In the nearly twelve months since we met them in George Town, Bahamas, we've shared many anchorages and done a lot of socializing with our friends on Hallelujah, a 39' Amel Sharki ketch. We last spent time with Mike and Kim and their children Carolyn and Marc in Porlamar, Margarita; they were a few days ahead of us as we traveled through the Venezuelan and ABC islands, but we stayed in touch by SSB radio and by email. We knew that Kim and the kids were flying back home to Canada from Aruba for the Christmas holidays, while Mike stayed with the boat. They had originally planned to return from Canada in mid-January, but Kim had become quite ill and their return was delayed by over a week. We were hoping to see them soon, somewhere in the San Blas islands of Panama.
The weather reports at this time were terrible, 30 knots and more offshore between the ABC islands and Panama. We certainly didn't want to be out in it, so we slowly worked our way down through the islands near Cartagena, in the protection of the mainland, and waited for a weather window for the overnight to the San Blas. Since we would stay close to the coast, and were south of the worst winds and seas, we took advantage of a slight let-up in conditions, and had a good passage, but the weatherfaxes and other reports continued to paint a grim picture for the waters further offshore. So when we heard Hallelujah on a SSB net on Tuesday morning January 29, and gave them a call to chat, we were surprised to hear that they had left Aruba the previous morning and were underway for Colon, Panama.
Maybe it was the frustration of having to spend the extra time in Canada, maybe it was just that they felt behind schedule, and they wanted to get through the Canal before the rush began in late February. Like many young cruisers, they have a limited amount of time and money for cruising, and they had their five-year plan all mapped out. So they broke the first commandment of safe cruising: Thou Shalt Not Be In A Hurry. Lots of people (including us) have broken this rule, for lots of reasons, and most of the time they get through it just fine.
We were hoping that Hallelujah would get through just fine, too. When we talked with them on the 29th, they were off Cabo Aguja, where the worst weather seems to gather as the trade winds accelerate around the high peaks near the coast. Kim sounded perfectly chipper despite reporting 35 knots and 15-foot seas: "Everything's fine, the boat is handling the conditions well, and nobody's sick." She said they were likely to get in to Colon on Thursday afternoon. Later that day we got email from them, sent to a group of other cruisers and friends and family the previous evening. We plotted their position on our chart and figured they'd check in to the Panama net the next morning to update their position.
But they didn't. Nor did they check in the next day. We started getting worried email from other people in the group that had received their email. There was a report that their EPIRB (an electronic distress signaling device) had gone off, but that it had been a false alarm, and that Mike had made contact with a passing ship and reported that they were ok. On Friday I turned on the SSB, hoping to hear that they had arrived in Colon, and was heartened to hear Kim's voice, trying to reach another cruising boat. The other boat was one of three that had left Aruba with Hallelujah; they were just about to make landfall in the San Blas, not far from our anchorage. Since I could hear both of them, but the other boat couldn't hear Hallelujah, I broke in and offered to relay the information; what follows is based on what Kim told us.
On the morning of January 30, at 7:15 (I assume AST, the time zone for Aruba -- it would have been 6:15 EST in Panama and Colombia, about half an hour before the informal Eastern Caribbean SSB net and two hours before the Panama Connection SSB net), Hallelujah was experiencing 30-35 knot winds, with gusts to 40, and seas of 12-15 feet. Everybody was below -- Kim says she was asleep -- and Mike had just started to open the companionway hatch in order to go up on deck. Their guess as to what happened next is that an unusually large wave, 20 feet or more, hit them on the stern quarter and rolled them completely over in a 360° roll. When they came up, their rig was a mess, both masts down, their hard dodger damaged, their solar panels and dinghy outboard lost or destroyed, all the loose gear that had been on deck or in the cockpit swept away. The partially opened hatch had let seawater pour below during the rollover, and all their electronics were damaged. Thankfully, other than minor bruises and scrapes, nobody aboard was injured.
Mike kept a cool head and went out on deck to cut away the downed rigging before it damaged the hull. Fortunately, he was able to get the engine started, and they motored the rest of the way to Colon -- nearly 200 miles. Infidien, who was also in their email distribution and had been awaiting them there in Colon, reported their arrival to us and their other friends by email, and they've been helping out as much as they can. (Kim was using their SSB when I talked with her.)
The story with the "false alarm" turned out to be that their EPIRB was automatically triggered, as it was supposed to be, when it was submerged, but that after determining that the boat was not in immediate danger of foundering, they turned it off. Later they decided that they'd better make sure the Coast Guard was aware of their situation, so they turned it back on. Apparently when an EPIRB is switched off after having been turned on, the Coast Guard records it as a false alarm; this is something cruisers should know, so that they don't accidentally reduce their chances of rescue. Mike did hail a passing ship with their handheld VHF, and reported their situation, but things must have gotten a little garbled in the relay.
At Kim's request, we reported their situation to the Panama Pacific SSB net. In subsequent days, on that and other nets, we heard about the other boats which had been on passage at the same time. (As the following is all at least third-hand information, the details may not be correct.) One boat, Willow Street, hit a submerged object and lost their steering. They were taken in tow by a tug, but began to sink during the tow, and because conditions were too rough to continue the tow, the boat was abandoned. The people aboard were taken to Cartagena. Another boat, Mukulu (guessing at the spelling) -- the one Kim had been trying to reach by SSB when I spoke with her -- made it to the San Blas safely, anchoring about 10 miles further up the coast than we are. The fourth boat we have only sketchy information on, partly because of radio interference during the report, but from what we can gather they had some sort of minor damage or breakdown but were able to fix it and proceed safely to their destination.
Over our three years of cruising, we've heard a (fortunately small) number of reports of cruising boats lost or seriously damaged. This is the first time it's been somebody we know. Our hearts go out to them; they have survived the storm, but the aftermath will no doubt be an ordeal as well. Repairs will be expensive, time-consuming, and difficult. We imagine their attitudes have also been shaken, and combined with the financial hit (they were not insured), they may have to re-evaluate their cruising plans. None of this is going to be easy.
We will see them in Colon when we arrive in four to six weeks. Until then, we wish them the very best of luck. They're certainly due for it, now.