South atlantic Disaster May 2010
South
Atlantic
Disaster May 2010
Yacht
Hollinsclough sailing in the Southern Ocean ice convergence zone of the South
Atlantic between South Georgia and Cape
Town
Yacht
Hollinsclough was hove too enduring the gale when she hit a growler ice berg
debris in the early hours of Friday 7th May in the darkness of a
clouded night. The storm developed to full gale. A knockdown of the yacht
followed as water ingress brought more instability to the stricken vessel. Wind gusts measured over sixty knots in
big South Atlantic seas.
Formal
Mayday was issued to Falmouth
When
Mayday tasked the Warship HMS Clyde she was
targeted at twenty four hours, Lt Commander Steve Moorhouse and his crew
excelled themselves in arriving eighteen hours, themselves fighting the very
same South Atlantic Gale. The margin was narrow our family would have been
unlikely to win the fight of the freezing ocean from the life
rafts.
We
owe our lives to the bravery and determination of HMS Clyde, it was a miracle of
God to find her on station so far south of the World. The Royal Navy, modern
technology, satellite communication and the luck of God saved our
lives
hollinsclough {CHANGE TO AT} mailasail {DOT} com
Extract of Mail on
Sunday article by Jonathan Petre
Mayday! How the growler got us:
Couple struck by iceberg and saved by Royal Navy tell of their terrifying
ordeal
By Jonathan
Petre Sunday Mail
A British couple
whose yacht was sinking under them after it hit an iceberg in a South Atlantic
storm have spoken for the first time about how they feared they and their
daughters were about to drown – just before being plucked from the ocean in a
miraculous rescue mission by the Royal Navy.
Recalling their terrifying
ordeal, Mr Lomas said: ‘It was a very close shave. I do believe in God and I can
only think someone was watching over us. It was a miracle the Navy was so
close.’ Saved by a Navy officer who climbed aboard their doomed £500,000 yacht
and said: 'Good afternoon, how can we be of assistance?'
It was 2am on May 7
when, despite their sophisticated radar and scanning equipment, they smashed
into a low-lying iceberg known as a ‘growler’, similar to the type that sunk the
Titanic. Mr Lomas, who was on watch in the cockpit, said: ‘It was pitch black
when we hit the ice. The sound was like marbles clattering around a frying pan
or being dropped on a glass table.
'It was the worst
sound I had ever heard in my life. It seemed like an hour but it probably lasted
for about 10 seconds. ‘The iceberg ran under the entire length of the yacht,
tilting it to one side. At first Mr Lomas and his wife could see no sign of
damage in the fibreglass hull and thought they had had a lucky
escape.
But as the new day
dawned they realised the yacht was becoming increasingly damp – and unstable. At
midday, the boat suffered what Mr Lomas called a ‘knock-down’ – blown over flat
on to its side by a 40 knot wind, leaving the mast lying in the waves. Though it
righted itself after about five minutes, the boat took on even more water in the
process.
Mr Lomas, who was back in the
cockpit after a couple of hours’ sleep, said: ‘My initial sensation was that my
safety harness was feeling incredibly tight. 'Then I realised I was lying on my
side. My wife and I were covered in water, from head to toe. It was incredibly
scary.
‘Fortunately both my daughters were down
below in the cabin, and though water did get in there, it was by no means
flooded. ‘I was staggered at the coldness of the water and my real fear set in
when I checked the floor bilges [the lowest part of the boat] and found the boat
was awash with water. I was in shock and it was at that point we all put on our
waterproof survival suits.’
They were now about
300 miles north-east of
Aware of the grave
danger they were facing, the family began bailing out the yacht using electric
and manual pumps, and even buckets.
Mr Lomas was able
to send out a Mayday alert using the yacht’s emergency system, to alert any
shipping in the area. He said that this was his lowest moment during the ordeal.
Tracey explained: ‘It was the fear of how the children were going to cope with
what we had to tell them. In fact they told me, “Don’t worry mummy. It is all
going to be OK”.’
No ship responded
to Mr Lomas’s SOS – but it was picked up thousands of miles away back in
The warship was
only 295 miles away from the stricken yacht and would have been able to reach
the Hollingsclough Oyster within 24 hours. Mr Lomas said: ‘After a nervous wait,
‘Through the luck
of the gods, we had a warship in range. It was the luckiest thing ever. We just
felt elation. Morgause said, “Don’t worry, we are not going to die today. The
Royal Navy is on its way”.’
However, the family
was still in great danger and as his yacht sank lower into the water and was
lashed by huge waves and winds, Mr Lomas began to fear that HMS Clyde might not
reach them in time. He wrote at the time in his log: ‘We are not saved yet.
Fingers crossed.’
The terrified
family had to spend another night on their doomed boat. It had a damaged
hull and rudder, the power was failing so the lights were flickering on and off
and more and more water was coming in. On top of all this, the weather was
getting worse, with swells growing to 30ft. The family gathered in the main
bedroom and tried to keep their spirits up by remembering the high points of the
voyage: seeing turtles and humpback whales off
But it was
difficult to remain optimistic as the children lay shivering and scared in the
middle of the bed gripping each other, while their mother and father tried to
comfort them by cuddling them from either side. But there were no tears from the
girls.
‘The yacht was
creaking and groaning,’ Mr Lomas said. ‘We could hear the ocean trying to tear
our rudder out while water sloshed around our bed. 'In the battle between the
structure of our yacht and the force of nature, nature was winning. None of us
slept.’
By the time
daylight arrived, there was a foot of icy water in the cabin. ‘Every time the
boat rolled with the waves the boat shook, and the water inside shifted,’ said
Mr Lomas.
By now they were
seriously afraid that HMS Clyde would not reach them in time and they prepared
for the worst, inflating the yacht’s two life rafts, and then sheltering in the
cockpit to eat cold Cornish pasties to build up their strength for the ocean
ordeal they were sure they faced.
Caitland said: ‘The
scariest bit for me was thinking we might have to get into the life rafts. The
waves were so big and it was so cold.’ Her father added: ‘We were exhausted. At
6.30am we watched the sunrise and that raised our spirits. Morgause
checked the radar to see if she could spot HMS Clyde, but we couldn’t see it.
'So we sat in the
cockpit waiting as we drifted in the huge swell. It wasn’t until about 11am that
we heard the first human voice come through on the radio – and the
warship
came into view about an hour later.’
The Navy vessel had
battled through 30ft waves and icebergs to reach them in just 18 hours, five
hours fewer than had originally been estimated. ‘They ran the ship flat out all
the way, which was just as well – a couple of hours later and our yacht would
have sunk,’ said Mr Lomas.
‘Caitland was the
first one to spot the smoke from the warship on the horizon and then Morgause
broke into the song All Things Bright And Beautiful. We all joined in. It was
very emotional.’
Within two hours,
the first naval officer reached the sinking yacht with a rescue team.
Mr
Lomas recalled: ‘The officer jumped on board our yacht and said, “Good
afternoon. I am Lieutenant Rob Stavely from the Royal Navy. How can we be of
assistance?” ‘What a boy! I was proud to be English. You couldn’t be more
English. He was so professional.’
Then, from the
warship’s bridge, they watched Hollinsclough disappear below the waves as the
sun began to set. ‘It was like losing a member of the family,’ said Mr Lomas.
‘The captain sounded a long salute of honour on the foghorns as she went down.
The girls were crying.’
Mr Lomas described the Navy’s
efforts to save them as heroic. Their last blog entry reads: ‘Bound for