Real Survival Stories - Indian Ocean Castaways: Epic Voyage (Part 1 of 2)

Episode Date: April 15, 2026

In Sri Lanka, a chance meeting with an eccentric fisherman sees Gordon Brace and his wife Elisabeth join the trip of a lifetime: a crossing of the Indian Ocean aboard a single-engine motorboat. But the young sailors will get much more than they bargained for. Because what follows is a survival story for the ages - a three-month epic of grit, daring and peril on the high seas… A Noiser podcast production. Hosted by John Hopkins. Written by Joe Viner | Produced by Ed Baranski | Assistant Producer: Luke Lonergan | Exec produced by Joel Duddell | Sound Supervisor: Tom Pink | Sound design by Matt Peaty | Assembly edit by Rob Plummer | Compositions by Oliver Baines, Dorry Macaulay, Tom Pink | Mix & mastering: Ralph Tittley. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the subscription banner at the top of the feed to get started. Or 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 is December 1980. In the middle of the Indian Ocean, where the northern and southern hemisphere trade winds meet, there lies a belt of low pressure called the intertropical convergence zone, or the doldrums. Along this latitude, intense solar radiation warms the water's surface, causing the air to rise straight up instead of blowing horizontally. The result is a band of ocean notorious for its high humidity and calm, windless conditions. On most days, the sea here is millpond flat, undisturbed by even the faintest ripple. But not today.

Today, the ghostly stillness is broken by the sound of a stuttering engine, weakly powering a small 40-foot motorboat. The vessel's white paint is chipped and peeling. A strange wooden contraption protrudes from the stern, something rudimentary and makeshift, trailing in the foamy wake. The rickety ramshackled boat appears lost, almost comically out of place, far too dinky and fragile for the vast ocean it's moving through.

Standing at the helm, Gordon Brace lethargically scans the horizon. For almost a week now, he and his four fellow crew members have been struggling through the doldrums. In search of a chain of islands that should, according to their charts,

lie just south of here. But after days without luck, doubts are setting in. We were out there for some days and we couldn't find these damn islands. And Dave was getting a little bit upset with Ken because he figured Ken navigation skills a lot as good as he claimed them to be because we were not finding this island. It isn't just their navigation letting them down. Something is wrong with their boat. For some reason, it isn't moving in a straight line.

Instead, it meanders, the wooden device of the stern flapping uselessly as the vessel veers off to port, then back to starboard in a slow, listless zigzag. It's frustrating and time-consuming. But time isn't the only resource to be worried about. And so we zigzagged our way, but there was a problem with this. We were burning the fuel we had, and the fuel was a major factor for us, obviously. Gordon glances at the fuel gauge. The needle is dropping fast.

It's highly unlikely they'll encounter another ship in the doldrums. If they run out of fuel, they'll likely drift for months before anyone finds them. Can they last that long? Gordon lifts his head and scans the boundless seascape, willing something to materialize from nothing. But all around is just the flat, impassive, edgeless ocean. I figured we were just going nowhere and the fuel was getting pretty low. We are not in trouble.

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 28-year-old Gordon Brake and his wife Elizabeth, a young couple freewheeling their way through life. In 1980, the braces are living in Sri Lanka, when they meet an eccentric fisherman

who invites them on the trip of a lifetime, a crossing of the Indian Ocean aboard a single-engine motorboat. Recognizing an adventure when they see one, Gordon and Elizabeth sign up and soon find themselves part of a rag-tag crew of amateur sailors, attempting an ocean voyage nobody has ever completed before. I did look back at Sri Lanka as it disappeared into the distance and then I did feel pretty vulnerable. Am I doing the right thing? Yeah. This is a bit scary. Gordon and Elizabeth were looking for adventure,

but they will soon get more than they bargained for. Because what follows is a survival story for the ages, a three-month epic of grit, daring and peril on the high seas. They will face fierce tempests. It was just this big black mass coming at us on the horizon, and we knew we were in for it. Endure the sanity-testing stillness of the doldrums. We were right in the middle now over the Indian Ocean, with no ships in sight. And ultimately, find themselves real-life castaways in one of the remotest places on the planet.

