Fatal Storm (21 page)

“We were calling mayday, mayday on our VHF radio from the moment it was realised that Glyn was overboard,” said Kothe. “We had no HF radio because it had been under water. The GPS was still functioning. We knew our position quite accurately. The condition of the boat was another major concern. We knew we were taking water but we didn’t know where from. The old ‘frightened men with buckets’ approach was our quickest route to staying afloat. Actually, we could only find one bucket so one guy was using a drawer as a bailer.”

The ring frames that brought structural integrity to the hull, plus the bulkheads, were now little more than splintered pieces of carbon fibre and the composite structure forming the shell of the hull had suffered substantial delamination. The first priority was to bolster the hull and the deck to ensure they didn’t
separate or collapse further. The spare spinnaker pole was cut up and buttressed between the floor and the deck to stop the deck collapsing into the boat and braces and other forms of support were hammered into place in the most vulnerable areas of the hull in a bid to build strength.

The mast had wrapped itself around the hull and appeared to be broken in at least five places. There were sheets and lines everywhere – tangled around the hull and drifting in the water. Even if they had been able to start the engine, lines and rigging would have immediately fouled the propeller. The jagged and buckled section had to be jettisoned. The already waterlogged yacht could be submerged at any moment. Help was probably hours, possibly even half a day away. Flares were fired in a desperate bid to attract attention from any yacht, any vessel, that might be in close proximity.

The big bolt cutters carried on board to sever rigging in such a situation were frustratingly difficult to operate in the sodden and slippery conditions. Hacksaws seemed more effective. There was a constant call for new and sharper blades so rigging and the mast section could be cut. While some crewmembers, all wearing life jackets and safety harnesses, sliced away at the mast and rigging, others turned to bilge pumps that could be operated from deck. Tired arms found new energy and pumped and pumped. Around an hour after the disaster a blur blasted out of the horrible grey murk and rocketed overhead. It was a search and rescue aircraft – attracted by either the constant signal sent out by the EPIRB or the incessant mayday calls on the radio. Suddenly radio contact was established, but simultaneously it became all too obvious that the range of the VHF was extremely limited, possibly only a few kilometres.

Kulmar had plotted the drift of the yacht since Charles
was lost overboard – 3.5 knots at 070 degrees. The location of the roll-over and the fact that a man had been lost overboard at that time was transmitted to the aircraft. The pilot acknowledged the information and the aircraft then disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. The crew was left uncertain as to what would happen next, but they hoped to hear and then see a rescue helicopter before dark. A search for Charles would be initiated. Nearly two hours after the roll a crewmember saw something. He squinted, sheltered his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He looked harder through the spray and spume and driving rain. Yes, it was another yacht, around 150 metres away.

“Get the flares, get the flares!” was the frantic call. The first package was torn open and the flare fired – upwind as required for the best effect. It rocketed off overhead and to leeward at somewhere near 80 knots. The yacht the crew could now clearly see continued on its course. The second red flare was fired, then the third, fourth and fifth. No reaction. For five minutes the battered crew watched in vain as the yacht, sometimes in full view and at other times hidden by the mountainous swells, continued under storm sails on a course to the south. The
Sword of Orion
crew could only surmise that either their flares went unseen or that the yacht was, like themselves, very much in survival mode. They hoped if the yacht did see them but couldn’t assist it would relay
Sword of Orion
’s position by radio to search and rescue authorities.

This incident; the loss of a crewmate; the likelihood of rescue; the constant threat of being overwhelmed by another rogue wave; plus the approach of darkness was creating emotional overload for everyone on board. Kothe was lying in his bunk and knew the excruciating pain coming from his knee meant that it was broken or at least
very badly twisted. A crude splint had been attached using blue webbing sail ties but it was offering minimal relief. He called an emergency bunk-side crew meeting to both organise their plan of action and bolster their flagging spirits. They had to keep bailing but they were all exhausted and desperately needed nourishment to maintain their energy levels. The stove was ignited and, with all cooking utensils and most provisions lost overboard, water was boiled in an empty can so at least coffee could be made. There was a search for either of the two medical kits. One had been lost but the second was found under the engine box cover in the engine compartment. How it got there was anyone’s guess.

