IMO Bravery Award for American Cruising Sailors

by IMO/Sail-World Cruising on 25 Nov 2009 Among the many commercial crew and rescue personnel who won bravery awards from the International Maritime Organisation this year were American cruising sailors Maurice Conti and Sophie Conti, who were nominated by New Zealand. The rescue involved considerable bravery, skill and good seamanship.

They were sailing their yacht Ocealys in the South Pacific with their young family when they heard a late night distress call from the yacht Timella, which had struck a reef, two and a half hours sailing time away. The Contis made contact with authorities in New Zealand and Fiji but, in the absence of marine or aviation rescue assets being immediately available, they planned and executed themselves the rescue of the three Timella crew members, in the early morning of 13 October 2008, exposing themselves to considerable risk.

At the time, the story was covered by Sail-World, details available http://www.sail-world.com/index_d.cfm?nid=49764!here.

The Award, a silver medal depicting on one side a search and rescue operation with a sinking ship in the background and a helicopter rescuing survivors from the sea in the foreground, and with the IMO logo on the reverse side, was presented to the winners by IMO Secretary-General Mr. Efthimios E. Mitropoulos, at a special ceremony at IMO Headquarters on 23 November 2009, during the 26th session of the Organization's Assembly.

Here is the full transcript of the story, as told by the skipper of Ocealys, Maurice Conti, and it makes a gripping read:

