Real Survival Stories - Icelandic Disaster: Retirement Gone Awry…

Episode Date: December 5, 2024

A recently retired theatre teacher sets off on a later-life adventure. Morrie Piersol joins a stunning ocean voyage from the US to Iceland. But in the North Atlantic, his grand retirement plan becomes something far more sinister. Morrie will face freezing temperatures, the constant threat of drowning, and memory blackouts. And even if the crew can be located, it’ll take a monumental effort to extract them… A Noiser production, written by Emily Webb. 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

What's in this McDonald's bag? The McValue Meal. For $5.79 plus tax, you can get your choice of Junior Chicken, McDouble, or Chicken Snack Wrap, plus small fries and a small fountain drink. So pick up a McValue Meal today at participating McDonald's restaurants in Canada. Prices exclude delivery. It's July the 26th, 2017, approaching 3 a.m. 285 nautical miles southwest of Iceland. Despite the hour, the proximity to the Arctic Circle

means that the sky is illuminated by persistent daylight even in the depths of night. Above the water, heavy clouds hang low, casting a dull, muted glow over the sea. Rain pelts down, merging with the cold spray of the restless sea. A small sailing boat, the Valiant, sways and dips with the rhythm of the waves, its long, low silhouette almost disappearing at times into the churning waters, the white hull blending into the seascape. Inside the boat, 65-year-old Morrie Pearsall perches in the companionway, the narrow passage

between the deck and the sleeping area. Through oblong portholes, he observes the world outside, a palette of gray and white. Moray is on watch. In conditions like these, with unpredictable weather, he and his crewmates operate in strict shifts. Every three hours, they rotate, ensuring the safety of the boat and each other. The routine was for your three hours, check the radar, do a log entry of the conditions,

the wind, the barometer, the charge of the battery state. You're buckled in, you're harnessed in, always harnessed in whenever you go out. And about every 20 minutes, whoever is on watch would go up on deck, survey the situation, get a feel for what's happening. Morris steps out onto the deck. The waves are substantial, 21 feet high, sending spray over the sides of the boat. But it's nothing the Valiant can't handle. He heads back to the companionway. It's a cold, grim night. He sits down, tired, his elbow resting on the small chart table. It's then that an otherworldly roar echoes around him. It fills the air, sinister and bellowing.

Seconds later, an enormous wave smashes into the boat. The Valiant pivots around, and a chaotic flurry of possessions, charts and equipment fill the air before the side of the boat hits the water. The impact propels Morrie across the companionway, and the boat can't withstand the force of the ocean. Plexiglas burst open and cold, dark, green water came pouring in the boat, and I was thrown up on the low side of the boat with that water coming in all around me. It sounded like a really bad car accident. It was the sound of crashing, breaking glass. I mean, it was a cacophony of sounds that were pretty extraordinary.

The boat is fully capsized. Maurice struggles to his feet, trying to get his bearings. He's soaking wet. And as he looks at the porthole icy water continues to pour in it inches up the walls threatening to drag the valiant into the depths of the atlantic ocean i can't believe this is really happening but this actually is happening i thought i was going to drown and i thought that could be it the last thing i remember seeing was the portholes blowing out,

the water coming in, and the boat being over, and thinking, this is not good. 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 recently retired teacher Maury Pearsall. While retirement may conjure images of leisurely walks and relaxed lunches for some, Mori wants to explore the world from the deck of a sailboat. Eager to chase his dream, he signs up for a voyage that promises to take him from the U.S. to the Icelandic capital Reykjavik. He'll be part of a little crew of three, with a combined age of nearly 200. But when a freak wave strikes in the North Atlantic, Mori's grand adventure becomes something far more sinister. He'll face freezing temperatures, the threat of drowning, and memory blackouts, as he and his crewmates' decisions dictate whether they live or die. And even if help can reach them, getting out of this situation will take a monumental effort.

