Real Survival Stories - Clinging to a Mast: Boat Going Down

Episode Date: January 16, 2025

An Indian naval commander takes leave from the military to take part in a unique nautical contest. No GPS, no computers - the purest test of sailing skill there is. For Abhilash Tomy, it’s a dream come true… until a catastrophe in the Indian Ocean changes everything. With a broken spine, thousands of miles from the nearest landmass, he might as well be lost in space… A Noiser production, written by Joe Viner. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward for the show, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's September the 22nd, 2018. Hurricane-force winds churn the cold, wild waters of the southern Indian Ocean. Slate gray swells, streaked with icy veins of white foam, heap up 30 feet and collapse in blasts of freezing spray. Sailors call these confused seas, when the wind blows from different directions, causing the waves to slam together, creating a frenzied mass of water. Amid the maelstrom, a sailboat plunges into the deep trough behind a breaking wave. She is a tiny turquoise speck against the ocean's dark expanse, a scrap of flotsam twisting in the surf.

As water engulfs the deck, only the mizzenmast is visible, a vertical 30-foot spar bobbing and swaying above the turmoil, and clinging to the very top of the mizzen desperately holding on is 39-year-old Abhilash Tomi. We had waves of 10-15 meters from the northwest, waves of 10-15 meters from the southwest. It was very crazy. It looked like God was trying to invent the Earth all over again. Abhilash hugs the mast and squints down through the lashing spray. An enormous drop separates him from the deck.

Suffering and injury out here in one of the most remote stretches of ocean on the planet would be catastrophic. The wind screams in Abelash's ears as he tries to adjust his feet. The mast flexes and bends. With trembling hands, he gingerly begins to lower himself. Which is when his foot slips, his grip is lost and he falls. And that's how it happened. It led to the biggest search and rescue event of this century. Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice?

Welcome to Real Survival Stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode we meet Abhilash Tomi. Back in 2018, Abhilash, a commander in the Indian Navy, takes leave from the military to realize a long-held ambition to take part in the Golden Globe round-the-world yacht race. What sets this contest apart from others like it is that modern technology is forbidden.

There's no GPS, no satellites, no computers, making it the purest test of sailing skill and the most treacherous. Only the best and the bravest dare compete. For Abhilash, it's a dream come true. Until a catastrophe in the Indian Ocean changes everything. After 30 minutes, when I tried to stand, my knees just collapsed and I fell. I couldn't stand. Severely injured and incapacitated, Abhilash just has to hope for rescue.

But in his current location, thousands of miles from the nearest populated landmass, he might as well be lost in space. It was quite, quite, quite remote. In fact, you know, we entrants were discussing and we were praying that if ever we had to have an accident, this should not be the place. I'm John Hopkins. From the Noiser Network, This is Real Survival Stories. It's July 2018 in the North Atlantic.

Abilash Tomey crouches by the stern of his sleek, 32-foot racing yacht, the Raya. With one hand steering the tiller, the bearded 39-year-old gazes straight ahead, calmly scanning the horizon through his reflective shades. White cumulus clouds drift across the sky. The ocean below is a shifting mosaic of light and shadow, of blue and darker blue. It's easy to forget that Abhilash isn't alone out here, but he is in fact one of 18 sailors

currently competing in the 2018 Golden Globe race. While at sea, the sailors are completely cut off from the world on land. Within the rules of the competition, the only contact permitted is a weekly check-in with Race HQ via satellite phone. Pabilash has already spoken to the race organizers this week, which is why the sound of the sat phone ringing below deck triggers an immediate pang of unease. He climbs down the steps and answers. You can only speak to the race organizers. If you speak to anybody else, you're disqualified.

And here, the race director was asking me to speak to my wife. He was asking me to call my wife and speak to her. Abhilash hangs up the phone and immediately dials his wife. This must be something serious. As he waits for her to pick up, the tension rises. They're only about a week into this race. He would, of course, drop everything if there was an emergency back home. But the idea of quitting so early is still a galling thought.

