteen Degrees, Thirty-Six Minutes South... One-Seven-Seven, Four-Seven Minutes East."
"TIMELLA, I copy loud and clear: One Eight Degrees, Thirty-Six Minutes South. One-Seven-Seven Degrees, Forty-Seven Minutes East. I will plot your position. Standby one."
It takes a minute for our navigation electronics to turn on, and then I plot their position on the chartplotter. The position puts them right on top of a small, submerged reef about 12 miles ESE of our position inside the lagoon of Vatulele Island, about 50 nautical miles from Suva, the capital of Fiji. The reef's name is Takau Lakaleka.
"TIMELLA. TIMELLA. TIMELLA. OCEALYS"
"OCEALYS, TIMELLA"
"TIMELLA. I have your position. You are approximately 12 miles East of our location. We are two-and-a-half hours from you, best speed. Standby and I will relay your Mayday."
About 3 minutes have gone by since their first call.
"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is the sailing yacht OCEALYS, OCEALYS, OCEALYS. We are relaying a Mayday for the yacht TIMELLA, TIMELLA, TIMELLA. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Does anyone copy? Over."
We repeat the transmission two more times and to my surprise hear no reply.
"TIMELLA. TIMELLA. OCEALYS."
"TIMELLA. Go ahead OCEALYS."
"TIMELLA, I have negative contact on the relay. What is your condition?"
"Standby OCEALYS..." A man's voice comes on with an Australian accent, "OCEALYS, this is Cameron. Yeah mate, we're on the reef. The waves are bashing us pretty hard, but she's a 40-year-old boat and she's built to take a hard landing. She's got 3 keels. We're not taking on any water."
"Yeah, roger that TIMELLA. Have you tried putting out a kedge?"
"Yeah, roger. We've got the anchor out, trying to get her bow-to."
"OK, roger that. What are you requesting at this time?"
"We're going to need to get pulled off this reef. I think she'll hold together, but no way we're getting off on our own."
"Roger that. Understood. I don't know if we'll be able to pull you off. We're trying to get a hold of the authorities. Standby and we'll update you when we have any info. Just hold on for now."
"TIMELLA standing by."
In the meantime, Sophie has been trying to come up with a list of options for help. We have a local cell phone, and surprisingly there's a strong signal here. Sophie finds the number to the single, exclusive resort on the island and makes the call.
There is no credit left on the SIM card.
We try calling them on the IRIDIUM phone, but there is no answer. Sophie finds that local emergency is 911, and she figures that the phone will work, even without credits. She's right, and she gets through to an operator. She explains the situation a couple of times. The operator is clearly not used to this kind of distress call. Sophie gives them our cell number and is told that someone will call us back.
Sophie also decides it would be a good idea to call the local Australian and New Zealand High Commissions and she finds emergency numbers in our Lonely Planet guide (this will turn out to be a critically important decision). I try Australia first on the IRIDIUM, and after lots of rings get a message saying they're closed, but if I know the extension of the party I'm trying to reach... I hang up and try New Zealand. A more detailed message at the end of which I'm relieved to hear, If this is an emergency, please call the Duty Officer on watch at....
I call that number and after 5 or 6 rings a groggy voice answers and I explain that a yacht with a New Zealand citizen aboard is in trouble and we need help coordinating a rescue. By now the man on the phone is completely alert and says he will set things in motion and call us back.
In the meantime on the VHF radio,
"Vessel calling a relay Mayday. Vessel... Mayday. This is... Cruise Ship...(their transmission is faint and broken)."
"Station calling, this is the Sailing Yacht OCEALYS relaying a Mayday for the yacht TIMELLA. TIMELLA."
"Sailing Yacht, this is the Cruise Ship.... We are... position... Thirty Nautical Miles South... yacht...Over."
"TIMELLA. TIMELLA. TIMELLA. OCEALYS."
Only a short pause and Cameron answers. I feel bad calling him. I imagine he has much more important things to do than talk to me.
"Go ahead OCEALYS."
"TIMELLA, we want to give you an update. We've contacted emergency services in Suva. They are forwarding your request for aid to the Navy. They will call us back with more information. We have contacted the New Zealand High Commisioner's office and they are also contacting the authorities in Suva. We also have VHF contact with a cruise ship 30NM South of you. The High Commission needs your names and nationalities. How are you doing?"
"We're still getting bashed around pretty good..." Cameron's voice is concerned, but calm. "...Hold on, I think we're going over (I can hear a roaring crash). No, we're good. We're still up... hold on, there's a nother big wave... we're going over... (boom in the background)... No. No, we're good. We're still up. She's holding together. We are three persons on board. Two Australian, one Kiwi. I'm Cameron Slagle, Sam-Lima-Alpha-Golf-Lima-Echo. Elizabeth Schoch, Sam-Charley-Hotel-Oscar-Charley-Hotel. Alison Timms, Tango-India-Mike-Mike. Timella is Tango-India-Mike-Echo-Lima-Lima-Alpha."
