Archives: Lost at Sea, three years past.

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Hi everyone, apologies for not keeping up with this blog in a while, I hope reading Noel's and Katharine's and Amanda's blog's have kept you up to date (<-- see links on the side) on some of the more daily events in our life down here.. Katharine is especially diligent for which I am thankful.

So I've had somewhat of a writer's block due of late, and I just haven't made the time like I should. There are a couple reasons.. things have been busy down here! I hope to post on what been happening at the school in a few days. Also, unlike my roommates in our house of technology, I have fairly poor internet reception on my beat-up used Mac laptop and have to wander into the school field if I want to get any signal! Next time I'm getting a new PC one... mmm maybe. Katharine's been online to India tech support with her's today...

There's also a post I wrote a while ago and never put up. I had convinced myself that it was just an old story that everyone already new about and I didn't actually need to post it, but I'm stuck at that point, and I now realise it's part of the larger story I've been given, and it is worth looking backwards sometimes...

------- April 5th, 2008

This month I've been aware of the past more than usual. For me March is a month that seems to stretch backwards through time. March is a part of me.

It's my birthday month for one thing, and as of the 21st I'm a nice round (actually more tall and lanky) 32 years. My 'Bio-Mum' Karen has her birthday in March too, then there's Lent and this year Easter, so maybe it's a natural time of reflection. Or it's simply that the heart has some kind of internal cycle and it's time for me to look back..

It's my first March away from Canada since living in Australia, and this past weekend I was making the call to go to take a friend to the hospital for dehydration. She got a stomach virus while we were exploring the Honduran mountains by zip line. It turned out alright, but it was all too familiar. I must be back here for a reason, there must be something more to learn.

All of this has combined this month to turn my mind backwards, to remember rocky Australian seas and easter spent lost on a boat. I've been coming across Psalms all week that have been talking about God calming the wind and the waves, but it was a sentence in a book this morning that finally knocked me out of my complacency and made me pick up my computer. It didn't take long to find the email I sent out to everyone 3 years ago.

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"Human beings do not readily admit desperation. When they do, the kingdom of heaven draws near."
- Phillip Yancey, The Jesus I never knew

A photo taken of our boat during the rescue. We never saw it again.

April 2, 2005

I have only been in serious danger three times in my life. The first was while skiing alone in the Canadian Rockies, the second a year and a half ago; with meningitis in a Toronto Hospital, and the third time was this past Wednesday, here in Australia.

This time the hospital was the back deck of a huge Navy/Customs super-boat, racing back from the middle of the Gulf of Carpentaria; in the seas somewhere north of Australia. I was suffering from fever, exhaustion and advanced dehydration.

For two days this week I was lost at sea with my friend David on a 22 foot yacht, with no land in sight.

On our way back from what was supposed to be an overnight trip out to a small outer Island in the north Australian oceans, we were caught by a sudden change in the wind patterns: the beginning of the southeast tradewinds which blow all day and all night at high speeds, for months. Overnight the calm winds that carried us out to the Island swung around and built up steam. We tried to set out eastward but had to turn back. We decided to wait a day and set out early Tuesday morning when we saw the winds had calmed down slightly. An hour into that trip the winds picked up again and quickly got worse, and very quickly we were blown away from the Islands into the open waters of the Gulf of Carpentaria. After 6 hours the haze of the Prince of Wales Island shoreline disappeared, and we were in open ocean.

We continued heading south, hoping to hit the tip of Australian coast (Weipa), but both the current and winds were against us, and we missed it by 40 miles. Our only other option to get to land was to head directly West and cross the Gulf of Carpentaria to Gove, if we could only get some sleep that night. But by midnight the winds had only increased further and the boat was now surfing down 3 meter whitewater swells. We braced ourselves against the pitch and had to tie ourselves to the boat while trying to steer. I had been throwing up for more than 12 hours and had started to become feverish as green bile began to turn red. Neither Dave nor myself could keep down food or water. We soon calculated that at our current speed it would take 3 days to cross the 200 miles and reach Gove, if the currents didn't sweep us north into the Arafura Sea. With no compass, no radio, no stars above to guide us, we sat below deck looking over the map, guessing at our bearing. I had effectively not had water or food in 36 hours, and realised that I didn't stand a good chance of surviving more than another day or so.