It's amazing how it tuned your eyes come to the horizon. And Dave said, hey Gordon, I think that's an island. I'm John Hopkins. From the Noiser Podcast Network, this is real survival stories. It's November 1980 in Sri Lanka. A warm breeze skips off the Indian Ocean. It jostles the tall palms that line the harbor of Trincomale, a fishing town on the east coast of the island.

Sunshine burns through a residue of hazy cloud as Gordon and Elizabeth Brace, a young married couple, stroll along the jetty. Brightly colored fishing boats bob gently in the, the tide, the water beneath their hulls so crystal clear, the vessels appear to float in thin air. They've been living in Sri Lanka for five months and have fallen in love with this beautiful country. For Gordon, it's the island's wildness that attracts him most. It's verdant jungles, white sand beaches and pristine coastal waters. His connection to the natural world runs deep.

It stretches back to his childhood in southeastern Africa, where the forest is. and Savannah were his classroom. I was raised in the bush in Zambia by an old Africana guy, and he took me into the bush when I was at the youngest. I don't even think I was eight years old. And I remember him saying to me, take those shoes off. And he taught me to walk bare feet in the bush and how to stalk properly, how to track,

and what to eat and not to eat and how to survive and so. So I guess you could say Africa of the wild places are in my blood. I grew up in the wild. I grew up in the bush. Gordon's love of the wild places extended to the ocean. When he was still a young boy, his grandparents took him to the coast of East Africa, where he caught his first glimpse of a coral reef. I did my first dive off the coast of Kenya when I was six and I was hooked. I'm still astounded by marine life and the diving, but it's married to the wild places. It's married to the bush. I love both. I love the wild places. I love bush and i love diving too and i love the open sea after finishing school Gordon decided not to

continue with the traditional education instead he left home with nothing but a suitcase a passport and a hunger for new experiences he headed first to europe and it was while traveling through denmark that he met a like-minded young woman named elizabeth she was about 18 i was 19 and we hear it off very well she's stunningly beautiful last she's a stunningly beautiful lass she's She was very good looking, but she didn't know it, if you know what I mean. If you meet her within five minutes, you can't help her, she's fantastic. Within days of meeting, the pair were inseparable. Soon they were married.

With nothing tying them down, Gordon and Elizabeth, both hungry for more adventure, set off to see the world. Their travels took them everywhere. From Europe, they headed to the Caribbean, then Africa and Australia. They worked odd jobs, selling them. shells they found on the seafloor or driving tractors in the Australian outback. Whenever they grew bored of a place, they'd move on, blowing in and out with the seasons. Living life in the fast lane was thrilling, but it could also be dangerous. There was the time they were caught in a tropical storm while canoeing in the Caribbean,

or the time they nearly capsized while rafting on the Zambezi. On these occasions, fortune seemed to be smiling on them. I've had so many incredible things happen to me and I've survived them that after a while you kind of think you know this is more than coincidence I'm getting away with stuff that I shouldn't be getting away with for some odd reason I seem to have this little guardian angel watching over me five months ago Gordon and Elizabeth decided to come to Sri Lanka on the recommendation of some friends

they've rented a bungalow on the beach and Gordon has found work as a lifeguard at a nearby hotel It's an idyllic spot, and for now the couple are quite content to while away the days here. About a week back they got chatting to a guy at the hotel bar. After Gordon mentioned that he hailed from East Africa, the man brought up a friend of his, a fisherman originally from Kenya who now lives here in Sri Lanka. The fisherman's name instantly struck a chord. Ken Alton. It was a name Gordon had heard before.

Ken Alton, my part of the world, is very well known. Six for seven of him, he was an East African rally driver, he was a polo player, but he was very well known as a big game fisherman. I think he's had about five world records in his time. I think he still holds a real record for the Maco, if I'm not mistaken. But he's quite a character, infamous character. The notorious Ken Alton, right here in Sri Lanka. This they had to see with their own eyes.