"Roger that TIMELLA. Standby one, we're getting a call on the phone. Hold on, we'll get you an update."
By now the cellular phone is ringing every few minutes. We cannot place calls, but can receive them.
The police in Suva keep calling for updates from us and to let us know they've alerted the Navy. We keep trying to explain that we are not the boat that is in distress, and that no, we have not arrived at the boat in distress. We cannot safely navigate the reef in the lagoon where we are in the dark, and we cannot safely render aid to TIMELLA at their location. Ok.Ok Mr. Maurice. We understand. I will call you back...
Sophie tries calling several resorts at a larger neighboring island, Beqa, on the IRIDIUM phone, but no one answers.
Mike RANDALL, at the NZ High Commission in Suva calls back and says he is in contact with Fiji Search and Rescue and also with SAR in New Zealand.
Moments later we get a call from Neville at the Something Something Search and Rescue Coordination Centre in New Zealand (it's hard to hear details on these calls, and frequently the VHF is going at the same time and we're trying to follow both closely.)
Neville is aware of all the details that we have- the exact location of TIMELLA, time of the first Mayday call, actuation and location of their EPIRB beacon, our location and the name of the island where we are, and he asks for a few more details.
I relay the request to TIMELLA via VHF, and Neville can hear their responses directly over the phone. He tells me he will coordinate with the Rescue Team in Suva and will keep us posted. Then another round of calls from the Police in Suva and now the Fijian Navy as well.
At about 0200 Cameron comes on the VHF and sounds stressed for the first time,
"OCEALYS. OCEALYS. TIMELLA."
"Go ahead TIMELLA."
"Yeah, OCEALYS. We're starting to take on water here. We're starting the pumps. We'll see if we can keep up with it."
"Roger that TIMELLA. SAR in Suva are mobilizing. We do not have an ETA for you at this time."
"Roger that."
About 0215
"OCEALYS. OCEALYS. TIMELLA"
"Go ahead TIMELLA"
"Ah mate, we're not keeping up with the water. The hole's under the engine, and it's not accessible. There is no way she's going to be able to hold on. We are definitely sinking mate. We're going to keep pumping as best we can but the batteries are going to be underwater soon."
"I copy that. What are you requesting Cameron? We are 2.5 hours away at least and I'm not sure what I can do when we get there."
"No mate, we are requesting an airlift. That's the only way we're getting out of here. Don't put yourself at risk. We're clear onto the reef at this point. They're not going to be able to get to us by boat. We need an airlift."
"OK. Roger that. We copy you request an airlift. Standby and we'll get back to you as soon as possible."
Neville is back on the line and we tell him that TIMELLA is taking on water and the crew is requesting an airlift. He says that's not going to happen. Fiji has no rescue helicopter, but it's better not to give TIMELLA that information at this time.
Still no ETA from Search and Rescue in Suva, but at least they're making an effort and staying in contact . The Police also keep checking in, although their questions indicate they're definitely not accustomed to dealing with maritime emergencies.
About 0245
"OCEALYS, TIMELLA"
"Go ahead"
"We are sinking. The batteries will be underwater in a few minutes. We're going to lose contact. We're getting the dinghy out and putting the liferaft canister in the dinghy. We've got extra fuel, water and we're getting some food ready."
"OK, roger that TIMELLA. Do you have any flares?"
"Yeah, they're floating around here somewhere."
"Do you have a handheld VHF?"
"Ah, negative on that. Negative."
"Roger that. We understand that SAR in Suva is mobilizing, but we still have no ETA. You're going to have to hold on a while longer."
Lot's of back and forth on the radio and on the phone, mainly with Mike Randall in Suva and Neville and Dave in New Zealand for the next 15-20 minutes. The guys in New Zealand advise us on specific actions that the crew of TIMELLA need to take, including donning life jackets, keeping the EPIRB on, etc. and we relay that information to TIMELLA.
At about 0300 we have our final exchange by radio,
"OCEALYS, TIMELLA."
"Go ahead, TIMELLA."
"We've gone down mate. I've got water half-way to the cabin-top. The batteries are under a meter-and-a-half of water. I don't know how we're still transmitting." Cameron is still calm and rational on the radio.
