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ALONE & LOST ON THE WRONG SIDE OF AN ISLAND
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March 1, 2005. These two items, showing the plight of a local sailor who got lost, and the anxiety of his wife back on the boat, appeared in the Spring 2003 edition of "Shorelines," published by the Canadian Coast Guard Pacific Region. Michael and Mary Sue live in Vancouver, but I met them in Tofino in 1999, and we have crossed paths several times since then. In 2004 Michael and I had breakfast one morning during the Vancouver Boat Show. He told me that two years earlier, he had come close to dying on the hostile shore of Calvert Island, north of Cape Caution. His verbal recounting of the experience was much more passionate than the written accounts below, as he recalled the feelings of desperation at being caught without food or water on an empty and unwelcoming shore. His eyes filled with tears when he told me how his rescuers had cared for him, and how every boat along the coast had turned out to help find him. With that as background, read on. -- Bob Hale.
A Rescue: Michael's Story
By Michael Spearing
My wife Mary Sue and I have been boating for decades, so we have developed a healthy respect for coastal waters. It was a shock, then, when I found myself in trouble on the sea.
It started as most incidents do, quite casually. Mary Sue decided to kayak around Penrose Island. My plan was to take the inflatable to try some fishing. I fished for a while off Penrose, then at 1:30 p.m. I crossed the mouth of Rivers Inlet to "the Wall," a spot known for harboring pink salmon. As always I had a full tank of gas.
We decided some years ago that if one of us was not in direct communication with the other by the start of the second tide change, we would assume that the other person needed help.
It took about a half-hour to make the trip to the Wall. Afternoon winds, as expected, were increasing and the seas had built up as a result. Our hard bottom dinghy is issentially a cork in these conditions. I carried a map and a GPS borrowed for this trip, and I had programmed our mooring site as a reference. I did not look at the GPS as I left the Wall to return to our boat. I was just going back across the mouth of the very inlet I had crossed a few hours earlier.
I set out concentrating on crossing the waves and maintaining a "just planing" speed. From my low vantage point in the dinghy, the inlet seemed to be one continuous coastline. On the chart, it seems incredible that anyone could confuse a passage across Rivers Inlet with Fitz Hugh Sound. But that is what I did. Without realizing it, I headed not across Rivers Inlet, but across Fitz Hugh Sound, for a point on Calvert Island.
I checked the GPS, but not having my reading glasses with me, I could not read the information clearly. I talked myself into thinking that lacking glasses, I was misreading the data, as it simply did not/could not make sense.
By this time my fuel supply was a concern. I forced myself to stop the boat and really study the GPS data. After zooming out the map data, the word "Calvert" on my right side crystallized the situation with non-negotiable force. I took a Man Overboard position on the GPS, then tried without success to reach Mary Sue by VHF. I did not know that the radio's rechargable battery supply was almost exhausted. I had not checked it before departing the boat.
Since I had been going the wrong way, I turned the dinghy back toward Rivers Inlet. About two miles later the motor ran out of fuel and stopped. I was west of the south tip of Calvert Island, in an area few boats travel. I again tried to call Mary Sue, but got no response. I spotted a lumber barge heading west toward Hakai Pass about five miles from shore, but got no response to my VHF calls. I tried the Coast Guard -- no response. I tried "Pan Pan." No response. "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday." No response. "All stations." No response, no response, no response.
I had to get off the west coast of Calvert Island, out of the tide, current, wind and waves. My priority was to get into a vessel traffic area and into the lee of the island. I rowed for three or four hours after nightfall, but did not see a single boat. Eventually, I reached the foot of Calvert Island. I could go no farther in the darkness, and I could not contact anyone, especially Mary Sue. I drank my only can of soda. The can was defective. It contained only three swallows of flat, tainted liquid.
I pulled the dinghy ashore and crawled up the jagged rock face of the island, too stiff and weak to walk and unable to see more than outlines in the dark. I wedged myself into a crack in the rocks. It was not comfortable and it was not warm, but it was out of the wind and it gave some support for my body. A short time later I heard a bear. Or perhaps it was a vole. Animals sound so similar when you are cast up on an unfriendly shore in the dead of night.
As the tide fell, I was able to crawl off the rocks and onto the beach. I was cold. I needed rest, yet I knew how dangerous sleep would be. Rest but don't sleep. Rest. Don't sleep and let the body temperature drop. This became my mantra.
