Tuesday, January 2, 2007

Bermuda Story

S/V MAGIQUE




A Story Of A Sail From Saint John New Brunswick To Bermuda

October 31 To November 11, 2006
















By Pat Heeney
“…my bags are packed
I’m ready to go
I’m standing here
Beside the door
Hate to wake you up to say goodbye..
So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you will wait for me
Hold me like you will never let me go…”


I sang this song along with my wife Miriam this morning. We improvise words when we don’t know the true ones and plugged in our own words to make the song more appropriate. We often sang this song over the years as in my working career I spent a fair bit of time traveling the Maritimes and New England States.

My bags are packed with personal items that I would need for three weeks and since Magique is loaded we pack light. Included with my stuff are some items borrowed, from my friend Syd Brittain, a one piece survival suit and his life vest/safety harness, and from my daughter Erin, a warm and comfortable sleeping bag with a faint scent of her for comfort.

I was not “leaving on a jet plane” but “on a sailboat named “Magique”. It was early in the morning, Halloween Day, October 31, 2006. Miriam was ready to go to her work downtown and I was going to The RKYC Yacht Club to help finish final preparations on Magique. We were determined to catch the slack tide at the Reversing Falls at 16:30 that afternoon.

The boat loaded, our crew traversed the falls and tied up at Market Slip, in downtown Saint John, to receive last minute computer downloads from Bill Nugent and a big hug and kiss from Miriam who came down to the slip after work to see us off. Also there, for one last goodbye, was Paula, Brian’s fiancĂ© and Karen, Bob’s partner.

At about 17.15 we set out of the Saint John Harbour, laying a course that would take us through the Grand Manan Channel. By sun-up we would alter course, steer between Grand Manan Island and Machias Seal Island on a heading that would take us directly abeam of the tower in Princetown, Mass. which is situated at the tip of Cape Cod. Our course would then take us thru the Cape Cod Canal into Buzzard’s Bay and on to Newport, Rhode Island, the first stop on our voyage. From Newport we would sail to Bermuda, rest, refuel, top up our water and wait for a weather window to take us due south to our ultimate destination, Tortolla, British Virgin Islands.

Our crew consists of Brian Cullinan, owner and skipper of Magique, Bob Barnes, our 1st mate, a very skilled and experienced ocean sailor having participated in The Newport to Bermuda Sail Race, as well as sailing to the Virgin Islands numerous times. Dave Lyon a retired chief pilot with Air Canada, an experienced sailor and a very skilled navigator and myself, Pat Heeney, an experienced cruising sailor with a few short ocean passages under the keel of our sailboat “Rhiannon”, now lying in Grenada, West Indies. There was a very capable and competent crew aboard Magique.

Brian, as well as the skipper assumed the duties of “head chef” and just off Coleson Cove cooked the first of many delicious meals we would enjoy. I assumed “the chief dishwasher and coffee maker duties” (everyone must pitch in). Our only concern for the time being was the dreaded Lobster Pots once we entered Maine waters in a few hours.

Fed, and cleaned up, we decide since we were motoring, with no sails up and the boat on autopilot with the chart plotter charting our course and location, that we would have one man watches of 3 hours each starting at 9.00 pm. When on watch one’s duties include checking for other moving and not moving objects in the water, lights from other vessels around you, checking your course and position, scanning the radar to see what it can see that you can’t see and struggle to keep awake. My watch this night was midnight to 3am.

At 2.30 am we were purring along. Our boat speed over the ground was consistently above 10 knots due to favorable tide conditions meaning the tide was going with us. The tide would soon change to slack tide for about an hour and we then we would fight the tide for almost 6 hours. Moments later there was a huge banging noise, the boat shook and the engine came to an abrupt stalling halt. In the dark we had ran over the dreaded Lobster Pot, contrary to Bob’s first thought that I steered the boat right into Grand Manan Island!

Floating, in the channel with flashlights we assessed our situation. We could see a line under our boat and the lobster pot float off our stern. It was dark, cold and just hours past Halloween. We had one shitty belated prank pulled on us!

Trying the engine without first seeing how bad the line was wrapped around our prop and shaft could cause more damage than we may already have. Our brave skipper donned his scuba gear for a solo night dive into water just above freezing to assess the damage around 3.30am. To our amazement Brian surfaced with news that nothing was on the prop or shaft, it turned freely and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. With relief we got a cold, shaken Skipper aboard, checked the engine from inside, it started with no problem and we were on our way again.

Puzzled over what had happened, our only conclusion to our Lobster Pot encounter was to surmise that the trip line went under our keel pulling the float under until the float itself jammed between the hull and our prop stalling the engine without the line ever wrapping around anything and the line eventually floating free by itself at slack tide.

The rest of our leg to Cape Cod was uneventful possibly due to the rhumline we took that put us many miles offshore, hopefully well out and away from the Lobster Pots. We were abeam of the Princetown Tower at about 10 am Thursday, hours ahead of our estimated time and were into the Canal early afternoon. All through this time we had a very pleasurable motor if one can ever call motoring pleasurable. The seas were small, the wind was light and the air was very cool.

Brian had outfitted Magique before this adventure with a complete enclosure for the cockpit. Made of Sunbrella and clear plastic to see through, it kept the wind, spray from waves and any showers out of the cockpit. Even without the sun it was warm and quite pleasant. We were a very spoiled crew!

