The search for and miraculous rescue of Brett Archibald

Man Overboard

Our Mentawai surf charter boat Barrenjoey is sitting in Teluk Nibung (Padang Harbour) after a cancelled trip. The crew are wafting over jobs after completing most of them during the “going off” season. We are alongside on our newly acquired family boat, Amandla, a 45ft power cat that frees us up from the BJ, 10 guests and crew, yet still allows us to keep an eye on business. Something different this year. Doris is on the blower, a bit stressed about his charter and new boat, Raja Elang.

“What’s up mate?”

“Ah this shat itself, that shat itself, etc. Had to put the guests in at Wavepark for a couple of days. Promised I’d sort the boat or get another one.”

“BJ is sitting here after a cancelled trip if you need it.”

“Give me an hour, if I can’t sort it, let’s work something out.”

“Roger”

A couple of hours later, Doris rings back.

“I’ve chucked in the towel. Can I take you up on that offer?”
The offer, by the way, was that “it’ll work out in the wash”.
BJ is ready in a few hours.

Captain Tony “Doris” Eltherington takes the helm, heads out to pick up his guests. All good. They continue on with their charter for the next week. On the last day, they are in the port of Tua Pejat, on Sipura’s north coast. The weather is crap and the surf is small. Elvis, our main crewman, gets the word of a MOB from the harbourmaster. That’s a Man Over Board and it’s a guest from another charter boat, Naga Laut. They lost him during the crossing from Padang to the islands. I get a call around 11.30 am from Doris.

“A punter’s gone overboard. Can you call someone there and let people know. We need to get a search party out to look for him.”

I look out the window. It’s raining, and blowing around 25-30 knots. It wasn’t a nice night to go overboard, it’s not a nice morning to be searching.

“See if you can confirm details with Naga Laut. Position, time, etc. I’ll see what I can do from my end”.

I call the agents here in Padang. Belinda gets onto the internet, Facebook, etc. She recognizes a photo on Chantal’s Facebook of her guests heading out on Naga Laut. Chantal and Gideon are friends of ours who used to run the charter boat Laut India up here. Now they have their own booking company in South Africa. They’ve tried to raise the authorities here, but to no avail. From experience we’ve learnt that when shit happens among the fleet, you have to call in your mates on the other boats, and any other boats and camps willing to pitch in.

I would never normally go to sea on a day like this, but there’s a bloke floating, possibly alive, and besides the Naga Laut, which has turned around, no-one else is looking. We have a fast boat and can be there by sunset. Doris is thinking the same thing and heads to the area in Barrenjoey’s fast tender. Belinda corresponds with South Africa before we lose signal, and we head into a lousy sea. I would not like to be swimming around in it.

Back in West Oz, they are burying Dave Kinder after losing his battle with cancer. Dave worked for Martin Daly for 20 years as his fleet manager. He didn’t surf but he was a salvage diver and shipwright. He was the man behind the Indies Trader flotilla, Martin’s righthand man. He fixed stuff, dealt with politics, made shit happen. His famous quote, and legacy to all those who worked under him was, “In the scheme of things: you just gotta get right on up it!”
Martin has just buried his friend when he hears the MOB news. I am with my family, getting pitched around in a horrible sea-state. Conditions are getting worse. I have no crew, as we are on a private boat. But we can be there by sunset. I notice one of the engine room bays is taking on water. My youngest son Duke is green and throwing up. Fynn my eldest, is also changing colour. B and I are silent, staring at a wild sea with hardly a vessel to be seen for miles. We are out of sight of land. We are both thinking about the guy in the water. As far as we know, only Bynda Laut, Naga Laut and Amandla are looking.

About now I think about Dave Kinder and I remember a moment with him. I was skippering the Indies Trader 2. Dave was with me, overseeing the maintenance of the charter. We were anchored at Dua Mata island during very similar conditions to what I am experiencing now, when we received a call from the Laut India (Chantal and Gideon’s boat). They had dragged onto reef and wanted us to help drag them off. I’d started the engine. Dave looked at me intently and said, “No mate. Conditions are too rough, we’ll be putting our vessel in jeopardy. Never put yourself or your vessel in jeopardy.” He then put his dive gear on, dived on the Laut India, came back and predicted they’d be right till the next tide. He was correct.

I turn and relay this story to B. It doesn’t feel right. Sign enough for us that we turn back. I lose an engine due to a fuel blockage and just want to make harbor by dark. Martin rings me just as we return close to the coast. Martin asks for an update. I let him know what I know. I’m bummed.

“Geez mate, do you think there’s a chance?” I ask.

“Of course,” he responds. “It’s warm water. We have to look.”
He suggests I rally the other boats, and we discuss options. One option is for everyone to be floating around with lights on ’til dawn and continue the search. I tell him it’s pretty shitty out here. He scoffs. He offers the Indies Trader 3 and I agree to head back out.