Oftentimes, you can survive the disaster and get killed in the rescue. As I looked out on the situation and didn't know how it was going to end, it just became very difficult for me to accept that I wasn't gonna see my family anymore. I'm John Hopkins. From NOISA, this is Real Survival Stories. It's June 2017 in Richmond, Virginia. One of the oldest cities in the US with a large river running through its downtown, it's home to Maury Pearsall and his wife.

Maury's at his computer going through emails. As he scrolls through his inbox deleting adverts and spam, there's a ping. A new message pops up. It's from his friend, Charlie, a fellow sailing enthusiast. He opens it, intrigued. It looks like Charlie's forwarded him something. He got this as a member of his yacht club, and he said, this ain't for me, but I think I know somebody that may be interested. Morrie is interested.

He reads on, and his eyes begin to flicker with excitement. He's just retired after years of teaching theater to school kids, and he's been telling friends and family that he wants to use this next chapter to get back into sailing. Clearly, Charlie has been listening. The email contains details of an upcoming voyage. The trip was from the Chesapeake to Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Greenland and Iceland and the owner was looking for two other individuals to go with him on this trip. Morrie fires off an email to the boat's owner. The trip will be a month long and is due to begin soon,

leaving from Chesapeake Bay, just over an hour away by car. Maury is buzzing. And long story short, application, met him, went sailing with him and all those things. And as the trip that looked like something that was good for me, recently retired June, this was going to happen July 1. Perfect for me to just say, I can go, I got the time, I'm free of work and don't have a lot of other obligations. But wow, what an opportunity to do a trip like that and learn and do the things that looked like were in store for us in that trip. Sailing has long been Maury's passion, a love instilled by his parents. Although he grew up in the city of Philadelphia, weekends were spent by the sea.

The family would pack the car with sailing gear and plenty of snacks and head to the coast. We would drive five hours from Philadelphia to the east end of Long Island, to a magical place called Shelter Island on the east end of Long Island. And it was just magical to me. It was magical to me to be on the boat, to wake up under sail in the morning when my father had cast off at 5.30, 6 o'clock in the morning

to the sound of the water lapping in the wind. It's something about that oneness. It's something about being part of that, but certainly not being in control of that. There's a beauty, a majesty, and an awesomeness that conveys respect and awe. Those rose-tinted days on Shelter Island shaped the rest of Murray's life. The smell of the old alcohol stoves they used for cooking on board,

the clink of the icebox, the electric hurricane lamps that lit up the evenings. After that, he leapt at any opportunity to be on a boat. And when he met his now wife, their romance was forged on the water. They weren't just partners, they were crewmates. And with my soon-to-be wife, we sailed up and down the northeast coast in a rudimentary little 26-foot sailboat, loving every bit of it. But soon, reality took over. Children arrived and the demands of family and work overshadowed everything else.

Morrie held various jobs, corporate sales, commercial real estate, and eventually he became a theater teacher. The weekends once spent on the water were now filled with obligations, and while he sailed when he could, it was no longer a priority. As retirement neared, however, While he sailed when he could, it was no longer a priority. As retirement neared, however, Morrie and his wife began talking about returning to the sea, maybe even getting their own boat, and recapturing the magic of their early years together.

So when that email from Morrie's friend Charlie arrives, it marks the first step back towards the ocean. It's July the 1st at the Fishing Bay Yacht Club, Chesapeake Bay. Boats are packed closely together, moored along jetties that stretch across the horizon, swaying in the breeze. Morrie arrives, supplies in tow, ready for the month ahead. The boat is docked and waiting. There will be three crew members on the voyage, each bringing something unique to the mix.

First up, Morrie, recently retired and in his mid-sixties. I fit the bill in terms of the seamanship, sailing experience side as a crew member. Next, the captain and owner of the boat, 75-year-old Wes. He'd been to Europe and back. He'd done a ton of the stuff in the Northeast. He'd actually circumnavigated Newfoundland at one point. He'd done a transatlantic over and back. Accomplished fellow.

