Authors: Rob Mundle
With all four crew safely on board the door was closed on the SouthCare chopper and pilot Ray Stone turned towards the coast; destination Mallacoota. When the chopper landed the locals were on hand with blankets for the survivors. They went straight to McAlister and Blewitt first.
“They thought that we were the ones who had been rescued,” said McAlister. “Michelle and I were saying, ‘No, no, not for us. Give them to the guys we just rescued’. I couldn’t describe the looks on their faces. They were just saying among themselves, ‘Oh my God, these girls are the ones that did the rescue’.” With the crew either hospitalised or released after a check-up by doctors, they each began to make their plans to head home to their loved-ones.
Mike Marshman, the crewmember who had been trapped under the rigging when the yacht rolled, returned home a changed man. “I’ve been a pretty selfish bastard – just ask my wife. But all the emotions I faced out there really stunned me. All my values in life have changed. My relationship with my wife is 10 times better. The house is fun again. I want to spend more time with my kids and I’m back to actually enjoying my work.”
Andy Marriette didn’t go straight home. Instead he stayed one more night in Mallacoota to celebrate the fact that he was still alive. That night he was arrested and charged with being drunk and disorderly. His “motel room” for the night was a cell at Lakes Entrance police station.
I
ts full title is the Australian Maritime Safety Authority, but it is located a long way from the sea – in Airservices Australia’s rather drab building in the heart of the national capital, Canberra. AMSA covers the regulatory aspects of maritime operations in Australian waters including the control and surveillance of shipping movements around the coastline. It is an all-encompassing group that includes the relatively new AusSAR – Australian Search and Rescue.
It was after the rescues of the round-the-world racers, Britain’s Tony Bullimore and Frenchmen Thiery Dubois and Raphael Dinelli in late 1996/early 1997, that maritime authorities realised Australia’s search and rescue system was both inefficient and inadequate. All three were rescued from their wrecked yachts at up to 1000 nautical miles south of the Australian continent in the largest exercise the AMSA had ever undertaken. Seven national rescue headquarters across the continent were then replaced by the centralised AusSAR.
AusSAR’s Rescue Control Centre (RCC) is located in an open-plan room on the fourth floor of the Airservices Australia Building. It is alive 24 hours a day, with at least two officers on hand to monitor activities across a sizeable chunk of the world. It seems incongruous to many
visitors that such a small facility oversees such a sizeable jurisdiction. The AMSA umbrella covers 47,000,000 square kilometres – one-ninth of the world’s surface. It extends from 75 degrees east across to 163 degrees east and from the Indonesian archipelago down to the ice of Antarctica.
A bank of computer screens in the RCC incessantly digest information from three satellite tracking stations – Wellington in New Zealand, Bundaberg in Queensland and Caves Beach near Albany in Western Australia. They are searching for signals from EPIRBs; small devices which are activated either manually or automatically when a vessel, aircraft or individual is in distress. AusSAR’s EPIRB detection region, which is part of a worldwide safety net, extends beyond its search and rescue domain, reaching all the way into the South Pacific as far as Tahiti.
When a satellite detects an EPIRB signal it delivers an approximate latitude and longitude position back to AMSA. That position is accurate to roughly 20 kilometres. To pinpoint it exactly, SAR (search and rescue) authorities need to either put an aircraft into the area or wait for the passing of another satellite – which can take up to three hours. The information from the second satellite gives what is called a merge – a far more accurate location for the beacon.
EPIRBs of 121.5/243mHz provide no indication of what the target might be. It could be anything from a type of vessel in mid-ocean to a four-wheel-drive vehicle lost in the middle of the continent. The latest 406mHz beacons, which are registered with SAR authorities at the time of purchase, emit both a position and an identification code. That code is cross-referenced to a database which immediately details the nature of the target.
On the afternoon of December 27, Rupert Lamming was the Search Mission Coordinator in the RCC. There were four other officers working with him on what had been a quiet day, apart from an EPIRB that had activated after being lost accidentally from a ship in Bass Strait. The office was well-versed on the staging of the Sydney to Hobart race, so much so that Sam Hughes, an AusSAR search and rescue coordinator, had been assigned to brief competitors on procedures before the race.
This relationship between AMSA and the CYC had been established after incidents experienced in the rough 1993 race. With 371 yachts set to enter the 50th anniversary race in 1994, both the club and AMSA wanted to ensure that the best possible safety net was in place. It was decided that AMSA should always have a representative at race control, and it was Hughes who acted as a liaison officer between AusSAR and the club. As a result of this relationship, a contingency plan had been developed. Part of that plan was to have an Air Force aircraft stationed at Richmond, west of Sydney, dedicated to race SAR should it be needed.
