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 It
started out as a normal fishing trip with Lee, Matthew, my 9 year old
son, and myself. It was Tuesday, July 31, 2001. We all were walking on
the fishing pier in Naples Florida at 8:00 pm and saw that the gulf was
smooth as a mirror. Matthew said to me, Hey Dad, let's go out on the
boat. I looked at Lee, we smiled, and without a word we both knew what
that meant. I said, "Let's go!" We went back to my truck and headed
home. In no time we had my Cobia 194 packed and hooked to the truck.
We were off and running.
As
I backed down the Naples city boat ramp, all was going great. Lee
disconnected the boat from the trailer and handed the bow rope to my
favorite first mate, Matthew. The boat was in the water and our smiles
showed our excitement. I pulled the trailer up the ramp and went to
park. As I was walking across the parking lot back toward the boat, I
saw a few clouds and some high lightning in the east sky. I shook my
head and said to myself, "Oh boy, here we go." After finishing my
safety checks and warming up the motor, we were off. Idling through the
backwaters toward Gordon's Pass, the rain started to lightly fall. Lee
commented, "Here we go, Gilligan's Island." I laughed and started to
sing the theme song as we continued on.
We
headed out of Gordon's Pass into the gulf. The rain stopped and the
channel was smooth. I told Lee and Matthew we were going to the 2-mile
reef and stay there all night. All were in agreement and we were
anxious to get our lines and hooks wet. I turned on my GPS, a Garmin
12XL, and programmed it to the 2-mile reef. It was going to be a short
trip, just 3.5 miles north of the pass and 2 miles off shore. On the
way, I looked at my watch and noticed it was only 10:00pm. Perfect, I
thought. The weather is good and this is going to be a long night of
great fishing.
We
arrived within 6 minutes and anchored off. Lines immediately went into
the water in the hopes of catching some small baitfish in a hurry. This
didn't happen but no one was disappointed. Just being out here was good
enough for us. Matthew was getting tired so I got him a blanket and
pillow and he laid on the floor at the bow. Lee and I then caught a few
small fish and hooked them on our big rods. Clickers were set and we
waited.
At
1:00am there were no big fish in the boat. I looked at Lee and said,
"Want to go to the R-Tower?" He just smiled and I knew that was a yes.
I turned on my VHF radio to check the weather. We listened closely and
heard that it was going to be nice all night and in the morning. Later
in the evening the seas were going to be 4 to 6 feet off shore with
30mph winds late in the day. I asked Lee if he wanted to go out now and
come back in before noon so we can beat the bad weather with plenty of
time to spare. Again he smiled. "Let's go then." I said.
Lee
went to the bow and told Matthew to lie on the center consol seat and
he pulled up the anchor as I programmed the GPS to the R-Tower. It
read, 29.5 miles due west. We started off and the moonlight seemed to
be lighting our way. The seas began to pick up as we headed off shore
but only to 1-2 feet. At 35mph my estimated time of arrival (ETA) was
showing only 56 minutes to go. I wasn't worried because we had made
this trip numerous times both during the day and at night. All seemed
to be routine. About 20 miles into the trip, I remember looking back
toward the shore. I could no longer see the buildings but I could see
the sky being lit by the city lights. Routine I thought, but something
just didn't feel right this time. The seas were now 2-3 feet but we
were getting closer to our destination. I have to say that the
excitement of catching some big fish off shore like we always did kept
me headed toward the R-Tower. Looking at my GPS and seeing only 1 mile
to arrival kept me rolling through the now 3-5 foot seas. Lee stood
beside me and turned on the spotlight to get a visual of the upcoming
R-Tower. There it was! Time to get fishing and get "On Huge".
We
slowly approached and Lee hooked the bow rope onto a corner post of the
tower. The boat was rocking and rolling a bit but we all have been out
in 4-6 foot seas before. Besides, we were here to fish! Lee and I put
our big boat rods out and set the clickers while Matthew laid quietly
sleeping. 3:30am rolled around and no sound from the clickers. Lee laid
down on the floor to rest while I sat up watching the waves push the
boat up and down. The seas seemed to be getting bigger but I kept
thinking about the weather report saying it was going to be nice all
night. I kept my eyes on the water, catching crabs as the floated by.
