Migrant Raft

commonplace to find migrants making treacherous crossings across oceans on small, overloaded, poorly constructed rafts.

The sailing community often discuss their actions if they come across such a raft carrying migrants. This was put to the test when Ryan Ellison crossed the waters from Lanzarote to Antigua in January this year.

Ryan and his partner Sophie Darsy have called Polar Seal, a 2007 Beneteau Oceanic 40, home for over four years. Ryan had an opportunity to sail solo for the first time. He was ready to push his limits and sail familiar waters on his own, face physical and mental challenges, and appreciate solitude. Ryan is no stranger to tough and challenging environments; he’s an ex-fighter jet pilot, marathon runner and mountaineering enthusiast. He’s handled many high-stress situations in the past and gone solo often.

On Monday, January 24th, he set sail towards Antigua on a challenge of a lifetime. Just over 24-hours after departing Marina Rubicon in Lanzarote, Ryan was sailing along the eastern coast of Fuerteventura, ready to face the strong acceleration winds the area is so well known for. A little after 15:00 that day, the winds picked up as expected, and he knew he was in for a rough ride through the night until he reached the lee of Gran Canaria.

Throughout the day, there were various mentions of an adrift migrant raft. Sadly, mentions of such rafts are relatively frequent in this area. Ryan explained, “Sophie and I have discussed what we would do if we came across one of these migrant rafts”. In theory, the best policy is to observe the raft but keep a safe distance. Many rafts can carry over 30 scared people who could easily overwhelm a small sailing vessel and make an already bad situation infinitely worse. “If you get too close, people may swim for your vessel, leading to a dangerous multiple man overboard situation”.

At 5:30pm, Ryan received a call: “Polar Seal, Las Palmas MRCC, could you please proceed to these coordinates and see if

you spot any adrift rafts.” Without so much as a second thought, he redirected his route and headed to the coordinates four miles off his port side. Ryan recalled, “On my way there, I was full of adrenaline, but I really had no idea what I would find nor what I would do if I found it. I also took the opportunity to give Sophie a call on the satellite phone. If she saw my course change on the tracker, I knew she would be concerned, so I thought it prudent to keep her informed.”

Less than 40-minutes later, Ryan spotted a bright orange rescue flag, 60 people and a raft. Without hesitation, he contacted MRCC to confirm the sighting. “I noticed on the chart plotter that the rescue helicopter was already en route. At this point, a flood of emotions poured over me. These poor people were sitting right in the middle of the acceleration zone. What if some of them bail and try to swim to me? How could I help them? What am I doing here?” The helicopter duly arrived, “I was starting to wonder how the operation would unfold. There were no other rescue vessels other than two tankers less than five miles away that ignored repeated radio calls from the MRCC and me. It’s shameful but not unexpected given how Mediterranean governments have treated ships that have picked up migrants in the past.”

Ryan was informed by the helicopter crew that they had to refuel and that a rescue boat was three hours away. They requested that he remain in situ and monitor the situation until the crew could return. Night was beginning to fall, “I had no idea how I would keep tabs on a black raft in the middle of the sea at night. I was alone with a migrant raft on my second solo night.

I believe this is when one would say, ‘things are not going to plan.”

Ryan called clear-headed Sophie, and they discussed his plan of action. He would remain within a safe distance of the raft. Once night came, “I could see a faint glow of a flashlight which would come and go as the swell moved up and down. I’d shine my powerful Maglite in their direction regularly to reassure them that I was still there with them.” He was terrified, not only for the safety of those on the raft but also for himself. His imagination

and senses became heightened, beginning to set in real fear.

Ryan, completely fatigued after having no sleep, saw three more sets of lights emerging from the black of the sea. “I was completely disorientated and thought I was seeing things. Was there more than one raft out there? This terrified me. Keeping track of one raft was proving difficult, now having to potentially monitor four was going to be near impossible. I kept thinking I would lose them or worse still, collide with them.”

Out of nowhere came a huge wave that flooded the cockpit, destroying the radio, cameras and logbook. “I started to cry. I was terrified. I was flooded with so many emotions; how does humanity allow this to happen in the world? Over 21,000 migrants come to the Canaries, many on rafts like this one every year. This event is traumatic for me, but these rescue people do this every day, sometimes two or three times.”

Ryan then received a call from his good friend and mentor, Andy Schell. Andy provided some emotional support that gave Ryan some much-needed inner strength. Although solo, Sophie and Andy were his crew that night, with him every step of the way. Throughout the night, MRCC would provide updates to Sophie and Ryan via radio and satellite phone.

At 9:30pm, the helicopter returned, giving a sense of hope to Ryan and all those on the raft. The helicopter pilot radioed Ryan and explained that he could resume his original course, “the pilot told me that if I had not stayed, most of the people on the raft would have died. It still makes me cry just thinking about it.”

The media reported the following day that the MRCC had rescued 60 people from the raft that Ryan came across and coordinated the rescue of over 300 people in total.

The weather and Ryan’s emotions almost got the better of him. Strong winds pushed him further south, eventually taking him to Cape Verde. “I found warmth in the friendship of the sailing community. I found myself telling the story to people I’d just met. There was no judgement, just lots of support, hugs and tears. I spent the next two weeks in Cape Verde recovering until I was emotionally strong enough to continue to Antigua and to solo finish what I started!”

“This journey started as a path of self-discovery and ended with a story that the world needs to hear. The sea means many things to people. For some, it’s a livelihood; for others, it’s a way of life, a hobby or a passion. But for many others, just like the migrants, it’s full of dangers and high risks. As sailors, we have an unspoken duty to protect those at sea. I could not have sailed past the raft that night. There would be a cold place in hell waiting for me if I did. Emotionally, I also needed that help. The sailing community really stepped up and gave me a helping hand in a foreign country. I love this life and the people that I meet within it”.

Bio: Erin Carey lives aboard her Moody 47 called ROAM, with her husband and three sons. They have cruised throughout the Caribbean, across the Atlantic Ocean and are currently in the Med. Erin runs a PR agency called Roam Generation, working with travel, leisure and luxury brands. It is the only PR agency in the world run from a yacht.