Slightly alarmed we struggled to move about the boat bumping into walls chairs and each other whilst collecting together passports, cameras and items of the like. We were filled in with the minor detail that the metal rod between the steering wheel and the rudder had broken in half. No longer in control we were at the mercy of the winds and currents, who decided to be kind.
Luckily drifting towards land and not out to the open seas, we hoped not to run into anything and have a small scale titanic scenario. Having found the Colombian police number in the lonely planet and using Taricks mobile, which surprisingly had reception, Rosey being the only person with enough Spanish made the call. Being under a lot of pressure Rosey was excellent and eventually she managed to get the point across that help is what we needed.
By this time the drifting had continued towards the coast and we were in water shallow enough to drop anchor. About 1 or 2 kilometers from land the swell was quite hectic and we rocked back and forth, back and forth. Looking up at the person across from me then suddenly looking very much down at them. The police contacted the Colombian coast guard and in return they called us. Super stoked that the message was not lost in translation and the coast guard were the ones on the other end of the line we gave our coordinates. Not too much time later and a few signal flares shot off, a boat appeared with 3 massively powered motors hanging off the rear and a couple of Spanish speaking heroes on bored. Skillfully pulling up beside the boat one of our Spanish speaking heroes waited until the swell positioned the boats for a daring leap.
Having boarded the boat the coast guard got the details and decided we needed to be towed to a better location. Leaping back across to his own boat we were once again stranded but with more hope. Rod freaked out that they would not return and wanted to go with them. Captain Paul thought this not necessary and the situation became intense, with a few harsh words exchanged the two of them separated to either end of the boat. The rescue boat left only to return promptly with a tow rope.
Tied securely to the front we were now faced with a situation of once again having a game of tug-o-war with our friend the anchor. This time the odds were against us the swell twice as bad as the morn and the sun sunk well below the horizon. We gave it a go but the anchor defeated us and chose to remain firmly planted on the bottom of the ocean. The chain had come loose and poor old captain Paul watched a couple of hundred dollars worth of equipment sink into the depths. Everyone settled into a place of reasonable comfort for the long haul to our safe haven the anchorage @ Isla Fuerte.
One of our Spanish speaking heroes had remained on our boat and was keeping our recently appointed communications officer company. It was a slight effort for her to keep up the conversation in Spanish as she had become quite ill from the boat rocking. I carefully climbed to the front of the boat, holding on tight I looked to the moon hanging in the sky like a well placed picture frame. The events of the previous couple of hours all of a sudden caught up to me and all I could do was laugh out loud hysterically. As the the laughter wound down, still looking to the moon i finished off by yelling "HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD" across the Caribbean sea.............love ya dad!!!!!
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