After driving to the other side of the island, Gordon and Elizabeth now walk along the jetty at Trinke Mali, scanning the faces of the fishermen. At the far end of the dock, a weather-beaten motorboat strains gently against her moorings. And on deck, sun-tanned and sinewy is the man whose name is legend in Gordon's part of the world, the infamous Ken Alton, rally driver, polo player. shark wrangler. But as they approach the boat, their confidence falters. He is intimidating. He's a huge man very powerful and not an ounce of fat on him. He was 52 back then, but he'd give most 20-year-olds a run for their money. Gordon summons his courage, clears his throat, and calls out to Ken. The grizzled old fisherman turns around and straightens up to his full height, over two meters tall.

After confirming with a growl that he is indeed Ken Alton, the big man listens as Gordon introduces himself. There is a brief tense pause, as Ken tries to place the name. Then a grin cracks across his leathery, salt-crusted face. Ken says he remembers Gordon's family and even recalls one or two stories about him as a child. Having established this remarkable and unlikely connection, Ken invites the couple to come aboard. Sitting on deck, he begins telling them all about his time in Sri Lanka

and how he's thinking about packing in his fishing operation and returning to Africa. He wanted to go back to Kenya, and he decided he's going to take his boat with him, because that's all he had was his boat. I kind of looked at him and it's like, oh, you know, that seems a bit crazy. And then we started talking and he said, no, he's going to do it.

And he said, as far as he knows, nobody has ever crossed the Indian Ocean in a single-engine motorboat. Gordon looks around at Ken's boat. It's about 40 feet from bow to stern, maybe 12 across the beam with a raised flybridge perched above the main deck. It's the kind of vessel you'd cruise around the bay for a leisurely fishing trip. Not one you try to sail across an ocean. It's like 4,000 C miles. And 4,000 C miles in a single-engine motorboat with a four-foot draft is a little bit tilting towards more than a calculated risk. But as Ken describes his daring plan, there is something exciting about it too.

It's a madcap scheme, no question. But the sheer audacity of it does carry an undeniable allure. Perhaps sensing Gordon's interest, Ken leans forward. If they fancy it, he could always be able to. used a couple of extra deck hands. Gordon smiles. It's a tantalizing offer. But before even entertaining the idea of joining Ken Screw,

he's got some questions. For starters, there's the issue of fuel. On a boat this small, how does he intend on carrying enough spare diesel to get himself all the way to Kenya? Ken nods and begins to explain. A while back he got talking to a family here in Sri Lanka who were sailing their yacht around the world.

As they were crossing the Indian Ocean, navigating through the Chegos Archipelago, the family came across a deserted island. They disembarked and ventured into the palm trees where they made a curious discovery. A huge stash of diesel drums, full to the brim. The family left the drums where they found them and continued on their voyage.

That was the main reason that Ken thought he could do this. Without that, this trip would have been a no-go at all. So when he told us all of this, and he said, if we can get there, then we've got that diesel, we can get to the Seychelles, and that from the Seychelles we can get to Kenya. Gordon digests this information. It still sounds like a crazy gamble, risking their lives on the basis of hearsay, a story told to Ken by family of sailors.

But before he can voice his concerns, Ken cuts in. He didn't pull the wall over eyes. He said, look, I'm going to tell you up straight. What we're trying to do, this is dangerous. This is very, very risky. So don't give me an answer now. He said, you know, go and sort out your affairs and then think about it and then come back and give me an answer.

Gordon and Elizabeth drive across the island in contemplative silence. Before they arrive back at their bungalow, they pull over to sit on the beach and watch the sun sink in the Indian Ocean. Elizabeth turns to her husband. And she looked at me and she said, you want to do this, right? And I said, yeah, you know I do. She always said this about how I think I'm invincible. And she mentioned that then.

And I said, yeah, you know, it's not just me, it's also you, you know. So she said, no, man. I know you'll never forgive me if I'd say no. And so it wasn't an hour or two later. We didn't even go home. We just came back to him and said, hey, We gotta go and sort things out and we'll be back. We're coming.

