timella rescue

While cruising the South Pacific aboard their Catana 471 cat Océalys, former Bay Area sailors Maurice and Sophie Conti usually shut off their VHF at night when anchored. But since there was virtually no radio chatter in their vicinity on the night of October 12, they forgot to do so. That fact may well have meant the difference between life and

death for two Australians and a New Zealander who became shipwrecked on a Fijian reef.

As Maurice wrote shortly after the incident, "At 11:45 p.m. October 13, we were woken by something that every mariner fears: 'Mayday, mayday, mayday!'" It was the voice of a female crew member aboard the 32-ft Australian ketch Timella, which had run up on Takau Lakaleka Reef, roughly 50 miles southwest of Fiji's capital, Suva. The Contis recognized the stranded boat's name because they'd crossed paths with her a week earlier at Suva, and previously at Niue.

Even though the reeffringed lagoon where Océalys was anchored is adjacent to the populated island of Vatulele, it soon became apparent that the Contis were the only ones listening to the call for help. "Yeah mate, we're on the reef," explained Timella's captain, Cameron Slagle. "The

The right man for the job: Trained as a rescue diver, Maurice thoroughly outfitted himself before attempting to cross the reef.

waves are bashing us pretty hard, but request for assistance to the local police she's a 40-year-old boat and she's built as well as the Fijian Navy, and promised to take a hard landing." At that point, a call back. Sophie next found numbers Slagle and his shipmates, fellow Aus- in her Lonely Planet guidebook for the sie Liz Schoch and New Zealander Ali local High Commission offices of both Timms, were still relatively calm, despite Australia and New Zealand. Both were the fact that 35 knot-winds and powerful closed, of course, but a recording's referbreakers were lashing Timella merci- ence to an emergency number resulted lessly. It had been blowing hard for in contact with an initially groggy Kiwi, three days. Mike Randall, who quickly became alert The threesome had departed Suva when he learned that one of his countrythat morning for men was in peril.

Kadavu Island, but when their engine quit they realized they "There is no way she's going to be able to hold Anxious minutes turned into couldn't fetch Kadavu under on. We are definitely hours as the police and Navy attempted sail alone, so they decided sinking, mate." to mount a rescue effort. At some point to run with the a broken transmisprevailing wind and current to Veti sion from a cruise ship was also heard,

Levu instead. Unfortunately, an omi- reporting that she was 30 miles to the nous pinnacle reef lay in their path. south. The Contis' cool-headed approach Luckily the 'minuteless' cell phone to the emergency is truly commend- allowed incoming calls. Fijian authoriable. After Maurice got Timella's ex- ties checked in frequently but gave no act lat/long position, about 12 miles solid updates on their efforts to mobilize. to the east of Océalys, he continually attempted to reach other mariners by relaying the mayday. Meanwhile, Sophie started digging out phone numbers of local resources, while the Conti kids, SOPHIE CONTI Randall, at the New Zealand High Commission in Suva eventually called back to inform the Contis that the New Zealand THE ISLANDS OF Massimo, 6, and Annabelle, 4, slept FIJI below. She first tried to call the sole resort on the nearby island with her local Fijian cell phone, but realized Yasawa Vanua Levu it had run out of prepaid minutes. She then called with her satphone. Islands Taveuni No answer. Next she dialed the local emergency number, 911 — even a 'minuteless' phone can get through to 911. But the operator was obviously unaccustomed to responding to marine emergencies. Nevertheless, she vowed to forward the Mamanuca Islands • Nadi Viti Levu • Suva KORO SEA Search and Rescue Coordination Centre was also on the case. Then came another round of calls from the Fijian police and Navy. But still no ETA. At about 2 a.m. the stranded captain of Timella called again by

Vatulele Beqa

Kadavu Totoya Matuku

VHF, this time sounding noticeably "stressed" for the first time. His 32-footer was taking on water.

Fifteen minutes later he hailed Océalys again.

Maurice recalls the transmission vividly: "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," Maurice replied. "What are you requesting Cameron? We are two and a-half hours away at least and PAUL McCULLOCH

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 on to the reef at this point. They're not going to be able to get to us by boat. We need an airlift." "Okay. Roger that. We copy you, request an airlift. Standby and we'll get back to you as soon as possible." A staffer from New Zealand SAR was soon back on the line, but his reaction to the airlift request was not what Maurice and Sophie were hoping to hear: Fiji currently has Lau Group no working rescue helicopter. When Timella called again a half hour later there was still no ETA from Search and Rescue in Suva, although they were obviously doing their best to put a plan into action. This time, the Aussie skipper's message was dire: "We are sinking. The batteries will be under water in a few minutes. We're going to lose contact.