Through sheer guts, skill and determination the yacht was stabilised, and an anxious wait began. Only two crewmembers remained on deck, the others went to rest and continue bailing when necessary. Those lying down were strapped into their bunks to prevent further injury. The approach of darkness was far from welcome, and it cloaked the predatory seas in a terrifying shroud; a thunderous roar was the only indication of the maelstrom surrounding the stricken yacht.

Having made the difficult decision that it was far too dangerous to execute a night rescue of the crew of the badly damaged 41-footer
B-52
, the crew of the Navy Sea King helicopter,
Shark 05
, turned their attentions to
Sword of Orion.
They were aware that the yacht had lost a man overboard and was in danger of sinking.
Shark 05
was set on a course to the south and a position that would see it about 100 miles from Merimbula. The crew, assessing weather conditions and endurance at all times, knew they would have to fly through some very rough stuff before they returned to shore. The big grey bird
lumbered through the stormy night sky at around 200 feet, crabbing at up to 35 degrees at times to counter the leeway being generated by the fierce westerly winds.

The savaged sloop was located with relative ease and communications established immediately. The first unpleasant task was to confirm that a man had indeed been lost overboard. His name was relayed to “Wacka” Payne who in turn communicated details back to AusSAR. It was then 10.45pm and the chopper’s fuel supply was running low. They had been flying for three hours and would be travelling through totally unpredictable conditions on the 100-mile return passage. Once they had determined
Sword of Orion
had been stabilised and was out of immediate danger, the decision was made not to execute a rescue but return to Merimbula and see
Shark 20
assigned.

The decision to turn for home was justified a few minutes later when the weather turned particularly nasty, but
Shark 05
powered on and was soon away from the clutches of the worst of the cyclone. The lights of Merimbula appeared on the horizon. When it landed there was between five and 10 minutes of fuel remaining in the tanks.

Even though he had 7500 hours on his helicopter flight card, Lieutenant Commander Tanzi Lea, pilot of the Navy Sea King
Shark 20
, had never experienced flying conditions quite like those he encountered that night over Bass Strait.

“When we launched out of Merimbula the weather was OK,” Lea recalls. “Minutes later we were in it. We hit a turbulent wind shear section which was the start of the bad weather feature. We went from seeing the stars one minute to a cloud base of about 400 or 500 feet. The sea was getting very angry and building the further we went
in. We weren’t seeing much because it was pouring with rain as well. We were deployed to the position of
Sword of Orion
– a position that saw horrible weather. The tops of the seas were being ripped off by the winds so there was white water all around. Luckily we had some brave guys in a light fixed-wing up there somewhere and they were able to relay any messages for us. I thought they were marvellous. With visibility so poor and nothing on radar we decided to set a search pattern – an expanding spiral search just to keep it simple. The distance between the spirals could only be as far as you could see with the searchlight on. In fact you have to overlap. If you can only see 400 yards then the distance between the spiral is probably 600 yards so you have that bit of an overlap towards the outer edge.

“And you can’t go too fast because you want to be able to see things in the water. We were flying at 60 knots air speed which meant sometimes I was probably getting 10 knots ground speed upwind, so I just sped up a little bit, then as soon as I would turn downwind I’d have to pull back. There was one humorous bit during the search. We kept coming across the same yacht while we spiralled. They saw us so often they finished up asking us if
we
were OK. We turned and within five or 10 minutes we spotted some lights. It was
Sword of Orion.
They’d drifted about 10 to 12 miles from their previous position. It turned out they could hear us all the time on Channel 16 but we couldn’t hear them.”