At 11:45 PM, October 13, we were woken by something that every mariner
fears.
'Mayday, Mayday, Mayday...'
By the time I got to the radio, the second call was coming in. It was
a woman's voice,
'Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is the Sailing
Vessel TIMELLA. TIMELLA. We have struck a reef and we need assistance.
Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.'
I waited for some seconds to see if someone more appropriate than us
would answer, like the authorities, or a passing cruise ship. No
answer came.
'Vessel calling Mayday. Vessel Calling Mayday. Vessel Calling Mayday.
This is the Sailing Yacht OCEALYS. OCEALYS. OCEALYS. Do you copy?'
'Yes, we copy. This is TIMELLA. We've struck a reef and we are hard
aground. The waves are bashing us against the reef. We need help.'
TIMELLA is a boat we've met before. A little blue sloop with 'HANCHARD
CRANES' in big letters on the hull. We saw them in Niue and just a
week ago in Suva.
'TIMELLA, this is OCEALYS. Roger that. What is your position? What is
your position?'
'Stand by...' About a minute goes by, 'OCEALYS, this is Timella. Our
position: One-Eight, Three-Six Minutes South. Eighteen Degrees, Thirty-
Six Minutes South... One-Seven-Seven, Four-Seven Minutes East.'
'TIMELLA, I copy loud and clear: One Eight Degrees, Thirty-Six Minutes
South. One-Seven-Seven Degrees, Forty-Seven Minutes East. I will plot
your position. Standby one.'
It takes a minute for our navigation electronics to turn on, and then
I plot their position on the chartplotter. The position puts them
right on top of a small, submerged reef about 12 miles ESE of our
position inside the lagoon of Vatulele Island, about 50 nautical miles
from Suva, the capital of Fiji. The reef's name is Takau Lakaleka.
'TIMELLA. TIMELLA. TIMELLA. OCEALYS'
'OCEALYS, TIMELLA'
'TIMELLA. I have your position. You are approximately 12 miles East of
our location. We are two-and-a-half hours from you, best speed.
Standby and I will relay your Mayday.'
About 3 minutes have gone by since their first call.
'Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is the sailing
yacht OCEALYS, OCEALYS, OCEALYS. We are relaying a Mayday for the
yacht TIMELLA, TIMELLA, TIMELLA. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Does anyone
copy? Over.'
We repeat the transmission two more times and to my surprise hear no
reply.
'TIMELLA. TIMELLA. OCEALYS.'
'TIMELLA. Go ahead OCEALYS.'
'TIMELLA, I have negative contact on the relay. What is your condition?'
'Standby OCEALYS...' A man's voice comes on with an Australian accent,
'OCEALYS, this is Cameron. Yeah mate, we're on the reef. The waves are
bashing us pretty hard, but she's a 40-year-old boat and she's built
to take a hard landing. She's got 3 keels. We're not taking on any
water.'
'Yeah, roger that TIMELLA. Have you tried putting out a kedge?'
'Yeah, roger. We've got the anchor out, trying to get her bow-to.'
'OK, roger that. What are you requesting at this time?'
'We're going to need to get pulled off this reef. I think she'll hold
together, but no way we're getting off on our own.'
'Roger that. Understood. I don't know if we'll be able to pull you
off. We're trying to get a hold of the authorities. Standby and we'll
update you when we have any info. Just hold on for now.'
'TIMELLA standing by.'
In the meantime, Sophie has been trying to come up with a list of
options for help. We have a local cell phone, and surprisingly there's
a strong signal here. Sophie finds the number to the single, exclusive
resort on the island and makes the call.
There is no credit left on the SIM card.
We try calling them on the IRIDIUM phone, but there is no answer.
Sophie finds that local emergency is 911, and she figures that the
phone will work, even without credits. She's right, and she gets
through to an operator. She explains the situation a couple of times.
The operator is clearly not used to this kind of distress call. Sophie
gives them our cell number and is told that someone will call us back.
Sophie also decides it would be a good idea to call the local
Australian and New Zealand High Commissions and she finds emergency
numbers in our Lonely Planet guide (this will turn out to be a
critically important decision). I try Australia first on the IRIDIUM,
and after lots of rings get a message saying they're closed, but if I
know the extension of the party I'm trying to reach... I hang up and
try New Zealand. A more detailed message at the end of which I'm
relieved to hear, If this is an emergency, please call the Duty
Officer on watch at....
I call that number and after 5 or 6 rings a groggy voice answers and I
explain that a yacht with a New Zealand citizen aboard is in trouble
and we need help coordinating a rescue. By now the man on the phone is
completely alert and says he will set things in motion and call us back.
In the meantime on the VHF radio,
'Vessel calling a relay Mayday. Vessel... Mayday. This is... Cruise
Ship...(their transmission is faint and broken).'
'Station calling, this is the Sailing Yacht OCEALYS relaying a Mayday
for the yacht TIMELLA. TIMELLA.'
'Sailing Yacht, this is the Cruise Ship.... We are... position...
Thirty Nautical Miles South... yacht...Over.'
'TIMELLA. TIMELLA. TIMELLA. OCEALYS.'
Only a short pause and Cameron answers. I feel bad calling him. I
imagine he has much more important things to do than talk to me.
'Go ahead OCEALYS.'
'TIMELLA, we want to give you an update. We've contacted emergency
services in Suva. They are forwarding your request for aid to the
Navy. They will call us back with more information. We have contacted
the New Zealand High Commisioner's office and they are also contacting
the authorities in Suva. We also have VHF contact with a cruise ship
30NM South of you. The High Commission needs your names and
nationalities. How are you doing?'
'We're still getting bashed around pretty good...' Cameron's voice is
concerned, but calm. '...Hold on, I think we're going over (I can hear
a roaring crash). No, we're good. We're still up... hold on, there's a
nother big wave... we're going over... (boom in the background)... No.
No, we're good. We're still up. She's holding together. We are three
persons on board. Two Australian, one Kiwi. I'm Cameron Slagle, Sam-
Lima-Alpha-Golf-Lima-Echo. Elizabeth Schoch, Sam-Charley-Hotel-Oscar-
Charley-Hotel. Alison Timms, Tango-India-Mike-Mike. Timella is Tango-
India-Mike-Echo-Lima-Lima-Alpha.'
'Roger that TIMELLA. Standby one, we're getting a call on the phone.
Hold on, we'll get you an update.'
By now the cellular phone is ringing every few minutes. We cannot
place calls, but can receive them.
The police in Suva keep calling for updates from us and to let us know
they've alerted the Navy. We keep trying to explain that we are not
the boat that is in distress, and that no, we have not arrived at the
boat in distress. We cannot safely navigate the reef in the lagoon