We're getting the dinghy out and putting the life raft canister in the dinghy. We've got extra fuel, water and we're getting

After freshening up and a few rejuvenating beers, the survivors struck a pose with their rescuers on Robinson Crusoe Island. Left to right are: Ali Timms, Liz Schoch, Maurice Conti, Cameron Slagle and Sophie Conti.

the options. It was clear to them that Suva SAR was not going to launch a rescue effort before dawn, and they were apparently having trouble finding fuel and crew. Maurice estimated it would some food ready." take a Fijian team five hours to reach the "Okay, roger that Timella," said Mau- mayday location, and New Zealand SAR rice. "Do you have any flares?" had had no luck locating other maritime "Yeah, they're floating around here resources in the area. Meanwhile the somewhere." cruise ship that called earlier clarified "Do you have a handheld VHF?" that they were actually 130 miles away, "Ah, negative on that. Negative." and therefore no help. Despite the obvi"Roger that. We understand that SAR ous danger of exiting the lagoon in the in Suva is mobilizing, but we still have dark, Maurice and Sophie decided they no ETA. You're going to have to hold on had to go to Timella's aid, as they were a while longer." the shipwrecked crew's best — and per-

During the next 20 minutes more calls haps only — chance of survival. came in from both the High Commission The stoic Aussie skipper reported, in Suva and New Zealand SAR, with "We're getting into the dinghy and will the latter advis- stay with the boat ing specific actions as long as we can. that the crew of Ti- "We love you man. I don't expect the mella should take, including putting I definitely owe you batteries to hold out much longer." on life jackets and keeping their a beer or two "Roger that, Timella," Maurice reEPIRB switched when this is all over." plied. "We are comon. ing to you. We will

At about 3 a.m. weigh anchor now. the Contis got a final call from the strick- I estimate ETA to your position two and en skipper: "We've gone down, mate. I've a-half hours. We will stand off the reef got water halfway to the cabin top. The and wait for daylight. We may not be able batteries are under a meter and a-half to help, but at least we will be there. Just of water. I don't know how we're still hold on to the boat." transmitting." He was still remarkably "We love you man. I definitely owe you calm and rational. a beer or two when this is all over."

Maurice and Sophie somberly weighed Pounding to weather in 25 to 30 knots

of wind was not going to be a picnic. But Océalys first had to navigate across the lagoon in the dark and thread her way out through the tricky reeffringed entrance channel.

Maurice later wrote: "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." Doing this may sound simple enough, but having done something similar once ourselves over a coralstrewn bottom, we can assure you, it's a utterly nerve-wracking experience.

Although visibility was minimal, Sophie kept watch on the bow as they crept through the pass, trying not to get launched overboard by the incoming swells.

During the slow slog to windward, Sophie spoke again to New Zealand SAR personnel, who confided that the Contis were, in fact, Timella's only chance.

Océalys arrived outside the Takau Lakaleka reef at 5:30 a.m., just as the sun was rising. The would-be rescuers slowly drove around the circular, halfmile-long reef, but saw no sign of life or wreckage beyond the roaring breakers. "Suddenly both Sophie and I came to the grim realization that this might not end in the straightforward fashion we had both been imagining." They decided to make a second lap around the reef, passing as close as they dared to the booming collision of water and coral. After a lot of fruitless searching Maurice glimpsed three black dots in the center of the reef, but they quickly disappeared. As he stared intently at the spot through binoculars, the dots finally reappeared. "They're in the water," Maurice exclaimed, "just bobbing there, waving their arms, meaning they've seen us." It was obvious to the couple that the only rescue option was for Maurice to make a dash inside with his dinghy and bring them out, despite the obvious risk. Sophie, who is a lifelong sailor from a maritime family, agreed. Having been trained as a rescue diver, Maurice wisely took every precaution in case he, too, became stranded. After putting on his drysuit and harness, he grabbed a handheld VHF, flares, a strobe light, a mask and fins.

Launching the dinghy in the pitching seas wasn't easy, but they managed it. Their Honda outboard fired up on the first pull and Maurice was off, leaving Sophie behind with the kids to hold the boat in position just outside the 15-foot breakers.

After finding a relatively benign spot to cross the outer reef, Maurice zipped safely over the coral and inside the lagoon where he spotted the wreck of Timella and her haggard crew, hanging on to their partly deflated dink. In less than two minutes he had them aboard. "A line from some movie I saw once popped into my head, and so to ease the tension a bit I said, "Good morning ladies and gentleman. My name is Maurice and I'll be rescuing you today."

