AS SEEN IN THE MAY/JUNE 2006 ISSUE

I don’t care how prepared you may be, anyone who spends any length of time on the water is eventually going to come face to face with some sort of trouble. My day came in August, when I got the bright idea of entering a grouper tournament with my father and brother. I attended the captains meeting the night before the big day, and was somehow elected to organize the Calcutta, and hold on to the thousands of dollars of prize money. I remember joking with fellow competitors that I was planning on leaving the money at home. There would be no need to bring the cash to the awards ceremony because the winner already had it.

It was just after 9:00 A.M. and now extremely anxious to wet a line, we were thrilled to finally set-up for our first drift over my secret set of coordinates. I knew from a recent trip that this particular ledge held at least one monster, so it came as a big surprise when our first pass over the numbers produced nothing. Thinking I was just a bit too far to the west, I reached for the key to fire up the outboard so we could reposition, and can you believe it, the key was gone. Somehow in our rush to get baits in the water, one of us must have snagged the key ring. We searched everywhere to no avail. We literally tore the boat to pieces looking for the key. Somehow, it was gone. Unwillingly, I finally came to the realization that we weren’t going anywhere without assistance. I ordered the anchor be deployed so we would hold our position, which by now was more than a mile from our initial destination.

Six hours of praying later, we finally spotted another boat cruising by not more than a mile or two from us. We caught their attention, and as they pulled alongside, we informed them of our situation, and asked that before they depart the area, to please record our position and radio it to the Coast Guard once they were in range. They nodded back with the same "Okay" that I get from my teenage son when I ask him to take out the trash. It wasn’t hard to understand why my brother, who didn’t want to alarm our father any further, pulled me to the bow and said, "They aren’t going to do it, are they?"

A few minutes later, they proved him right. The boat raced toward the horizon without as much as a single wave goodbye.

Just when things looked bad, they got worse. Late that evening a severe storm rolled in. Huddled around the console in a fully exposed 25ft open-fisherman, fifty miles off the beach, during a torrential downpour with lightning striking all around you is not somewhere you want to be. For two hours the wind drove the rain sideways. You want to talk about miserable. We were soaking wet and quite terrified in the pitch black. I was later informed that the VHF came alive with mayday calls from vessels in need of assistance.

Later that night, a freighter finally answered our call for help. He said he too was experiencing some sort of mechanical problems, but would relay our situation to the Coast Guard. As luck would have it, we could overhear him on the radio informing the maritime authorities of his situation. When he told them about us, he got everything correct but our position. The coordinates he relayed would have the Coast Guard searching eighty miles to the north. Time and time again we tried to call him back, but got no response.

Now well after midnight, we were certain that we would be spending the night. The three of us tried to remain calm as we took turns resting while keeping watch and waiting for morning to arrive. We spent the night huddled on our backs staring up at the sky, whishing on shooting stars, and cutting deals with the Man Above. I remember thinking that who ever won the calcutta must be more that a little ticked-off by now. The way I was feeling at the time, if he wanted his damn money, he’d have to come out here and get it. 

Dawn brought with it new hopes of rescue. As the sun peeked over the horizon, my brother reminded us that today was his wedding anniversary. Great, that’s all I need! A very worried and very mad sister-in-law. We celebrated by splitting a submarine sandwich, which left us with one more for our anticipated rescue celebration.

Later that morning, and again without a single boat in sight, we began sending out unanswered maydays. With only a few hours of daylight remaining on day two, we were really starting to worry about rations. I began to look around the boat for more things to eat. Luckily, my search efforts paid off in a big way. I found eighteen sun flower seeds stuck between the windshield of the center console, and a five year old can of chili that I kept on the boat as a joke. It took more than an hour to work up the courage just to open it. When I peered inside the can I recall thinking I have seen more appetizing meals on Fear Factor. I asked the others if they wanted to dig in. There were no takers.

As night two progressed, we were really starting to get concerned. Not that we weren’t worried the night before, but now we were really, really worried. I decided to give the VHF another try. Just as I turned it on, we could barely make out a message being relayed of a missing 23ft. center-console with three personas aboard. I instantly responded with a MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY. The welcomed voice on the other end responded with a comforting, “Relay your message.”

After repeating our approximate position seven times, they said that they were searching for us way to the north off St. Pete. Not more than twenty minutes later, a Coast Guard helicopter was hovering overhead inquiring about our condition. They said they were running low on fuel and it was too late in the day to send a rescue boat, and that they would have someone come out first thing in the morning to haul our butts back to Ft. Myers. We split our last sandwich, and celebrated like never before. We spent that second night on our backs looking up at the sky again, thanking God for our rescue, and renegotiating the deals we made the night before.

Again, dawn brought new hope, as we watched a Coast Guard cutter materialize through the morning haze. My father reminded us that today was his 70th birthday. We had no food to eat, but celebrated with two remaining bottles of raspberry flavored water. We drank like Pirates and sang songs of Spanish ladies as the cutter towed us back to port. I was sure that somewhere back on land somebody was hunting me down for his cash, not to mention my mother and sister-in-law were probably hunting me down for my head. All in all it was quite an adventure. My brother had an anniversary, my dad a birthday and we were now more determined than ever to win that tournament next year. 

Finally, for the first time since the incident, I do want to mention one more thing. Not a single word of what I just said is true. We never entered a grouper tournament, never got stranded for two days out in the middle of nowhere, and never braved a fierce thunderstorm. At least that’s what I tell everyone now after realizing when we got back to port that uncharacteristically, I had pulled the key out of the ignition and put it in my jacket pocket for safe keeping, where it was tucked away the whole time. Up until now, I haven’t had the heart to reveal my secret to anyone. I just told everyone it was a silly little mechanical issue which was easily resolved. Sorry guys. I hope you forgive me.

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