It's not just the time and money that Abhilash has invested to get here. But the idea of quitting so early is still a galling thought. It's not just the time and money that Abhilash has invested to get here. This race is about far more than that. It's an expedition over 30 years in the making. When I was growing up, I read a lot of books on adventure. And most of them were about stories of people going to sea, getting lost, stranded in an island, Treasure Island or Jack London's Call of the Wild or Jules Worm

and people like that. And this created an image of the sea which was very magical and romantic and it was somehow pulling me towards it. Growing up in the port city of Kochi, the home of India's largest naval command, Abhilash spends his childhood immersed in maritime culture, surrounded by ships and seafarers. My father was a naval officer and I think when I was probably six years old, we had an office party.

And it was in a sailing club. And that's when I'm seeing a boat for the first time. That's in a sailing boat or a canoe. And I just fell in love with it. After that formative first encounter, Abhilash was hooked. He followed his father into the Navy, becoming a commissioned officer by the age of 21. After earning his nautical stripes, he went on to get his wings, qualifying as a maritime

reconnaissance pilot. For an avowed thrill seeker, life in the military offered no shortage of excitement. But through all his flying sorties and naval patrols, Abhilash never forgot those adventure books, with their tales of great navigators and daring sea voyages. He joined the Navy's sailing team, relishing the thrill of races. He even represented India in several long-distance competitions. But there was still something missing. One day, while leafing through a sailing magazine, Abhilash came across an article about a solo round-the-world yacht race.

It sparked an idea. When I read about it, I thought, you know, one day I should do my own circumnavigation. And I did some calculations. I realized that if I saved enough money in my provident fund for 20 years, I'll have enough to buy a boat and sail around the world. In the end, Abhilash wouldn't have to wait that long to achieve his dream. In 2009, he volunteered to provide shore support for Captain Dilip Donde, a fellow Navy man, who was attempting to become the first Indian sailor to circumnavigate the globe.

Abhilash leapt at the opportunity to learn from the great man. attempting to become the first Indian sailor to circumnavigate the globe. Abhilash leapt at the opportunity to learn from the great man. Then, two years later, the Navy came to him with an offer. Would he like to go one step further than Captain Donde and attempt to become the first Indian and only the 79th person ever to sail solo around the world without stopping. Abhilash didn't hesitate. Aboard a 55-foot sloop provided by the Navy, he set off on his voyage in November 2012, returning to Mumbai five months later, having written himself into the history books.

and written himself into the history books. What I loved the most was the fact that I was alone. I absolutely loved my own company. I loved the freedom. I loved the fact that I did not have to take orders from anybody or adhere to somebody else's idea of what is right or wrong. In that sense, this was a life-altering experience. By any metric, Abhilash has reached the pinnacle of sailing. But still, he wasn't satisfied.

I enjoyed the experience of my first circumnavigation. I wanted to go back to sea again, for which it had to be a bigger challenge than just sailing around the world. The question he now faced was, what else was there? Abilash returned to his naval base, where he fell back into the rhythms of military life. Then, a few months later, a friend reached out to ask if he'd heard about an upcoming sailing event, a race commemorating the 50th anniversary

of the Golden Globe. Now this sounded interesting. The 1968 Golden Globe race holds an almost mythical status in sailing history. That year, the Sunday Times offered a £5,000 prize to the first individual who could complete a non-stop circumnavigation of the world. An unprecedented feat at the time. Just nine sailors signed up. But the race seemed cursed from the outset.

Storms ravaged the course. Yachts sank. One participant tragically took his own life, and of the nine competitors who started the doomed voyage, only one finished. Such was the catastrophe of that first edition. The Golden Globe was never held again. It seemed nobody was willing to repeat a race subsequently dubbed a voyage for madmen. Until now. 50 years on, the Golden Globe race is back.

Again, it's a solo round-the-world race, non-stop and unassisted. Setting off from Les Sables d'Olonne in France and finishing in the same place some 7 months and 30,000 miles later. It's hard to imagine a tougher test of skill and mental fortitude. For Abhilash, it's perfect. 2018 was the golden jubilee of the Golden Globe race, so we decided to have the race one more time and, you, and to keep things simple or complicated, you are not allowed to use any technology that did not exist in 1968.