Rupert Lamming and his team were well aware that the intense low developing in Bass Strait was going to generate atrocious conditions, but were comfortable in the knowledge there was an emergency strategic plan in place, right down to having Naval vessels, the Air Force and search and rescue aircraft readily accessible.
The yacht race was just one thing on their minds. An emergency that afternoon could involve a commercial ship, an ocean liner, an aircraft or a recreational vessel anywhere in their region. They had to be prepared for everything.
It began with a single blip on a computer screen in the RCC. An EPIRB had been activated at around 2.30pm in
the north-east corner of Bass Strait. It was the first drop in what would become a rainstorm for AusSAR. Next, mayday distress calls were being monitored along the coast and details were being relayed to AusSAR. Then more EPIRBs started to appear on the screen. Within minutes Lamming and his team knew something was afoot. Their immediate questions were: How bad will the weather get? How many yachts are involved? What is the nature of the emergencies? How many more yachts will need assistance?
Lamming set about collating the beacon detections on the screen. The relevant charts started to appear on the large plotting table in the room. The aviation section was already working as fast as possible to find every available civilian fixed-wing aircraft and helicopter. The whiteboards on the wall were being filled out with aircraft availability and location. Extra staff would need to be called in. AMSA public relations officer Brian Hill, who was on call in case of an emergency, was summoned to handle the inevitable deluge of media inquiries. Hill arrived at the office at 3.30pm and, after being briefed by Lamming, called AMSA’s public relations manager, David Gray, warning him what was ahead of them.
Gray waited for a while, all the time strongly suspecting a disaster was developing in Bass Strait. He didn’t wait for Hill’s next call but farewelled his family who had gathered for a post-Christmas celebration, and drove to the office. He arrived around 4.30pm and was astounded by the sheer scale of the calamity. Upon arrival, seven people were busy in the SAR room, but within an hour this number had swelled to more than 20. What started as a trickle of beacons soon turned into a torrent as more and more yachts in distress activated their EPIRBs.
AusSAR’s disaster plan was running to capacity and reaching levels never previously experienced. It was soon realised the Royal Australian Navy’s frigate HMAS
Newcastle
, which was on an eight-hour emergency stand-by, would need to be enlisted and brought into action. Navy Sea King and Sea Hawk helicopters out of Nowra and Air Force aircraft from Richmond in NSW and Edinburgh in South Australia would also be needed. There was an official procedure to follow before HMAS
Newcastle
could come into action and it involved first contacting AusSAR’s Assistant Manager of Operations, Steve Francis.
“He [Lamming] explained the situation with the weather and detailed an increasing number of beacon alerts,” said Francis. “He then requested permission to spin-up the
Newcastle
because, in his judgment, things were going to get worse. I then went through the challenge process with him. It’s not an interrogation, just a procedure. To spin-up the
Newcastle
and send her out to sea is to spend a whole lot of money, so you’d better know why you’re doing it. I agreed with Rupert and authorised that HMAS
Newcastle
be requested.”
Steve Hamilton had enjoyed the Christmas break with his wife Susan and their five-year-old daughter, Amber and eight-year-old son, Owen. It was the first time in four years that they had been able to use their South Coogee home at that time of the year, and in particular they’d enjoyed lazing on the nearby surf beach. While he was feeling very relaxed Hamilton knew all the time that the next telephone call might mean that he would be heading to sea in a matter of hours. He was the recently-appointed Commander of HMAS
Newcastle
– or “warship”
Newcastle
as they say in the trade – and it was the Navy vessel on emergency stand-by. There was only one more day of stand-by remaining, then the task would belong to HMAS
Melbourne.
Although the ship’s complement was also on leave at least half had to remain close enough to the ship’s berth at Sydney’s Garden Island Naval base so they could depart within eight hours. Prior to them going on leave they had been briefed on what circumstances might see them brought back to the ship. In particular, they’d been told the possibility of further riots and general unrest in Indonesia and around East Timor might require them to “evacuate nationals”. Hamilton, known to his mates as “Twister”, would not have minded if the ship was called out. Although he had joined the Navy upon leaving school in 1973, HMAS
Newcastle
was his first command and there was an element of pride and excitement associated with that.