By 21.00 hr we were in Newport Harbour and picked up a mooring. Tomorrow we would refuel, top up the water tanks and get a few supplies and perhaps leave. We ended up spending all day in Newport, enjoyed some rest, a walk to stretch our legs, and nice meal in a local restaurant. In hindsight, perhaps we should have left today!

Early Saturday morning we headed out taking direct aim at Bermuda some 635 nautical miles to the southeast. The wind was light, 10-15 knots, seas about 2-5 feet and the sky clear and sunny. This was the forecast for the seas, wind and weather for the next 5 days.

We raised the mainsail as we left and soon we were flying the cruising spinnaker making about 6kts. It was imperative that we sail part of the way to Bermuda because we did not have the fuel capacity to motor all the way.

Just before dark we snubbed the cruising spinnaker, set the jib and enjoyed the sunset after another delicious meal. I should point out that our “Head Chef – Skipper – Brian” in reality just reheated these delicious meals prepared ahead of time by Paula. Once the frozen prepared meals were all eaten, which would be in about a week, then we would find out exactly how good of a “chief” our skipper really is.

With our sails up we decided to have 2 – men watches each 4 hours in duration, starting around 8.00 pm. Bob and Dave were one watch and Brian and I were the other watch. To help keep the watch keepers alert we had our “Radar Chicken” set to alarm every 10 minutes. The “Radar Chicken” is a wind up egg timer that looks like a chicken and when it alarms one member of the watch would go below and scan the radar for any reflections in our 6 mile radius. There are large freighters hauling cargo to unknown destinations out there and you don’t want to get in their way. When you put your radar cursor on their radar reflection and wait a few minutes you can define the other ship’s course and speed by the separation of the radar reflection from the position of the cursor. This is a whole lot easier and far more accurate than assessing his often weak, obstructed and hard to see running lights in the dark from a distance of 5 miles or more away.

Overnight we made pretty good mileage considering we were mainly sailing but by daylight the wind had really died and we decided to motor. Early morning we obtained our weather information by shortwave radio and “Max-sea” a computer software program for weather information, grid maps and weather maps which you downloaded through Globalstar Satellite Telephone. Our weather forecast was for a great weather window, what you see now is what we should have for the next 4-5 days, except there was a low pressure system over the Carolina’s on the weather map.

Almost all ocean sailors tune into “Herb Hildebrand” the weather guru, who comes on shortwave radio everyday around 3.30 pm. Herb, or “South Bound Two”, as he is called on the radio, has assisted sailors for many years with weather forecasting and weather routing. If you want to obtain a personal weather report or weather route you call South Bound Two ahead of his broadcast, identify your boat by name, give your position in latitude/longitude and what your destination is. Herb will call you on the shortwave radio, answer your questions and help you interpret the weather in your area. Herb has provided this free service now into a second decade and his advice is taken by most sailors as “gospel”.

Magique was approaching the Gulf Stream around the time of Herb’s broadcast on Sunday afternoon in calm seas, light winds and relatively clear sky’s. The forecast from Herb was the same as it had been previously and we just kept on going.

Once you cross the Gulf Stream you enter what some people call the Saragossa Sea. Our guess is that the name comes from the Saragossa sea plants that float and drift on the surface as this is not defined as area on the ocean as most seas are. Never crossing the Gulf Stream at this high of latitude it was a pleasant surprise to find that the sea temperature does not change much from the warm Gulf Stream. This means that the water and air is warm and we do not need all the layers of clothes we had been wearing since the start of our voyage. The full enclosure is taken down and stowed below; we won’t need this again on this trip!

That night, during Bob and Dave’s watch, Magique went through a large field of debris in the water. The radar picked up numerous reflections including large floating objects and they visually could see black cone shaped objects floating abeam of us. This debris field was about 1.5 miles from the time when we entered it until we departed it. Prudedent scanning of the radar is important and our Radar Chicken was now an even more important crew member.

Monday morning brings up a little more wind and cloud cover. The wind helps a lot blowing around 20kts and we are making good speed. We have refueled the boat’s main fuel tank from jerry cans that were lashed to deck. Dave our air pilot, well versed in fuel consumption and fuel range, calculates that with all things being constant: rpm of the motor, speed over the ground and our course over ground; that we should be able to motor, if we have to, all the way to Bermuda, with about 8- 10 gallons to spare. Not a lot of spare fuel but we have a cushion of about 7-8 running hours. We miss early morning weather reports on shortwave radio due to poor propagation of the radio signal but all seems fine.

At 3.30pm Herb’s weather would change our comfort level real fast. His report that afternoon advises any vessel behind Magique regardless if they have crossed the Gulf Stream to return to the U.S. Mainland. This can be dangerous because they will be crossing “the stream” with wind and waves in the opposite direction to the flow of “the stream”, making for the potential of some real steep waves.

Herb advises Magique that you are too far to return, so go as fast as you can make that boat go to Bermuda. The low pressure system over the Carolina’s has developed a second low; they have combined and are heading right at you with potential storm force winds and waves. The peak of the storm will hit waters off Bermuda on Thursday, so make easterly ground now while you can. When the storm really starts to blow you will then be able to make a southerly direction towards Bermuda. At our hull speed, which is as fast as the boat can go, our ETA (estimated time of arrival) for Bermuda would be early afternoon on Wednesday. We feel very confident that Magique can outrun this storm.

Magique is now flying. She is surfing off waves which have been growing steadily and flying into the next. She is a real sailing machine! To be on a sailboat that is leaping from the crest of one wave onto the crest of the next wave at about 9 plus knots is indescribable. Magique is fast, strong and she has a very motivated crew!