No GPS, no iPod, iPad, electronic logs, electronic charts, no satellite phones, nothing. You have to sail as if it's 1968. That's the catch. The boats must also be old-fashioned designs, built without high-tech materials and no greater than 39 feet in length. It's a return to traditional seafaring, where the sailors must rely on celestial navigation, using the stars, paper charts and a compass to plot their course around the planet. Just like in the adventure books Abhilash read as a child. online for super prices and super savings. Try it today and get up to $75 in PC Optimum Points. Visit superstore.ca to get started.

Hi listeners. If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you'd like to put forward for the show, let us know. Drop us an email at support at Noiza.com. That's support at Noiza.com. Now, one week into the race, Abilash sits below deck, the satellite phone clamped to his ear. He watches the waterline rise and fall beyond the portholes as Thuraya rocks on her keel. The race director has assured Abilash that phoning his wife won't disqualify him. Clearly, something has happened which merits an exception to the rule. Eventually, he hears his wife's voice at the end of the line. I phoned her and turns out she was pregnant.

I was going to become a father, she was going to become a mother, and my world had just turned upside down. Abhilash is stunned. It's happy news. But after the initial joy and surprise, he is faced with a sobering choice. I asked her what she wanted me to do. I asked her if she wanted me to turn back. She said, no, just go for your race.

Just continue racing. With his wife's blessing, Abhilash presses on. There is no prize money on offering this race. Just a gold plaque for the finishers and a lifetime's worth of bragging rights. But Abhilash now has a far stronger incentive to finish and to get home in one piece. He scampers back above deck. Whispy spray billows from the crests of the breaking waves.

With a bit of good fortune, he'll be able to ride this tailwind all the way down to the equator. Abelash trims the sails and points the boat due south. As Thuraya runs forward, a skipper scans the horizon for other vessels. He is racing against 17 of the world's best solo sailors. 17 of the world's best solo sailors. During the weeks of preparation, when the boats were in harbour, a sense of camaraderie developed among the competitors. I believe that sailing is the only sport I have seen where

people are competitive, but they are collaborative. You meet these competitors every day, you talk to them, they become friends, you share a meal, you help each other preparing your gourds for the raves. And one thing we realized is that it is not the competitor who is the enemy, but the sea. The sea is our common enemy who we have to deal with. Aside from the few designated photo drops along the route, when the sailors have a chance to deliver and receive letters,

videos, and photographs from their loved ones, it will be at least seven months before any of them lays eyes on another human being. For some, the isolation will be too much to bear. But not Abelash. While he can't predict the whims of the sea, one thing is certain. If he taps out of this race, it won't be because of loneliness.

I don't miss human company at all. I'm very happy alone. I would say I'm happier alone rather than sailing with a crew. We are brought up in human company from the moment we are born, which means that we have to live by the rules of human company. And it's very complicated. You will not understand all these little rules, codes, ethics, moralities, etc. until you live away from it. And when you are away from it, that's when you taste freedom. And that's what I constantly seek when I go to see.

All these external stimulations just drop off. You can see the grey sea and the grey sky and either there is wind or no wind. There is very little happening externally, but very little changes externally. And that's when your mind starts spending time with itself and that's when you start to understand what sort of a person you are. As the weeks fall away, Abbalash maintains a steady course. Without reliance on modern tech, he must instead employ some ancient techniques. He predicts the weather by reading the sky and the ocean. He gauges distance and speed by instinct alone. At night, he studies the stars to calculate his position on the map.

It's a stern test of his nautical chops. But Abhilash isn't just rising to the challenge, he is excelling, pushing towards pole position. I crossed the equator, I headed for the coast of Brazil. I went around at high pressure without stopping. South of Cape of Good Hope, I caught a current by monitoring its temperature. And I was able to sail 240 miles in 24 hours. And in three days I did 600 miles. And from being, I think, 13th or 14th at one point in time I found myself in third position. When he embarked on this race his goal was simply to reach the finish line.

That would be achievement enough. But as he rounds the Cape of South Africa and sails east into the Indian Ocean a new possibility presents itself. Abhilash might not merely finish this race, he might actually be on course to win. It's September 22, 2018, almost three months since the start of the Golden Globe race. A storm is brewing in the southern Indian Ocean. The sea writhes and roils, its pewter surface webbed with streaks of dense white foam. On board Tharaya, Abhilash listens to the rigging moan. Loose ropes thrash and strain at their moorings. We had a text message from the race director saying that there was going to be a storm.