Sophie and I look at each other and start talking about the real options. Based on her conversations, it's clear that Suva SAR is not launching anything until daylight and they're having trouble finding fuel and crew. They are 50 miles from TIMELLA's position. The wind is blowing 25 to 30 knots (in their favor, against us), and the seas are rough and confused. I estimate it will take them 5 hours to reach TIMELLA if and when they depart. New Zealand SAR is on the phone and they're telling us they have no response on the Mayday they've sent via HF/SSB radio, they no longer have a fix on the EPIRB. The cruise ship from before has gotten back to us and we now understand their position is in fact 130NM miles to the South, putting them well out of range. We decide we have to go to TIMELLA. We believe we are their only viable option.
"...We're getting into the dinghy and will stay with the boat as long as we can. I don't expect the batteries to hold out much longer"
"Roger that TIMELLA. We still have no ETA from SAR in Suva. We are coming to you. We will weigh anchor now. I estimate ETA to your position two and one-half hours. We will stand off the reef and wait for daylight. We may not be able to help, but at least we will be there. Just hold on to the boat."
"Roger that OCEALYS. What's your name man?"
"It's Maurice. Maurice."
"Yeah, it's Cameron here. Good to meet you. We love you man. I definitely owe you a beer or two when this is all over."
"Roger that Cameron."
A few minutes later we call to check in again as we get ready weigh anchor,
"TIMELLA, OCEALYS"
No response.
"TIMELLA. TIMELLA. TIMELLA. This is OCEALYS, do you copy?"
No response.
"Nothing heard. This is OCEALYS standing by on channel one-six."
At 0300 we got underway. Sophie made one last call to Mike Randall at the NZ High Commission and told him that we had made the decision to go out to TIMELLA. That way someone would know we were out there too in case we got into trouble. Mike went silent for a moment and then repeated we should be careful and not take any risks. Sophie told him we had two small children on board and did not intend to take any risk that would substantially put their lives at risk. Sophie thanked him for all of his support.
Luckily the anchor came up without snagging on one of the coral heads under the boat and we started making our way out of the reef. The pass into the lagoon was windy and poorly defined with shallows and coral heads scattered about. In the dark, the only way to get out was to follow the track we had made on the way in on the GPS. You figure if you didn't hit anything then, you won't hit anything now. It took almost half an hour to get out since we were going slow and it was more difficult to keep the boat right on track than I though it would be. Sophie was on the bow, keeping a look out and trying not to get launched as we started to pitch aggressively. She could only see a few feet in front of the boat, but might have been able to warn me in time to stop the boat and back up before damaging a prop or rudder.
On the phone, Sophie and NZ SAR agree that they will call us every 20 minutes for updates. NZ SAR also confirms that at this point, we are TIMELLA's only chance.
It was a 2-hour motor into the wind and waves to TIMELLA's position. We fired two parachute flares on the way to let TIMELLA know we were coming.
We arrived at Takau Lakaleka reef just as the sun was coming up ahead of us at 0530. Sophie spotted the reef first, and it was less than 300 meters away. The sea was rough and the breakers on the reef hidden behind the ocean swells. We did a full, slow turn around the 1/2 mile circular reef but saw nothing. No wreck of TIMELLA, no dinghy, no liferaft, no flotsam, no oil slick. Suddenly both Sophie and I came to the grim realization that this might not end in the straightforward fashion we had both been imagining: Get to the reef, see TIMELLA's crew, they take their dinghy out to us, and we bring them aboard.
At the end of the first lap, Sophie spots a plastic jerry can floating in the water. Dave at NZ SAR calls and we give him a progress update. I tell him we're going to draw up a vector on this piece of flotsam and follow it down wind, but maybe I'll take another lap first. Just in case. That's a good idea, says Dave. The reef is small and we're only 50-100 meters from the edge of the big breakers. I'm certain I would be able to see a person floating in the middle of the reef, let alone a liferaft or shipwreck. I've underestimated the size of the breakers sweeping over and reflecting around the reef.
One the second, and final lap, I glimpsed something right in the center of the reef. Sophie's got the binoculars and focuses on the spot but sees nothing. I take the binoculars and nothing. I'm certain I saw them though. Three little black dots poking out of the water. It takes thirty seconds of staring right at the spot before they pop up over two waves, then they're gone again. But they were definitely there. I shake my head and look at Sophie. They're in the water. I don't see a liferaft or the dingy. They were just bobbing there waving their arms, meaning they'd seen us. The only option was to go into the reef with the dinghy, pick up the crew, and bring them back out to OCEALYS. Sophie is worried about the risk, but I'm comfortable I can get in and out safely with the dinghy and I know that this is their only chance.
I get ready to go and I'm thinking that I need to be self sufficient. If something goes wrong, I can't become a liability. I don a drysuit, a harness, duct tape a strobe light and VHF radio to it, stuff a couple of rocket flares in a pocket and throw a bunch more in a dry bag in the dinghy with fins and a mask. There is less fuel in the dinghy's tank than I'd like, but it's too rough to refuel.
