Arctic by RIB - Episode 8 Man Men Overboard!

As we approached the coast of southern Greenland, conditions became very dangerous. Shivers began to run through my whole body, because visibility in the fog was less than 20 yards. Chances of collision and puncture of our inflatable tubes with the floating pieces of ice was great.

I took hold of one side of the boat and with half-closed eyes anxiously scanned our limited horizon. One man kept watch in front, one to the left and the me to our right. We were living moments of incredible anxiety because there was no chance of rescue here

The last three hours of hard fighting in the ocean’s tempestuous seas had taken its toll on all of us, and we were ready to collapse physically.  Our psychology had taken the downward spiral as well. 

Finally, I had had enough, and I changed course to find the nearest fjord in the Greenland coast which was just 15 miles away. My purpose was to enter a fjord where the weather would break to take a few breaths of rest. I was taking a chance because we knew nothing about these waters which are poorly charted or simply uncharted near the coasts. 

Suddenly "a light appeared", and we came out of the horrible fog about five hundred meters from the shore. The sight we were faced with was shocking to say the least! We did not believe our eyes. 

Snow-capped steep mountain peaks and many icebergs along the coasts under a bright sun created a magical and exciting backdrop, while the deep blue ocean had softened considerably. There are no words to describe the sight that was unfolding before us. A different world.

A Picture Few People See

The landscape was awesomely imposing and very strange at the same time. We were speechless and looked greedily in every direction trying to take it all in at once and not miss a thing. We could not believe what we saw.

As if by magic, our incredible tiredness disappeared.

We held on, the waves took us where they wanted, but we stayed to admire unprecedented images that we did not even imagine existed.

With our spirits high again, feeling rested despite the 56 hours we had been on the ocean, we set sail further south for our planned destination. For the Prince Christian Sound fjord, was just 35 nautical miles. 

We cruised at 22 knots into the oncoming waves with our eyes one watching ahead for icebergs and growlers, and stealing a glimpse to starboard absorbing unique images.

 After two hours, we arrived at the entrance of the Prince Christian Sound, which is considered one of the most impressive in the world. It is approximately 60 nautical miles long, and it is surrounded by very high and vertical coasts with mountain peaks reaching up to 2000 meters (6,500 ft.) 

Waterfalls descend from great heights, while icebergs are constantly being made by glaciers as they march into the sea. It looks like a large and impressive river where, but there are strong tidal currents that carry large pieces of sharp ice.

Once we were out of the ocean, and had found safety in the protection of the fjord, I felt great relief for the constant vigil we had to keep.  The fjord we had entered was breath-taking, and I couldn’t wait to fully document it with my camera.

Photo-Op of a Lifetime

I carefully climbed up and sat on the hard top with my legs dangling in front of the windshield. I held a GoPro camera in my left hand and a Sony camera in my right. Bolted to the ceiling and between my legs was the mount of a second GoPro camera sun painting the horizon channel with magic colors.

I had been sitting there for more than 20 minutes capturing unique images when I began to notice the cold was much more intense, and the humidity that covered the whole boat was starting to freeze. 

I had my eyes in the cameras trying to record the magical images before me, not realizing the potential danger arising. Suddenly, while I was turning my body to the side to capture the last side shots, as if I had sat on an oil slick, I began sliding off the hardtop. I swung the GoPro away from between my legs and slammed into the windshield. 

With my back now on the roof of the cabin I was sliding rapidly to one side towards the sea, cameras in hand.  Everything was happening fast as I headed toward the icy water.

 At the last second, my feet hanging overboard into the water, I let go of the cameras and managed to latch on to the stainless steel bow rail. Hanging out of the boat, my feet in the freezing and rushing water, I was still oblivious to the danger at the time, I yelled at the crew to "save" the cameras that were sliding back and forth on the cab roof. My mind was on not losing the wonderful shots I had just captured. 

Unwisely, I had not worn a PFD when I went out on the cabin roof. At that point I did not realize the enormous danger I was in. I will never forget the look of anguish and the shouts from Cris. He was yelling, screaming really, urging me to hold on tight. At that point I began to pull myself together and started to appreciate my situation.

My feet were already frozen—numbness had set in after only minutes. I tried to swing them back aboard but that tired my hands, which were desperately gripping the cabin rail—my only connection to the boat. Now Cris tried to come forward to help. But the ice was everywhere around the boat now.

Man Overboard!

Suddenly he slipped—and plunged into the icy water! I will never forget that bewildered look of Carlos at the wheel, who now saw both his friends in the boiling, churning water. He was looking from me on the bow to Cris on the stern, not sure which to help first.