The yacht appeared to be wallowing and Lea could see no one on deck. The condition of the yacht left Lea and his helicopter crew in no doubt that the sailors would require immediate evacuation. He didn’t know a lot about ocean racing yachts, but he knew this one was definitely in danger of sinking. The
Shark 20
crew had to contend with the wind, rainsqualls that could obliterate visibility in an
instant, massively powerful and unpredictable seas, and a target that just wouldn’t stay still. Also, salt spray and spume that was being whipped into the air from the peaks of the waves was lashing their machine – two things that helicopter jet engines definitely don’t like.

Lea flew upwind from the yacht and threw out a smoke flare. But that drifted away fairly quickly. They then tried passing a line – a Hi-line – down. The Hi-line carries a weak link that is designed specifically to break should it become entangled on an object during a rescue. The link means that the helicopter will not be permanently attached to a target should the helicopter have to pull away in an emergency. The 90-foot Hi-line that was passed from
Shark 20
to
Sword of Orion
parted due to overload within a couple of minutes of being retrieved by the yacht crew.

They then decided to pass another 200-foot Hi-line minus the weak link down to the yacht on the understanding it would not be attached but simply held by hand. When the crewmember had hold of the line it would be hooked to the winch hook, then the strop and cable could be pulled down from the helicopter, and the crewmember would be pulled to safety.

Once the rescue plan was established and the Hi-line was lowered, Darren Senogles jumped in the water and started to pull down the harness from the chopper. The helicopter was then downwind, towards the back of the boat on the port quarter. Sure enough, the boat began drifting away and the harness landed about 20 metres from Senogles. The line then became unclipped from the harness.

“I guess I was down about a metre when I decided the best thing to do was unclip from the weight,” recalls
Senogles. “I was straight up and down in the water and the life jacket by that stage had gone up around my ears. I then tried to get myself to relax. That actually made the life jacket more buoyant and it allowed me to put an arm in the air so they could see me even better. The searchlight they had on me hardly ever lost me, even in those seas.

“I can remember seeing an orange light in the water and I thought it was another boat because I knew there was a ship close. What it actually turned out to be was they’d dropped a flare in the water to act as a guide for the pilot. He would look at that while the guys in the back of the helicopter tried to get the rope or sling to the target. It was a bit like standing in the middle of a highway and having a Mack truck screaming head on to you and then at the last minute just veering away and dropping a rope.”

Senogles managed to secure the harness and was lifted some 10 metres out of the water but was then dropped back into the drink. On the way up he had been hammered by an enormous wave. The retrieval rate on the helicopter winch – 500 feet per minute – would not have been fast enough for them to get him over the wave and into clear air for the lift. The helicopter crew, always alert for approaching waves, saw this one approach and feared the mass of white water on its crest would have possibly injured Senogles. Quick thinking saw him dunked back into the water and pulled through the bulk of the wave before being lifted out.

Once in the helicopter Senogles was given a headset so he could talk with Tanzi Lea and eventually rescue coordinators at AMSA in Canberra. They needed to know about Glyn Charles, the condition of the yacht and who on board was injured.

Despite the appalling conditions, the first two recoveries went almost according to the book. The third man to be rescued was Steve Kulmar. He had injured his shoulder and was severely weakened and it was unlikely he would make it up unassisted. He tried in vain by himself but when it became clear his injuries were making this impossible, Crewman Dixie Lee went down to Kulmar without a moment’s hesitation.

“When I swam out to this ring I found it was hard to get into the actual harness because of the life jacket I had on,” recalls Kulmar. “They are those bulky old fashioned form of life jackets, bloody useless. The first time I tried to get into the ring I had one arm through when I think he thought I was waving to him that I was ready to be pulled up. I got about five feet out of the water and I dropped out of it. I’d then lost the rope as well. So I had to swim around in this terrible ocean for about 10 minutes while they tried to get the rope back to me and keep a spotlight on me. He lost me out of the spotlight once, which wasn’t a good feeling. The boat by this time was maybe 200 metres away. So I was absolutely at the mercy of the helicopter.