where we are in the dark, and we cannot safely render aid to TIMELLA
at their location. Ok.Ok Mr. Maurice. We understand. I will call you
back...
Sophie tries calling several resorts at a larger neighboring island,
Beqa, on the IRIDIUM phone, but no one answers.
Mike RANDALL, at the NZ High Commission in Suva calls back and says he
is in contact with Fiji Search and Rescue and also with SAR in New
Zealand.
Moments later we get a call from Neville at the Something Something
Search and Rescue Coordination Centre in New Zealand (it's hard to
hear details on these calls, and frequently the VHF is going at the
same time and we're trying to follow both closely.)
Neville is aware of all the details that we have- the exact location
of TIMELLA, time of the first Mayday call, actuation and location of
their EPIRB beacon, our location and the name of the island where we
are, and he asks for a few more details.
I relay the request to TIMELLA via VHF, and Neville can hear their
responses directly over the phone. He tells me he will coordinate with
the Rescue Team in Suva and will keep us posted. Then another round of
calls from the Police in Suva and now the Fijian Navy as well.
At about 0200 Cameron comes on the VHF and sounds stressed for the
first time,
'OCEALYS. OCEALYS. TIMELLA.'
'Go ahead TIMELLA.'
'Yeah, OCEALYS. We're starting to take on water here. We're starting
the pumps. We'll see if we can keep up with it.'
'Roger that TIMELLA. SAR in Suva are mobilizing. We do not have an ETA
for you at this time.'
'Roger that.'
About 0215
'OCEALYS. OCEALYS. TIMELLA'
'Go ahead TIMELLA'
'Ah mate, we're not keeping up with the water. The hole's under the
engine, and it's not accessible. There is no way she's going to be
able to hold on. We are definitely sinking mate. We're going to keep
pumping as best we can but the batteries are going to be underwater
soon.'
'I copy that. What are you requesting Cameron? We are 2.5 hours away
at least and I'm not sure what I can do when we get there.'
'No mate, we are requesting an airlift. That's the only way we're
getting out of here. Don't put yourself at risk. We're clear onto the
reef at this point. They're not going to be able to get to us by boat.
We need an airlift.'
'OK. Roger that. We copy you request an airlift. Standby and we'll get
back to you as soon as possible.'
Neville is back on the line and we tell him that TIMELLA is taking on
water and the crew is requesting an airlift. He says that's not going
to happen. Fiji has no rescue helicopter, but it's better not to give
TIMELLA that information at this time.
Still no ETA from Search and Rescue in Suva, but at least they're
making an effort and staying in contact . The Police also keep
checking in, although their questions indicate they're definitely not
accustomed to dealing with maritime emergencies.
About 0245
'OCEALYS, TIMELLA'
'Go ahead'
'We are sinking. The batteries will be underwater in a few minutes.
We're going to lose contact. We're getting the dinghy out and putting
the liferaft canister in the dinghy. We've got extra fuel, water and
we're getting some food ready.'
'OK, roger that TIMELLA. Do you have any flares?'
'Yeah, they're floating around here somewhere.'
'Do you have a handheld VHF?'
'Ah, negative on that. Negative.'
'Roger that. We understand that SAR in Suva is mobilizing, but we
still have no ETA. You're going to have to hold on a while longer.'
Lot's of back and forth on the radio and on the phone, mainly with
Mike Randall in Suva and Neville and Dave in New Zealand for the next
15-20 minutes. The guys in New Zealand advise us on specific actions
that the crew of TIMELLA need to take, including donning life jackets,
keeping the EPIRB on, etc. and we relay that information to TIMELLA.
At about 0300 we have our final exchange by radio,
'OCEALYS, TIMELLA.'
'Go ahead, TIMELLA.'
'We've gone down mate. I've got water half-way to the cabin-top. The
batteries are under a meter-and-a-half of water. I don't know how
we're still transmitting.' Cameron is still calm and rational on the
radio.
Sophie and I look at each other and start talking about the real
options. Based on her conversations, it's clear that Suva SAR is not
launching anything until daylight and they're having trouble finding
fuel and crew. They are 50 miles from TIMELLA's position. The wind is
blowing 25 to 30 knots (in their favor, against us), and the seas are
rough and confused. I estimate it will take them 5 hours to reach
TIMELLA if and when they depart. New Zealand SAR is on the phone and
they're telling us they have no response on the Mayday they've sent
via HF/SSB radio, they no longer have a fix on the EPIRB. The cruise
ship from before has gotten back to us and we now understand their
position is in fact 130NM miles to the South, putting them well out of
range. We decide we have to go to TIMELLA. We believe we are their
only viable option.
'...We're getting into the dinghy and will stay with the boat as long
as we can. I don't expect the batteries to hold out much longer'
'Roger that TIMELLA. We still have no ETA from SAR in Suva. We are
coming to you. We will weigh anchor now. I estimate ETA to your
position two and one-half hours. We will stand off the reef and wait
for daylight. We may not be able to help, but at least we will be
there. Just hold on to the boat.'
'Roger that OCEALYS. What's your name man?'
'It's Maurice. Maurice.'
'Yeah, it's Cameron here. Good to meet you. We love you man. I
definitely owe you a beer or two when this is all over.'
'Roger that Cameron.'
A few minutes later we call to check in again as we get ready weigh
anchor,
'TIMELLA, OCEALYS'
No response.
'TIMELLA. TIMELLA. TIMELLA. This is OCEALYS, do you copy?'
No response.
'Nothing heard. This is OCEALYS standing by on channel one-six.'
At 0300 we got underway. Sophie made one last call to Mike Randall at
the NZ High Commission and told him that we had made the decision to
go out to TIMELLA. That way someone would know we were out there too
in case we got into trouble. Mike went silent for a moment and then
repeated we should be careful and not take any risks. Sophie told him
we had two small children on board and did not intend to take any risk
that would substantially put their lives at risk. Sophie thanked him
for all of his support.
Luckily the anchor came up without snagging on one of the coral heads
under the boat and we started making our way out of the reef. The pass
into the lagoon was windy and poorly defined with shallows and coral
heads scattered about. In the dark, the only way to get out was to
follow the track we had made on the way in on the GPS. You figure if
you didn't hit anything then, you won't hit anything now. It took
almost half an hour to get out since we were going slow and it was
more difficult to keep the boat right on track than I though it would
be. Sophie was on the bow, keeping a look out and trying not to get