And the third person was a commercial fisherman here in the Chesapeake Bay, extremely knowledgeable about engines, electronics, and various other things, but not an experienced sailor per se, as in sailboats. A seaman, but not a sailor. That's Bobby. He's in his early 50s, the youngster of the group. So the three of us had skill sets that actually kind of really were a good combination of skill sets. They'll be journeying on the Valiant. It's a 40-foot-long sailing boat, white with a red stripe running down its side.

It's compact and in many ways quite basic. A hatch leads to the companionway, taking you from the deck to the cabin below. Much like Maury's days back on Shelter Island with his family, he'll be cooking on a small portable stove and living simply. Not a creature comfort boat. It was literally like camping. I mean, you had no headroom below.

It was very rudimentary, very fast, very capable, and very responsive, but very light. Not a lot of room, but that was okay. That's what I was signing up for. That wasn't a problem for me. The crewmates climb on board. The boat will be their home for the next month, and they won't be back on land again for 780 nautical miles

when they hit their first stop in Nova Scotia. They cast off on their adventure. The sun beams down on them as the wind fills their sails. The Valiant skims along the water, and things get off to a great start. We were just getting in our groove and enjoying the trip. We were very compatible, had a good time, didn't know each other but got to know each other very quickly and got along great.

But it isn't long before the wind dies down and on a sailing boat that's a problem. Their destination is the Nova Scotian city of Halifax at the southeastern tip of Canada. Without wind they risk running out of supplies before they arrive. When the boat comes to a near standstill, the crew reluctantly turns to the engine as a backup. But there isn't enough fuel to rely on it for the entire journey, so they can only use it sparingly to keep moving. As the wind remains elusive and fuel reserves dwindle, it becomes clear they won't make it to Halifax. Their only option is to reroute to the closer town of Shelburne.

It's smaller, but within reach. Six days later, on July the 7th, they pass the town's 18th century buildings as they glide into harbor. It certainly has to be something that's part of the course because things never, rarely work out the way you plan them in advance. And you just have to be in the moment, deal with what you have and make adjustments along the way. In Shelbourne, they stock up on fuel, supplies, and head to a restaurant for a hot meal. When they return to sea, they navigate north. Their destination is Newfoundland's largest city, St. John's. The weather shifts as they move through the water.

It's cooler, foggier, and the sea around them teems with nature. Blue whales, fin whales, minke, and humpbacks. Whales so close that literally if you were ever on a whale boat watching trip that you were paying dearly for, you wouldn't get anywhere near as close. They wouldn't even let you. But when they come up next to you, what are you going to do? So we had several different kinds of whales. We had great bird life.

And the sailing was fantastic. With TD Direct Investing, you can get live support. So whether you need help buying a partial share from your favorite tech company, opening a TFSA, or learning about investing tools, we're here to help. But keeping your cat off your keyboard, that's up to you. Reach out to TD Direct Investing today and make your investing steps count. Plus, enjoy 1% cash back. Conditions apply. Offer ends January 31st, 2025. Visit td.com slash dioffer to learn more. one across thousands of shows to reach your target audience with Libsyn ads. Email bob at libsyn.com to learn more. That's b-o-b at l-i-b-s-y-n dot com. It's July the 13th, and after four days on the water, the Valiant is moored in St. John's.

Once again, Mari, Wes, and Bobby are enjoying the creature comforts of the city, but it's also a chance to evaluate their next steps. The plan had been to cross a stretch of the northern Atlantic from Newfoundland to Narsamiit, Greenland's southernmost settlement. But as they check the latest weather reports, there is a problem. In order to get to Narsamiit, they need clear waters, and the water surrounding the settlement is a problem in order to get to nasamiat they need clear waters and the water surrounding the settlement is anything but clear we did a recheck in of the sea ice and as is often the case was not favorable conditions for trying to go there which we knew was a possibility but you never know do you get there. By the time we actually were leaving, we had to say, okay, plan B.