All I could think about was getting enough crabs so we could hook onto
some big permit at first light. Around 4:30am I had a live well full of
crabs and decided to lie down across the seats to rest my eyes. Maybe
hoping things would calm down if I didn't watch. Getting tossed around
a little harder than normal, I woke up from a half sleep. My watch read
6:30am. My first thought was that the sun would be up soon and the
permit fishing can begin. As I sat up and looked around, I saw the
waves that woke me were now 6-8 feet. I saw a storm off in the distance
to the east that looked to be about 20 miles away. Immediately I got
very concerned. I yelled for Lee to wake up and told him we needed to
get out of here right now! He rose to his feet and looked around. Our
eyes met and without a word we both knew it was time to go. I reeled in
the poles as Lee went to the bow to disconnect the rope from the tower.
As he pulled the boat closer I could see that this wasn't going to be a
good idea. I told him to leave the rope on the tower and unhook the
rope from the boat. Saving the rope was not as important as keeping us
from getting slammed into the tower.
The
waves immediately separated our distance from the tower and I set my
GPS to Gordon's Pass. No sooner then I got the boat headed in the
correct direction, the storm that was 20 miles away was upon us now!
The seas turned quickly into 10-12 feet and the wind was pushing hard
against us at around 40mph plus. Looking at my current speed of only
3-4 mph, I turned to my GPS and felt my heart sink as I saw our ETA was
4 hours and 46 minutes. My first thought was for the safety of my son
who was sleeping with his lifejacket on. I told Lee to wake him up and
tell him to come back here with me. I then told Lee to get us both
lifejackets out of the floor storage. As he handed me a lifejacket, I
said, "We have over 4 hours of this." No words needed to be spoken. Our
stare said it all. We were more than likely not going to make it
through this without ending up in the water.
With
one hand on the throttle controlling our slow speed over the huge waves
and the other gripped tightly on the steering wheel, my heart was
sinking lower and lower. What is going to happen to us? I looked
behind me to check on Matthew and was happy to see him apparently
sleeping across the seats. I believed he sensed the trouble we were in
so he kept his head down and his eyes closed. I wished I could have
done the same. He has always trusted me to protect him from harm so
here was my test.
The
storm was getting worse and the seas were now at 15-20 feet. The wind
was stronger and blowing the white caps off the top of the waves. I
knew now that we were definitely in a serious situation. I looked at my
GPS only to feel the disappointment of seeing our destination to be a
long 28 miles away. I then looked at my watch. It had been 1 hour and
30 minutes since we left the tower. I thought to myself, three miles in
one and a half hours. This was not good at all! I watched Lee
occasionally look back at the tower. It still being in sight after all
this time caused him to give me stares of serious concern.
Two
hours into our trip, my GPS read 22 miles to go and the seas were not
getting better. Without any command, Lee moved to the bow and sat on
the center consol seat to keep some weight up front. Every wave had us
vertical and the thought of rolling over backwards was caught between
our short deep stares. Many terrible scenarios began running through my
head. This was no time to panic. All thoughts needed to be focused on
the situation. This was the time I started talking to God. I remember
asking Him just to calm the seas down a little and I would do the rest.
I reminded Him that my job was to take people out and bring them back
safely. I have a lot of experience on the water but this was going to
be the biggest test I have ever encountered. Just then, I saw Lee stand
up and point to the horizon in front of us. He turned his head toward
me to see if I saw it. I saw it all right! A huge wave was building and
coming straight toward us. I won't ever forget what our eyes said to
each other at that moment. This is going to be the one that puts us in
the water. I backed off on the throttle, waited, and watched as this 25
foot wave pushed it's way toward us. Lee quickly but carefully walked
back to stand next to me. We looked ahead and back at each other about
5 times until it time to tackle this one. The wave pushed us back as we
went vertical up the face. I gave a little throttle to push us over the
top. High on the top, I was delighted not to be rolled over until we
began to fall sideways down the backside. It was all I could do to keep
the bow facing the next big one I saw behind it. What seemed to take
forever only lasted a few minutes as that one 25 footer turned out to
be six of them back to back. As we fell down the back of the last big
wave, Lee and I both looked back at what had just passed us. It was a
huge wall of water moving away from us at an incredible speed. We
looked at each other and smiled. The smiles turned into a short laugh
as to say to each other, I don't believe we made it.
