Tsunami

The motion of the boat was strange that night; I couldn't sleep. She
rocked forwards and backwards – not the uncomfortable side-to-side 'yaw'
we had been accustomed to throughout the week. Then again, maybe this
was normal, I didn't know, I just knew I was restless. There were
gurgling noises, I closed the drains from both toilet and sink and
checked our position outside. Still in the same spot, by the quieter and
less inhabited east side of Cumberland Bay. We were tied to a mooring
buoy, courtesy of the Navy I guess. This is a huge block of concrete
resting on the sea floor attached to a very long line of heavy chain and
designed for holding ships several times our size. Andy had dived down
and inspected it on our first day here,- far more secure than an anchor,
assuming the mooring is a good one, and much easier to arrive at and
leave from. I guess the Navy also like us to use them: so they also know
that we are held firm.

At 4am the boat started rocking in all directions. We jumped up, Andy
checked the ropes.. behind us it looked like we were flying through the
water although we were still tied firm at the bow. Then an almighty
roar, resonating around the bay. 'Oh my god', I hear Andy outside….'o
my god'… it's a really dark night but looks like there are – houses,
floating. 'There's been a landslide.' He asks me to start untying the
dinghy,- he's not going out in that though, surely? I'm outside now,
water is flying past us in big whirls, carrying trees and, yes, it looks
like roofs. We think the hill right by us has collapsed, horrible, but
very local.

The water is now soaring out towards the open ocean, carrying with it
all objects in its path. We hear cries and calls from people, people in
the houses, people in the water in the houses. It's dark. With head
torches and lights we are shining beams around.. towards the voices,
'swim to the yacht, swim to the yacht' Andy is shouting top voice in
spanish. Thank god he's got the sense to not go anywhere. This is no
landslide though we have no idea what it is.

Where's the Navy?, I'm thinking. Where's the rescue team? Surely an
island like this has a volunteer rescue team? There's no-one here, just
people shouting, and us. And a few flashlights now from people on shore.
But where are the emergency services? We call up on the radio, VHF
channel 16. At first no-one replies, then, eventually. And gradually
more torch lights start appearing on shore.

Next thing Andy has reached over the side and pulled a boy onto the
deck. Pablo, age 14, shivering, covered in oil and cuts, soaking of
course. Looking for his family 'Mama! Papa!' the strained voice of
terror. I get him inside for a short while, get him warmer and dryer,
into a warm jacket, briefly wrapped up in a sleeping bag but he won't
stay long. He needs to be outside searching. I put the kettle on and
then immediately off again when strong fumes surround us,- petrol,
diesel, later there is a strong noise of gas bottles hissing. Gas
bottles that have been ripped from the houses they used to supply.

Two more boys climb on board. I think Andy lifts one, the other climbs
on while I hold his arm. He's older, late teens, strong. And wants to
save people. The boys now calling to everyone, 'come here, come to the
boat'. There are other boats in the water now. And a Navy boat,- at last
a Navy boat is near us I think with relief. Only to realise it's
unoccupied, dragging fast on it's mooring. Andy and the three boys are
fending the boat off – one wants to jump on and start it but none of
them know how. On the other side a rooftop is pushing up against us, and
next – a house. 'I'm holding back a house!' Andy shouts. He's fending
them off with the wooden oars from our dinghy.

Further away, a family are stranded in the top floor of a floating
house, they see us and swim. We throw a rope to them, they grab it on
the third try. Thank god. Right next to us now. Andy pulls up a young
girl, light as a feather. Now for the other three…no, no, they've been
pulled past us and the father has let go of the rope. Deliberately. He
won't leave his wife and son. NO! The older teenager with us wants to
jump in and swim to them. This time we manage to dissuade him but later
he'll go swimming again, and thankfully return.

An inflated zodiac dinghy has drifted up to us. Andy ties it on, we can
use that somehow, we have an outboard we could put on it. The boys start
focussing on that. I'm inside with Francisca, sweet waif of a shivering
child. Age seven, huge eyes, wearing a wetsuit that I suspect saved her.
She's talking about dying, her dying, her mother dying, her family.
She's terrified, shaking. Gradually she warms up, calms a bit. I hold
her and hold her and hold her. But she's got guts this one. She's feisty
and determined and also wants to go outside. Ok, as long as she stays
with me.