It's a few weeks later. On the east coast of Sri Lanka, a crew of sailors is putting the final touches to their boat ahead of departure. Gordon and Elizabeth aren't the only people Ken has managed to recruit for his grand voyage. Dave Faulkner is a 20-year-old surfer from New Zealand who responded to an advert Ken placed in a local pub. Dave's one of those guys, a bit like my wife. can't help it like the guy as soon as you meet him.

I don't know if they realized how serious that expedition was, that he was young and full of gung-ho and, yeah, sure, let's do this. I'd say a little bit naive, maybe, but a wonderful guy. You know, curly hair, great smile, always good spirits, good humor. Then there's Nicole, an old flame of Kens, whom he's kept in touch with and has invited along for the ride. She's a charismatic mid-30s Parisian with a short crop of wavy brown hair. Straight away, her and Elizabeth got on well.

It was nice for Elizabeth as some female company. And she climbed in and helped out, easygoing as well, very pleasant, very charming. But nobody has a bigger personality than the captain. In the six weeks they spent getting the boat ready for departure. Gordon witnesses can live up to his fearsome reputation. Erascible, volatile, occasionally downright frightening. With a mad glint in his eye and a cigar often clamped between his teeth,

he's like an angry drill sergeant crossed with blackbeard. You do not want to get on the wrong side of him. On one occasion, in order to raise some money for the voyage, Gordon and Ken take a group of German tourists out shark fishing. They head to an area Ken says it's usually brimming with mako sharks. But on this particular day, their lines remain slack, no matter how much chum they splash into the water. We were having no luck.

Nothing, no sharks at all. And we went to a different area, we chummed again. And then one of the German guys in English started effing and blinding and saying, this is a rip-off, there's no sharks here, it's a waste. Ken grabbed him by the seat of his pants and ran him off the boat into the chum. And made this guy tread water there. And the guy was screaming his head off. He said, relax.

There's no sharks yet. You said so yourself. You got nothing to worry about. Why are you screaming? That's Ken. Still, when he isn't traumatizing tourists, Ken is a good captain, open-minded and competent. His boat is called the Mican,

a portmanteau of his own name and the name of his former business partner, Mike. There's a lot of work to be done to get the boat ready for the voyage, anti-fowling the hull, loading her up with food and supplies, adding a mast and sail to the bow as backup for the 175 horsepower engine. But eventually, the day comes. On December the 14th, 1980, the Mycan motors quietly across the harbour, journeying white foam in the dark sea. Gordon stands on the main deck

with Elizabeth. They are bound for their next great adventure, but something about this one feels different. As the Meichen passes the breakwater and enters the fathomless ocean, it's clear they are on the cusp of something momentous and irreversible. You've got to have some fear. Fear is healthy. There's nothing wrong with fear. But when we left that harbor, it was such a beautiful scenery as we went out into that open ocean, just cutting through that water. I did look back at the yachts and look back at Sri Lanka and as it disappeared into the distance and then I did feel pretty vulnerable.

I wouldn't say doubt but just like, am I doing the right thing? Yeah. This is a bit scary. It's December 1980 in the Indian Ocean. The Mykin has been at sea for about a week and so far has been plane sailing. They're on track to reach the Chegos Islands by Christmas. There, if all goes according to,

to plan, they'll retrieve the diesel drums, refuel and be well on their way to Kenya by the start of the new year. Sea conditions are calm and the weather is fair. Indeed, Ken chose December for this voyage to avoid the Indian Ocean's cyclone season, which normally runs from May to November. So far, his forecasting has been accurate. The crew members spend their days relaxing, playing card games, or listening to music on the radio. They only leap into action when there's movement on one of the fishing rods, which they keep permanently cast off the side of the boat, trailing bait in the water.