Instead, they decide to travel straight to Iceland. It'll be their longest leg so far, a 1,400 nautical mile route that will take them into a vast stretch of the North Atlantic. It's much more time than they expected to spend in the open water, and conditions will be challenging.

Icebergs, unpredictable weather, and low visibility. Remember, this is not designed to be a particularly ocean-going sailboat. It's designed to be a fast racing boat, not particularly designed for these kind of conditions. But the crew plan accordingly, rest up, and prepare themselves for the immense, daunting journey ahead. Never before has the boat's name, Valiant, felt so appropriate. It's July the 24th, a chilly afternoon in the northern Atlantic. Icy winds are propelling Maury, Wes, and Bobby towards Reykjavik.

Just a really enjoyable, fast sailing. Cold, foggy, fast sailing. And you're saying, okay, wow, we're moving quickly and we're putting in 100 plus miles a day, so it isn't going to be that long. Maury looks out at the ocean. It stretches as far as the eye can see on all sides. It's a lonely spot. We never saw a single vessel of any kind, whether it be commercial fishing vessel, cruise ship, pleasure boat, sailing yacht, or any other vessel of any kind. But we couldn't see much anyway because it was so foggy, but we never picked anything up on radar, you know, is what I'm saying.

There was really nothing ever around. It was quite desolate, and it was a very, very powerful experience. The longer we were in that and the farther we went. And yes, you are aware that there's really nothing around you. Nobody. Nothing. Despite the isolation, it should only be a few days until they make it to the Icelandic capital. Reykjavik promises a hearty meal and a hot shower. But in sailing, nothing is predictable. Just when it seems that the coast will appear on the horizon, the wind turns and the boat slows. So the biggest disappointment was, oh man,

another couple days of going nowhere. It's approaching 2 a.m. on July the 26th, 285 miles off the coast of Iceland, and the Valiant's progress is stalled. On top of that, miserable weather has moved in, driving rain, heavy fog, and the 24-hour summer light, which means the crewmates are surrounded by a persistent shade of gray. We've been in those conditions before, all of us. So it wasn't something at the time that said, oh gosh, this is conditions that are life-threatening. Yeah, it's going to be really uncomfortable, and yeah, we're not going to go anywhere for a couple days while we, you know, deal with it.

But you deal with it. The crewmates take turns on watch, rotating shifts to ensure the boat is always under supervision. At night, one person remains on duty for three hours while the other two sleep. The crewmate on watch is responsible for monitoring the radar, logging weather conditions, and assessing the battery charge. After completing these tasks, they must head to the deck to see what's happening. They're always secured by a harness, so they can't disappear overboard in the middle of the night. Currently, it's Morrie's turn. Wes and Bobby are curled up in their bunks. Having completed his checks, he stares out into the gloom.

You're very vulnerable, very vulnerable. And this boat's a small boat. It doesn't have a lot of freeboard, which means it's not a lot of height above the water. For a boat 40 feet long, you would normally have a lot more freeboard. It would be higher off the water. It would be more room, more weight. This boat, when you're standing on that boat in the cockpit

or sitting in the cockpit, you're only a few feet above the water. Low in the water, the waves appear even more monstrous, surging to 21 feet, crashing against the hull and drenching the deck with spray. For now, the situation seems manageable. The rhythm of the swell has been fairly predictable. But at around 2 a.m., the once steady wave pattern becomes erratic.

At one point, the boat literally got dropped off of what must have been a little bit of a cresting wave. So we fell off a little bit, and it was not a lot, but it was enough to say, boom, oh, okay, whoa. We just kind of dropped off a little something there. The boat bumps back onto the water's surface, shaking Morrie into action. He goes to the controls and makes some adjustments. Maybe it's to do with the boat's angle in the water. He does what he can and then sits down on the companionway. It's now 3 a.m.

