Egyptian Ferry Disaster Site – Difficult Seas

by Nancy Knudsen on 5 Feb 2006 The recent Red Sea ferry disaster occurred, according to the reports, 40 miles from Hurghada and 25 miles from Safaga, both on the Egyptian coastline.

Promising to be one of the worst maritime disasters in history, the sinking of the ferry was reported by the world’s press to have occurred in adverse weather conditions, typical for this time of year. At time of writing 324 people had been rescued and approximately 1000 people were missing, including the Captain and some of the ship’s officers.

Just two years ago, in March 2004, while travelling up the Red Sea in our Peterson 46, Blackwattle, it was a sleepy morning watch change, and we were stirring our coffee in the cockpit, one tired from the dawn watch, the other not awake quite yet. The conditions were typical Red Sea – short rocky waves, blue sky wild with streaked clouds, sand in the air…

Without warning, as we looked on unbelievingly, the davits suddenly cracked and sheared half way down the vertical strut, falling backward into the water. While it took only a few horrified moments as we watched wide eyed and paralysed, it seems now that it happened in slow motion, this collapse of the vital stern superstructure – vital, and part of our home, our security, dying and sinking like a shot Indian in a bad movie.

Our davits support most of our long range working gear and aerials. Down came not only the dinghy, but also our wind generator, our solar panels, twisting and splintering as they fell. Up there too were all our aerials for radar, GPS and radios. Now they were swinging as if on one end of a seesaw, up and down up and down with each rocky wave, the blades of the wind generator picking up salt water in every downward dive.

What thousands of miles of ocean couldn’t do, the Red Sea had achieved – it was the watery straw that broke Blackwattle’s reliable back.

Looking back in our log, I find that our position at the time of our mini-disaster was 26.46.6 north and 034.33.5 east, which turns out to be – you guessed it - in almost the same position as where the recent tragedy occurred, 46 miles from Hurghada, and 31 miles from the Port of Safaga.

The winds are also listed in my log as 25-30 knots, about the same as the 57km winds recorded by weather institutions when the ferry disappeared from the radar.

At the time of our incident, we were headed for Hurghada, and the conditions were marginal. The Peterson 46 is a boat well suited to windward weather – in fact, as we had found, she loves it. Her long deep keel slices through the water nicely, the high bow keeps water off the deck, and the movement is smooth and solid. But even with this kind of windward loving boat, the Red Sea offers challenges that we hadn’t seen anywhere in our long journey across the Indian Ocean to get here. The problem mainly stems from the distance between wave crests. There’s not much swell, but the sea action is horrific.

The only way we could make way in conditions of 25-30 knots on the nose – conditions Blackwattle normally loves – is by also having the engine at a minimum of 2000 revs, to stop the bow being stopped dead by each square rocky wave.

A quick examination of the damage revealed that the only thing preventing the entire superstructure from disappearing into 700 metres of water and taking our communications systems with it were the cables themselves – which all ran up inside the davit uprights. With each bounce, with each seesaw, we feared that they might sever.

In addition, the strobe light and the life ring had gone overboard, and the emergency light was flashing in the water, receding further from the boat every second.

In the next hour, we first retrieved the strobe light and life ring by following them and retrieving them from the tossing sea. Then, with the boat laying a hull, we cut the dinghy loose and hauled it up onto the foredeck (where maybe it should have been all along), and tied down the superstructure as much as possible to prevent the worst of the heaving seesaw motion. Our strength was amazing - the dinghy was half full of water, and normally it would have been incredibly difficult to lift onto the deck with that added weight. Yet we hardly noticed it.

A quick look at the chart had us then heading west for Safaga instead of North West for Hurghada. It was the nearest port, a cool 15 miles shorter, and even with our new disability we could make better speed to reach there in daylight. Some hours later, travelling very gingerly under motor with a feather of sail for stability, we arrived in the large protected waterway. We were elated to have reached calm water so that the ugly seesawing of the davits was stopped, and called Channel 16. And called Channel 16. And called Channel 16.

We knew that, while safe for the moment in the smooth waters of the port, we would not be able to venture into the Red Sea again without substantial repairs.We must contact the Port of Safaga! Nor had we yet cleared into Egypt, and needed to complete formalities if we were not to be illegal immigrants. We continued to call as we came close to the wharves of Safaga. No-one answered. Neither could we see anyone - the port appeared deserted.

Finally after motoring up and down and some 40 minutes of calling (maybe they were on lunch break, we reasoned) a private party called us with the comment ‘O they never answer’, and promised that they would call the Port of Safaga for us by telephone.

Kind. Very kind. Thank you. So we waited. And we waited. Finally our VHF radio spat and crackled with a heavy accented voice, and we explained we were disabled and needed assistance. Without delay they told us that they had no facilities suitable for us. No help, no suggestions. With those short statements, the radio was clicked off again – unbelievably, they had knocked us back.

This is the port that you have seen on television, with thousands of anguished relatives calling for news of their lost family members. With our experience of the port, it is of no surprise that the disaster was not well handled, resulting in the terrible scenes of suffering and frustration we have all watched over the last few days. There seems little control by the central government of these outlying ports, and still less on the more remote outlying stations that we encountered all the way up the Red Sea.

And us? Well, there is a happy ending. In the Red Sea Cruising Guide we read of a half finished marina at Abu Soma on the northern side of the Port of Safaga. It was not a port of entry, but we thought it likely to have repair facilities. We headed there becoming, therefore, illegal immigrants for a while.

After incredible kindness from the crews of the local dive boats (see pictures below) who didn’t seem to think being ‘illegal’ was much to be worried about, we were able to make running repairs sufficient to take us on to Hurghada and the lovely Abu Tig Marina. Here we were able to check into Egypt, thus becoming legal visitors to the country, and find ample facilities for full reparation. Investigation revealed that the davits broke at the weld, and the thickness of the uprights was only 50% of that stipulated when it was built.

Footnote: The section of the Red Sea where the ferry went down is between 700 and 1300 metres deep (obviously not where Moses crossed) so retrieving the sunken ship and getting answers from the hulk may be a distant prospect.

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