A strip of daylight broke over the horizon. I launched the dinghy and began rowing for home. Clarke Point appeared in the distance, and at almost the same time I saw the Coast Guard ship Tanu hovering in mid-channel. Maybe they could see me! I wobbled to a standing position and waved my orange floater coast to attract attention.
No response. I rowed with renewed vigor, knowing that rescue was close at hand. I stopped and waved again. No response, but Clarke Point didn't seem so impossibly far anymore. I rowed. It was time to try Tanu again. I stopped, removed my coat, stood up and braced myself as best I could and waved once more.
A short blast from Tanu's horn! Thank God, and I hoped the blast was for me. Suddenly, three fast boats appeared astern of Tanu, and headed my way. As the boats approached, I read "Rivers Inlet Lodge" painted on the sides. A woman called out, "Are you the missing fisherman?"
"I guess I must be," I tried to answer. I was so dehydrated I could hardly talk. "Drink. Water." I gasped.
Tanu's crew picked me up and towed the dinghy to Cape Sutil. The care at the hands of both boats' crews reflected the genuine care and concern the Coast Guard personnel showed throughout this incident. Fortunately, other than dehydration and fatigue, I was none the worse for the experience.
Later, I learned of the tremendous effort from private fishermen, lodge operators in Rivers Inlet, commercial fishermen, ferry boats and the crew of CCGS Cape Sutil, who had searched for me all night long, standing down alongside our boat Desiree only at 5:00 a.m.
It was overwhelming to hear of the effort made by Coast Guard radio operators who kept a line open to Mary Sue on Desiree throughout the night, and to learn that friends had raised anchor to move into the Fury Cove area to give what help they could. The incident could have had far worse results.
The dinghy now carries a full emergency packet, including water and energy bars, flares, matches, light, etc.
In Port Hardy a few days later, a commercial fisherman came alongside Desiree and told us of the widespread participation in the search of the "missing fisherman." He summed it up neatly: "In times of trouble, the whole coast comes together."
Thanks, everyone, for helping me when I was in trouble. And thank you all for the tremendous support you gave Mary Sue as she maintained what must have seemed to be a "widow's watch."
Mary Sue's Story
By Mary Sue Fairbarn
My first thought when Michael failed to return was that it was doubtless a simple case of motor trouble, and with all the resort boats around, he was probably being assisted. We were in Rivers Inlet. He couldn't be lost!
When Michael didn't return, Coast Guard mobilized very quickly. George Ardley, a longtime resident of Rivers Inlet, stopped by our sailboat to get more information about Michael's itinerary and description. George then called each of the resorts with the information.
George and his son Casey began a thorough search of Fish Egg Inlet, Penrose Island and Open Bight. At the same time, Manfred, from Big Spring Lodge, began reporting the results of his search on VHF channel 22A, beginning at Table Island and following the coast as far as his location in Home Bay, at the mouth of Rivers Inlet. From Big Spring Resort, Manfred called his clients who were still fishing. I believe he also set out in one of the smaller boats.
George Ardley stopped by again about 10:00 p.m. to tell me that he and his guests would be up at 5:00 a.m., and back on the water at 6:00 a.m. It was going to be a long night for me, unable to join the search myself since I had to stay put in case Michael returned. It was at this low point that I learned Cape Sutil would be searching all night, and Tanu was scheduled to arrive in the area at dawn. I remained in continuous contact with the Coast Guard in Prince Rupert.
My Coast Guard radio contact did an amazing job of reassuring me but without making any promises, that everyone was doing what they could to locate Michael. The Coast Guard's toughest challenge was keeping me off the radio, but they did it with extreme tact. (I was calling Michael and telling him about the search, just in case he could hear.)
Tanu arrived on the scene at 5:00 a.m., right on schedule, and launched the fast response inflatables. In the meantime, Michael had rowed out to Cape Clarke, and at about 7:15 a.m. he attracted the attention of Tanu's crew by waving his orange floater coat. At the same time, guests from Rivers Lodge, who were heading to Clarke Point, saw Michael. They pulled alongside, gave him something to drink and waited for the Coast Guard to pick him up.
Michael had been rowing most of the night. He was dehydrated and exhausted, so the Tanu crew used their hoist to load their inflatable and Michael on board. The medic warmed him, gave him fluids, and checked him out while another crewmember washed his really dirty clothes.
Thank you seems inadequate, but please know it is a very sincere and heartfelt THANK YOU!
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