And I spoke with him on the 20th of September, I think, and he assured me that it's not something I've not seen before. And he gave us some directions to keep us safe, but I'm not sure how well it worked. Right now, the race director's assurances offer little comfort. The wind must be approaching 70 miles an hour. Tharaya surges skyward on the 50-foot swell before crashing down into the deep trough. A soaking, stinging mist fills the air. Abhilash wipes his eyes and tries to focus

on keeping his boat upright. He's sailing through one of the remotest places on Earth, a cold, inhospitable stretch of ocean somewhere along one of the world's loneliest latitudes. So if you draw a line between Australia and South Africa and drop a line from the southern tip of India going south, I was at the intersection of these two lines. It was quite, quite, quite, quite remote.

In fact, you know, we, interns were discussing and we were praying that if ever we had to have an accident, this should not be the place. The nearest continental landmass is Antarctica. If Abhilash were to become stranded out here, thousands of miles from anywhere, it would take days for a diverted vessel to reach him. He's got to ride out the storm. But the weather is showing no signs of improving,

quite the opposite. He can handle the odd knockdown when the wind flattens the mast against the surface of the ocean. What he really must avoid are the endgame scenarios, a 360-degree rollover or a dreaded pitch polling when the boat capsizes nose first, bow over stir. Abhilash knows how to navigate storms, how to adjust the position of the boat to counteract the force of the wind. But this tempest is different. These waves aren't coming from just one direction.

So we had waves of 10, 15 meters from the northwest, waves of 10, 15 meters from the southwest, both hitting the boat simultaneously, both adding together and building up to heights of easily above 20 meters. It was very crazy. It looked like God was trying to invent the Earth all over again. Below deck, cupboard doors fly open and release their contents throughout the cabin.

Arbilash frantically tunes his shortwave radio. Two of his fellow competitors are sailing nearby. An Irish sailor named Gregor McCuckin and a Dutchman, Mark Slatz. Abhilash contacts them both to inform them of his situation and to check on theirs. I got on the radio and I spoke with Gregor and with Mark Slatz and Mark told us that he had a couple of knockdowns and it was quite bad for him. Gregor told us that after his knockdown, he lost the mizzenmast and boom. So, you know, it was completely gone.

Sounds like Gregor and Mark are faring even worse than he is. They agree to check in again in a couple of hours. Then they wish each other good luck and get off the radio. Abelash darts back to the cockpit. He watches grimly as another mountain of water crests 50 feet above him. The force of the wave knocks Theraia flat against the surface of the ocean. Fortunately, she writes, this time. But the yacht continues to be hurled around by the monstrous swells.

She's heeled over 45 degrees now, her barnacle encrusted hull lifted out of the water. Arbelash clings to the sharply listing deck. He grabs the tiller, the lever used to steer the boat, and pulls with all his strength. I was using both my arms, and I'd wedge my legs on the other side. And I was pulling the tiller, and the tiller was bending five degrees. And still, it was quite difficult to keep the boat

sailing in any direction. And that's when a wave hit, and my boat had another knockdown. Arbilash grabs the nearest handhold he can find. The Mizenmast is a 30-foot upright spar near the back of the boat. Arbilash clutches onto it as the yacht tips over a full, hair-raising 120 degrees, plunging in beneath the icy agitated surface. Fully submerged, Arbalash wraps around the mast in a desperate clawing bear hug. If he lets go, he'll be ripped away from his boat. The power of the sea batters him, pulling him away from his lifeline.

Suddenly he loses his grip and slides further along the mast. I just halt the mason mast so that I don't get separated from the boat. Now, the mason mast buried underwater. I got separated from the hull, and I went to the end of the mason. Still underwater, Arbalash is now one rogue wave, one slip, from certain death. How long can he hold on like this?

Then, miraculously, he is lifted out of the water and hoisted into the air. Suddenly, the boat straightened, and I was on top of the mizzen, which was about 8 or 9 meters tall. While the mast flexes in the wind, Abhilesh looks down. 30 feet below, it is a scene of devastation. The main mast has snapped clean off at the base.