We're out there for a while, calling, talking, listening to the cries.
Pablo joins us, good news, he's found his family,- they're alive. He is
relieved. He talks with Francisca, who is she, who was she with, where
were they living? I'm surprised he doesn't know her – it seems her
family are visitors to the island. Bless her, she's trying so hard to
stay awake but the little body is exhausted. We're telling the radio,
shouting to the boats – we have a girl here, Francisca, she's ok, she's
here, she's ok.

A fishing boat pulls up to us, full of people. The driver is completely
naked and freezing. This is madness. It's still dark dark dark. As I
find him clothes the three boys join him, and three other people join
us. It's Francisca's family: joy! Her mother, her father, her brother.
Dear God, thankyou. Yes, they confirm, this is their whole family. They
huddle in one big hug in our cockpit.

The hours continue, but slower now. Still calls and shouts. We get the
kids dry and into bed. Blankets, jumpers, hats, socks… they're all so
cold. Now the mum too. Talking, sleeping, talking. What the hell-? The
father is strong and warm now, working with Andy outside. They're
hacking away at the trees that are tangled up in our mooring. Trees, big
trees, ropes, all sorts of debris. I can't even imagine the force this
mooring must have held at times. We have shifted for sure, but we're
still holding. And it's a relief to think they are cutting the debris
free too.

There's a light flashing nearby, floating. We can't make out if there's
a person with it. Andy and Alex get into the zodiac and try to
investigate but can't get our outboard working: too many lines in the
sea. The sea which is now calmer. We feel safe on the boat, in the bay,
but there are still cries and calls all around. So we feel helpless too.
The calls are not near us now. How far did this thing reach? Gradually
we start piecing together the night. This was no landslide. This as a
wave, a huge wave. And the calls and shouts continue in the distance.

Time passes.

Waiting for dawn.

Time passes. More shouts, lights, calls.

As light approaches we start to digest the damage. Not just this corner
of the bay, the quieter corner that is mostly rocky beachfront and a few
cabanas. The whole town front has been wiped out, gone. The navy boat
that floated past is wrecked on the rocks. Pedro, our friend Pedro, he
has a beautiful house right on the water. Two stories, modern design,
light, open plan, wood and stones, his home and his business- a hostal,
a bar, a meeting place. I blink. Pedro's house is gone. Not there. The
shops I bought supplies in yesterday. Gone. Oh my god- the Navy didn't
answer because they were hit too. The whole bay, the whole town, a
wreck. People's lives – but it's only later that I start thinking about
that, about the consequences.

From a distance it seems that the wave must have reached about 70 or 80
metres inland from the shore. The family's cabana was situated at a
height of about 40m, so we know it reached at least this far up.
Thankfully the island is steep so many houses stand above this level.
Still, it seems the 'main-drag' was hit. This would include all public
offices, the school, many houses, many shops, the town square.

Clearly we're not leaving today anymore. We want to stay, we need to
stay. We want to help. It's an unspoken given.

The Navy calls us on the radio, they speak through the father, Alex, who
himself speaks excellent English, and is ex-Navy. There has been news
from Valparaiso: another wave is coming. The whole town is being
evacuated to higher ground. And we need to leave.

At first the family choose to stay with us, then they choose to be taken
around the corner, to a hostal on a hill. A plan is quickly devised:
we'll take them near the hostal, they'll then leave in the zodiac. Simple.

Sail covers off, chaos strapped down, engine started, mooring lines let
free, careful navigation through debris in the bay, we motor around the
corner, the outboard is started, the family get in the zodiac, they're
off. They're safe. We're safe. It's over. We watch them head for safety.
We watch in horror as the outboard stops running. He can't get it
started. They are drifting again, for the second time tonight, no oars,
helpless. This can't be.

The mountainous island thankfully has steep slopes so we can drive back
up to them – the water is still quite deep. We tow them a bit closer,
then pass the oars and I climb in too. We'll lose our outboard but never
our oars,- we need them. Alex rows us all to land, they climb out, I row
back. Ever aware that a second wave could be pummelling towards us.

