Passage to the Galapagos Islands

From Isla San Jose we sailed towards the Galapagos Islands. With
fresh provisions of fresh fruit and fish, we were well equiped to
handle the 6-8 day passage. We had not been able to download the Grib
files, but reports from other yachts making the same passage indicated
a calm and uneventfull passage. We were even expecting to be becalmed
for portions of the voyage.
An exciting catch outside the Perlas was a juvenile Yellowfin tuna,
our first ever. We made some excelent nori rolls (both cooked and raw
tuna rolls).



During our first watch of the passage, several butterflies, of a type
we had seen hundreds of during our time in Las Perlas, appeared on our
boat while being almost 60 miles from shore. This seemed unusual for
being so far out. My watch ended at 9 pm, and I settled in for the
night, trying to get some rest before my next watch at 6 am.
I was awoken sometime around 10:30 pm, to the boat heeling (rolling
sharply to it's side) violently, as though we had gone off course and
broadside to the wind. Cabinets and anything that wasn't held down
fell to the floor, cluttering the narrow quarters below deck. All our
charts and books spilled from the navigation table into the galley.
The wind had suddenly spiked to 30 knots and we were caught with a
light wind spineker sail up. We rolled so much that water began to
rush in through a starboard seacock, giving the appearance that we
were taking on water. As I held one of the overhead handrails, I was
unable to get both feet on the floor as I struggled to keep from being
thrown to one side of the boat. We had to get the huge light wind
sail down before water made it's way over our sides.
To get such a sail down, we had to turn on the engine and point the
boat into the wind. In winds this strong we would need all available
hands to haul it down.
As the situation progressed rapidly, I heard a sickening sound from
the engine, almost indescribeable, but the obvious sound of something
going very wrong. What we soon realized was the sound came from a
line, recently uncleated, wrapping around our spinning propeller, and
jamming our rudder. In the blink of an eye we were disabled, dead in
the water.
As we stowed our sail, drifting aimlessly in the rough seas, we began
to take stock of our situation. Over 60 miles from land and 300 miles from a proper port, drifting on a 2 knot current out into the Pacific.
Rolling in the heavy waves, we drifted further and further from help,
stretching our ability to make radio contact with Panama or any vessel
capable of helping us. Our eyes wearily scanning the horizon for
lights and continuing to hail anyone who could hear by issueing a
Pan-pan, one step below a full on mayday. Until the answer to our
prayers came over the radio, Captain Graham of S/V Eowyn, an ever
vigilante English captain with years of experience on the worlds
oceans, and a superb radio voice. He ordered his boat to heave to in
open water to keep in radio contact, and served throughout the ordeal
as our faithful lifeline to the rest of the world. Without his help,
I am certain we would have drifted for days.
Word finally arrived that through Eowyns efforts, he had notified
Emergency Coordination Center in the UK, US Coast Guard, Servicio
Maritime de Panama, and the World Cruising Club, all of whome worked
tirelessly to send aid in the form of a patrol boat called Ligia
Elena. All told we drifted from 10:30 on the 13th of February until
8:00 am on the 15th.

Patrol Boat Ligia Elena

My family and myself forever have a debt of gratitude to these people
who worked all the way until we set foot on dry land to assure our
safety of ourselves and our boat, Bristol Rose.
My thanks go out to the Panamanians who offered us shelter upon our
arrival on land. I will omit their names in this post to preserve
their much deserved privacy, but they know our appreciation and
gratitude is likewise extended to them.
Survival situations can appear in a heartbeat, and being on the open
ocean, even in a modern boat, does not exempt you from this reality.
Something someone asked me was if we paniced. I am proud to say we
didn't, which is fortunate. Keeping a level head, and above all hope,
helped us make the decisions and deal with the siuations at hand.
Hoplessness can be just as much a killer as the elements, and can
consume your whole reality. No matter how bad things get, keeping
hope is paramount in walking out of a survival situation.

Something we didn't expect, was as soon as we arrived on land, we were
informed that we had made the local (and global) news. Word had
spread of a distressed, American flagged vessel off Panama, and we had
found our way into a half dozen articles and press releases, one being
as far as India. Even though we felt so alone in the Pacific, it
turns out people we had never met were watching for our safe return.
We even received emails from other countries offering assistance,
should we find ourselves in their waters.

We managed to make basic repairs and are now safely in Panama City to make the boat ready to go to sea again.

UPDATE: Later we found through a Panamanian news source that Ligia Elena was attacked by speedboats a few days after they towed us to safety. One of their crew was shot in the leg, but thankfully survived.