Downed lines and twisted metal stanchions entangle the deck. Trembling with adrenaline, he tries to adjust his feet to begin to climb down the mast, which is when he loses his footing. And the next thing he knows, he's falling, tumbling backwards through space, until he lands with a sickening crack. His spine has borne the brunt of the fall, but Abilash doesn't yet know the extent of the damage. Right now he is stupefied, staring up at a broken length of rigging intersecting the

storm-bound sky. Water continues to engulf the deck, sweeping over him in white, foamy torrents. Gradually he comes to his senses. He needs to get below deck, otherwise he'll be washed overboard. Arbelash crawls on his belly over to the hatch and drops down into the cabin. rolls on his belly over to the hatch and drops down into the cabin. Remarkably, what strikes him most is that it's a terrible mess. The floor is strewn with maps and tools. Still running on adrenaline, Abhilesh sets about restoring some order, moving around on his hands and knees as he tidies up.

After 30 minutes when I tried to stand, my knees just collapsed and I fell. And then I pushed myself up, I pushed myself up using my arms and you know, when I tried to stand, my knees collapsed again and I fell. It's no use. He can't stand up. As the adrenaline fades, bolts of pain fire along his spine. Grimacing, he drags himself towards his bunk. Every movement triggers sharp spasms, like electrodes are hooked to his nerve endings.

Finally I crawled onto the bunk and sent a message on the satellite device saying, rolled, dismastered, severe back injury, cannot get out. Abhilash lies there stiff and shivering, listening to the storm rage outside. After a few moments that feel like hours, the satellite phone beeps. A reply from RaceHQ. He texted back saying that if you need rescue, you have to activate the emergency beacon. Despite the race banning the use of modern technology, the competitors do carry with them an emergency kit

of high-tech safety equipment for life and death moments like this one. Abelash looks around, scanning the gloomy cabin. A flickering light bulb illuminates the lurching floorboards, leading to a locked cabinet. That's where he keeps his satellite radio beacon. Now is the time to accept the inevitable and activate the beacon. This will notify rescuers of his exact coordinates and disqualify him from the race. If only he could reach it. It's the following morning.

The storm has passed. Maskless Tharaya and her injured skipper drift aimlessly on the undulating swell. A film of sweat glistens on Abelash's skin. With a suspected broken back, any hope of him finishing the race is now well and truly gone. From my experience, if we can locate the person, he will be saved. So, from my perspective, all I had to do was to make sure that my position was known to rescuers, and I had to be alive till rescue came. But to stay alive, I had to make sure that I did not panic.

His high-pressure job in the military has endowed Abhilash with a cool head. Staying calm will be relatively straightforward. It's being found that's the real problem. He's been psyching himself up for several hours now. He can't delay any longer. He has to get to that emergency beacon. Taking several, steadying breaths, he is able to swing his legs out of his bunk and lower himself onto the floor.

Gritting his teeth against the agonizing pain, he crawls across the cabin. He manages to open the cupboard and remove the sealed bag that contains the emergency rescue gear. Without hesitating, he retrieves the beacon and activates it. This tiny act is exhausting. But with it now done, Abelash scoots slowly back over to the bunk and clambers in. Now all he can do is wait. Though given his remote coordinates, rescue could be several days away. This will be a monumental test of Abhilash's patience. And as he lies there, he starts experiencing new and unexpected sources of

discomfort. For some reason, my diaphragm got irritated and I had these constant hiccups and non-stop hiccups, you know, for hours and hours and hours. It just won't stop. These relentless hiccups are testing his composure. It's like torture. After a while, a particularly violent contraction forces vomit up through his throat. To his surprise and relief, this seems to have cleared up whatever was causing the hiccups, offering him a moment of peace.

But the respite is short-lived. The hiccups started again. And this went on, you know, I vomited twice more. And that helped me sleep. But after the third time, there was nothing left in my stomach to vomit. And I was just not able to sleep. Tormented by spasms and by the fiery burn of stomach acid, the weight is brutal. Fortunately, Abhilash has experiences he can draw upon to keep himself centered.

