Arctic by RIB - Episode 17 - Lost in Fog and an Ice Maze, the Team Wanders Aimlessly for Hours

Less than 10 minutes had passed after I went below when Chris's screams made me jump out of bed: “Get up quickly, the ice will swallow us...” he shouted, in a state of near panic

Trapped in the Ice

I leaped topside and stood frozen by the shocking sight. It was a monumental image. A large mass of ice about two meters high, which must have weighed several tons, was stuck to our bow.

At the stern, another volume of equal size pressed against the port side of the catwalk. I could clearly discern the underwater blue extension of the small iceberg, lying only a few centimeters below the engines’ lower units.

And then, that unforgettably deep thumping and grinding of the lower units hitting on the blue mass, making the whole boat shake.

But I couldn't shift into gear because it was certain that our propellers would hit the ice, likely crippling us.

Chris grabbed the carbon pole and began to push the huge bulk of ice with all the strength he had left. At some point, the stern of the boat detached and moved a little to the starboard side.

I immediately turned the steering wheel to starboard and momentarily put only the starboard engine in reverse so that if its propellers hit, I would at least have the other engine intact for the follow-on. My purpose was to set our bow free.

It worked—we inched clear. Once we gained a few inches, I continued to ease in reverse and starboard while shifting the bow to the port with the help of the bow thruster.

I will never forget those shuddering sounds in the hull of the RIB as we were passing through the frozen boulders or when large pieces of ice were coming towards us moved rapidly by the strong currents.

It was as if metal “claws” were coming out of them, scratching the gel coat of the hull. The grinding sounds seemed like frozen souls talking to us, wanting to take us with them.

Those sounds, like menacing long drawn-out screams, stayed with me long after. The deathly peacefulness of the dense fog and those masses of ice, just a few centimeters away, with the strange shapes, which in our tired minds looked like alien beings wanting to devour us, will forever be etched in my soul.

But at last, we were in the clear again.

I suggested that Chris should lie down in the cabin so that he could get some rest and get ready for what was to come. None of us knew what fortune would bring us next.

I was left at the wheel alone, immersed in my thoughts, surrounded by an eerie landscape. I knew that this mission had a lot of risk, but I never had imagined that the reality would be this challenging.

Practically, it had turned out to be an incredible nightmare.

I admit that at some point I was broken. I couldn’t take it any more! It was really painful to keep fighting a relentless opponent when there seemed to be no hope. So I stopped trying and I preferred to take a “pause” again and stay focused looking for at least one chance.

But God was there, by our side, and helped us. It was Saint Mary’s evening August 15th.

Radar to the Rescue

And suddenly, as of a miracle, I remembered the words of my friend Stavros who had introduced me to the secrets of radar:

“Radar sees everything”, he had told me.

“We were stuck in the reeds of Evros River once and the radar helped us find the channels between them and get out into the river...”.

“That's it”, I whispered to myself. If the radar can see through the reeds then why not through the ice?

I bent over the radar screen and zoomed in as much as possible.

A few tens of meters ahead I could see a small crevice within the ice field.

I couldn't explain how it was possible for the radar to see the gaps behind the ice and I was very hesitant.

But I had nothing to lose. It was the hope I was looking for to keep me fighting. Suddenly, as if my mind had been clouded, I sped up, the bow knocking small ice chunks out of our path.

I wanted to smash the ice and get out of this scary maze as soon as possible. I was now fighting to save not only ourselves but the boat itself. Although I hated to punish the hull, I pushed ahead as if we were in a small icebreaker. There was little choice. I was determined to get the boat out of this hell. For a captain, his boat is not just a hull to travel with. It is his soul itself. This was a test for both—and the RIB came through for us.

At some point I came out into a small channel which was free of ice, just as the radar indicated.I was greatly encouraged then, and hope began to grow inside of me. I was now increasing the radar range to see what was going on within a mile of where we were.To my great relief, I noticed that the radar showed some small channels visible among the numerous reddish masses a few hundred meters behind us, which appeared to lead to larger passageways, free of ice.

I turned our bow 180 degrees and, moving on at 3 knots, I continued to bump and push the various sized ice blocks that blocked our course. I was determined to return us home, to our families.

In less than 20 minutes we traveled into slightly clearer water, within the narrow channels indicated by the radar. The radar was now my eyes and it gained my complete trust now. I was faithfully following the image displayed on its screen.

Finally a broader passageway seemed to release us from the Other World.

I increased speed to 12 knots despite the horrible fog.

Our little boat raised her bow towards the prospect of our freedom.

Clearly emotional and tearful from the immense tension that was finding its way out and overflowing through my eyes, I opened the cabin door to wake Chris up.

What I saw made me tear up even more. I stood embarrassed watching. Chris, who had obviously sensed that something good was happening as our speed suddenly increased and the boat was ready to jump on plane at any moment, was squatting on the bed and with his palms together he was praying for us to get out of the icy impasse.

“Tell me it's true...” he told me with a trembling voice.

Before I even answered, he jumped on me and we found ourselves down on the polyester tanks hugging each other.

We cried like little children. Our screams of joy must have echoed for miles in the deathly silence of the nightmarish fog.

Terrible emotions, unspeakable moments, unforgettable experiences. I don't remember for how long we stayed hugging each other with our tears rolling down to the deck uncontrollably. We did not budge from our position as the immense tension, which had been building up within us for so many hours, was so unbearable that it absolutely had to be released in order to avoid the possibility of an uncontrollable explosion of panic with unforeseeable consequences.

We were now running at 20 knots and finally, after a long circle to the north, we got back on our proper course.

Everything looked fine now. Even this merciless fog slowly began to thin.

But we continued to remain speechless and numb from the strong shock and enormous stress we had suffered.

No matter how much we wanted to, we couldn't free our thoughts from the terrifying nightmare we just experienced. Shocking images kept on coming again and again at cinematic speed, forever etched in our memory.

We had already completed 29 hours of constant and painful navigation…

Read the final installment of “Arctic by RIB” in the next BoatTEST . . .