Real Survival Stories - Mayday on Christmas: Epic Ocean Rescue

Episode Date: October 2, 2024

Most don’t make it to the finish. Some don’t survive. Two months into a monumental sailing race, Pete Goss is beset by the worst storm he’s ever faced. And then… a distress call comes in. A fellow skipper is sinking and needs urgent help. Suddenly, Pete’s battle to stay alive becomes the most daring of rescue missions… A Noiser production, written by Sean Coleman. For more on this story read Pete’s book Close to the Wind. 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

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It's Christmas Day, 1996. 1,400 miles from land, deep in the Southern Ocean. 35-year-old marine turned yachtsman Pete Goss is nearly two months into the world's toughest sailing race, the Vendee Globe. And right now, a storm is whipping up around him. A powerful swell churns the dark waters, stretching the waves into hills that quickly become mountains. Twisting, turbulent winds spin Pete's boat and lash it with spray. The gusts are well over 70 miles per hour. It's hard to breathe through the salty bluster.

Pete is no stranger to terrifying tempests, but this one is especially sinister. Every storm is different, but this particular storm just didn't feel good. 40, 50, 60 knots of wind, and I could only just keep up with the sail changes. I mean, the boat got knocked down. Imagine a big breaking wave the size of a three or four-story building knocking it on its side. So it's pretty wild. Pete scrambles below deck.

But as the boat pitches and yaws, there is a violent bump, and he's thrown into the ceiling. Another huge impact shudders through the hull, and he's catapulted onto the chart table. There's water slopping around the boat, tools and equipment strewn everywhere. It's a nautical nightmare. And then, amid the chaos, a high-pitched alarm suddenly screeches out. It's coming from the onboard satellite system. I wasn't sure what it was. I worked my way across

the boat, kind of wedged myself down, called up the message to find it was a mayday. Another race boat, the Algemus, has capsized and is being swallowed by the waves. The skipper needs help, fast. Steadying himself, Pete grabs a chart, wipes the water off it, and locates the mayday position. The stricken vessel is 160 miles away, directly upwind into this hurricane force storm. While no one can compel him to turn back, there is an unwritten code among these skippers. They may all be racing one another, but they're also facing the sea together. I remember just sitting down and thinking about it very quickly.

Your mind goes at 100 miles an hour. And so I decided to do something, but I don't actually think I had a choice. I think it was laid down many years ago by a tradition of the sea, and that is that if someone's in trouble, then you help them. 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 English seafarer Pete Goss as he takes on the most draining and dangerous sailing race on Earth. Most don't make it to the finish. Some don't survive. Less than two months in, hundreds of miles from land in the Southern Ocean, he is beset by the worst storm he's ever faced. But when a fellow racer needs help, Pete answers the call.

And his battle to stay alive also becomes the most daring of rescue missions. I was just trying to survive, hoping to get through it, and then suddenly thrown into the mix is a mayday.

A mayday means it's a life-threatening situation. If you don't do something, someone's going to lose their life. I'm John Hopkins from Noisa. This is Real Survival Stories. It's November the 3rd, 1996, in the French Atlantic seaside town of Les Sables d'Olonne. A harbour is a buzz of activity, with 16 racing yachts roped up along a long pontoon style jetty the vessels bob rhythmically in the cool winter gray a crowd is gathering around the bay they are here to watch

the start of the toughest yacht race on earth a 24 300 mile single-handed round-the-world epic known as the Vendée Globe. Making his way slowly along the jetty, Pete Goss stops at every boat in the race fleet. He shakes hands with each skipper and wishes them good luck and a safe return. They're all relative strangers, but they are bound by this one dream, to win, or at least finish, the Vendee. All around, the land teams bustle through last-minute preparations. They've been prepping in the Bay of Biscay for three weeks now, but for Pete, the journey to get here has taken a lifetime. Well, I consider myself a Cornishman, so the sea tends to get into your blood.