One of the tools that I had with me was the way we were trained at the Naval Academy. I made use of that experience, I made use of the meditation processes that I do to stay relatively mentally and emotionally healthy inside the boat. Abhilesh begins chanting, softly murmuring the various mantras that help him reach a state of emotional equilibrium. If I told myself that I am going to be rescued by tomorrow evening, you know what happens to your mental state if you are not rescued by tomorrow evening. So I just wanted to be okay in that moment and I just wanted to survive like that for however long it took.

One day bleeds into the next. He receives occasional updates from the organizers, reassurances that help is on its way. But Abhilash doesn't let himself get his hopes up. Reliance on others will only fuel frustration and panic. He alone is equipped to help himself through this. Destiny is what happens to you. Like the storm was destiny, the fact that my spine broke was destiny, to something that I had to accept. But how to respond to it, what to make of it, what sort of emotions to feel in response to what happened

is what free will gave me. And then there is his wife and his impending fatherhood. In the long hours, Abhilash allows himself moments to consider the future with his newborn baby. It was not I need to get out of here to be with my child, but it was like when I get out of here, I'm looking forward to being with my child. You know, it was that sort of a thinking that I had. Of course, you're curious what your kid is going to look like. Will it be a boy or a girl?

What are you going to name them? And I was looking forward to all these experiences. Every now and then, the pain in Abhilash's back takes hold. He's barely able to move, and there's no escaping that this spinal injury could have lifelong repercussions. I even considered the eventuality of being permanently paralysed. In my mind, there were scenarios where I'm rescued, but I'm paralysed.

I'm rescued, but it's late. I'm rescued, but it's early. But there was no scenario where I'm not going to be rescued. This is one thing that I was very certain and very confident of. But Abhilesh's confidence doesn't change the immense danger he is still in. He is adrift in a dead zone, a place he himself has referred to as an oceanic black hole. Even with his satellite beacon transmitting his coordinates, finding his boat, a tiny speck on the endless blue

expanse will be like locating a missing shuttle in space. And though he's able to stay calm for the time being, the question remains, how long will it take for his composure to break? It's September the 24th, two days since the storm wrecked Abalash's boat. He lies in his bunk, meditating and chanting in a barely audible whisper. His chest burns, and the pain in his back pulsates relentlessly. Time stretches on. He stares at the ceiling, trying to keep himself measured. Over and over, he tells himself, help will come.

Help will come. And then he hears it. Craning his neck, Arbilash peers through the porthole. There, bobbing on the swell just a few hundred feet from him, is a French fisheries patrol vessel, a Cyrus. Rescue has arrived. Moments later, an orange dinghy pulls up alongside Thariya and a trio of rescuers climb aboard. And I remember three of the rescuers came inside and before they could enter the board,

they asked if they had my permission to come inside the boat. And I thought I was hallucinating. But they were real people, thankfully. The rescuers slowly lift Abhilash from his bunk and strap him into a stretcher, taking great care with his damaged spine. Then they load him into the dinghy and chug back across to the patrol vessel.

Once he's safely stowed on board Osiris, the captain switches on the motors. Abhilash turns his head. They strapped me up, put me on the boat, and as we were leaving I wanted to have one last look at my boat. I tried, but I couldn't see my boat. Tharaya and Abhilash part ways. The boat lost in the watery vastness. The rescue vessel makes its way to the island of New Amsterdam, a tiny volcanic outcrop halfway between Australia and Africa. New Amsterdam has a transient population of about 20 people, most of whom work at the island's small climate research station.

There's also a rudimentary medical center, which is where Abelash is taken as soon as they arrive. He is immediately x-rayed and medicated with strong painkillers. And although the scans don't reveal anything conclusive about his injuries, He is immediately x-rayed and medicated with strong painkillers. And although the scans don't reveal anything conclusive about his injuries, Abhilash starts to feel some of the strength returning to his legs. Fears of paralysis, it seems, were premature. Only a couple of days after arriving on the island, miraculously, he is able to stand

on his own two feet. I went out for a walk with crutches and I remember I took off my flip flops and I walked on the wet grass bare feet. And one of those days the Prime Minister of India phoned me to check how I was doing. It's little wonder that Abhilash's endeavors have inspired so much excitement back home. His participation in this race was a historic first, and his forced withdrawal doesn't change that. This is the first time that anybody from India has even made it to the start line of a round-the-world race. So in that sense, it was a huge success.