During the night, they take it in turns to keep watch from the flybridge, occasionally adjusting the tiller to maintain course. One evening, Gordon is leaning against the starboard railing when he hears Elizabeth's voice calling out from the front of the boat. She's staring straight ahead, her pink headscarf flapping in the wind. Way off in the distance An ominous band of dark cloud Has swallowed the horizon

Ken told us that the cyclone season For that part of the world should be over So the big tropical storms In that part of the ocean should have been done And that's one of the reasons He chose that time of the year This was a late one I have a picture of it coming

Elizabeth sitting on the bower It was just this big black mass Coming at us on the horizon and we knew we were in for it. As darkness approaches, the Mycan and the five souls on board plunge headlong into the gathering storm. It's Elizabeth's shift,

but Gordon volunteers to take her place at the wheel. I said to her, look, you stay below, I'll take it through the storm. And Ken's... This was strange with Ken. As fearless as he was and powerful as he was, I think this scared him. Because he who jumped in his bunkin, Elizabeth said that he rolled over in the fetal position

and faced the wall and just went to sleep. The rest of them just battened themselves down. While the others hunker down below deck, Gordon gets into position on the flybridge. With what remains of the daylight, he is able to look ahead at the vast, interminable ocean, churned by the storm into a mountain range of foam-crested ridges and deep black valleys. Gordon grips the wheel, fighting to keep the mican at 90 degrees to the oncoming waves. You've got to keep the nose in the wind all the time. You cannot think about direction, you think about where the wind is.

And what you want to do is when these waves come, and they were monstrous waves. So when you go up them, you want to throttle her down so that you come down the other side of the wave into the valley. And you cannot judge it correctly each time. It's impossible. And then it falls, and the sound when it falls, it sounds like the boat. just shattered the pieces. Blinded by darkness and spray, Gordon does what he can. Again and again, the Mykin tilts almost vertically as she surges up the face of each oncoming wave,

then shoots off the lip and crashes down into the trough with a sickening, hull, splintering crunch. Gordon gasps for breath in the fleeting intervals between the waves. I mean, that wind, it stung me. it was so fierce. I mean, trying to keep it out of my eyes and trying to keep her in direction. And I was on a swivel chair and trying to turn away from it,

but you've got to keep facing that all the time. I didn't know if that boat was going to survive. Gordon's exhausted, but he mustn't lose concentration. If he misjudges the wind direction and turns at the wrong moment, the force of the air will cause the Mycon to broach, heal over, and capsize. In the dark, he hears the waves,

before he sees them, rolling peals of thunder materializing into giant walls of water webbed with foam. And they just keep coming. Several hours in, the monotony of the onslaught is broken by a new sound, a deep, tremulous rumble of pure kinetic energy howling in the blackness. A monster is approaching. They talk about the seventh or the seventh waves, the big ones that come in sets. I went off a wave so high that when I hit, I didn't hit down into the valley.

I hit into the wave. So as I came off the top of this wave, I plowed into the next one coming on. And it was a monstrous wave. As the Mycant smashes into the side of the swell, it's like a bomb as detonated around the boat. Gordon is spun violently around in his chair, and as he turns, he sees a face. Dave's, ghostly pale in the glow of the navigation light before he's knocked off his feet by the force of the wave and sucked backwards into the seething darkness.

Gordon stares, horrified. I don't know what to do. I couldn't turn around. I had this Sophie's Choice thing. What do I do? If I turn, I'm going to broach. There's no question. If I turn this boat now and I've got those waves side on,

we will broach. No question. But Dave's in the water. Battling to be heard above the roar of the elements, Gordon screams, Man overboard. He stamps his feet on the deck to alert the others below. Then a split second later. When I screamed, man overboard, I heard somebody screaming.

And it was Dave. To Gordon's astonishment, Dave is pulling himself up the ladder onto the flybridge, a little shaken, but otherwise alive and well. He didn't fall into the ocean, but onto the area of deck just below the flybridge where the wooden transoms stopped him from tumbling into the water. The crew breathes a huge sigh of relief. All night Gordon guides the Mykin through the storm. During the final hour of his shift, the wind subsides. The waves lose some of their ferocity.