But I guess for me, my father sailed, my grandfather sailed, my great-grandfather was a shipbuilder. So I actually don't remember learning to sail a bit like you don't remember learning to walk. Because of his father's work as an agricultural consultant, Pete's family constantly travelled when he was young, living in Yemen, Pakistan, Thailand, Uruguay, and Australia. But one constant was that he always sailed. Pete left school at 16 and went straight to work on seafaring salvage tugs out of Plymouth, on the UK's south coast. Only a couple of years later, in 1979, he received an eye-opening lesson in the harshness of the ocean.

The Fastnet sailing race, a yachting competition held off the south of England, was hit by an unexpectedly severe storm. The boat Pete was working on at the time was called into action. Over 130 lives were saved in one of the largest peacetime rescue missions ever seen, but tragically, 15 sailors were also killed. It showed Pete the serious side of the sea and the risks sailors face, something he'd go on to learn more about in his nine-year career with the Royal Marinesines i was always going to say all my life but i got a very lucky break when i was in the raw marines and i got a job as mate on their sail training yacht and i then was working full-time

as a sailor teaching people taking them out and just getting those miles in while in the marines a kind of unwritten agreement evolved. If Pete could raise the money and build a boat for a high-profile race, his superiors would give him the time off to compete. It was all the incentive he needed. I then did my first ocean trip, which was a two-handed transatlantic race and really was very naive. We were good sailors. We could make the boat go fast, but had never done any ocean sailing. And it was a hard race. We had a lot of problems with the boat. We had to bail it out. The keel was coming off. So it was this really seminal trip and this amazing apprenticeship. But I can

still now remember 2.31 morning, bailing the boat out. It just struck me that I'd stumbled across what I wanted to do in life. And this was to go ocean sailing. So I just made this commitment. I'm doing a single-handed round-the-world yacht race. That race is the Vendee Globe. But sailing is an expensive sport. To get to the start line, there are a lot of sacrifices to make. Pete leaves work and builds a small office in his home in the West Country,

where he lives with his wife, Tracy. He regularly hitches up to London, meeting with potential sponsors. He raises enough money to start building a boat, but when he hits cash flow problems, Tracy suggests they sell his family home to fund his dream. That's the moment the project really takes off. It's also when the hard work truly begins.

You have to work on behalf of sponsors, do the publicity. I did a single-handed transatlantic race and back that year. So even before the start, you've done two Atlantic trips that same year in terms of preparation and trying to iron out the wrinkles and polish things. You're living your dream, but it's very tough. It's very stressful. You're pulled in all sorts of different directions but the beacon is this amazing race which is non-stop single-handed around the world with no outside assistance allowed by the time the competitors meet at les sables d'orland they've truly earned their place at the

starting line grueling qualifying races, huge fees, weeks at sea, and hundreds of hours of prepping and enhancing their boats. Right now, Pete's vessel, the Aqua Quorum, is as good as she'll ever be. Everything is organized and ready. You have to have specialist safety equipment. You have to go on courses to know how to use it. You have to be a radio operator. There's a doctor, Dr. Johnny. You go through his medical course and he gives you the equipment which you take with you. So it's not easy to

get into the Vendee Globe. And if you don't manage to jump those hurdles, then you don't get to do the race. Of the 16 boats competing, one is slightly different. Experienced skipper Rafael Dinelli didn't manage to finish his qualifying in time. He's tried to persuade the committee to let him enter anyway, but despite having jumped through all the other hoops required, they've refused. He can still start the race, but not under the official umbrella. He was an illegal entrant with some blessing from the organisation. They said, well, we'd like you to have the safety transponders, which, you know, if you're in dire straits, you press the red button and an emergency beacon sends out your position and that you want help. So although he was an illegal entrant, he did have some blessing.

It's lunchtime on November the 3rd, 1996. The start of the race is imminent. Through the drizzle and the wind, the 16 boats jostle for position in the choppy surf. Along the coast, around the bay, and in the harbor itself, thousands of people line the banks, waiting to watch these elite sailors set off. Hundreds more flank the races in a flotilla of spectator boats, ready to accompany them out to sea for the first few moments of the race. Even the foul weather can't dampen the skippers' spirits.