He'll head back up on deck in 20 minutes to check the weather again. But just then, everything changes. And the next thing I knew, I heard this tremendous roar. I really did. And the boat got picked up and tossed, smashing onto the water on the low side of the wave. The companion wave rocks and spins as the side of the boat makes contact with the water. It's impossible to know which way is up. The boat suddenly seems to disintegrate around Mori. Plexiglas burst open and cold, dark, green water came pouring in the boat.

And I was thrown up on the low side of the boat with that water coming in all around me. It sounded like a really bad car accident. It was the sound of crashing, ripping, breaking glass. I mean, it was a cacophony of sounds that were pretty extraordinary. The boat has fully capsized. Water continues to gush in through the portholes, filling the companionway, threatening to submerge Morrie. But even if he tried to get above deck, he'd now be swimming into the freezing Atlantic.

I can't believe this is really happening, but this actually is happening. We're totally screwed. That moment I thought I was, highlight likelihood that I probably won't survive this, because I thought I was going to drown. The boat is buffeted again, and Maurice flung through a freezing torrent

of frothing water careening this way and that. It's all too much, and he blacks out. Next thing I recall was being on the floor of the cabin, sort of on my knees. And my life vest is a life vest that activates if you fall in the water, it will deploy. It had deployed because I was in the water. He looks around, trying to orientate himself.

The portholes, which had turned into inlets for icy green water, are now showing the gray sky again. During his blackout, the boat has somehow, miraculously, righted itself. Wes and Bobby are scrambling from their beds. They're trying to figure out what happened and get out of their bunks and everything they were laying on is now on top of them and soaking wet and mattresses and sleeping. And they don't know what the hell happened because they were asleep. So they come up and then the first thing was, OK, whoa, we just got rolled. Is everybody OK?

Amazingly, they are. No broken bones or injuries. The Valiant, on the other hand, isn't in a good way. Murky water half fills the cabins and the electrics are blown. The air temperature is 4 degrees centigrade, the water 9 degrees. The boat is impossible to sail. They cannot get out of this themselves. They pull out the Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon, or EPIRB, and send out a request for help. But you don't know if anybody's hearing it, and you don't know what they're doing about it, because you've got to remember,

we're 285 miles off the coast of Iceland in pretty, pretty adverse conditions. Not knowing when they'll be found, if at all, every decision now is crucial. The most obvious problem is they are still in immediate danger of sinking. Now we've got to get the water out of the boat. If the water isn't out of the boat, you risk being lower in the water and having other waves break on you and the next one could sink you completely. The water is near freezing. To get it out of the boat, Captain Wears has developed a pumping system for this exact scenario. He shows Maury and Bobby, who get to work.

The air is now whipping through the boat because all the portholes and all the hatches are gone, and you're in water up to your waist. So the drill was pump, pump, pump, pump. Now, the problem was all the crap that was in the boat, every single thing that was floating around, whether it be paper or this or that, was getting clogged in the intake. The only way to deal with that

was one of us got on our hands and knees in the water and put our hand over the intake to keep the crap from getting clogged in the intake, make our hand a strainer. The two shivering men rotate every 15 minutes. But slowly, over the next few hours, the water levels lower, giving the vessel a slightly improved stability. When all the seawater is finally cleared, the men's soaking possessions remain. So then the next is get everything out of the boat that we don't need.

Everything was soaking wet, 48 degree water, freezing cold, everything out of the boat. So we jettisoned everything, and that took another couple hours. And the purpose is you don't want to be in there with all this wet, cold stuff. They also hope that their discarded items might act like a sort of breadcrumb trail if a rescue vessel is looking for them. With each task, a different crewmate takes the lead. It's as though their individual qualities and backgrounds

have all been building up to this moment. All these decisions were decisions made by one or more or all of us, either individually or together. And they were all the right things to go and do next. And they came from the group. And it might be one person saying we need to do this and then say, yeah, you're right, we need to do, or somebody else or as a group. But it might be one person saying, we need to do this, and then say, yeah, you're right, we needed, or somebody else, or as a group. But it was really quite interesting as to how we came up