It's very difficult to get the dinghy in the water when it's rough. Sophie and I have to work together to drop it in freefall from it's davits and get it clear of the boat's stern. Once in the dinghy I have to set it loose immediately before I try to start the Honda outboard. It starts on the first pull. By then I'm already 100 meters away from the boat. I radio Sophie and let her know that the dinghy is good. The seas are no problem at all. I feel very good and I'm going in. I take the dinghy onto the reef through a spot that doesn't have any big breakers. It looks shallow, maybe 4 feet, and the wave action is very confused, but the outboard's prop never touches. Only once I'm well inside the reef do I spot the crew of TIMELLA again, about 50 meters away. All three are in the water with life jackets, clinging to a deflated and partially sunken dinghy. I can see the wreck of TIMELLA as a dark shadow just behind them. As I arrive, the three of them are alert and responsive. Cameron grabs a hold of the dinghy and pulls Ali to me and I pull her right into the dinghy. Liz is next, but we've drifted a few feet away from the sunken dinghy she's holding on to so Cameron swims to her and brings her to me and we get her aboard. At his turn. Cameron looks at me and says, I'm just warning you, I'm a pretty big guy. He is a very big guy, but he pops right into the dinghy like a sea lion. From the time I arrived on scene, to when the three of them are lying on the floor of the dinghy, no more than 90 seconds have gone by. A line from some movie I saw once popped into my head and so to ease the tension a bit I say, Good morning ladies and gentleman. My name is Maurice and I'll be rescuing you today.
In the meantime Sophie has been holding the boat in a stationary pattern as close to the reef as is safe. It's very difficult to do because there is a strong current swirling around the reef (it's even noted on the charts) and with so much wind, the boat wants to do 5 knots, even with no sails up. I come up to her and over the radio (it's too windy to yell, even only 10 feet apart) we coordinate the approach of the dinghy. It's a particularly dangerous stage because a wave could slam us against OCEALYS and throw someone in the water, or worse, crush them between the two boats. Sophie found a perfect heading that resulted in a nice calm area between OCEALYS' sterns and we were able to unload with little incident, although Cameron almost got a leg caught between the two boats, pulling it up just in time to avoid a serious injury.
Once everyone was on board and the dinghy was secured, we headed for the coast of Viti Levu. Ali was suffering from moderate hypothermia. She was coherent, but exhausted and was no longer shivering (a bad sign). Sophie stripped Ali and Liz of their wet clothes and put them under a hot shower. She got Ali into dry clothes and into a sleeping bag as quickly as possible. Ali requested some coffee but was given decaffeinated tea instead. She had apparently been seriously seasick for the previous 24 hours. Cameron had suffered second-degree burns to his face and arms after trying to repair his engine during the day before striking the reef. The three of them had also suffered cuts and bruises on their feet and legs from coming into contact with the reef. Cameron was alert, calm and in relatively good spirits. Liz was in a similar condition. The three of them drank, ate and rested while we navigated for 4 hours in 25-30 knot winds to Likuri Harbor. We offloaded them a short time later at Robinson Crusoe Island Resort, where owner Captain Paul, after being contacted by Mike Randall (ahead of our arrival), had graciously offered to clothe, feed and house them until they could get their bearings and make their ways home. After sorting OCEALYS out, we went ashore and gave Cameron an opportunity to buy us that beer he had promised and we toasted to Life.
Notes:
We were the only vessel that heard TIMELLA's mayday on VHF channel 16.
We usually turn off our VHF at night due to the unfortunate social hailing made by other cruising boats on channel 16. There were no other boats at Vatulele Island. The radio was silent and thus I forgot to turn it off.
The actions of the New Zealand High Comission in Suva, Mike Randall in particular, and the New Zealand Search and Rescue Coordination Centre in Wellington were instrumental in the success of this rescue. Their professionalism, effectiveness, ability to coordinate communications, and situational awareness were impressive. Having regular contact with them over SAT and cell phone permitted us to make a series of rational, well thought-out decisions based on good information which minimized risk and maximized the probability of a successful rescue.
The local authorities in Suva, both the Police and the Navy, clearly made the best possible effort they could. They were crippled though by lack of resources. The SAR team was literally scrambling to find fuel and crew for their boats.
Links to some media coverage including news video:
http://www.3news.co.nz/Video/CampbellLive/tabid/367/articleID/75954/Default.aspx#video
http://news.ninemsn.com.au/article.aspx?id=646676
http://www.fijitimes.com/story.aspx?id=103423
http://www.stuff.co.nz/4728317a6011.html?source=RSSsouthlandtimes/headlines_20081015
http://www.fijilive.com/news_new/index.php/news/show_news/9715