This is the moment they've all worked so hard to get to. When you go to the start of these events, it's terribly exciting, and there's the razzmatazz and the thrill and everything. And you look across the fleet, and all of those skippers have their ambitions and dreams, but a lot of them, it won't work out as they hoped. At 50 feet, Pete's boat is the smallest in the fleet. Most of the racers are sailing 60-foot yachts. The decision to downsize was largely financial, but it has its advantages. When we set off, statistically only 50% of the fleet would finish, and there would be one, if not two, lives lost. So it's a war, not a battle. To win first, you have to finish. Now, if you're at 60 feet, you have to introduce extra complexity to enable one human being that individual to work it. And so, they had bits of equipment which introduced unreliability, I guess. And by going to 50 foot, we could just throw those problems over the side.

And so although we were the smallest budget, the smallest boat, we were at the run to the fleet, we actually felt quite confident that we could get a good result. At 1.02pm, a cannon shot fires, and they're off. Raphael's boat, the Elgemus, starts behind Pete's Aquacorum. They're among the lucky ones who manage to get through the initial stages unscathed. Rough conditions hamper many of the skipper's starts. Two yachts are forced to pull out early due to weather damage, and several others return to the start to make repairs before continuing.

It's a reminder of just how tough this race is going to be. Canadian listeners like yourself with podcast advertising from Libsyn ads. Choose from hundreds of top podcasts offering host endorsements or run a pre-produced ad like this 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 mid-December and Pete has been at sea for around six weeks. The aqua quorum cuts through the heaving surface of the southern Atlantic, heading down the west coast of Africa. So far, the race has taken him south from France,

across the equator near the Gulf of Guinea, and through the doldrums where the tropics converge. He's traveled the Atlantic a little slower than he'd hoped, but he's still very much in the race. Throughout he has remained methodical and disciplined. To be a good single-handed sailor, you've got to navigate, you've got to sail, you've got to maintain equipment, you've got to study weather, you've got to navigate you've got to sail you've got to maintain equipment you've got to study weather you've got to make strategic decisions and it goes deeper and deeper

and deeper to you know when I did it one of the things I did was study sleep patterns because sleep is very limited and therefore we were able to make best use of this limited resource we develop clothing you have to have quite a good knowledge of medicine because there's nothing out there. It is just you and you have to deal with everything. The only minor worry thus far is an injury to his arm. In the rough and tumble of seafaring, Pete has ruptured the muscles around his elbow. It's making the physical demands of the race just that bit harder, but for now he's doing okay. His boat rides swiftly over another wave as he approaches the Cape of Good Hope at the tip of South Africa. Soon he'll hit the Southern Ocean and that's when the real endurance test begins. The Southern Ocean represents a necklace of very, very deep

depressions which keep circling the globe. There's no landmass to inhibit the waves and the net result is this huge swell builds up, which in turn generates quite a strong current. So you have, on the one hand, this huge amount of energy, this resource that you can tap into as a sailor, whereas on the other hand, it gets really quite hostile. You know, sea temperature can drop to minus one. Wind chill on deck can drop to minus 30. Then you have icebergs dotted around. Out here, technology and communication systems are of the utmost importance.

They're crucial, invisible lifelines connecting the various vessels. There is an interesting dynamic within the race. You're competing with this fleet. Absolutely, it drives you every second, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. But at the same time, they provide a safety net. So there's quite an intense relationship between the skippers. It's Christmas Day, 1400 miles southwest of Perth, Australia. Despite its fearsome reputation, today the weather in the Southern Ocean appears to be relatively mellow.

Pete peers up at sunny skies above. But he knows looks can be deceiving, and the sway of the ocean is telling him that something awful is on its way. It's a funny thing. You'll have really quite nice weather, but then underneath it is this big swell, big swell. The distance between the wave tops is just absolutely vast and it's like this malevolent heartbeat just beating out from this thing that's on the way. It was a funny period, you know, the pressure just fell like a stone and just kept falling and falling and clearly there was some really bad weather on the way and that's one of the worst things is the waiting. You know that there's hurricane force winds on the way, but there's nothing that you can do about it.