Ken appears by his side and offers to take over. Gordon, bone weary, his skin flayed raw by the wind, heads below deck, curls up in his bunk, and promptly falls into a deep sleep. Unities across Canada, hourly Amazon employees earn an average of over $24.50 an hour. Employees also have the opportunity to grow their skills and their paycheck by enrolling in free skills training programs

for in-demand fields, like software development and information technology. Learn more at Aboutamazon.ca. When Gordon wakes, it's like the storm never happened. The becalmed sea is like glass, the air is still and heavy. It should be a relief, but in reality, they have merely swapped one kind of maritime punishment for another. They've reached the doldrums, a stretch of ocean where sailboats can become stranded for weeks on windless seas. When I woke up towards evening, we were in the doldrums.

We were in ice rink seas, I mean flat calm seas. Still, it's a chance to reset, to take a beat and assess. Aside from some of their food supplies getting waterlogged, the storm doesn't seem to have done any significant damage to the Mycon. The crew spends the evening tidying up the mess in the galley, then just before dusk. They prepared to resume their voice. Later on we fired up the engine and we started off again and the boat started to shudder

and we didn't know what the hell this was and we kept going and we were driving through the whole of the night with the constant shuddering and then late that night the steering failed and then Ken just swore and he ran to the stern and he looked over and that stainless steel huge stainless steel rudder we had was snapped. It turns out that the rudder, the underwater blade, the steers the boat has been severed in half by the pounding waves. The storm has left its mark after all. Gordon and Dave dive into the water to retrieve the mangled piece of steel, which dangles from the hull by a single metal thread. They haul the rudder on deck and analyze the damage. Clearly, it's not salvageable. Their boat is now rudderless. Without a rudder, you're going nowhere.

You can have all the sails and all the motor and power you've got. You're going nowhere without a rudder. So we were in big trouble. And we were right in the middle now of the Indian Ocean with no ships in sight. We weren't in the shipping lanes. This was a serious problem. As the battered mycon sits slumped in the water, the crew ambled around the deck, scratching their heads and sweating in the tropical sun.

They decide to build a makeshift rudder and spend the morning drilling. holes into a short wooden plank which they fasten into position at the base of the stern. Incredibly, their jury rigged setup works for about five minutes. Gordon stands at the helm, keeping an eye on their course as the plank rudder tries and fails to keep them moving in a straight line. She wouldn't push us in one direction, kept pushing us in circles. And we're trying and trying and trying. And then they got it where it pushed us a little bit forward and then started.

to swing back again so I throttled down and she was going off to port so as I throttle down she swung to starboard so I said whoa whoa leave it there watch this watch this Gordon pushes the throttle and again the michen veers off to starboard when he lets go the boat drifts back to port so then this is how they're going to navigate across the ocean by drifting and correcting their course over and over and over And so we zigzagged our way And we could go in that direction That we needed to go

To some degree But there was a problem with this We were burning the fuel we had Doing this As well as being slow This meandering motion is inefficient That evening Gordon notices the fuel gauge Ticking down at an alarming speed

The Chegos Islands they estimate Are about 500 nautical miles away At this rate it'll be touch and go whether or not they make it. Plus, there's the growing psychological pressure as they venture deeper into the doldrums. Sailors describe being adrift here as a unique kind of torture. The air is so still, the water becomes a mirror,

creating an eerie sense that sky and ocean have merged into one endless blue void. The sun dazzles overhead, glistening on the surface of the sea like a sheen of sweat. For the crew of the Mycan, there's no escape from the heat or humidity no breath of wind to salve their scorched skin as one day ebbs into the next. But on they go, weaving weakly across the wide, stagnant ocean.

Over time, the fear of running out of fuel is surpassed by another more immediate need. We were chasing squalls to fill up with rainwater because that's our number one concern. If we don't get there, water is our big need. So if we saw a squirrel, we were chaser. Whenever a rain cloud darkens a spot on the ocean, they head for it. Sometimes the shower dries up before they can get there, wasting more precious fuel for nothing. Gordon and the others try to stay upbeat. They find things to take their minds of their situation.