Through the night we sail fast deploying our mainsail, jib and the iron jenny (motor). Tuesday brings more of the same, but, we are closing in on Bermuda. During the day we have to reduce our sail as the wind is over 25kts and seas between 10 – 15 ft.

Tuesday night, Bob takes over our supper preparations, a delicious Sheppard’s pie, of course, prepared by Paula. It is starting to get real rough, seas pounding, wind noise piping up and our once hearty appetites have diminished. Hardly anyone eats much, maybe half a serving and the last thing on earth that I feel like doing is dishes. We are down to a second reef in the mainsail and have rolled in the jenny. The motor is still on to help point us on a more direct course to Bermuda.

While resting in the starboard birth at approximately 2am, despite all the noise of the wind, waves and boat, there was an extraordinary loud noise that woke both me and Brian up out of a fairly deep sleep. I jumped out of my birth and poked my head into the cockpit. Bob and Dave were on watch and apparently to me did not hear or more importantly feel anything out of the now normal howling.

I returned to my birth getting up again at about 3.00am. All hands were on deck. We were tying our 3rd and final reef point in our mainsail which was difficult due to the conditions and reef point alignment. That wasn’t the worst news. Bob asked Brian to go below and look at the rudder post movement. Does it turn and stop at the rudder stop? Turning the wheel hard over in both directions, normally we would have turned very fast and hard, but no response. Brian confirmed that the rudder responded as it should which ruled out steering cables and the steering system. We face the fact that we have no functual rudder!

It is possible to steer a sailboat using your mainsail, engine and whatever you have for a rudder. We were able to steer a course of 150 degrees magnetic, a southeast direction but at a reduced speed, down to less than 4 knots due to the ever increasing seas. Our fuel consumption was now critical and by calculation we would never make it all the way to Bermuda but we would get close. A little later while it was still dark our mainsail blew out, the third reef clew pulled out of the sail and what was left of the mainsail disintegrated like a rag under the stress.

Our options didn’t look good, no steerage, no control of our direction without our mainsail, not enough fuel and oh ya, two broken in half rear motor mounts. We did however have a storm anchor or sea drogue. This is a canvas cone shaped device with fairly large square holes to allow water to flow through it but at the same time slow the boat down. Still dark, we put Magique into the wind and deployed the sea anchor off the bow with as much line as we could find at the time. The seas were now 20 ft and the speed of the waves coming at us was scary.

The sea drogue set Magique broadside to the waves, meaning, down below, because we were taking the waves on our beam, the motion was awful. The boat would yawl from side to side violently. In a birth you could rest while the waves pressed you against the hull of the boat then you braced your arm or leg against a table or other fixed something for the return trip which would be in about 8 seconds when it would try to launch you out of the birth. Arm in, arm braced, arm in, arm braced every 8 seconds. You actually got to the point whether this was subconscious or automatic that you could rest but never really sleep.

As daylight approached we noticed that our line to the sea drogue was under our wing keel. This was a result of our failed nighttime attempt to deploy a bridle intended to put our bow into the waves to reduce the motion. With all hands helping we managed to hook Magique’s danforth anchor under the drogue line, bring it forward and secure the line to a cleat. With this line secured, we were able to release the original tie and pull it free from the keel. This process, which under normal conditions would have taken any one of us less than 5 minutes, took all of us probably an hour and literally exhausted the whole crew.

Early that morning Bob contacted Bermuda Harbour Radio the equivalent to Fundy Coast Guard Radio here in New Brunswick. Bob gave them our position, told them of our situation and asked if there was any chance for a tug boat to come out to tow us in to Bermuda. Our position at that time was about 121 nautical miles from Bermuda. They advised us that they would not dispatch rescue tugs outside a 40 mile limit around Bermuda. Bermuda Harbour Radio put out a broadcast to any ships in the area asking if they were willing to render assistance. One ship about 30 miles away refused to help, but the “Berge Boston” a Liquid Natural Gas ship would steam to our location to assist Magique. They were 120 miles away and would be to us in 6 hours at a speed of 20kts. They said they had experience in this sort of rescue and a plan to execute.

Our line to the sea drogue was starting to get shorter because the drogue would twist in the waves resulting in a very twisted line. We needed a swivel to take out the twist before the line broke or the drogue rendered useless because it became too short. There was no swivel on any of Magique’s anchors so the best we could come up with was snatch blocks which have built in swivels. It took all hands to pull the sea drogue line in enough to attach one end of the snatch block to it. We attached more line to the other side of the block and were happy to see the line on the sea drogue spin on the snatch block, taking out the twist. We now had over 250 feet of line out and she seemed to handle things a little better. Exhausted, the crew returned to their own space on the boat where we found peace.

It was at this time that as a crew we made our group decision; that if we had the chance to safely abandon ship we would, with the understanding that we were committed to return for Magique and bring her in after the storm. I rationalized, if only to myself, that there was nothing more we could do except holding on. Magique would make it with or without her crew. The bottom line was that we were not getting out of this situation without a tow, either a tow in now or a tow later, it all seemed the same. The first concern was for the crew’s safety! Our plan was set, once we got to shore then we would get another boat to come back for Magique after the storm.