Merry Christmas. While he waits for the worst, Pete dresses the boat for what's coming. He adjusts the rigging, makes sure he's eaten properly, and goes around the vessel tying everything down. As the wind increases, so you reduce your sails down to literally the size of a domestic door. It's all about pre-empting things as best you can. You don't sleep because it's so violent and there's always an underlying tension, anxiety. And each wave, you never know which wave is going to present a real problem. These storms are all consuming and it shrinks your world down to you, your little boat and just what's happening immediately around you. When it arrives, the storm proves to be even worse than anticipated.

Pete and his boat become a tiny speck in a vast pandemonium of enormous waves and swirling hurricane-force gales. Bearings mean nothing now, nor does the race. It's just a matter of holding on and riding it out. With freezing torrents of water sweeping across the boat, Pete seeks refuge below deck. But it's not much better down here. The galley is in chaos, with equipment and food clattering all around. A tin can lodges itself behind the generator, up against the battery terminals, sending sparks flying.

As the aqua quorum is clobbered, Pete is thrown from one side of the cabin to the other. And then, through the damage and the din, an alarm shrieks out. A mayday call is being issued. Pete's eyes widen. The Algemus has capsized. Raphael, its skipper, is in trouble. The boat is sinking. The race organizers have put out a plea for anyone nearby to come to the rescue.

In conditions like this, in the vast expanse of the ocean, nearby is a very relative term. There was three of us in that storm, all trying to survive and just get through the other end. There was myself, so I was out ahead 160 miles. Then there was Rafael. And then from memory, about 40 miles behind him was Patrick de Rodriguez who was the next motorcycle racer real character we all had our own problems in the storm his problem was a big wave had smashed through his cabin door and flooded all

his communications so imagine the race, they get this emergency beacon goes off from Raphael and 40 miles upwind of him in the perfect position is Patrick Rodriguez. They send him a message to tell him, but it can't get through because he's lost his communications.

And they sat at their desk and watched Raphael's chance of survival just sail past and on into the distance. Pete is Raphael's only other chance. There's nothing else for it. A fellow sailor is in danger and Pete doesn't hesitate. The sea is a wonderful thing and if you're a seafarer you're drawn to it you love it but it's also a very very hostile environment and so seafarers have this code if you like and that is that if if someone's in trouble then you help them it was christmas you know and i just thought i must tell

tracy because clearly i could imagine there'd be quite a lot of publicity around this and I sent her a really quick email hi Trace I don't know happy Christmas just to let you know don't worry I'm turning around in a storm I didn't realize it's the only time I've ever told Tracy not to worry it was the worst thing I could have done. The storm rages on. The frothing surface of the Southern Ocean grows and drops and splashes and swirls. Before Pete can even attempt to rescue Rafael, first he has to survive himself. Right now, the storm is too bad for him to pull the aqua quorum around and head back. Sailing against these immense winds is impossible.

So I turned the boat up to the wind and it was just horrifying. You can't hear yourself think. I found it hard to breathe with the volume of water being torn off the surface of the sea. Aquacorum just lay flat on her side and was just shaking violently and then was just slowly trying to get the boat to move. Not really to get back to Raphael. The initial phase was to just try and hold my position and not get blown further away from him. Pete's training from the Marines comes to the fore.

Stay focused. Don't panic. He breaks the whole mission into smaller objectives. One, survive the worst of the storm. Two, set a course for Raphael's last known location and battle your way back. Deal with three when you get there. Easier said than done, particularly when the Tempest shows no sign of calming. It was so violent that the generator was ripped off its mounts. I was getting damaged and trying to repair that.

And it was flooded back aft where the autopilot system was crawling back there and slopping around trying to bail out it was pretty pretty wild and then basically also very cognizant of I need to keep eating and drinking so you watch your urine make sure that's not getting too yellow it's a long game and I was getting quite badly injured actually. So once I'd really done everything that I could, I tied myself down to the boat and waited to see what happened. One of the innovations that Pete's team

installed on the boat to give her more speed now really begins to shine. It's something called a swing keel. Normally the keel is a fixed beam that runs end to end beneath the boat and helps to prevent it from capsizing. Instead of being molded to the boat, Pete's keel is hinged, which means it can pivot around, allowing the boat greater stability and balance. This ingenious device saves the aquaquarium as it's buffeted by the swell and the gales. That was the thing that got us through the storm because when we got hit by big waves on the side, the boat could just skip sideways. Literally, like if you imagine throwing a stone on a river

