Advertisement
What's left of the radio mast
This is a close up of whats left of the radio mast that the lightning bolt hit and disintegrated.Last Friday, myself and four others arrived on Caye Caulker to enjoy the annual Lobster Fest, and also to dive the Blue Hole, some for the first time. I had emailed the dive shop, Frenchies, where I knew the owner, and my room-mate Joerg was doing his divemaster course. I had asked if they could organise a trip to the Blue Hole for the Sunday, and that all four of us would like to come. I knew Joerg would be coming too, and was looking forward to diving the Blue Hole with him. Late on Friday, we found another friend who wanted to come too, and we managed to secure her the last place on the trip.
After a quiet night on Saturday, we all assembled at the Dive Shop at 5.45am on Sunday morning. The weather was overcast, and there was a thunderstorm in the direction we were headed. It was a long way off and appeared to pose no immediate concern. We therefore all had some breakfast at the dive shop, assembled our equipment and talked about the dive, and how excited we were.
However, one of our group, Lindsay, was feeling unwell. It was her birthday,
Where I was sat
I was sat next to the console, and on hte side of the radio mast. but she had a bad case of diarrhoea, and wasn't sure if she could make the trip. After a long deliberation and many tears, she decided against making the trip. Almost funny how diarrhoea would be the best present she would ever receive.
At the last minute, a Park Ranger came up to the shop and asked if we could give him a lift out to Lighthouse Reef, which is where the Blue Hole is. One space had suddenly become available because Lindsay was not well enough, so he came along.
We loaded the boat with all our gear, and because it had started to rain, we all put our wet-suits on. Everyone except the Park Ranger. He was a non-diver who was just coming along for a lift, and therefore didn't need one.
The boat left the dock and we headed out over the reef, about a mile off-shore and South for our two hour trip to the blue hole.
After about ten minutes the rain became harder, and the path of the storm that we were trying to avoid changed instantaneously. Instead of going around it, as intended, we suddenly found ourselves in the
Whats left of the console
The rev counter on the left has disappeared, the controls immobilised and the key is melted in the keyhole. middle of it, with the force of the rain hurting the skin as it hit. The horizon went black and land, clearly visible moments before, disappeared.
The boat Captain had already made the decision to abort the trip, and we were heading back to shore when the storm hit. The captain tried in vain to escape ther storm, zig-zagging, going this way and that, in order to try and escape. No matter what he tried, the storm followed, and with lightning hitting all around us, the only chance we had was to head to a nearby resort island called Caye Chapel, abort half a mile away.
The reefs in this part of the world are treacherous at best. There are only tiny gaps in them which even highly experienced skippers treat with the utmost respect. Finding those gaps is a highly skilled job, and difficult in perfect conditions. In pitch black, with rain beating hard, and lightning cracking around us, it was a nearly impossible task.
Fortunately we had two experienced crew members on board, one of which went to the front of the boat to locate and guide the captain through the channel. The sea was
The boat
A shot of the boat. black, and the usual shades of blue that give away the depth, and therefore the channel, were gone.
By this time, all of the divers knew the seriousness of the situation. We were on a 42 foot boat in the middle of an electrical storm. We also had over forty compressed air cylinders and two full tanks of fuel for the five hour round-trip.
Somehow, the skipper managed to find the gap, and as we edged through it, a bolt of lightening hit about 20 metres off our starboard side. The smell of the ionized air was unforgettable, and it was at this point that we all realised that we were going to be hit.
About fifty metres from shore it happened.
All I remember is that it felt like the most incredible force shooting downwards at unimaginable speed behind me. I felt a sledghammer in the back of my neck, and as if someone had got a wire brush and dragged it quickly down my spine. This co-incided with the sensation of my stomach imploding, then exploding.
I found myself diving to the front of the boat, but my legs were like jelly, and I was unable to crawl. As I looked back, I could see a pile of bodies collapsed on top of each other with Helena, the girl I was sat next to lieing motionless at the bottom. I feared the worst. The Captain who had earlier decided to sit on a piece of wood to insulate himself, was slumped motionless in his chair, and the Park Ranger was collapsed next to him. Joerg, who was sat on the other side of me had been thrown a metre away by the force.