A long day was put in by the crew on our storm anchor. We calculated our drift at about 1.3kt per hour. The seas now were 20 to 25 feet high, the size of a two story building coming at you at about 40 miles per hour. My preferable position was in the cockpit, watching the waves which occasionally would break and put a lot of water in the cockpit that would drain once Magique rose on the next wave. Below, wet and smelly clothes and the smell of the leftover Sheppard’s Pie still gimbaled on the stove was not a very pleasant place to be, never mind the crazy motion. Food for me consisted of Granola Bars and plenty of bottled water to wash them down with. I don’t know what the rest of the crew ate that day. Our appetites were pretty much gone along with our strength and enthusiasm. All you could do was just hold on!

In Magique’s cockpit staring at the huge waves it is not too hard to think of the absolute dangerous position that we were in. Each one of us I am sure had very difficult moments coming to terms with our situation however, there was absolutely no time that anyone of our crew panicked, complained or voiced any fear or blame. A tribute to the courage we each found within!

Myself, in order to cope with our situation found it most peaceful to think of my loving wife Miriam. I would think of every time she walks into a room the wonderful smile she sends me as soon as she sees me. I thought of the wonderful life that we shared, of our now adult children Darryl and Erin and all the good times we have had. Just thinking of them and especially Miriam soon gave way to an indescribable sense of peace which soon becomes courage and the determination that I am going to get out of this and continue to be part of their lives. If that was not meant to be then at least I was at peace.

As the day wore on Captain Ernst Hensen on the “Berge Boston” kept steaming towards our position. It would be a nighttime rescue attempt. The thought of that was most depressing. The Berge Boston made contact about 6 miles away. From that distance she had to start slowing down because of her size. She advised that she had us on her radar and would be along in about 1 ½ hours. Her plan was to float down on us from windward, block the wind from us, fire a thin messenger line that we would pull until we got a heavy line that was attached to it in our hands. We would then secure this heavy line to Magique, sort of rafting off to a 920 foot long ship. She would lower a basket from her crane over our boat and on the captain’s signal we would jump into the basket. This was the Plan??? Sounds Great!??

I will now address all the second guessing, Monday Morning quarterbacks, hindsight being 20/20 etc. Would I commit to this ever again in my lifetime, ABSOLUTLY NOT! Had I not read before Not To Do This! ABSOLUTLY YES. I can only say that you had to be there! That out of the way my story continues.

The Berge Boston’s initial approach was from our bow. Down below looking at our radar I could see the struggle she was having to maintain control of her speed and direction. The skipper would approach us from about a ½ mile away only to loose his helm and fall off. Captain Hensen radioed and told me of the difficulties he was experiencing, and stated in no uncertain terms that “this was very dangerous and he did not want to be responsible for killing anyone”. A very sobering thought to say the least. I asked if a windward approach from our stern would be better and he thought it might and steamed in a large arc around us to position himself behind us.

As our rescue ship was repositioning herself the wind was now blowing 55kts plus and the seas were 25 feet plus high. Height of seas is only a guess from a sailboat but the Berge Boston later confirmed this size. On top of this it was raining in sheets, stinging your eyes driven by the wind. My thoughts also went to our storm drogue which he would go over. What would happen then?

The Captain Hensen of the Berge Boston radioed us he was on his final approach. From our cockpit it looked like a whole city coming at us. His bow and hull towered over the top of Magique’s 67 foot mast and he was MOVING. The wind drove walls of rain from his ship onto ours. If I was never scared before I was now. To quote Bob, “he is going to kill us”

As planned, they sent the messenger line by firing a rocket at us. The unexpected noise and the flash of light from the rocket that appeared aimed at Dave’s chest was enough to make you shit yourself. It was an unbelievable shot, fired over our boat’s stern to bow dead center of our boat and we started to haul it in as we collided with this ship all within seconds of the rocket launch. Magique’s hull and rig violently scrap and banging down the hull of the Berge Boston. Scraping approximately 450 feet down the ship’s hull, about halfway, we looked up at the same time in complete horror. The Berge Boston’s gangway was partially lowered and our mast was heading right for it. Obviously, once our mast got caught in her gangway with the speed the ship was traveling, she would push Magique under the water like a toy until her mast broke like a toothpick and collapsed on top of us.

If I ever believed in Devine Intervention before, or maybe it was our sea drogue parting on Magique’s cleat, or maybe it was just a big wave, or maybe as I believe that it was a combination of all the above, whatever it was, Magique’s mast moved out and around the gangway with the upper shroud sliding against the outer edge of the gangway to keep us off. I saw this with my own eyes and could not believe it. It was a miracle and we used up another life!

We smashed, banged and scraped the rest of the length of the Berge Boston’s hull and her desperate to help crew was trying to pass down more lines that we did not want. We wanted her to go away!

I do not know how we got turned around but now we were stern to stern with the ship and I was on the radio talking to the Captain Hensen. This saved me from witnessing most of the time that Magique was getting pulled under the stern of the ship, by far the worst and scariest part of all. The stern of this massive ship had reared up on a wave and was coming down with our boat trapped under her stern. We could reach out and touch her rudder!

Again Devine Intervention, it just wasn’t our time. The ship’s stern dealt a glancing blow to our backstay and pushed us clear of her way. In recalling my personal images of this it was similar to the movie Titantic where all those people are in the water and the ship breaks in half and the stern falls down and crushes all those poor souls in the water.

Just when you think we are safe and the crisis over, the Berge Boston still was not finished with us. The messenger line fired so long ago and that never seemed to be attached to her suddenly snugged up with three wraps around Bob’s leg pulling him over our stern into the water, certainly to be sucked into the giant propellers of the ship. Captain Brian quickly drew a knife and cut the line which was now as tight as a guitar string and saved Bob’s life.

