Our overnight passage out of La Cruz started out idyllic. I had taken the first night shift from 9pm to midnight. We were sailing along at 5 knots in a warm breeze under a starry sky.

At night we turn off our larger ships VHF so that it doesn’t wake up the crew sleeping below. We monitor a smaller handheld VHF in the cockpit. Around 11pm this smaller handset buzzed with the static of a fuzzy conversation, too far away for us to pick up clearly.

“crackle fuzz kshhhhh you were hit by a freighter?”

Well that doesn’t sound good! I recognized the alarmed voice of our friend Danielle, who was sailing 5 miles or so behind us. I turned on our larger VHF below to hear what was going on, which woke up the whole family to hear the unfolding drama.

Danielle was trying to speak to a boat in distress, but neither of them could hear the other very well. We could hear them both clearly implying that we were somewhere in the middle. We got on the radio and managed to speak to the distressed vessel. The captain confirmed that they had struck a freighter and provided us with his co-ordinates. He seemed very calm, but requested that we proceed to his position to stand by and help inspect for damage. He was around 12 miles ahead, so we’d be a few hours to get there.

We made a few mistakes in that initial conversation. I didn’t ask how many people were aboard, or if there were any injuries, alternative contact information, liferaft, etc. All the things the coast guard would normally ask right away. We’re not used to operating in a place with no coast guard. We had clear communication and he sounded calm, so I guess I figured we’d have time. There was one more sailboat near us, who had overheard the conversation and also started to proceed towards the distressed vessel. They were a larger than us, so would get there a little faster than we could.

The freighter involved in the incident passed us shortly thereafter. It was 185 meters long, well lit, broadcasting on AIS, and travelling at 8 knots. Another boat tried to hail the freighter several times, but they were unresponsive on the VHF, even to a direct DSC (ship to ship) call.

A little while after that, the distressed vessel went dark on the radio. They stopped replying to hails and they didn’t broadcast anything. Now we feared the worst. Why didn’t I ask more questions when I had the chance? We had been sailing towards them at 5 knots, but now we turned on the engine to motor at our best speed. The other nearby boat did the same and both boats continued to try to hail with no response.

It was about an hour later before the damaged boat broadcast again. Whew! He provided updated co-ordinates, but was clearly having radio troubles, as he couldn’t hear any of our replies. It was a relief that he was still ok though, and the new coordinates were several miles off of where we had been heading, so we adjusted course.

Once we were within a couple of miles, 2 way communication with the distressed boat became possible again. I believe they had switched to a handheld VHF which was apparently working better than their damaged ships VHF. It was ascertained that there were 2 people aboard, no injuries, and no water ingress. In these conversations we got the impression that the distressed captain might be in some level of shock. Some of his conversation and behaviour didn’t quite make sense to us.

The larger sailboat arrived at the scene just ahead of us, so we stood by while they got closer to inspect the boat. They reported damage to the bow and starboard side. Pulpit ripped off and a big crack in the bow which luckily ended above the waterline. The anchors were dangling.

The captain of the damaged boat wanted to know if he could safely motor, and suggested he’d head back North to La Cruz for repairs. The other boat on the scene convinced him it was not a good idea to aim the bow into the waves, and suggested he follow them in to the nearest anchorage 20 miles further on, which would keep the waves mostly on the stern. We were happy that everyone involved agreed to this plan. The wind had mostly died by this point so at least it was fairly calm.

The damaged boat was able to turn on their engine and make way without taking on any water, so our three boats proceeded forward. After a few miles with everyone happy, we parted company to continue to our destination.

We later heard that they made it safely to shore and are making good progress on repairs to their vessel. Incredibly, nobody was hurt.

With a few days to reflect on the incident, wow, we made a lot of mistakes. We didn’t get enough information when we had the chance. We didn’t attempt to contact the Mexican Navy. All of our conversations happened on channel 16, so we assumed the Navy weren’t in range, but we do have a satellite phone aboard that we could have used. It took us at least an hour before we started keeping a detailed log of events. And I think the biggest miss in my mind is not taking seriously enough the idea that the crew was likely in shock. I certainly would have been! I should have gone to greater lengths to ensure their vessel was actually safe. For example if their forestay was ripped off, how was the mast still standing? (I later learned that it was a keel stepped mast which can remain standing without a forestay)

What is still mysterious to us is how you can make contact with a freighter and come away with only relatively little damage to your bow. There must have been at least a little luck in what was an otherwise very unlucky event.

We’re thankful it played out without injury, it was definitely an eye opener for us. Take your night watches seriously!