Grab oars, ditch dinghy, ditch outboard, climb on board, – get away from
land -. This is insane. They are safe. I see them waving from the rocks.
"Please explain that we wanted to stay", I want to say, "we were told to
leave". I feel like we're running away, cowards. The only people able to
leave. I don't want to leave, but we have to. We only endanger ourselves
and others by staying.

We stay in radio contact with the Navy for about 6 miles. They ask us to
go 10 miles offshore or 150 metres depth. We also hear Pedro on the
radio. He and his family are safe, we will try and email his brother
with the news.

As light came up we saw the wreckage. The rubble. I can't get that image
out of my mind. I desperately want to go back. So does Andy. We have
reached the 10 mile mark, we are out of radio contact now, we don't know
what to do. Our hearts say "return", our heads say, "continue". Already
we have seen three planes arriving and heard that a Navy ship is on its
way. Support has arrived. We would like to go back, stay a few weeks,
help rebuild the town. But today isn't about rebuilding, today is about
finding people, roofs over heads, feeding families. And grief. Emergency
response. Definitely not a time for voyeuristic visitors either.

Ten miles offshore the winds and seas are pushing us exactly on course
for Isla de Pascua, Easter Island. 1629 miles away. We make the decision
with our heads, our hearts screaming in defiance, and set the sails for
west.

18 thoughts on “Tsunami

  1. Really quite incredible, I'm still trying to picture it all. Epic and heart wrenching. Stay warm, we are sending tons of hugs…

  2. Huge relief that you are ok, and zephyrus is ok. So sad for all the people of the island. So shocking, and a terrifying experience for so many children. Glad you were there for them. Much gentle love xxx

  3. Much love chicos. Lost for words right now. Stay safe. abrazos.

  4. I explored the Juan Fernandez Islands on Google Earth last year and was fascinated for hours! When I heard about the earthquake, I worried about the effect of a tsunami in Cumberland Bay and have been looking for eyewitness accounts. Thanks for your rescue efforts and for sharing your story – best wishes on the rest of your journey – I'll look forward to your dispatches from Easter Island!
    Keith Setterholm – Minnesota, USA

  5. Thanks for the description. I know the place well (I went there in 2000 to talk to old-timers about their experiences during the tsunami of 1946 from the Aleutian Islands). The pier, the square, the school, the graveyard, all the places I knew are now trashed. I have seen lots of tsunami damage, but this is the first time a tsunami has hit a place I knew before the event. That really brings the hazard home. Thanks again.

    Gerard Fryer
    Pacific Tsunami Warning Center, HI

  6. Rhian writes:

    Many thanks for the responses to this post. Two points of clarification…

    1. the father in the family said his house was '40m high' but on reflection, he might have meant '40m from the coast'. We were moored on the left side of the town, if looking at it from the sea, which was also the steepest section. His house was probably about 40m back from the coast, and potentially 20m up the steep hill. The wave could have travelled 100m inland near the pier and town square, where the gradient was very shallow. These are all estimates, which I'm not good at on the best of days. I assume photographic evidence of the area will give much more reliable information. if I find out more, will say so.

    2. we have not lost our dinghy,- the family went ashore in the inflated dinghy/zodiac that drifted up to us. We did ditch the outboard motor but wouldn't want that if it was going to cut out on us anyway! We still have our beloved rowboat and oars which the previous owners used to reach Easter Island, as well as an inflatable zodiac should we come across another outboard motor in our travels. We did pass on plenty of warm clothing but I have a penchant for jumpers so we're still staying warm.. and will soon be in sunnier climes anyway. Thanks for your concern!

  7. Incredible – often with all that is happening in the world it is easy to become desensitised. That was so wonderfully written and a reminder of the gravity that these things you see snippets on in the news have on real people.

  8. Rhain,

    Glad to hear you're both OK. While I'm sorry that you had to be involved in all this, I'm glad that you were able to offer some assistance. Your presence of mind in such a situation seems remarkable.

    Look after yourselves & here's to happier times.

  9. Thanks God you were there, you saved precious lives. You will became part of the history heroes during that horrifying dawn at Cumberland Bay.

  10. Plain and simple, you saved lives that might have been lost without your efforts.

    You can be modest with other people, but please give yourselves pats on the back and appreciate your own good karma.

    The world's better because of what you did.