We were at last free of the ship and alive though as Bob put it “it was like 8 different ways to kill yourself in 15 seconds”. Emotionally spent we all went to our own peaceful place on Magique. My biggest fear now was for the mast and rigging. How much damage was sustained to the rig smashing its way down the Berge Boston? How safe was Magique now?

Captain Hensen from the Berge Boston radioed us and said how sorry he was that things went so wrong and that he would stand-by with us thru the night. This is a true ocean skipper. His ship standing-by all night had mixed emotions for me. Since my peaceful place on the boat was in the cockpit I assumed the first watch. We had started the motor to charge batteries and I think to help drown out the storm. By now the noise from the motor was very assuring. If the motor was engaged at low speeds we could propel ourselves but had very little control. We were just drifting at the mercy of the waves and we seemed to be all over the place. At one point I thought the ship was too close and asked Brian to radio him to move away. He was moving away but I must have been hallucinating as he appeared to get closer and I was near panic! With all his lights on I was convinced his stern was his bow and he was heading right towards us. I only relaxed when he was more than 2 miles away.

Captain Hensen later called on the radio saying that he was in touch with Bermuda Harbour Radio and they were dispatching a boat to tow us in and we could expect it by morning. A new life was breathed into our sorry boat and her crew. A few hours later he called again and said that there would not be a tow boat but he had reached the US Coast Guard and that we could expect helicopter evacuation at first light. My response to him was “we would prefer the tow boat” to which he responded “your preference has little bearing right now”.

In the dark in the cockpit I wondered what the Berge Boston looked like. Was she really as big as she seemed? I am sure had we got off Magique and onto her we would have had lots of time to check her out. She was heading to Trinidad via a small island called St. Eustatius near St. Kitts in the Lesser Antilles. We would not be allowed to get off until we reached Trinidad in about 10 days! I was glad that I wasn’t going with her to Trinidad as we would never find Magique in this huge ocean if we had to wait that long.

At daybreak we could see that she was every bit and even bigger than imagined. She towered over the ocean and was truly the size of a city block. Her hull was painted an odd shade of green, and had a red boot stripe just like Magique. The weather was still raging a storm but looking at the Berge Boston and how she stood by us through the night was reassuring.

Captain Hensen called on the radio to let us know that he had spoke to the US Coast Guard and that they were about 40 minutes away. He would stand-by until all were aboard the helicopter.

Two bright lights could be seen low in the horizon heading directly for us. As it approached we could see that it was a Hercules spotter plane. They flew directly over us and called on the VHF radio. They told us that they were ahead of the helicopter to assess the situation and the degree of difficulty the rescue would be. They took two passes over us and the Berge Boston tipping their wings each time, and went back to rendezvous with the rescue helicopter. We would wait another 30 minutes for the helicopter.

Time is hard to tell in situations like ours and you probably don’t care about time. No one aboard was keeping time, but rather just trusting that the rescue would be sooner rather than later. We spent this time stuffing our pockets with important personal documents. Passports and wallets were secured into Zip Lock bags; we could only take what we could swim with. I included my cel phone and digital camera. These last items would not fit in my pockets so I duct taped the leg of my (Syd Brittain’s) survival suit and stuffed a zip lock bag down my leg. I had room for more so I threw in my toothbrush and toothpaste.

Soon the spotter plane was circling accompanied by the rescue helicopter. The helicopter hovered above and carefully approached our yacht. The pilots seemed to take their time assessing the waves and wind. They did not want to get too close to Magique’s mast and rigging, doing so would be disastrous. Once they were comfortable with their position the cargo door opens and a swimmer is lowered into the water by a cable and harness. The helicopter pilots have to try to judge the waves so the swimmer does not get too low before the crest of the next wave. They reel him back into the helicopter for some reason that I will never know leaving us with a little more anxiety.

A second trip down the wire for the swimmer puts him in the water he lets go of the line and swims toward Magique. His approach is on the windward side and about 15 feet from Magique asks if one of us is ready. The first one off is Dave. Unfortunately, Dave jumps into the water on the same windward side. The first wave pushes him against and partially under the yacht. A split second later the swimmer has closed in on Dave, flips him on his back and is towing Dave away from Magique. The helicopter lowers the cable which now has a basket attached to it. The basket enters the water about 10 feet from Dave and the swimmer and closes under water. The swimmer dives under the water as the wire stops and positions Dave in the basket. As the helicopter starts to raise the basket the swimmer hauls on one side of the basket to spill excess water. We watch with feelings that are hard to describe as our first crew member is safely taken aboard the helicopter.

As soon as the swimmer spills the excess water he heads back to Magique and the next crew member. We have lowered the stern swim ladder so we can get clear of the yacht when we jump into the water. The next to go is Brian, who will be followed by me and last to go was Bob.

I can not describe what Brian’s experience was like. You can only describe what you see and it was the mirror image of Dave’s rescue, perhaps more graceful since he didn’t hit the boat when he jumped into the water.