After a brief moment of shock, the people who were sat on the other side of the boat rushed to help. Helena was now screaming and she was dragged away, and laid down in front of me in the boat. Her limbs were still not working, but she was slowly recovering. The Captain and the Ranger were still motionless. The Captain was breathing but unconscious, but the Ranger had an intermittent pulse, which shortly after stopped. The people in attendance immediately started rescue breaths and CPR on the Ranger whilst someone else held the captain, and tried to re-assure him, though he was still unconscious.
The radio antenna which I had been sat next to had disintegrated, and people had cuts from the flying fibre-glass. The boat controls had been totally fried, and one of the rev-counter dials had simply disappeared.
We needed help quickly, as we were paralysed with no radio. As we were not far from shore, it was agreed that Joerg should swim to shore to get help. It was a risk, as he could have been hit by lightning either in the water or running to the resort hotel, but we had no choice.
Despite the key having been melted into the starter, one of the engines showed a faint glimmer of life. Fortunately as we were now in the reef, one of the divers, Mike could slowly guide us to the shore. On arrival there were resort employees waiting for us, as Joerg had managed to alert them. Both patients were still unconscious and had to be lifted onto the dock. The Ranger still had no pulse.
As part of the walking wounded and in shock, I got taken to the hotel, where we were given towels and drinks. Joerg was no on the phone to the Emergency services, who were refusing to send a helicopter due to the storm. After several irate calls, a British Army helicopter was despatched, but it arrived over an hour and a half after the strike.
When thehelicopter did arrive, the Captain had regained consciousness and was able to walk onto the helicopter despite having fibreglass in his eye, and the Ranger had a weak pulse.
The storm had now passed, and we agot taken back to our boat to collect our stuff and be transported back to Caye Caulker in another boat. I picked up my watch which I'd thrown away earlier due to its metal content when it was found that the Captains necklace had melted into his skin. It now read 19.58 on January the 1st. We collected the rest of our gear and headed back to Caye Caulker. On the trip back, I noticed that the compass on my diving equipment was pointing in the wrong direction - my equipment had become magnetised by the strike and was attracting the compass needle.
When we arrived back on Caye Caulker, still in shock, and trying to hold back tears we headed straight for the doctor, in order to check us over and remove fragments of fibreglass from our cuts. On arrival at the doctor, he asked us "Are you sure you got hit by lightning"? I could have thumped him. Then when he spent a few minutes explaining how his services were not free and it was going to cost each of us $70 to be seen, I lost it. I told him that two people had just been airlifted out, one in cardiac arrest, and we didn't care what it cost but we just wanted to be seen. He then realized that we were being serious.
We were treated for assorted cuts, fibreglass removal, perforated eardrums, and other injuries, and it was during this treatment we were told that the Ranger had died. He had only been a last minute inclusion on the boat, as the birthday girl was ill, and he was the only one not wearing a wet-suit.
The rest of the day was spent in a restless state. Wanting to do everything, but nothing. Not being able to sleep or concentrate enough to read a book or play a game. Just remembering the moment of impact, the awesome power and force of the bolt, and the Ranger.
It's Monday now, and after we all met again last night for a few beers, and a good night's sleep the event doesn't seem so raw. It's something none of us will ever forget. We were the lucky ones, sat in the right place, and wearing wetsuits. We were also lucky that none of the cylinders or fuel tanks exploded.
Our thoughts however go out to the family of the poor Park Ranger and the Captain, who may well lose his eye. Only a bad case of diarrhoea from the birthday girl meant that the Ranger was on the boat. Such are the margins that can save, and can kill.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.08s; Tpl: 0.018s; cc: 13; qc: 26; dbt: 0.0522s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Sylvia Brown
non-member comment
So sad
What a shocking situation Tim. I'm so glad you escaped with such minor injuries and really sorry for the poor Captain and park ranger. Thinking of you and hoping you have no more terrible scenarios like that to contend with. Take lots of care, love sylv xx