with all the things we needed to do next, and who came up with those ideas, and in what order, and it was a group effort and very effective. Now the main challenge is how to avoid hypothermia. With no indication that anyone is coming to get them, they'll have to survive in these conditions for hours, days even. That's when Bobby, the fisherman, makes a suggestion. He points out that synthetic clothing and material dries quickly, whereas cotton holds on to moisture. We were retrieving synthetics

with the idea being we were going to have to take everything off that we had, take all the synthetics we could get, wring them out as hard as we possibly could. And it was really good survival stuff, wringing out everything possible and putting those synthetics on in layers. Anything we found, socks, anything, we would wring it out, put it on in layers so that there's less water involved and your body can help warm you up and eliminate the

moisture. All the cotton went, all the synthetics stayed, and Bobby was the one who was insistent upon that and he was very right. And it was a great move. Layered up in synthetic clothing, they clear the final sodden items out of the boat. They're about to throw their rubber mattresses over the side when one of them makes another suggestion. Why not

keep them? We can cut them up and stick them in the shattered shards of windows and hatches to keep the cold air out, which we did. So we stuffed these foam rubber pieces in these ragged holes, which effectively stopped the whistling of this wind from whipping through this boat. And that was effective. The other stuff we did with them was we run them out and cut them in strips that we could wrap around our mid-drift section as further insulation and attempt to keep our core warm. And with that, a waiting game begins. They've spent five exhausting hours securing the boat and getting as warm as they can.

It's now morning. The gray sky lightens a little to acknowledge a new day. Maury is back in the companionway sitting on the stairs. The other two are in different parts of the boat. Each man is alone with his morbid thoughts. The other stuff kept us busy, I mean, for many hours, you know, five hours or whatever. We were busy and working, and that helps generate heat as well as keep your mind off stuff and give you a purpose and helps you in your functioning.

The rest of it's harder because, first of all, you get colder quicker because you're not doing anything, and second of all, there's nothing to do but sit there and think. I thought about the poor guy who's a good friend of mine who referred me, sent me the email about this trip that I followed up on. And he was a good personal friend, family friend. And I thought, poor Charlie, man, he's going to feel awful and never forgive himself if we don't come back from this trip. And he thinks, oh my God, if I hadn't sent him that email, he wouldn't have gone. I don't know why that popped into my head. And then, of course, more seriously and importantly, the one thing that really did keep crossing my mind, as I looked out on the situation and didn't know how it was going to end, positively, negatively, or whatever,

that if it ended negatively, it just became very difficult for me to accept that I wasn't going to see my family anymore. It's 10 a.m. on July the 26th, seven hours since the wave hit. The Valiant rocks impotently in the ocean. Its sail is gone. The deck is bare and damp. Maury sits alone, wrapped in layers of synthetic clothing,

bits of rubber mattress around his belly. No rescue boat has appeared. Everybody else was in their respective places thinking about whatever it was they're thinking about. Not a lot of chit-chat because there wasn't much to talk about or to do. And then I saw a plane. And it was like, holy s***, there's a plane, guys. And so that changes everything.

Morrie calls to Wes and Barry. The crewmates fumble for the ditch bag. It's what you use if you have to deploy your life raft. It contains basic emergency supplies, including a handheld radio. It doesn't transmit far, but hopefully it can reach the plane circling above them. The pilot needs to see them, to hear them, to know they're down here. Eventually, they hear a voice crackling through the radio.

And the plane kept asking us our location. First of all, we don't know our location. We have no navigational equipment. And second of all, don't you see us? The boat was white. The ocean's white. The sail and rig are gone, so there's nothing really to see

except a very little bit of white boat in the midst of white ocean from however many feet, 500 feet above or whatever. He never saw us. So we kept saying, we're right below you, right below you. He didn't see us. The crewmates set off a flare. This time, mercifully, the pilot spots them.