Back in port, B and I are feeling lousy we can’t continue our search. Then I get a phone-call from Doris. He’s just returned to the Barrenjoey after five hours’ searching in the tender and confirms that the weather has gone to shit. He’s angry that no one else is looking. He agrees it’s too shitty to be floating out there all night on a boat, let alone by yourself. But he holds onto the hope that there’s a lot of debris floating around. The next call is from Indies Trader 4 who are complaining about the weather. They have turned back. If the IT4’s copping it, you know it’s bad. B is back on the internet getting as much info as she can about the MOB. Brett Archibald, 51, a fit mountain biker, father of two kids under 10. Later on, I relay this info to Doris who is angry and frustrated. “Mate, he has kids to live for. There is hope. We will rally the boats. Get some rest, we’ll get him in the morning.”

Before sleep, B puts this message on Facebook.

We are halfway across the strait by dawn aboard the IT3. Dolphins playing under the bow. Hope again. We are in comms with Barrenjoey, Huey, Mangalui and Kuda Laut. That is the sum of the boats, as far as I know, looking for one of us. Five boats. The Aussies. No plane. No coastguard. Things move slowly over here. Jam karat.

We are going to find this guy. It feels right. Dave is going to find him. My boys are going to find him. Someone will.

My boys are searching. B is searching, Tim is searching, Chris is searching. I am on the blower to Albert Taylor discussing current options. Doris reckons the current is going north. Bert agrees it does this sometimes.

There is a jumbled call from Kuda Laut. What…“They got him!

They got him! He’s alive!”

Unbelievable. 28 hours in the drink. He’s alive.

“BJ, BJ, IT3.”

“BJ back. Yep we got him. He’s alive. 100%. Got a red noggin, a couple of cuts where the seagulls got him. He is talking and thirsty.” Doris. Hard nut. Hard as they get. Fucken good surfer. Real. A seaman. He got the guy. He got right on up it. Naga Laut finally comes up on the radio. They declare they wish to pick their guest up and so we turn the Indies Trader 3 around, and head back to Padang into a media storm.

The next morning, Barrenjoey turns up. We are there cheering them. We are so proud of Doris cause he was the one that kept at it and used his experience to find Brett. We are also so proud of our crew, Elvis, Wilson, Anas, and Adek, because we know they had Doris’s back, as well as making sure the BJ did what she had to. And good on the West Aussie boys. What a charter for them. Doris doesn’t want to know about the media storm. He did what any real seaman would. He wants to know where all the other boats were. I tell him not to worry about that and just enjoy being famous.
Martin turns up and the morning becomes emotional. We talk about Dave Kinder, and Doris’s late sister Denise playing a surreal hand in finding Brett. Doris tells us he’d talked with Denise while he was out searching, “She always comes good for me.” he reckons. And we also can’t help but think that Dave urged Brett to get right on up it.

And with that, Uncle Doris – accompanied by a well-deserved breakfast beer – turns his attention to the next matter at hand: the business of building rocketships with my boys.

First published in White Horses magazine, Issue 5

Man Back on Board

Fresh conversations with a still dripping Brett Archibald moments after being rescued in the Mentawai Straits.

Fantastic news from Indonesia today with South African man overboard Brett Archibald found after 28 hours lost in the Mentawai Strait. Durbanite, Archibald, who was seasick as the charter boat Nagu Laut made an overnight crossing from Padang, fell overboard yesterday morning. His absence was not noticed until breakfast a few hours later, at which point the Nagu Laut turned around to retrace its path. At the same time the crew alerted Indonesian Search and Rescue and all charter boats in the area, who mobilized to join the search.

A few short hours ago Tony “Doris” Eltherington, skipper of the Barrenjoey, reported that they had found the stricken swimmer floating 12 miles east of the island of Sipura. Archibald is dehydrated and sunburned, and the Barrenjoey is now steaming to meet up with the Nagu Laut, to return their missing passenger and reunite him with his surfing buddies.

An incredible feat of endurance from Archibald, and an awesome show from all of the charter boats that ply the Mentawai archipelago, not least Martin Daly, who had no second thoughts about mobilizing all three of his Indies Trader boats and jumping straight into the rescue mission.

Update:

Less than an hour ago Surfing Life managed to talk to an exhausted Archibald aboard the Barrenjoey, via a terrible mobile phone line. The Nagu Laut arrived on the scene mid-call, reuniting their missing passenger with his friends, which led to an abrupt and understandable conclusion, but here are the words of a true ironman, still coming to terms with what he just survived. Doris, being the legend that he is, couldn’t quite understand that his new passenger wasn’t up to a beer yet, and gladly handed the phone to him with the line, “Bretto, the paparazzi want a piece of you already!” Cheers Doris!