Meanwhile, Sophie had found just the right angle to hold Océalys into the swells, so the weary crew could scramble aboard without further injury — not an easy trick for any mariner in such conditions.

Naturally, all three survivors were physically and psychologically exhausted after treading water and bouncing on the reef for hours in the dark. Ali, the thinnest of the three, was suffering from mild hypothermia and had been seriously seasick throughout the ordeal. In addi-

The 'Ocealys' crew in happier times — all dressed up to honor Neptune during their equator crossing last year.

TIPS FROM THE RESCUERS

• Don't rely on help if you get into trouble. Once you leave the North American coast, there may not be anyone babysitting you. • Even if resources exist, you may not be heard. We were the only station that heard Timella's mayday call, and even then by chance since we usually turn the radio off at night. • Abuse of channel 16 by cruisers is resulting in most boats shutting their radios off at night, if not all the time. To reverse this trend, consider the following: Use ch 16 for emergencies and hailing only (no talking, ever). Wait two minutes between hails. No need to hail four times in 60 seconds. If you hail another boat more than twice a day, pick a working channel. • Register your EPIRB. Spend the extra money for a unit with GPS. These two things will make a big difference in SAR's ability to find you. • Do not turn your EPIRB off once you've activated it. Timella turned theirs off and back on and their signal was never re-acquired. • Have a list of relevant phone numbers for your cruising area printed out (preferably laminated) and within reach of your satphone (if you have one). If you're in the South Pacific, you should have the numbers for NZ SAR in Wellington, 011-64-4-5778030 and the USCG in Hawaii, 808-535-3333. • A good tourist guide for the country you're cruising (like the Lonely Planet books) will have contact information for local emergency response, hospitals and consulates. Consulates will have a Duty Officer on watch 24 hours a day who is trained to deal with emergency situations in that country.

• Have an exit strategy for every anchorage. You should be able to make your way out in the middle of the night in bad conditions. • We have found that having all of your navigational data at the helm is critical (chartplotter, depthsounder and radar, if equipped). In an emergency, this information will be mostly useless at the chart table. Without having it at the helm, we would not have been able to pick our way through a winding pass in rough weather until morning, which may have been too late. • When things get tricky, keep a cool head. Make clear decisions early on and stick to them without second-guessing yourself. When things get really bad: Stop. Breathe. Think. Then act. • If you put yourself at risk to help someone else or the boat, think about that risk and do what you can to keep from becoming a liability. • If you're abandoning ship and putting stuff in the water (liferaft, dinghy, supplies, etc.) make sure it's all tied together. Timella's crew put everything into the dinghy, which was then torn apart by the falling rig as Timella sank. Everything that was in the dinghy was cast adrift. • We have been surprised at the amount of cellular coverage in the South Pacific. When you're coastal, it pays to buy a $10-$30 prepaid SIM chip for your cell phone. • A charged, handheld VHF could save your life during the last phase of a rescue. • Stay with the boat. • Never underestimate the sea. You always have to be "on" out here.

AUSTIN McKOWN

tion to bruises and coral cuts, Cameron also had second-degree burns on his face and arms from trying to fix Timella's uncooperative engine during the trip.

While Maurice set a course for the Robinson Crusoe Island Resort, which lies off the coast of Veti Levu, Sophie got Ali and Liz into hot showers, then into dry clothes and sleeping bags as quickly as possible.

Four hours later they arrived at the island resort, where owner Paul McCulloch, a native Australian, generously offered to feed, clothe and house them until they were ready to make their way home.

It was a harrowing night that none of these sailors will soon forget. In fact, we wouldn't be surprised if they all remain friends for years to come. As Maurice explained, "After sorting Océalys out, we went ashore and gave Cameron an opportunity to buy us that beer he had promised, and we toasted to life!"

Sadly, however, Timella was unsalvagable and was not insured. She had served as Cameron Slagle's home for the past 8 years. He basically lost everything — but his life.

The New Zealand High Commission has recommended Maurice and Sophie for heroism awards. But with or without fancy medals, they are surely heroes. — latitude/andy

OCEALYS

'Ocealys', seen here tucked into a cozy spot in the Tuamotus. The multihull's inherent stability was a big plus during the rescue.

Readers — Portions of this article were excerpted from Maurice's complete account of the incident, which can be found at www.ocealys.blogspot.com.