But it turns out this aircraft isn't about to scoop them off the deck. It's a reconnaissance plane. After the emergency signal went out, the pilot was sent to confirm the location of the boat, not rescue them. And they also, at the same time, apparently, contacted what appeared to be the only ship in the area. We hadn't seen anything in 1,100 miles. It turns out there was a large commercial fishing

vessel that was part of the Greenland Marine Science Arm of the government that was on an expedition. They do this routinely. It's a 220-foot commercial fishing vessel. And they were out on a three-week expedition. The pilot's voice crackles through the radio again. He informs the crewmates that he has confirmed their location and that he will pass the information on. And I'll never forget, he said something at one point in his Icelandic accent. He said, a rescue vessel will be along within the hour.

We're like, whoa, what do you mean? Are we on the bus line? Or what, I mean, what, you know, we're at a bus stop and the bus is coming? What does that mean? Well, it turns out

they'd been steaming towards us for hours. We just didn't know it and they weren't that far away the three men shiver as they await the rescue boat as the minutes pass the frosty air claws deeper into their bones what if they floated off course and can't be spotted but finally a nebulous gray shape appears in the distance,

moving closer through the waves. Remember, it's still not a nice balmy day. You know, remnants of the storm. The seas are a mess. Still windy, and it's not very good conditions at all. But on the horizon appears this vessel, rather large, coming towards us.

They get out their handheld radio again. And this time, they contact the ship's captain. The imposing vessel bounces over the vicious swell. So there were probably average 20-foot waves

and he would have crushed us. So he wasn't going to come close to us. So he asked us to deploy the life raft and get in it. It's clear in these dreadful conditions that this rescue is going to be far from easy. In fact, it could be their most dangerous trial yet. The crewmates follow the instructions from the ship's captain.

They clamber inside the small, yellow, inflatable life raft. Then they try to move away from their abandoned ship. But the waves and currents push them back. They can't escape the wreck. The Valiant threatens to crash into them with every wave. But they can use a tiny oar to propel themselves painstakingly through the water. Slowly, but surely, they approach the towering rescue boat. Waves are tossing the thing all over the place.

We eventually got close enough to the ship, and by that point, of course, it's gotten bigger and bigger and bigger, and now it's looming overhead and is gigantic and terrifying, to the point where we actually proposed earlier while we were talking to the captain. Do you think we maybe should wait until tomorrow? I don't know what I was thinking, but I proposed it because I was I've read enough. And anyone who has been in this world has read enough to know, oftentimes you can survive the disaster and get killed in the rescue. It's just dangerous. The captain refuses. They're going to do this right now.

Maury's rain-slicked face tilts up, and he takes in the vast hull of the ship. My fantasy was that down the side of this ship was going to come one of those elaborate rope things that cover a whole section of the boat that the soldiers climb up on. And you know what I mean? That image. And wouldn't what happened.

From 35 feet up at the deck, over the side comes down a rope ladder, two feet wide, made out of rope with wooden slats, just dropped down the side of the boat. That's it. Tossing waves fill the gap between the life raft and the ship. The ladder looks like it'd barely hold the weight of a child. Morrie reaches across the gap and grabs onto a run. But just then, a wave hits the life raft, threatening to pull him into the water. He lets go of the ladder. He pauses, takes a deep breath, then reaches out again.

I'm on the ladder and I'm looking up 35 feet. You don't want to really look down because it's not a pretty picture. And I started to climb. I could not move my arms. I literally was, I don't know what happened. I was on that ladder and I guess I was just totally spent. And then I heard this sound in the distance coming from above, and the sound was sort of like, sounded like, and remember the winds whistling and all this kind of stuff. And I didn't know what it was. And I look up and all of the crew is leaning over the railing and saying, one more. They were literally wheeling me up.