Funny stories, games, booze. If you start dwelling on it, it becomes a monster in itself. So I always try to change the sodrikt. We had scrabble, we had board games, cars, games we'd have a little bit of rum we'd tell jokes and you know talk about what we had done in our past and you know just try and keep things as normal as possible but reminders of their plight are always there in the pangs of first that must be ignored or in the grim glimpses of the dwindling fuel gauge constantly niggling away at them too is a fear that they could be on the wrong course

that the sextant, which calculates their location relative to the sun, moon or stars, might be giving false readings. Staring at the horizon's unbroken waterline, it's difficult to imagine that anything lies beyond it, except more of the same. Things would feel less hopeless if they could just stick to one course. But Ken's navigation is becoming increasingly erratic. On several occasions, the captain lets out a roar of frustration, and comes charging up to the flybridge, crimson-faced, sextant in hand.

They need to alter course again. We couldn't find these damn islands. And Dave was getting a little bit upset with Ken, because he figured Ken, his navigation skills are not as good as he claimed them to be, because we were not finding this island. Every time they take a new compass bearing and aim for a different spot on the horizon,

optimism wanes. Gordon's studies, the flat, interminable blue ocean. Somewhere out there is the island containing the fuel they need to continue their journey. But finding it is starting to feel like a doomed game of chance. We had changed course eight times. And I figured we were just going nowhere.

And the fuel was getting pretty low. We are now in trouble. It's December the 25th, 1980, in the middle of the Indian Ocean. For the past week or so, the Mykin and her crew have been puttering through the stifling, windless heat of the doldrums. Their days are spent scanning the featureless horizon for land or ships as the fuel gauge edges towards zero. By their charts, the Chegos Islands ought to be nearby. But with every hour that passes and still no land in sight, a grim possibility takes hold.

What if their navigation has led them astray? On Christmas morning, Gordon is sitting at the helm when he hears a sudden flapping and beating of wings. I was up on my own, and with the Sunshine canvas, the seabird came and tried to land on the canvas. And I was kind of laughing at him because he kept failing and fumbling and then trying again. Eventually he landed and he waddled to the corner and sat there.

Chuckling to himself at the seabird's antics, Gordon turns his focus back to the steering. An hour passes When suddenly out of nowhere The bird makes its presence known again Squawking wildly at Gordon And I noticed I was off course The course I was on and I went back on the course

And it was happy So I went off the course on purpose And it crapped me out again Gordon frowns Is he going mad Or is the sea bird Trying to tell him something And I called Elizabeth to come and see this

And so she came up there He said, watch this bird. I said, no, watch that's happy now. Watch when I go, of course. It's like clockwork. Every time he veers off course, the bird erupts in a fit of angry cries. Gordon and Elizabeth exchange a glance. It's almost like the creature is guiding them.

It seems far-fetched, but then these are desperate times. And what else have they got to go on? Later, Gordon tells Ken and the others that they should stick on the course they're currently on even if the compass tells them otherwise. He doesn't explain his theory about the seabird. He just asks him to trust him. It's a few hours later. Gordon is sitting with Dave in the flybridge,

raking their eyes across the watery skyline, when suddenly Dave sits up. It's amazing how it tuned your eyes come to the horizon. If there's a tiny little lifeboat out there, you're going to spot it. I don't know why. It's just if there's something different on the horizon, you pick it up.

Dave said, hey Gordon, I think that's an island. Gordon looks to where Dave's pointing. Over the last few days, they've spotted a couple of ships, tiny grey dots that invariably faded back into the haze. He squints at this latest speck on the horizon. And I said to now it's a ship. He says, no, Gordon, I think it's an island. I said, no, it's a shipwark.

It's going to sail away. He said, wishful thinking. Anyway, we had a binoculars down below. He ran and grabbed him and he comes trucking up and he focuses on it. He freaks out jumping up and down. There's a palm tree. Sure enough, as they draw nearer, the island's features become more and more defined. A row of palm trees, a slender strip of sand.