I yelled for him to come over and tie a rope to the railing I was holding on to. I urged him not to hurry. I shuddered to think that he too was in danger of slipping into the sea. I didn't even want to imagine that there was a possibility that the boat would be out of control and that we would all be in the water.

Water temperature at 0 °C (32 F). Air temperature at +2 °C.

Cris was wisely wearing the special orange floatation suit that kept him afloat. After a few long minutes of struggling, he eventually managed to latch on to the aft catwalk and climb back into the boat from the stern.

By that time, I was starting to feel absolute exhaustion. Carlos now made his way forward. He tied a rope to the railing and hung it next to me. We tried together and finally managed to make a noose which I would use as a step to get on the boat. I raised my left leg with difficulty. It felt weak and numb from the icy water. I put it inside the noose, but unfortunately the noose was too low and wouldn't help me climb up.

We pulled the noose higher, but it was still low. We raised it even higher. But it was already too late. I felt that I no longer had the strength to lift my leg for the third time. I had two chances and they were wasted. Now my legs felt frozen and numb. I was holding on to the cabin rail with both hands, but my arms felt like they were giving up on me. I was looking for strength but I didn’t have a lot left.

I began to think that I wouldn't make it. It was the first time in my life that I felt like the end had come. I closed my eyes and thought about my family. It was a matter of seconds before I’d have to give up. Cris kept shouting encouragement and instructions.

Thomas Goes Completely Overboard

He went back to the stern of the boat and urged me to let go of the rail and drop into the water. Then he would catch me as the current swept me to the stern. I didn't want to try that because I was wearing boots, two pants, three fleece jackets and an over-jacket. I was sure that if I let go of the railing I would go straight to the bottom.

I continued to hold on, literally for dear life. Cris kept yelling and insisting that I fall into the sea. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I had no choice. I let go and fell into the icy water. I expected to sink under the weight of my soaked clothes but that didn’t happen. I was afloat, but the boat was sliding by quickly.

I made a desperate reach for the stern cleat—but missed. I had one more chance—I lunged with all I had left and snagged it. I felt like I weighed 200 kilos—but I had hold of the boat. Cris and Carlos were above my head giving me courage, holding my hands tightly. 

We were all crying and could not believe this whole test we were living. With no strength at all, almost in a whisper, I mumbled: "I can't even move, whatever you do, you will do it yourself".

I don't know how long they tried to pull me out of the water. It seemed like a century. Using all their strength, Cris and Carlos finally managed to pull me over the transom. They laid me down on the polyester tanks. Stunned, half-frozen, but alive.

After a few minutes, Cris and I managed to stumble into the cabin. Blessed warmth! We turned on the heater full blast, stripped off our clothes and dried ourselves, rubbing our frozen skin to bring back feeling. We were shaking all over, like fish that have just been thrown onto the deck. 

Hypothermia Sets In

The danger of hypothermia was now visible. Fortunately, in about 20 minutes I started to feel better. But Cris had developed a fever and his every attempt to articulate a conversation was a failure as his teeth were chattering loudly, not only from the cold but also from shock. 

I laid him down and covered him with all the sleeping bags we had. I begged him not to try to talk but to calm down and sleep.

One Man Standing

I felt much better but I had not the slightest strength to move my body even for a moment. Meanwhile Carlos stayed in the cockpit trying to pilot the boat safely. He eased into a small glacier cove that was protected from the channel's strong currents. 

He hoped to anchor there and help us, but the depth was around 300 meters. There was no way—he’d have to stay at the wheel constantly to keep us off the shore.

For hours, Carlos eased the boat forward and then let it drift back. When the current took him out to the channel, he would motor slowly back in. He had to continue at the wheel like that all night long while we tried to regain our strength in the cabin.

We had to be ready to spell Carlos who was all alone at the wheel, and just as exhausted as we were after the long, long day at sea. Carlos stood tall and for three hours he went back and forth in our little shelter, avoiding the ice that was scattered everywhere.

Fortunately, I fell into a deep sleep for two hours and was able to regain my strength after a while. I put on my gear and went to the helm.  It was now my turn to look after and protect my friends. Carlos, dazed and exhausted, dived into the cabin and immediately went to sleep.

It was a long night. It was like a bad nightmare that was all too real. Without constant input from the helm, every 5 minutes or so the current swept the boat out into the fjord where the fast, rough water challenged her.

I shut down the port engine and kept the other in the neutral position. Each time the boat drifted close to the open water I put the throttle forward and slowly headed for the glacier at the bottom of the small cove where the water was flat and safe. 

This night seemed endless and the minutes ticked by but we were dry and reasonably warm, ready for what the next day would bring . . . we hoped.

Tomorrow: Episode 9 – Fjord Refuge to Safety