and it skips along. Well, I was in that stone skipping down the face of the waves and then she would come back up again. After 12 brutal hours, the winds finally begin to ease off. The tempests haven't totally passed, but conditions are getting slightly better. Barely pausing to rest, Pete gets to work on phase two of his mission. Time is of the essence, and he needs to start heading back towards the Algemus now. And then it was a case of, right, now we've got to make up those 160 miles. And I was going around the boat doing repair, climbing up the mast. I'd had damage to the head of the mainsail, so I had to, you know, tie myself to the mast. And I was drilling through the sailcloth to try and bolt it together to be able to get more drive to go back to Rafael.

But locating the sunken boat will be far from easy. Even with radio, satellite, and beacons aboard every vessel in the race, there are no guarantees of finding a sailor's exact location. Pete tries to home in on Rafael's emergency signal, which is currently transmitting a rough position. Having set his course and with the winds dying down, he can start making repairs while the aqua quorum does the sailing. Then, while he's on deck, he hears the unmistakable sound of a plane overhead.

And it was the Royal Australian Air Force. It was unbelievable, this massive great four-engine plane. So I ran down below, I got on the VHF radio and called them up. And it was just amazing to have a voice. I remember calling them up and this lovely Australian voice saying, you know, happy Christmas and how are you doing? And I remember asking them, I was saying, well, who else is involved in the rescue? And he just said, oh, it's you, mate. And that was a really sobering moment, that. While the plane can help find Raphael and drop supplies,

Pete is the only one who can physically save him from the waves. The immense weight of responsibility just got even heavier, and he's fast running out of time. At least the Australian Air Force have definitively spotted Raphael, they've dropped a life raft for him to cling to and updated his location for Pete to follow. And so he fights on, through wind and rain. I just flogged my way back in this bloody storm, and it just was relentless. And it was amazing

the support I had. You know, the Meteor France, which is their meteorological office. And remember, this is Christmas. They came in and they were sending me detailed forecasts. The race organizers, the doctors had come in. They put a team together and trying to work out how long he could survive. Because it was Raphael's time was running out, but it was my clock that was ticking. It was an awful, awful feeling. Drained on the edge of hallucinations, he has to dig deep. After two days and two nights, there's still no sign of Raphael.

But giving up is not an option. I was hugely motivated all the time. How could you not be? But it's a long time, you know. I was exhausted before I got the message, just trying to survive. What I found very difficult was the intellectual things and the navigation and working out the offset of current and wind and trying to come up with a coherent search pattern. I remember at one point I was going on deck and filling up a bucket with good old southern ocean water and shoving my head into it just to try and get a bit of cold shock to be

able to go run down below and do this calculation that I was struggling with. Because you just got to do it. You've got to do whatever it takes. In the hours between updates, Raphael's location can change by miles. Pete will head one way, only to find his fellow skipper has drifted somewhere else. He's trying to find a life raft not much bigger than a dinner table in a vast ocean,

with waves as tall as buildings, winds pushing the raft one way and currents pulling it the other. It's dawn on the third day of searching. While the worst of the storm may have passed, the conditions for search and rescue are still appalling. Vicious winds tear froth off huge breakers. The spray is so thick, Pete can barely keep his eyes open.

In the sky above, the Royal Air Force plane passes over again, scanning, searching. This time, surely they'll find him. Even when the Royal Australian Air Force came out, you know, that was pretty touch and go. They only had 40 minutes and they used GPS and VHF. Couldn't find him.

Pete watches the aircraft, keeping a careful eye on its movements for signs of anything positive. It circles around again. And then, suddenly, something falls from the plane. A series of huge smoke flares come tumbling down into the water. They must have spotted Raphael. But the smoke is swiftly blown away in the high winds. Pete can't get a bearing. The raft stays hidden in the hills and valleys of the rolling sea.