Brett! Amazing. Obvious question, how are you mate?
I’m not good, hey. 28-and-a-half hours in the water – I am broken. I feel broken in half.

What happened?
We were in a bad crossing. The seas were really rough. I went up on deck to take a wee and drink some water, and then realized I was really seasick. I had two really big vomits, and then I think I blacked out while I was retching. I don’t remember falling overboard or anything. If you fell, you would know. You’d try to grab a rope or something. But I woke up in the water with no lifejacket, the boat 100 metres ahead of me with no tender behind it. It was 3.15am, there was a dark storm, I’m in the middle of this nasty strait, I saw the boat sailing off and I thought it was all over.

There were no islands anywhere for 15 kilometres, but I figured I just had to remain calm, and that once the boat realized I was gone they’d turn around. And they did come back, they got to within 250 metres of me, but they couldn’t see me because the swell was so big, and then they kept going past me and I knew I was in real trouble. The night was carnage. I had sharks swimming past me, I got stung by every jelly fish in the ocean. Seagulls even tried to peck my eyes out, so I have big holes in my nose.

No!
It was insane, just insane. I actually gave up. I went under and said, “screw this, I can’t carry on”. But I couldn’t swallow water, I couldn’t get my lungs to take the water and I kept coming back up. So then I pulled myself together, said, “Okay, we need to keep going here”, and I kept swimming and treading water. I treaded water all night, I saw a couple of islands and tried swimming to them but the current was too hectic, I wasn’t able to kick, so I just floated with the current. This morning I saw a couple more islands, but again I couldn’t get to them.

Did you have any driftwood or anything to help float you?
No, not a thing. I couldn’t believe it. You see rubbish everywhere, and yet I didn’t see a single log or branch or boogie board or anything. I did not see one single piece of litter anywhere, not even a piece of paper. I treaded water for 28-and-a-half hours.

How much longer do you think you could have lasted?
The human body is an amazing, amazing thing. I don’t think I could have gone much beyond today, by the time night came I might have been cactus. I had to get my rhythm, I was treading water for five minutes, then I’d swim again. I saw land five times, but I could never get closer, the current pulled me away every time. I saw a fishing boat come out, and thought “Okay, he’ll get me.” He was headed straight for me then turned to port and buggered off that way, and I didn’t see him again, and then the boat I’m on now, these Aussie guys, just turned up from nowhere, and they were insane.

The captain, Tony (Eltherington), had already organized the whole search and rescue party, and then they were the ones who found me. I saw these masts and started swimming towards them, obviously they were trying to find me but they weren’t coming straight for me, they were going to miss me by 200 metres. I couldn’t whistle my mouth was so dry, so I just started hollering. Tony heard me but he couldn’t see! They eventually pinpointed the noise and found me in the binoculars and came and picked me up. I tell you, I’d never been so happy to see a boat in my entire life, even if it was full of Aussies! I’m a converted Aussie, I love these guys!

When you get onboard what do you do? Drink lots of water and phone your relatives?
Thankfully there was a doctor onboard, and he was amazing. He controlled the situation from the start. He gave me plenty of water, got me warm. I could barely drink, my tongue was the size of a tennis ball. The doc really looked after me, got me on a drip, patched up all my wounds, looked after my face, glued my nose back up. It was good.

Great to hear. Where are you now?
I’m still on the Barrenjoey, and the boys onboard have all been surfing this perfect left while I’ve been asleep. My boat is coming to catch up with me now, and then we can go and carry on with our surf trip.

Your surf trip? You’re not going to get checked out at a hospital or anything?
No, no. We’ve got a doctor here and he’s really taken care of me, you know? He says it’s all good, and in a day or two I should be OK. I must say, my liver and kidneys are buggered, my blood sugar levels are low, my heart rate is very slippery and not great, but I reckon I’ll come right tomorrow…
…bloody hell.
They make us tough in Saffa-land, boy! We’ve got eight days left on our trip, I can’t go to hospital, we’ve got to surf.

You’ve got to get your money’s worth, too. You’ve paid for the trip already. No South African is going to let his coin go that easily.
Exactly! We’ve had a good adventure, but we’ve also wasted two days searching for me. And they just pulled up! I have to go and say hello to them.

Well mate we’re really, really glad you made it.
Ah, thank you. And thanks a lot for the call, appreciate it. Tell everyone back home I’m okay.

Will do… (line goes dead).
Brett, we’re glad you made it back in one piece mate. Your story is incredible, as is your willingness to have a phone jammed in your face so soon after you towelled off. Sounds like there’s some swell headed your way, may you get what you deserve. Apologies if any of these quotes aren’t quite 100%, the line was atrocious. Cheers, bru.

First published on Surfing Life’s website www.surfinglife.com.au.