It was 4 am Wednesday when we made the decision to take down the sails, hit the emergency satellite beacon (EPIRB) and hope for rescue. I watched the boat rock in the darkness as David strapped the beacon to the boat; willing it to work. It gave off a small red glow and beep that echoed into the night. As morning came, and we saw the first reddish yellows of the sun, a search helicopter appeared in the distance. We lit off flares and made contact with the emergency crew. At 9 am a plane air-dropped an emergency kit with two-way radio, and water.. but because of my advanced seasickness I still could not keep it down. A rescue boat manned by some of our Islander friends had set out in the night but had to turn back because of distance and severity of the conditions, so while they were regrouping, at 10am the main navy/customs boat was launched from Thursday Island, where by chance it was docked. It took 6 hours for it to reach us at top speed as we had been blown 80 miles west off the coast. At 3pm we were taken onto the rescue boat, and abandoned the Yacht. At 9pm that night we finally set foot on dry land once again.

It is Saturday evening now as I write this.. I have spent the last few days quietly considering what happened, and recovering physically. I still wake up with the room spinning and I have been finding it hard to do much more sit, and spend time with friends.. which is a good way to spend the last part of easter holiday-week I'd say. I was down by the water tonight, but the usually calm waters have grown even more rough this week. Now every wave is a white cap and the anchored boats are being tossed around like toys. I am surprised to find that it is difficult to look at the ocean, but I make sure I hold my gaze.

One thing that keeps coming to mind is the discussions with God that never stopped through the whole trip. I think the clearest of everything that that I heard was the quiet repetition, 'leave it behind'. I heard him say it through the darkness at 4am when we were most desperate. Until then we weren't even considering abandoning the boat. After that we finally realized we had to, that for hours it had been the only option. Why did we waste so much time? It's a leap to realize you are actually in as much danger as you are, we were fooling ourselves for a long time.

Even as the rescue boat was an hour away I had pockets stuffed full of personal things. But in my delirious state I felt the pocket weigh me down, and envisioned falling off the boat with my pockets weighed down, sinking and unable to swim. So we left everything. We got off with bare feet and shorts. Dave managed a zip lock bag with our wallets & phone. And it turns out that when the time came, it took everything I had to leap across to the rescue boat.

So the week is over, and in somber moments I quietly thank God I am alive. It's amazing how quickly a fun trip turned to disaster, but even when it did it never seemed too much to bear. There's an old saying I grew up with; that God won't let us bear more than we can handle. Knowing that is freeing and powerful when you feel like you can't bear any more. I actually think doing calculations on which actions would not lead to my death is a bit beyond me.. and yet in those moments Christ is there. Not like a philosophical idea or a historical character from the past. But really there, like he was the third guy on the boat. Grasping at the rigging with us.

I kept thinking, 'this sucks', as little wells of panic started to rise, but the third guy seemed confident and so it calmed me. 'What do I do next?' is the only question He let me ask. Even now as I try to communicating how close things came, I'm actually doing pretty good. Four days later I'm still tired and a bit quieter than usual. Being shaken around for a couple days has left me weaker and stronger at the same time. Maybe the more you realize you are not in control, the stronger God moves in each step you take. Maybe it is to the desperate that heaven draws closest. He certainly showed up when I was weakest.

There's lots more to tell, but I've said enough for now. Love you guys lots, I'll be home sooner than you think. And if you have a spare moment this week, pause and step back for a second and really look around you. I seem be seeing things with different eyes this week. See if you can.

Love always.

Mark

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So there it is.. some day I'll write all the details from that day that make my hair stand up. But how do you write down on paper the sense of God in the shadows, gently nudging your actions along? Wanting you to walk on your own but waiting to catch you, like any good father. I still remember standing at the front of that boat the first sun-filled day, feeling like the king of the world. I still remember 3 am wednesday night; grasping that same rigging, staring into darkness, calling out and hearing Him Answer.

When I'm in Toronto I go out to the beachheads and just stare across the water into the dark, the waves drowning out the city, listening. When I'm in Costa Rica I climb high peaks in the nights to see the sun Rise. I do a lot of that, whenever I can.. but don't think I do it to feel strong... I think I do it to feel weak. Blessed are the poor in Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.... they will see God. Who said a comfortable and happy life is actually a good thing? Maybe all it does is put you to sleep, like we're fooling ourselves. Maybe God's just patiently waiting for each of us to be desperate enough to wake up and realize we need Him.

Does all this affect my life? Only on days that I let it. At least for today I remember that the One who made Everything is calmly and quietly walking beside me. I should be scared out of my wits at that idea. I should let that knowledge and that friendship change me.

If I could wake up every day and remember that, I should be ready to leap towards anything with my whole heart.

Maybe I am.