For me my experience was surreal. First, you are looking at a very angry sea that has been threatening you for 36 hours non-stop and you are supposed to jump in and go for a swim. Well I am a good swimmer but had a little problem with this idea. Anyway, there is no choice, a decision had been made. I did a perfect shallow rescue jump into the sea with my swim mask on and started to swim for my life. About 10 strokes into my swim I was flipped on my back and towed by my (Syd Brittain’s) life vest away from Magique. The swimmer assumes TOTAL control! He stops as I see the basket lowered under the water and I feel him under me, positioning my body inside this basket. I give him a “thumbs-up” signal that he instantly shoves back into the basket… Hands and feet inside the basket Asshole!

The view one has on a cable in a basket being raised from an angry ocean is an image that you should never forget. Below I could see the Berge Boston, floating , Magique wallowing like crazy and the swimmer going back for Bob. Looking up I could see the cable drawing me toward the spinning helicopter blades. Seconds later the Coast Guard crew member who operates the winch pulls the basket with me in it into the helicopter and slides it forward. On his signal I am supposed to get out of the basket. Sounds simple enough, but, I am on my back in a survival suit that is weighted down with 100 pounds of sea water. Anyway, I manage to get free of the basket and look forward towards the pilots. Where am I! All I see is two bright orange suits, the back of black helmets with small antennas sticking out of them, and fog being blown all over them. I have been rescued by Martians!

The operator of the winch signals me to a seat and I get another look at my new surroundings. First thing is “thumbs-up” to our winch operator, Dave and Brian. Then looking at our Martian buddies, realize that the fog is cool air being blown at them to keep them cool. They never once look back or at anything not related to flying the hovering the helicopter. The concentration of these guy’s is incredible.

The winch operator has removed the basket from the wire cable and attached the yoke harness. Bob with the rescue swimmer appear at the cargo door, Bob in the yoke, the swimmer with a bear hug and leg lock on Bob. It would look all too friendly at another time, but, we are all aboard and safe!!

“Thumbs-up” to the real hero, the swimmer, who swam in those seas four times to rescue us. Once aboard when asked or signaled by the winch operator, what it was like, he made hand signals, big, swimming, shark!

One final look at Magique and a whispered personal commitment that I would return for her and we were off. I am not really sure of our destination, land will do.

In the movies when the brave men of the US Coast Guard rescue stranded sailors, once aboard they are greeted with a hot drink, a blanket and sometimes a snack. I would have given anything for EARPLUGS. It was so noisy seated just in front of the engine and transmission of the helicopter that it hurt. We passed around a canteen of water and looked out the windows at the ocean. The winch man passed around a note pad where we wrote our names and phone numbers. This would be the total amount of paperwork for us to fill out for this rescue mission. There was no hot drink or blankets, the noise was deafening, you really had nothing to say nor would anyone hear you if you did.

The trip to Bermuda in the helicopter, I think, took a little over an hour. We landed and taxied in behind the Hercules aircraft in front of Customs and Immigration. Once stopped we disembarked the helicopter, with warm and heartfelt congratulations and thanks to the entire crews of the Coast Guard Rescue Team, Helicopter and Hercules Crews. Handshakes and thumbs-up all around, you don’t hug these guys!( although now I notice that the helicopter co-pilot was a very huggable young lady!)

Brian asks the helicopter pilot for an invoice or bill for this service. I am thinking that there is not enough money in my whole net worth to pay for my share, and why bring it up. Let’s see; one Hercules spotter plane left Elizabeth City, North Carolina yesterday evening. Onboard the Hercules, in the cargo department, was the rescue helicopter, and complete crew change for both the Hercules plane and the helicopter. They flew through the night and passed over our yacht before landing in Bermuda. The crew flying the aircraft got some sleep while the spare crews prepared both aircrafts for a daybreak departure and rescue.
The total personnel on the ground involved in this rescue, and I am sure that we never met everyone, had to be around 20. When you factor in support personnel back in The U.S, people that you will never see, the numbers really are unimaginable. All this to save 4 Canadians! Speaking for the 4 Canadians we can never thank you guys enough!

When you think about it, just the hourly cost of each aircraft totaled over two days must be in the six digit figures. Perhaps Brian’s angle was to claim this on his boat insurance, but my ears are ringing so bad that I am not thinking much about this.

The pilot‘s response to Brian’s inquiry was that this was “on the taxpayers in the United States”. I never thought I would ever say this, But God Bless President George W. Bush! We would toast the taxpayers, the President and just Good Ole America many times in the next few days.

Bermuda Customs and Immigration met us on the tarmac and drove the four soaking wet crew of Magique to their building. They handed out immigration and customs forms to be filled out with one pen. This process seemed to take hours as we wrapped paper towel around our wrists to keep the water off the forms. You do not have much to declare to customs when entering a country by swimming to a helicopter like we did. Once we all cleared customs they drove us in a van to immigration on the other side of the airport where we were denied entry until we bought an airplane ticket out of Bermuda.

Like four wet ducks we waddled thru the airport, accompanied by 3 immigration guards in case we made a run for it, to the backdoor of Air Canada. Two ladies after some difficulty issued us tickets home. Thank goodness we all swam with our wallets and credit cards. Armed with tickets home we were again paraded thru the airport back to immigration and our entry was stamped. Another parade thru the airport back to the vans and whisked off back to the customs building on the other side of the airport. Welcome to Bermuda!

We had time to thank the rescue co-coordinator with Bermuda Harbor Radio, who throughout this ordeal kept in touch with us, the U.S. Coast Guard, Bill Nugent who kept everyone’s families back home informed and the Berge Boston. Bermuda Harbor Radio is a first class organization, professional in every sense of the word. They share the building with customs on the opposite side of the main airport terminal.

