Last year we lost two sailors in this race. We almost lost two more in
Saturdays race. Amazing story and rescue! Please read. From Latitude
38.
When longtime Sausalito resident and friend of Latitude Dave
Wilhite was diagnosed with leukemia in 2004, he moved to Bellingham, WA,
to be close to his parents while he waited to die. Thankfully chemo did
its job and Wilhite, 51, is in full remission. "Three months ago, my
doctor told me I'd die from getting hit by a bus before I died from
leukemia," he told us last night. "I can't wait to tell him I almost
died in a yacht race."
Wilhite says he'd been planning to do
BAMA's Doublehanded Farallones Race since January. Since he doesn't own a
boat on the Bay, he asked his old friend Peter Truce of San Rafael if
he could borrow his 1994 J/80 Heat Wave. Truce readily agreed and
Wilhite began preparing for the race. "This is a tough race," he said of
the nearly 60-mile course around the Farallones and back, "and I never
took it lightly." Indeed, he was meticulous in his preparation of Heat
Wave and himself, putting together safety gear, working on the boat and
recruiting an excellent crewmember.
Wilhite met Dave Servais, 24,
while racing on Puget Sound. After Servais moved to San Diego to pursue
his goal of being a professional sailor — he's a professional rigger
and has taught at J/World — the two kept in touch. When it came time to
choose crew for the race, Wilhite immediately contacted Servais, who
immediately said yes. "We've only known each other a couple of years,"
he notes, "but we have really great communication and sail well
together."
As noted in the lead story, for most racers, the DHF
was a total bust. But a handful held on, including Wilhite and Servais.
"I'd spent too much time and money on this race just to bail out,"
Wilhite said. So the pair stuck it out with a group of five or six other
boats until the wind filled in. On the way back from the rocks, Wilhite
reports wind in the low-20s with gusts to 30. A little higher than
forecast but not dangerous.
"By a little after 8 p.m., we were
beam reaching under jib and a reefed main," Wilhite recalls. He noted
the waves were 12-14 feet with a fairly long period between, a fact the
Coast Guard confirmed, though they put the wind speed closer to 40
knots. "Dave (Servais) was setting us up on a wave, reaching across it,
when we heard a whuump," said Wilhite. "The helm turned to slush, the
boat slowed and the wave we were shooting broke over us. Then we heard a
cracking sound like a tree falling over — that was the sound of the
keel ripping off."
The boat immediately turned turtle, submerging
the pair, who were tethered to the boat and wearing PFDs. Wilhite had a
short tether while Servais was attached with a long tether. Once the
boat settled and they popped up, Wilhite realized his tether was keeping
him too close to the water so he pulled out the knife he had stowed in
his pocket and cut himself free. "It was weird not to be attached to the
boat," he said. "Dave was holding onto the rudder and there was nothing
else to grab, so I held onto the lifelines underwater. My hands are
really cramped and cut up today."
It was then that they noticed
why they had flipped — nothing at all was left of the keel. "It ripped
off at the root," Wilhite said. "The only thing sticking out of the
bottom of the boat was the bilge pump." He says he has no idea why the
keel fell off — "It's not something you're prepared for" — saying there
was no evidence they'd hit anything. Some wonder if it's possible they
hit a large sea mammal that was moving in the same direction, but the
question quickly becomes irrelevant when you're holding on for your life
in the North Pacific.
Just moments after getting their bearings,
the duo realized a Moore 24 — they have no idea which one — was
screaming by about 100 yards away. They yelled but went unheard. "My
first thought was, 'Oh my God, we're going to die.'" Instead of
panicking, the two experienced sailors discussed their options. They had
a knife and a compact but powerful waterproof LED flashlight that
Wilhite had stowed in his pocket. But without a way to communicate,
things would turn ugly fast.
Wilhite knew there was a waterproof
handheld VHF in a sheet bag in the submerged cockpit. "I was presented
with a choice," Wilhite said. "I remembered a line from Shawshank
Redemption: 'Get busy living or get busy dying.'" So he took a deep
breath, let go of the lifeline and swam back under the boat!
Let's
pause for a moment to let that sink in. In 12- to 14-ft seas with
40-knot winds, this man with a pair of cojones the size of Texas and
Alaska combined, let go of a perfectly good boat to swim back under it.
If you're looking for a modern-day hero, look no farther than Dave
Wilhite.
Miraculously, the VHF didn't fall out of the sheet bag
when the boat flipped. Once Wilhite resurfaced, Servais, who'd managed
to pull himself mostly out of the water, took over communications with
the Coast Guard, calling a mayday around 8:23 p.m. Servais told the
Coast Guard their approximate location — eight miles from the Gate — and
that they were near a couple of Moore 24s. The pilot boat California
was near the scene and began searching. Two USCG rescue boats and a helo
were dispatched as well.
The crew of California were first to
spot Heat Wave, guiding the rescue boats to them. "I was watching the
helo work a grid with a spotlight coming right at us," Wilhite recalls.
"I turned around and the pilot boat was right there. I wasn't going to
wait, so I swam over to them." It took a couple throws of the LifeSling
but Wilhite was ultimately pulled aboard California "like a wet seal."
One of the Coast Guard rescue boats plucked Servais from the water a
minute later. The time was 9:15 p.m.
"When I taught sailing on
the Bay years ago," Wilhite recalls, "I told my students they had 45
minutes to live if they fell overboard. I was in the water for more than
an hour." He credits wearing high-tech gear and calming himself down
for saving his life. "After I realized I wasn't going to get on top of
the boat, I just hung out and conserved energy."
Wilhite also
commends the Coast Guard and crew of California for their amazing rescue
efforts — finding a capsized, keel-less, dark blue, 26-ft hull in big
seas eight miles offshore on an ebb tide in the pitch dark. Both Wilhite
and Servais suffered hypothermia — Wilhite's being more serious — but
were treated and released from the hospital the same night. Both are
back at their respective homes, no doubt telling their story to many
relieved friends and family. There is no word on Heat Wave's
whereabouts, though Wilhite reports it was insured.
"This was the
second toughest contest of my life," Wilhite says. "What's ironic is
that I wanted to do this race to prove to myself that I was alive. It
would have been sad if I'd died, but I've lived a damn good life. It
wouldn't have been a stupid way to go." For those of us listening to the
radio on Saturday night, and for those who know Dave Wilhite and Dave
Servais, we can say that we're beyond thrilled that it turned out the
way it did.
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