  11. My friends,
    thanks for your love and support, hard times now in robinson crusoe, hope you can call me, I will try to leave the island soon and get together with Fabiana, Dante and Lucecita
    we are receiving help funds through our web:
    http://www.endemica.com

    Andy And Rhya, always have winds from behind, jajaja
    all the best
    pedro

  12. Hi, I would like to share some photos that I took from the bay after the tsunami. Me and my friends were able to escape from the wave just 10 minutes before hit us.
    You could find me through my facebook address (richard s. bennett or richbennetti@gmail.com).

    Richard

  13. Hi: I'm from chile and the son of my friend Helen is still missing; Pablo's brother, Joaquin. They are waiting for the boat to arrive to Easter Island to know if, my miracle, he is with you.
    Take care and thank you very much for helping Pablo and Francisca.
    Take care,
    Camila Wood
    (camila_wood@yahoo.com

  14. hey cuzes, Its now a month later and many blogs later, but this still gives me a shiver to read. I am so so so glad you are both ok. After hearing you two were ok, then spent the weekend trying to track down vance's sister kayla in curico. Finally through the wonders of facebook, found a family member of her husband's who had net access and confirmed they were alive but that their lovely hacienda was destroyed as well as all the wine form the vineyard (next years income). But thank heavens they were still alive. Kayla later sent stories of carrying the children to safety, of no water and of riots. Glad to know you both are ok. Thinking of you both, sail safe and well.
    with love, K

  15. If you're interested in donating to a fund that is rebuilding the island's only school, please visit

    http://www.colegioinsularrobisoncrusoe.com/index.html

    Also, I have a correction to make. Only two boys joined us on the boat prior to the girl coming on board. Such is the confusion of memory. I only ever saw two, and learnt their names, but for some reason thought there was also a third. Unfortunately not.

    We still re-live that night in our memories, conversations, and contacts made as a result of it.

  16. Hi,

    Minoru Saito was 10 nm inland up a river in Valdivia, Chile, the morning the earthquake hit. That was quite close, just 500 nm SE of your mooring. Minoru had just arrived in Valdivia about 4 days earlier after calling there to seek repairs.

    Our support committee was on pins & needles waiting for him to call by Iridium phone, but he had not realized the size of the earthquake until I told him. Valdivia was basically spared this time but had been the epicenter of the strongest earthquake in history.

    I will link your gripping account from the Saito Challenge 8 blog (http://saito8.blogspot.com).

    I had heard about the devastation on Robinson Crusoe Island (Juan Fernandez Island) but until now had seen anything nearly as detailed as your account. So good you came through it ok…

    Incidentally, very soon after the tsunami I was contacted by friends of the family of another solo Japanese sailor, Mr. Keiichi Chinami, in 35-foot ketch KIFU. Sadly, there has been no sighting of the vessel since then.

    Any chance you know anything about this vessel? My address is ftf@gol.com if you have any word on Chinami-san or any other missing yacht in the area. He was headed south toward Cape Horn at the time and may have gone to a local port as he had radioed that he had had some sail or rigging damage a few days previously.

  17. Hi,

    Minoru Saito was 10 nm inland up a river in Valdivia, Chile, the morning the earthquake hit. That was quite close, just 500 nm SE of your mooring. Minoru had just arrived in Valdivia about 4 days earlier after calling there to seek repairs.

    Our support committee was on pins & needles waiting for him to call by Iridium phone, but he had not realized the size of the earthquake until I told him. Valdivia was basically spared this time but had been the epicenter of the strongest earthquake in history.

    I will link your gripping account from the Saito Challenge 8 blog (http://saito8.blogspot.com).

    I had heard about the devastation on Robinson Crusoe Island (Juan Fernandez Island) but until now had seen anything nearly as detailed as your account. So good you came through it ok…

    Incidentally, very soon after the tsunami I was contacted by friends of the family of another solo Japanese sailor, Mr. Keiichi Chinami, in 35-foot ketch KIFU. Sadly, there has been no sighting of the vessel since then.

    Any chance you know anything about this vessel? My address is ftf@gol.com if you have any word on Chinami-san or any other missing yacht in the area. He was headed south toward Cape Horn at the time and may have gone to a local port as he had radioed that he had had some sail or rigging damage a few days previously.

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