launched as we started to pitch aggressively. She could only see a few
feet in front of the boat, but might have been able to warn me in time
to stop the boat and back up before damaging a prop or rudder.
On the phone, Sophie and NZ SAR agree that they will call us every 20
minutes for updates. NZ SAR also confirms that at this point, we are
TIMELLA's only chance.
It was a 2-hour motor into the wind and waves to TIMELLA's position.
We fired two parachute flares on the way to let TIMELLA know we were
coming.
We arrived at Takau Lakaleka reef just as the sun was coming up ahead
of us at 0530. Sophie spotted the reef first, and it was less than 300
meters away. The sea was rough and the breakers on the reef hidden
behind the ocean swells. We did a full, slow turn around the 1/2 mile
circular reef but saw nothing. No wreck of TIMELLA, no dinghy, no
liferaft, no flotsam, no oil slick. Suddenly both Sophie and I came to
the grim realization that this might not end in the straightforward
fashion we had both been imagining: Get to the reef, see TIMELLA's
crew, they take their dinghy out to us, and we bring them aboard.
At the end of the first lap, Sophie spots a plastic jerry can floating
in the water. Dave at NZ SAR calls and we give him a progress update.
I tell him we're going to draw up a vector on this piece of flotsam
and follow it down wind, but maybe I'll take another lap first. Just
in case. That's a good idea, says Dave. The reef is small and we're
only 50-100 meters from the edge of the big breakers. I'm certain I
would be able to see a person floating in the middle of the reef, let
alone a liferaft or shipwreck. I've underestimated the size of the
breakers sweeping over and reflecting around the reef.
One the second, and final lap, I glimpsed something right in the
center of the reef. Sophie's got the binoculars and focuses on the
spot but sees nothing. I take the binoculars and nothing. I'm certain
I saw them though. Three little black dots poking out of the water. It
takes thirty seconds of staring right at the spot before they pop up
over two waves, then they're gone again. But they were definitely
there. I shake my head and look at Sophie. They're in the water. I
don't see a liferaft or the dingy. They were just bobbing there waving
their arms, meaning they'd seen us. The only option was to go into the
reef with the dinghy, pick up the crew, and bring them back out to
OCEALYS. Sophie is worried about the risk, but I'm comfortable I can
get in and out safely with the dinghy and I know that this is their
only chance.
I get ready to go and I'm thinking that I need to be self sufficient.
If something goes wrong, I can't become a liability. I don a drysuit,
a harness, duct tape a strobe light and VHF radio to it, stuff a
couple of rocket flares in a pocket and throw a bunch more in a dry
bag in the dinghy with fins and a mask. There is less fuel in the
dinghy's tank than I'd like, but it's too rough to refuel.
It's very difficult to get the dinghy in the water when it's rough.
Sophie and I have to work together to drop it in freefall from it's
davits and get it clear of the boat's stern. Once in the dinghy I
have to set it loose immediately before I try to start the Honda
outboard. It starts on the first pull. By then I'm already 100 meters
away from the boat. I radio Sophie and let her know that the dinghy is
good. The seas are no problem at all. I feel very good and I'm going
in. I take the dinghy onto the reef through a spot that doesn't have
any big breakers. It looks shallow, maybe 4 feet, and the wave action
is very confused, but the outboard's prop never touches. Only once I'm
well inside the reef do I spot the crew of TIMELLA again, about 50
meters away. All three are in the water with life jackets, clinging to
a deflated and partially sunken dinghy. I can see the wreck of TIMELLA
as a dark shadow just behind them. As I arrive, the three of them are
alert and responsive. Cameron grabs a hold of the dinghy and pulls Ali
to me and I pull her right into the dinghy. Liz is next, but we've
drifted a few feet away from the sunken dinghy she's holding on to so
Cameron swims to her and brings her to me and we get her aboard. At
his turn. Cameron looks at me and says, I'm just warning you, I'm a
pretty big guy. He is a very big guy, but he pops right into the
dinghy like a sea lion. From the time I arrived on scene, to when the
three of them are lying on the floor of the dinghy, no more than 90
seconds have gone by. A line from some movie I saw once popped into my
head and so to ease the tension a bit I say, Good morning ladies and
gentleman. My name is Maurice and I'll be rescuing you today.
In the meantime Sophie has been holding the boat in a stationary
pattern as close to the reef as is safe. It's very difficult to do
because there is a strong current swirling around the reef (it's even
noted on the charts) and with so much wind, the boat wants to do 5
knots, even with no sails up. I come up to her and over the radio
(it's too windy to yell, even only 10 feet apart) we coordinate the
approach of the dinghy. It's a particularly dangerous stage because a
wave could slam us against OCEALYS and throw someone in the water, or
worse, crush them between the two boats. Sophie found a perfect
heading that resulted in a nice calm area between OCEALYS' sterns and
we were able to unload with little incident, although Cameron almost
got a leg caught between the two boats, pulling it up just in time to
avoid a serious injury.
Once everyone was on board and the dinghy was secured, we headed for
the coast of Viti Levu. Ali was suffering from moderate hypothermia.
She was coherent, but exhausted and was no longer shivering (a bad
sign). Sophie stripped Ali and Liz of their wet clothes and put them
under a hot shower. She got Ali into dry clothes and into a sleeping
bag as quickly as possible. Ali requested some coffee but was given
decaffeinated tea instead. She had apparently been seriously seasick
for the previous 24 hours. Cameron had suffered second-degree burns to
his face and arms after trying to repair his engine during the day
before striking the reef. The three of them had also suffered cuts and
bruises on their feet and legs from coming into contact with the reef.
Cameron was alert, calm and in relatively good spirits. Liz was in a
similar condition. The three of them drank, ate and rested while we
navigated for 4 hours in 25-30 knot winds to Likuri Harbor. We
offloaded them a short time later at Robinson Crusoe Island Resort,
where owner Captain Paul, after being contacted by Mike Randall (ahead
of our arrival), had graciously offered to clothe, feed and house them
until they could get their bearings and make their ways home. After
sorting OCEALYS out, we went ashore and gave Cameron an opportunity to
buy us that beer he had promised and we toasted to Life.