Just before 4pm on the 27th Hamilton received a call and was told the weather had turned nasty in Bass Strait and there were problems with the Sydney to Hobart fleet. He was also asked if he could revise down the ship preparation time from eight hours to four. Hamilton began recalling as many of the ship’s crew as possible and told the crew of the ship’s Sea Hawk helicopter that they would most likely be needed. Soon after, AusSAR confirmed they wanted the helicopter immediately and also advised that the decision to “spin-up” the ship was now on hold until further notice.
The Sea Hawk was at HMAS
Albatross
in Nowra. The flight crew had taken it there on December 3 to “put her to bed” while the ship was on stand-by. The helicopter needed to have enough hours left in reserve before its next scheduled service so it could be available for emergency work. The crew flew it only briefly mid-month so they complied with regulations which require them to fly at least once every three weeks.
Hamilton had watched the television news that evening with his family. They saw vision of the dramatic
incidents taking place in the race. At eight o’clock he put his daughter to bed. “Daddy might not be here when you wake up in the morning,” he told her as he kissed her goodnight.
“Oh, over Christmas?” Amber inquired.
“Yes darling. I think we’re going to be involved in the rescue of the men you saw on television on the yachts.”
“Oh, in that case it’s alright then. You can do that.”
Just before 6pm Lieutenant Commander Adrian Lister, flight commander of HMAS
Newcastle
’s $40 million Sea Hawk helicopter, alerted his crew that they were likely to be needed. Lister already had an interest in the Sydney to Hobart. He had taken his family to the Navy base HMAS Watson at South Head on Boxing Day to watch the start. Lister’s co-pilot, 28-year-old Lieutenant Mick Curtis, and his wife Melissa were preparing for a barbecue with friends at their Bondi Junction home when Lister called and gave notice to stand-by. Twenty minutes later, just as their friends arrived, Curtis was waving good-bye. His bag was packed and he was on his way to meet Lister, whose wife would drive them to Nowra.
Their first task was to go to the ship and collect special equipment they might need – immersion suits, wetsuits and swimming fins for the diver. They would then pick up the chopper’s sensor operator, Lieutenant Marc Pavillard, from Cronulla and finally another crewman, Leading Seaman David Oxley, from farther south at Albion Park. American-born Pavillard, his wife Jodi and two children, Kate and Alistair, had had a hectic Christmas with family from both sides crammed into their three-bedroom townhouse. After spending the day at the beach, Pavillard had “just started to crack a beer”
when he was told he was needed. It was a case of putting the beer down, grabbing a small bag of clothes and farewelling the family.
Chief Petty Officer Henry Wakeford was in charge of the maintenance team for the Sea Hawk aboard HMAS
Newcastle.
On Boxing Day he too had watched the race start on television with his parents-in-law at their home at Shoal Harbour, near Nowra. They were surprised a few hours later when they looked from the house out to sea and saw the first of the race yachts charging south under spinnaker. Soon after, Wakeford received a call from Lister telling him that he was wanted. The entire team had then been called in. In a remarkable effort, the Sea Hawk was launched from Nowra and destined for Merimbula just four hours after being assigned the SAR task.
AusSAR’s effort was unprecedented. There was an ever-increasing number of EPIRBs and mayday calls being received, and while they were coming in, the problems associated with coordinating such a massive task were rapidly increasing. Fixed-wing aircraft and helicopters were descending on the airports at Merimbula and Mallacoota like bees to a hive. They were being refuelled as fast as possible and assigned to SAR targets. Mallacoota was chosen as the main airfield for SAR as it was the closest to the search area, but it did present a couple of problems. Firstly, it is a small airport and so there were constraints on flight movements, and secondly, it was running out of fuel. Search mission coordinators decided Merimbula provided a better logistics environment and had better communications so it was targeted as a base.
The speed with which calls were coming in was taking everyone by surprise. Steve Francis and his team were
continually changing priorities as yachts in more serious circumstances called for help. It was obvious that with so many aircraft being based out of Merimbula a huge amount of fuel would be needed. AusSAR went to the NSW Southern Police Command and asked that they take care of that problem. In an exercise that involved the State Emergency Service and other community groups, fuel tankers were, within hours of the request, heading from Canberra and Nowra along highways towards Merimbula.
AusSAR soon realised they needed to be in closer proximity to the unfolding events. The decision was made to have one of their officers, Arthur Heather, establish a Forward Field Base at Merimbula so they had more of a hands-on feel for what was happening. That gave the RCC a direct communication link to facilitate the flow of intelligence from search aircraft and make for a better briefing process for SAR personnel. Initially, because the magnitude of the disaster was unknown and daylight was running out, helicopters were the desired SAR asset. The AusSAR people knew that they were tasking these chopper crews into an extremely dangerous situation.