Running out of time in the air, the pilots change tack again. It was only when they flew towards me in transit with Rafael very low, and they flashed their landing lights when they were above him, that I could then take a compass bearing, and they kept flying around around and that slowly drew me into Raphael. Gradually, the plane guides Pete towards the life raft, drawing a series of invisible arrows and circles in the sky with its movements and its lights. And then finally, Pete spots him. Just an absolute thrill to see that little life raft pop up.

So we know we've got there. And then we just didn't know whether it would be empty. Is there a body? Is he badly injured? But the raft then turned and this little head popped up. And that was just amazing. absolutely amazing against all the odds rafael is still alive pale ravaged by the elements but breathing and moving now pete must somehow get him on board the aqua quorum he carefully sails himself into position readying a safety strop, a rope and hook device.

This will take some skill. And I got the boat alongside, I dropped all the sails, and those race boats back then, they didn't have engines, so that was quite a challenge to sail in in those conditions. I had a spare safety strop ready and the boat was rolling violently and I knelt down. As the boat rolled, I just plunged into the raft and clipped it to his jacket. And that was when I had him. With Raphael tethered to the aquaquarium, the boat rolls backwards with the next wave.

Pete waits and then rides the swell back towards the life raft. Hurriedly, Raphael hands him some of the possessions he's managed to hang on to. He gave me his emergency beacons. He gave me this box of food, but it was so precious to him that this little box of rubbish, really, I took that, plunged back in,

and he passed me a bottle of champagne, which is rather bizarre, threw that in the cockpit. And I remember saying, well, go on, Raf Singers, you bought the champagne. And then I dragged him onto the boat. Rafael himself finally scrambles onto the deck. They've done it. But he's in a bad way.

Too weak to stand, Rafael pitches forward, falling flat on his face and nearly breaking his nose. His rescue isn't over yet. Rolled him over and we had a hug. And that was very emotional because suddenly it was real and all I could see was this pair of eyes and you can see into someone's soul in the right circumstances. I gently dragged him down the back of the boat, stripped the survival suit off. He was in a terrible state.

Hypothermia obviously was deeply entrenched by then. He was as stiff as a ball, literally like rigor mortis. First layer of his eyes had been pebble dashed off by the spray. His vision wasn't very good. There's a lot of issues with him. And I had to bend him to get him down below and put him in my best thermals and sleeping bag. As Pete wraps him up, he is able to mutter a feeble,

Thank you. Leaving him to rest, Pete then sends a fax to the race organizers, to Raphael's family, and to Tracy. Raphael is safely on board the aquaquarium, and he is alive. Huddled together in a boat designed for one, Pete turns the vessel and heads for land. The journey to Tasmania will take 10 days, during which time Raphael and Pete become firm friends. I had to give him muscle relaxants, lift him out of the bunk to the toilet, feed him every four hours, he had this voracious appetite,

and give him physio, and he was traumatised, you know. talk to him, talk to him and let him get all of this out. The funny thing was, this is where we first met and discovered that he doesn't speak English and I don't speak French. But we were able to have a very deep conversation by the end of those 10 days with charades and pictures. And we're very close. As the pair bond, using gestures and drawings to communicate, Raphael's strength slowly returns.

Eventually he's able to share what happened and how he survived. His boat's gone down a big wave, it's cartwheeled. He's trapped inside. It's pitch dark. The water level's rising. Then the mast broke free, and this huge, great tree trunk of a mast started to pile drive up through the deck. So he's got his survival suit on. He's crawled on deck. The boat is submerged.

There's big holes all over it. He's clipped himself to a strong point and is now facing this raging Southern Ocean storm. The waves are sweeping the boat, they're driving him on his knees, flat on his face. You can't get much more desperate than that. So his only chance of survival was his life raft. He inflated the raft, tied it to the boat, and a big squall came screaming through, and it ripped all the tethers out of the raft. And basically, Raphael stood on his deck and just watched his life just drift away into the distance. I mean, you've got to pause to think about that. He's 1,200 miles from the nearest point of contact.