Standing
there beside me, I turned to Lee and spoke the first words in over 2
hours. I said, "Lee, we need to call the Coast Guard." His simple reply
was, "Yes." Trying to control the steering with one hand and the
throttle with the other through the 15-20 foot seas, I managed to work
the radio mike.
U.S Coast Guard, this is a boat needing assistance.
There was no reply and Lee and I looked at each other. Just as this hopeless feeling came us across us we heard.
(Transcribed from the Coast Guard recorded audio communications, the radio conversation went like this.)
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers.
Lee
and I then looked at each other and smiled. The fact that someone knew
we were out here in trouble eased the fear somewhat. With a sheer sense
of relief I replied, "US Coast Guard, Yeah, this is, I'm in a 20 footer
and I'm having a heck of a time getting in and I'm about 20 miles from
Gordon's Pass."
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers, state your problem and position please.
The problem is I'm in a 20 foot boat and in 20 foot waves. I don't think I'm going to make it in.
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers, what is your GPS coordinates?
Stand-by, 25 50 818 north, 82 02 148 west.
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers, request to know how many people you have on board.
Two adults and one child.
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers, repeat the last.
Could you repeat?
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard stations Fort Myers, request to know how many people you have on board.
I have three people on board! Three!
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers, request to know the problem... over.
The problem is I'm in a 20 foot boat in 15 to 20 foot seas and I don't think I'm going to have enough gas to make it in.
There was a long pause and I continued to fight the high winds and high seas just waiting to hear the next words from the radio.
US Coast Guard, did you copy that?
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers, stand-by.
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers.
Go ahead.
Request to know if one of the persons on board is a child?
Yes sir, he's nine years old.
Vessel
hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers, request you set
anchor and request to know if there are any medical conditions?
Lee and I just looked at each other and both shook our heads to say no way!
There are no medical conditions but if we throw anchor we are going to get swamped!
There was another long pause. Lee and I just looked at each other wondering what we were expected to do next.
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers, request to know your latitude and longitude position again over.
I said, north 25 50 8, when our transmission was interrupted by another boater needing gas.
Vessel hailing Coast Guard, Coast Guard station Fort Myers, request you put your lifejackets on, over.
We've had them on!
I
was aware there were procedures to follow but having to fight these
high seas and talk on the radio, I guess I was looking for some advise
that would ease my fear. I thought to myself, please tell me something
I don't know or something I could do to better my chances of making it
into shore because things were not looking or feeling to good out here.
Just then I heard a new voice come across the radio.
Vessel needing assistance, this is the Coast Guard, do you copy?
Yes I do!
Now
I was talking to a female, which seemed to ease my fear somewhat
because I felt she would have a deeper level of compassion and feeling
for what I was going through. The fact that my child was on board was a
concern for both of us.
Vessel needing assistance, switch to channel 22.
Switching to channel 22.
(Continuing without the audio communication transcription)
After
going through all our checks detailing names, ages of passengers,
number of flares and other safety equipment, I gave my GPS position to
the Coast Guard again. The response that they knew we were out here and
was tracking our position eased my fear a little more. The female on
the radio was a comfort and she said she would call me every 15 minutes
to record our position. She told me that if anything changed for the
worst to call her immediately. Also, if I didn't respond to her call
she would send someone out to get us.
Still
watching my GPS slowly tick off the miles, I wondered if we were going
to make it in okay. My mind went back to all the scenarios and what we
would do if we ended up in the water. Again this was my time to talk to
God. I asked Him again to calm the seas down. To keep my mind off the
scenarios, I began saying Hail Mary after Hail Mary. After about 500
of them I switched to the Lord's Prayer. This kept my mind busy and
focused. When it was getting close to the 15-minute mark, I kept
looking at the radio anticipating that comforting voice.
Then
I heard it and smiled. Every time she would ask me, "How are you doing
Skipper?" My reply was, "Okay I guess." Every time, she assured me I
was doing well and she let me know that they still had me located. She
asked me for my new GPS coordinates, how my fuel level was, and asked
what the weather conditions were like. This lasted for over a hour and
each 15 minute call was a blessing. She assured there was a Coast Guard
cutter in Fort Myers standing by to come out and get us if we needed
them. I was also informed that it would take over 2 hours to get to us.