I was not somebody who was trailing or was just making up the numbers. And the way I got out of the race was spectacular. It was not because I missed my family or felt lonely or, you know, some reason like that. I was not really frustrated that I was out of the boat. And I think I was already making plans to return to the race. True to form, Abhilash doesn't waste any time dwelling on the past. The next Golden Globe race will take place in four years' time. He intends to be ready for it.

He intends to be ready for it. Recuperating alongside him on New Amsterdam is Gregor McCuckin, his fellow competitor whose ship suffered a similar fate during the storm. The other affected sailor, Mark Slatz, managed to avoid disaster and pressed on with the race. He will ultimately go on to finish second. Four days after arriving on the island, Gregor is picked up by an Australian frigate. The two friends bid each other farewell. Maybe next time luck will be on their side. The following day it's Abelash's turn.

An Indian Navy warship re-routes to the island, collects the marooned sailor and takes him back to India. He is immediately flown to a Navy hospital where further scans reveal the extent of the damage. I was put through an MRI machine and when I came out of it I was told that I had four fractures in the spine and if I I fell again, I would be properly paralyzed for the rest of my life. Abhilash is incredibly lucky

to have avoided more lasting damage. He is kept in hospital for two and a half weeks. On the 18th day, a neurosurgeon operated my spine. He fitted two titanium rods, fused five vertebrae into a single piece and did some bone grafting and all that and yeah I was out of the operation theatre. Abhilash's new reinforced spine isn't the only thing that's changed. After leaving the hospital and traveling home it's clear that life won't be returning to normal any time soon.

I come home in a wheelchair. I've got crutches. My wife is pregnant. And my bank account is in minus whatever, half a million or something. Abhilash begins a grueling six-month physical therapy program, slowly working his way back to fitness. And as he picks up the pieces of his life, he decides not to let things go back to how they were before. Four years after the birth of his son, he decides to quit the Navy, to focus on sailing full-time, with the start line of the Golden Globe back in his sights. He manages to secure a sponsor, buy a boat,

and in September 2022, he sets off again from France, determined not to let the race beat him this time. It very nearly does. I ran into hundreds of thousands of problems. Nearly every part of the boat has a breakdown, except the toilet. In a storm, my back spasms and my right leg becomes inoperable. I deal with that, I do a lot of physio exercises to get my leg working again. I run out of food towards the end, I run out of water

somewhere in the middle of the race. I dealt with all the problems and I finally crossed the finish line in second position after spending 236 days at sea. After returning home, Abhilash notices something different. The usual drive to push his limits to seek out the next big challenge isn't there this time. Perhaps with a second place finish in the Golden Globe, his achievements have finally caught up with his ambition. Or perhaps it's that parenthood has a way of altering one's perspectives.

I love taking risks. The problem with taking this sort of risk racing around the world alone is that if anything goes wrong, my family has to up growing up without a father. So yeah, I think I'll take different kind of risk and keep myself happy. While Abhilash lay below deck on Tharaya, waiting for rescue with a shattered spine. Staying calm meant dealing with what was happening right there and then, not contemplating unhelpful what-ifs. Following his completion of the second Golden Globe, Abelesh says he adopts a similar mentality.

Instead of focusing on the next race, the next record, he shifts his attention to the present and appreciates what he already has in front of him. Instead of looking at that point in the future, that alternate reality where everything is fine and things are not the way it is right now, instead of looking at that alternate reality, I just started focusing on the present, the right now. And I made it my only objective to be comfortable with whatever is happening right now. Well, it's a philosophy that I've grown up with that helping survive.

Next time on Real Survival Stories, we meet humanitarian aid worker Jeff Frazier. In April 2023, Jeff is in Haiti to facilitate a food relief program when he is taken hostage by a criminal gang. Trapped in a fortified compound, Jeff must negotiate with his captors and forge bonds with his fellow hostages, praying every day that he will eventually make it home to his family. About 20% of kidnapping victims are killed in the process. You hope that the calculus plays out in your favor so that they see you as more valuable alive than dead. But how certain are you that they're going to do that math?