The crews of the US Coast Guard were there and we had another chance to thank them. In civilian clothes they didn’t look quite so ominous, no antennas grew out of their heads, no fog blowing around them. The swimmer, who hours before I swear had to be at least 6’6” all muscle even when he blinked, was no more than 5’10” but still all muscle. They were getting some rest before their next mission. There were three other yachts out there that would require their assistance before this storm was finished. To these guys (and girl) it was all in a day’s work. This is what they do for a living. Thank You!

Brian’s eyes lit up as one’s does when they see a good friend when in need, and no one could deny our need. We must have looked pretty pathetic to Ronalda Higgins as she entered the customs building. Another catch with immigration is that they want to be sure that all visitors have a place to stay. Although I had given them my name to make reservations at The Grotto Resort, Ronalda convinced us and immigration that she had room for us. It didn’t take much arm twisting to convince me that she was an angel sent to take care of us.

My ears were still ringing.

Our angel took us to her condo, welcomed us into her home. Within seconds we had stripped off our wet clothes, placed them in the laundry and were enjoying hot showers. We would all dress like Ed, her husband, as the only clothes we owned were in the clothes dryer. The sky cleared into a beautiful warm sunny day and soon the four of us were found sitting on Ed and Ronalda’s sun deck, dressed in Ed’s shorts and Tee shirts, drinking his cold Coronas.

The process of drying out wallets, passports or trying to save cel phones and digital cameras kept us busy. We also had the opportunity to call home and let our families know that we were all right.

We were famous so it seemed. Phone calls from reporters here in Bermuda and home in Canada were calling non-stop. At this time we had very little to say, save that we were OK and how professional all the persons involved with our rescue were. Mid-afternoon a reporter from the local paper just waltzed into the condo unannounced requesting an interview. Somehow I didn’t quite feel like a celebrity.

Ed and Ronalda Higgins are transplanted people from Rothesay, New Brunswick. At dinner that night in a very nice restaurant Ed told me a story of how he came to love Bermuda. It happened while he was at St. Xavier University (same University as Ronalda) studying law. They had a drinking party also known as a “suitcase party” where everyone threw in money ahead of time, and came to the party with a bag packed to go to some unknown destination which was the prize for whoever won. After a night of serious drinking, Ed was on a plane first thing in the next morning to Bermuda. He fell in love with the island and its people.

He and Ronalda raised their family, they have three adult children, in Rothesay. Ed practicing law and Ronalda worked in the real estate business for Brian’s company. My claim of attachment was their daughter, Katherine, and my daughter Erin, taught junior sailing together at the Rothesay Yacht Club. Was there a missing lesson they could have taught her Dad?

Ed and Ronalda are now living their dream. Ed as a lawyer for an insurance company in Bermuda, and Ronalda is involved in the real estate market. Their daughter Maureen is a chartered accountant practicing in Bermuda. Katherine lives in Calgary and their son William is an engineer at Point Lepreau. They have a very envious life.

After dinner Ed and Ronalda brought us to the home of Chris and Paula Merritt who would take Dave and Bob into their home. Paula is a Bermudian by citizenship although raised in Canada. Both she and Chris are long time residents of Dartmouth NS, both ex Canadian armed forces and now work in Bermuda. Two more people in an ever growing list of people who helped, comforted and turned a terrifying experience into a manageable reality. We owe more thanks to all of you than we can put in words.

Brian and I went back to Ed and Ronalda’s home for one hellofa sound sleep. Tomorrow would bring a very busy day.

First thing, after we found the coffee, in the morning, was to call home and talk to Miriam. My ears had finally stopped ringing enough to be able to hear. It was so nice to hear Miriam. For Brian, it was all business, the phone permantly attached to his ear just like it would be back home in his business life. We had made contact, through friends at The Royal Hamilton Dingy Club, of a sport fisher who would be interested in going out to sea and tow Magique back. With hopes high, and the OK from the insurance company things were looking good. Next thing was to make contact with a local doctor for prescriptions for medications, then to meet up with Dave and Bob for lunch, then to a men’s store for essentials, underwear, socks, deodorant etc.

Our bubble burst when Craigan Curtis, the skipper of the 46 foot sport fishing boat “Reel Addiction” who was willing to go out and tow Magique back, called with information that Radio Bermuda had lost the EPIRB signal and they assumed the boat had sunk. Brian had activated the EPIRB before we left Magique so we could use this signal to find her in the open ocean. It would be the only way of finding her. Not giving up, believing that she was still afloat, Brian called a friend back in Canada where the EPIRB is registered.

Apparently once the US Coast Guard rescues a stricken vessel they suppress the EPIRB signal; their rescue mission completed. We were able to get a “location fix” for 16.30 today, Friday, with the help from unknown friends in Canada. Now we had to convince Craigan that this wouldn’t be a “wild goose chase “ looking for a small yacht in a huge ocean rather, we have a “fix”.

Craigan was ready, had two men as crew, and Saturday about 3 pm Brian, Bob and I set out with the crew of “Reel Addiction” to bring Magique back. Within an hour Bermuda Harbor Radio called with a fixed position obtained by a Coast Guard aircraft. With this position entered into the GPS we ran at about 10 knots per hour to this waypoint.