I told her not to send anyone out here in these conditions and if I
kept making headway like I was then we should be okay. I added, just
the fact that someone knew we were out here and that we were making
progress toward the shore made me feel better than I did 2 hours ago. I
was determined to make it in now and our tracking was heading us south
of Gordon's Pass. She asked me what my plan was. I told her I had to
change my tracking more southeast due to the waves and wind and would
more than likely end up south of Marco Island. I would then go into
Marco Pass. She assured me that was a great plan and that I was doing
great.
Up
until 11 miles from shore things were about the same. Inside 11 miles,
the seas were dropping to 10-12 feet. I could now see the tall
buildings on Marco Island and a lot of my fear eased even more. At
another 15 minute call, I was happy to answer her request for the usual
information. The weather conditions were better, the seas were now 8-10
feet, and my fuel was good.
How do you feel Skipper?
Laughing, I said, "I would much rather see these 8 to 10's then the 15 to 20 footers from before."
She
laughed and responded, "Yeah, I bet." Again she told me I was doing
great and asked if I was aware that another storm is moving directly
toward Marco Island and in my direction?
I replied, No I wasn't.
Did you check the weather Skipper?
Yes, but the weather wasn't supposed to get bad until late in the evening.
Your right, but it came early.
When is it supposed to hit?
In about one hour from now, she said.
Well my GPS says I have about one hour until I make it to shore so it looks like I am going to run right into it.
How do you feel about that Skipper?
Is
okay as long as it doesn't get as bad as it was and the fact that I am
closer to shore and can see the land makes it okay I guess.
I copy that Skipper. Your doing great!
Thanks! I said. I guess I'll talk to you in another 15 minutes.
I copy that Skipper.
By
now the seas were tolerable, only 4-6 feet and we were about 5 miles
from shore. I was about 6 miles south of Marco Island so I turned my
tracking toward Marco Pass. Our speed now was about 15mph and we were
making good time. The miles clicked off quickly and the closeness of
the land was a relief. Lee and I began talking about what we had just
experienced. Matthew sat up for the first time in over 4 hours. When I
came upon the Marco Pass channel marker, I received my last radio
communication from the Coast Guard. I told her I was headed into the
pass and we all were okay. I informed her that we were going to take
the backwaters all the way to the Naples city boat ramp. She replied,
"You did a good job Skipper." My last transmission to her was, "Thank
you so much for being there." Her last reply was, "Your welcome."
Finishing
this fearful adventure was lighted as we made our way through the glass
calm waters of the pass. Matthew stood up and was looking around. He
saw some fish crashing bait on the surface and said, "Hey Dad, can we
stop and fish!?" Without rehearsal, Lee and I said, "No, we need to get
to land." We all laughed and headed down the pass and was met by a crew
from the Coast Guard. We stopped and they boarded our boat. Their first
comment was, "We didn't expect to see you." I replied, "I didn't expect
to be seen. I have a good boat here." One crewmember said, "You not
only have a good boat (tapping his hand on the hull) but you have some
good seamanship skills. You did a great job getting in." After some
standard checks of our boat and some small talk, we said good-by and I
thanked them again.
Cold
and wet, tired both physically and mentally, and my hands swollen and
severely bruised from the 4-½ hour death grip of the steering wheel and
throttle, we made it to the comforting sight of the boat ramp.
I
was compelled to write down this adventure for a few reasons. I wanted
to thank the makers of such a wonderful seaworthy boat and motor,
Cobia, a Yamaha Boat Company. I wanted to thank Garmin for having such
a reliable and life saving GPS. I wanted to enlighten all fishermen and
boaters how important it is to not to take chances with Mother Nature.
The weather can turn faster than you may expect. Most importantly, I
wanted to thank the wonderful female person from the U.S. Coast Guard
(who's name I don't know) who on that day helped me with her
encouragement and professionalism to prevent a potentially disastrous
situation.
Thank you and may God bless all of you!
Ironically enough, the storm just happened to be named tropical storm Barry. Go figure!
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