A ring of pale green water which soon laps against the hull of the mycan as she sails triumphantly into the island's shallow lagoon. The crew members cheer and slap each other on the back, as much in disbelief as anything else. In this vast haystack of an ocean, they have finally found their shining needle. But as they prepare to drop anchor, doubts creep in.

Gordon looks at the island, then at what surrounds them, then at the map, then at Ken, who seems to be thinking the same thing. This isn't the island they were looking for. It isn't even the right at all. It seems they have overshot their intended destination by about 90 miles.

The search must go on. But after sharing the bad news with the others, a debate begins. Some voices in the crew want to stop here regardless, hardly caring if it's the wrong island or the right island. It's still solid ground. All of us, but especially Dave, More than anyone wanted terra firma. He wanted to get on that island.

He said, you know, we've got to get on that island. Dave stares at his crewmates imploringly. Surely they'd be safer on this island than back out at sea. But as he looks at the tiny tuft of palm trees sprouting from the lagoon, Gordon isn't so sure. And then Ken, he came to me and he said, Gordon, you're the survivalist. What do you think? You think we survive on that island?

I said, no way. There's a couple of coconuts, that's it. I said it'll be a prison. I said, we'll die there. And so with heavy hearts, they fire up the engine, turn the boat around, and head back into the open ocean. Leaving that green water and heading out into the deep blue again was pretty scary. I could see Ken as well.

Was pretty worried. Maybe Dave was right. Maybe being trapped on that island would have been better than being trapped on this boat. In the end, though, they don't have to search for long. Standing next to Ken's giant frame, Gordon spots something. We had been going for a few hours, and I looked behind him, and I could see this little white water, and then as the white water kind of cleared, and we came in there was the islands, and I said, ten, look.

Peros Pagos is a ring of islands within the Chegos archipelago. The most southwesterly of these islands is the one they originally set out to find. the one the family told Kenabout, where the diesel drums are supposedly stashed somewhere in the trees. It's called Ildecois, and as the mycan chugs into the central lagoon, the more the island reveals itself. A bright green burst of jungle separated from the sea

by a ribbon of snow-white sand. Ildecois was once the site of a coconut plantation, and though it's now deserted, traces of human habitation remain. When we came into the atoll in the jungle, we could see the top of a roof, a rusty old roof, corrugated roof, and so we knew that had to be it. Before dropping anchor, Gordon checks the fuel gauge. It's lucky they found this atoll when they did. They've only got four hours worth of diesel left in the tank.

The crew clambers into the dinghy and rows the remaining distance to shore, marveling at the shoals of tropical fish darting below them like quicksilver. As Gordon and the others hauled the dinghy onto the beach relishing the feeling of land beneath their feet, the mood is jubilant. They've done it. Finding this island was always going to be the hardest part of the journey, and now it's behind them. They've survived the storm and the doldrums. They've pushed through doubt and disappointment and charted their way here to this island where they'll rest up, locate the fuel, then continue their journey west. At least that's the expectation as they stroll along the beach drinking in the beauty of this remote tropical idyll. But expectation and reality are different things.

The truth is, this island, this tiny sliver of paradise in the middle of the Indian Ocean, is not the salvation they believe it to be. And for Gordon, Elizabeth, Dave, Nicole and Ken, these last few to my friends, these last few to my own. the tumultuous days at sea were not the beginning, middle and end of their adventure. They were merely a prelude to the real survival story that's about to begin. And next time on real survival stories, we find out what happens to the stranded crew of the Mycan. After locating the island, Gordon and the others must turn their focus to the reason they're here in the first place, finding the barrels of fuel. They begin combing through the jungle.

But as the days passed without success, A terrible possibility starts to dawn. Maybe there is no fuel here at all. We were stuck. We were stranded. No way we'd get off island without that. We had no long-range radio, so we couldn't call anybody. So highly unlikely that we would be found.

Without any means to power their boat, the castaways must turn their focus away from escape and onto a new challenge, surviving on their desert island. That's next time. Listen right now without waiting by joining Noiser Plus.