Notes:
We were the only vessel that heard TIMELLA's mayday on VHF channel 16.
We usually turn off our VHF at night due to the unfortunate social
hailing made by other cruising boats on channel 16. There were no
other boats at Vatulele Island. The radio was silent and thus I forgot
to turn it off.
The actions of the New Zealand High Comission in Suva, Mike Randall in
particular, and the New Zealand Search and Rescue Coordination Centre
in Wellington were instrumental in the success of this rescue. Their
professionalism, effectiveness, ability to coordinate communications,
and situational awareness were impressive. Having regular contact with
them over SAT and cell phone permitted us to make a series of
rational, well thought-out decisions based on good information which
minimized risk and maximized the probability of a successful rescue.
The local authorities in Suva, both the Police and the Navy, clearly
made the best possible effort they could. They were also critically
hampered by lack of training, and especially lack of resources. The
SAR team was literally scrambling to find fuel and crew for their
boats. Perhaps the governments of the countries whose nationals make
up the crews of the hundreds of boats cruising these waters each year
should consider providing training and resources to Search and Rescue
teams in Fiji.
...........................
Letter from Reader:

Sender: Paul Andrews

Message: What a well deserved bravery award, the whole familly should feel very proud. Has Fiji recieved any help at all in trainig and monetry assistance for thier search and rescue services?

...........................

Sender: Myford Severn

Message: ' Has Fiji recieved any help at all in trainig and monetry assistance for thier search and rescue services? '

Unfortunately the Fijian government is currently a totalitarian military-led body, with other priorities and preoccupations.

One consequence of chains of events set in train by their chosen way of enforcing these preoccupations has led to annual diplomatic expulsions of NZ High Commissioners.

This puts the sort of backup we saw in this rescue at risk, and the dictated terms make cooperation and aid impossible.

The military leader of Fiji insists on being judged on his words rather than his deeds, and it's easy to see why.
...............................