It's painful. It's slow. But rung by rung, Morrig crawls towards safety. The winds and the waves sway the ladder. And as he clings on, his knuckles look like they'll burst through his skin. At last, Mori reaches the top. Hands appear, pulling him onto the deck. He's mated. He crumples, exhausted, dazed, but alive.

When it comes to the other two crewmates, a harness is hastily crafted to help them move up the precarious rope ladder more easily. And, of course, later I never let them forget that. I kept telling the crew and the captain, I said, What the hell is that about? I didn't get a harness. What was that at? You know, messing with them and all that. The Valiant's three crewmates have all survived.

But instead of heading straight to land, they're now on a government sponsored trip. Their rescuers are scientists and researchers. And so Maury, Wes, and Barry find themselves entering a very different world. They had work to do, and they had places to go,

and they still had their mission to accomplish. So the plan became they were going to continue on with their course of zigzagging and doing their research until they got to the point of their route that would be the closest to Iceland. And then they would arrange for us to be picked up and taken off, but they weren't making a beeline for Reykjavik and nor did we expect them to. So we had a couple of days of being their guest on their ship, which was the most extraordinary experience. They couldn't have been more gracious.

They were helpful. They fed us. They got clothes from people. They gave us their bunks and berths and staterooms and showers and phones. And, I mean, it was amazing. The three men are then taken to meet the captain, who led the rescue operation. It was pretty significant to go up and see this man and thank this man for what he had done and the skill that he exhibited.

So it was pretty significant. I asked him, I said, had you ever done this before? And he said, no. And I said, well, how did you know how to do this? Because you just executed an incredibly delicate, difficult, and we have you to thank for us being here. How did you even, he said, I just figured it out as we went along. Two days later, the research vessel reaches the Icelandic fishing town of Grindavik.

The three survivors are handed over to the Icelandic police, while the boatload of scientists stand on the deck and wave goodbye. Also waiting for Morrie, Wes and Bobby are the press. It turns out the country has been gripped by the drama of the three men lost at sea. There will be time to tell their entire story later. For now, they just need to get home. So we got arranged to be housed in Reykjavik and figured the rest out on our own. And I flew home and that was the sum total of the story.

It's September 2017 in Richmond, Virginia, around two months since the rescue. Maury is safely at home and enjoying a somewhat calmer retirement, though the memories of his ordeal remain fresh. He, Wes, and Barry haven't seen each other since the incident, but today they have a reunion planned. Wes reached out and wanted to have lunch, and the three of us had lunch, hadn't seen each other since, and we've really spoken to each other since, not because of animosity, just no particular reason to.

And we had lunch together, and he gave us each a gift, which was very thoughtful. And we kind of hashed it over and talked about it and stuff like that. That was the only time we ever met. And I've never spoken to or met either of them since. Not again, not because we're no animosity. It's just the way it is. I don't think it's something that Wes would want to spend a whole lot of time talking about. We were safe. We were sound, all's well that ends well,

and it was all good. Today, Maurice still loves the sea. He and his wife have managed to buy their own boat, even if the trips are a little more subdued these days, around the mellower waters of Chesapeake Bay. Reflecting on what happened maurice says he mainly feels lucky and thankful to his crewmates and his rescuers his near-death experience has made later life all the sweeter it's an experience that was pretty extraordinary and a lot of fun and and we were very, very fortunate.

So luck and good fortune in conjunction with the preparation and the diligence that Wes exhibited in having everything that we needed. of that kind of good fortune and effort and help is pretty significant. There's a lot of people to thank, and that's kind of humbling. In the next episode, we meet Zaymon Kingi. In March 1986, the 17-year-old is whitewater rafting through the jungle of Papua New Guinea. He's having a blast, until the fun abruptly stops.

When they hit a waterfall, Zaymon's friend Andrew will be separated from the group With no idea if he's dead or alive, Zaymon will join the rescue effort Setting off back down the river on a mission to find his friend before the crocodiles do That's next time on Real Survival Stories Listen today without waiting a week by subscribing to Noisa Plus