The sea temperature was one degree. But the thing about Raph was he made peace with himself, but he never gave up. It was only when the Australian Air Force plane managed to drop a life raft to him that Raphael was able to step off the Algemus and watch it sink to the depths. Now safely aboard Pete's boat, both men are able to talk through some of the trauma of the past week. And then, one day, as they're nearing landfall, it all hits Pete.

It was a few days afterwards, we're heading north, and the weather had abated, and I just sat on deck and I like I've ever cried before. It was just tears pouring down my face. And it wasn't a bad thing. It just felt like all this emotion purging itself. Raphael, too, finds time for reflection. It seems the enormity of what he's just been through has led him towards a big decision.

After a few days, he indicated he wanted to send a message to his partner. They had a daughter, but they weren't married. And I filled up a kit bag and suspended it from the ceiling. I lifted him up, sat him on there and tied him to the chart table and put his hands on the keyboard and then went on deck to give him some privacy. And unbeknown to me, this experience had made him realize what was important. And he asked Virginie to marry him. And she came straight back and said, I'll marry you if Pete's the best man. Ten days after the rescue, the two men arrive in Tasmania, friends for life. But Pete isn't done yet.

He still has a race to complete. He replenishes his stocks, spruces up the boat, and sets sail once again. Over the next two months, Pete and Aquaquorum continue to tackle the nautical gauntlet in front of them, bouncing through the waves. At one point, struggling with his injured elbow, he's even forced to perform surgery on himself. With a doctor giving rudimentary instructions over the radio, he uses a scalpel to cut into his arm and drain the excess liquid around the joint. All without anesthetic. Patched up and heading for the home straight, Pete drinks it all in. I remember on the way back from the Vendee,

I turned left at Cape Horn, and if you've done that, you pretty much know you're going to finish. You've survived the Southern Ocean, and I was going north. You slowly start peeling off all of your thermals, and we got into the trade winds. It was a full moon.

It's two o'clock in the morning. We're surfing along and can read a book by the moonlight. And then a super pod of dolphins are leaping all around the boat. And with the phosphorescence, they're leaving this vapor trails of light underneath the boat. It's just this magical moment. So I feel a great peace out there. It's just wonderful. Finally, on February the 23rd, 1997,

the French coast appears on the horizon and Pete arrives back into the Bay of Biscay. He is finished fifth in the race but given the numbers there to greet him you'd think he'd won. 150,000 people are awaiting him banging drums, chanting and cheering. The press want to hear all about his story

the race and the rescue and there's even a band serenading him with a rendition of Rule Britannia. It's a hero's welcome. In total, Pete completed the Vendée Globe in 126 days, 21 hours, and 25 minutes. He was one of only six boats to make it to the finish. One skipper, Canadian Jerry Roof, was tragically lost at sea. For Pete to have completed the race at all is a monumental effort, not to mention that he saved the life of a fellow skipper as well. He is awarded the Legion d'honneur by the French for the rescue. But Pete maintains that Raphael is the real hero of the story.

I don't think Raph gets enough credit for the part that he played in the success of this rescue by simply surviving. I mean, he's an amazing man. That will to live and survive had kept him going until I got there and started making a best friend. Pete and Raphael's friendship endures to this day. Though neither feels the need to attempt the Vendee Globe again, both men do return to sailing, competing in races and winning further accolades. For Pete, the sea continues to teach him invaluable lessons about the preciousness of life.

Deep in the Southern Ocean, particularly on your own, you really appreciate that life hangs on a very thin and delicate thread and that the cancer of time is complacency. If you want to do something, you must do it now. Pick up the phone, get your notebook out and make it happen. And that's kind of what life is about, I think. Next time on Real Survival Stories, we meet Jonathan Moss. An experienced commercial pilot, Jonathan is at home in the air. In December 1999, he agrees to privately fly a group of passengers from the north of England up to Scotland. It should be a quick, easy job.

But when the weather takes a drastic turn at 18,000 feet and the aircraft abruptly loses power, the situation quickly becomes anything but routine. Jonathan is without lights, navigation, radio or heating. As the ferocious storm batters his plane, he will have to adapt, estimate, and improvise his way through this disaster in the skies. That's next time on Real Survival Stories.