Bob questioned this position to me because it was quite a bit away from all other fixes and projected fixes. Back home, Bill Nugent had modeled a location based on where we left her, the wind and waves for the last 48 hours, the ocean currents and tides and how she would be predicted to drift. At almost 23.00 hrs we arrived at our waypoint and found nothing. It was time to study all our information and we concluded that somehow the fix from Bermuda Harbor Radio was off by 1 degree exactly. That might not sound like a lot but it is 60 nautical miles away! Entering Bill Nugent’s waypoint into the GPS, the autopilot of “Reel Addiction” drove toward what we hoped was Magique. Through the night the crew of “Reel Addiction” rested and Bob and I watched as the sport fishing boat made miles.

“Reel Addiction’s” radar required adjusting which Bob was able to do and the range set at 9 miles. Around 4am a strong reflection on the radar appeared right on our bow. We were pretty sure she was there and as we got closer the strobe light from the EPIRB lit up the cockpit of Magique. It was still dark but we knew we had found her!

As boat owners will attest, you become emotionally attached to your boat. You may own your house but seldom do you name it as you name your boat, unless, as I found out later, that you are British and/or live in Bermuda! Your boat is part of you, who you are, what you do, what you are about. Different than being part of your family but still attached, not a family pet, but just as close in a different sort of way. Your boat has a personality and over time you build a special relationship with her. Your boat takes you places, keeps you safe, protects you and often comforts you.

As daylight came on Sunday we could see Magique. For the first time since Thursday morning when I remembered her wallowing alone in this huge ocean, there she was, floating, wondering what the hell took us so long to come back for her! I swear that the red boot stripe on Magique’s hull had a big smile from bow to stern and what was left of her rudder was wagging like a dog’s tail! Boy was she glad to see us, probably, as much as we were to see her!

At first light, Craigan maneuvered his boat close enough to Magique to minimize our swim to her. Having put the swim ladder down for our helicopter rescue, it was easy to board. Craigan then pulled close enough to pass our bags and stood by while we dried ourselves and changed into dry clothes. That done, he passed us a tow bridle consisting of a ¾” line inside a rubber heater hose to prevent chaffing. This we secured partially around the bow cleats and back to the mast to distribute the shock load. To this line “Real Addiction would tow us with a 250’ line bridled to his stern. He also passed us a bridle for our stern. This was a rope bridle that we attached to the stern cleats. Shackled to this line was a chain with two mooring balls attached, one at about 10 feet, the other about 15 feet. About 100ft of chain with a weight was trailed behind the last ball. This would give us directional steering once we started to be towed.

The sky was overcast, wind was light and seas ran less than 9 ft when we started our tow to Bermuda at about 7.40am Sunday. Our crew had our job cut out for us inside Magique as there was literally nothing for us to do as far as steering or watching, this being performed by the crew of “Reel Addiction”. We first cleaned up all the wet soggy clothes that covered the floor, wiped up water on the floor, emptied the bilge and yes, threw out the “Sheppard’s Pie” still on the stove. Eventually, we threw out a lot of spoiled food, and garbage, making the yacht more presentable as she should be. Bob made contact via shortwave with concerned friends back home to announce our successful quest and recovery of Magique. We started to feel a whole lot better about the experience.

The day got better, high cloud, the wind lightened even more and the waves kept on decreasing. Brian cooked a big spaghetti diner and, the now again crew of Magique, crashed at about 7.30pm for the night.

Monday morning as the sun came up we could see definitions of Bermuda, range lights. aircraft lights and offshore buoys marking Bermuda’s outer reef. “Reel Addiction’s” instructions at first were to have Magique cleared through customs at St. George. This instruction changed as we approached the channel for St. George Harbor and we altered course and ran the length of the island to West End, where we had started out from on Saturday. It was a beautiful sail, even though we were being towed, the reef outside us provided almost no waves inside as we looked out at the resorts and mansions.

It was about 1pm when we got tied up on the government wharf at West End. Magique made it to Bermuda! Customs cleared her in and we were able to get off to take some pictures of her tied up and upright. The rest of the day was a sort of celebration, reflection and giving thanks. We certainly had our reasons to indulge in a few rum and cokes.

The rest of my story is fairly anticlimactic. On Tuesday, we arranged for Magique to be hauled out of the water and damages assessed. Brian’s insurance company sent a surveyor to look her over and comment on what should be done in damage control. This consisted of rinsing out saltwater with fresh, WD40 all electric connectors that we could find. Bob took charge of laundry duty and rented a “Hog” (scooter) and it was quite amusing to see him “riding” the streets with garbage bags of wet laundry hanging off the back.

There was lots of cleaning to do, Bob left on Wednesday, and I followed on Friday. Dave had left the previous Saturday. I left Brian knowing that he would not be alone for long. Paula was flying in to help. She would be exactly what our Skipper needed!

This is my story, in my words of the events of our voyage and I hope that I haven’t misled, overemphasized, or exaggerated the events. I wrote this story starting the week that I returned home and re-wrote it a few times to get it to this and as far as I am concerned the final stage. As I make no claim as an author, I hope you read and enjoyed my story complete with its sins, but, I wanted to write my story before the waves grew to 80 feet , the wind blew 150 knots, we were taking on water, sinking ….let your imagination fill in the blanks.

Writing this started out as a story for my family, perhaps future Heeney generations may find it interesting, my immediate family did the first time that they read it! Writing the story was, as Miriam thought it would be, good therapy. She was right as usual!

To our Skipper Brian, First Mate Bob, fellow crewmate Dave, it was a pleasure to sail with you, it certainly was interesting! To all the people who came to help us, you have my many Thanks!

Pat Heeney