One of my Facebook friends was recently in an auto accident that could have cost her life. She was driving down the freeway in wet conditions when another car hit her, spinning her car on the pavement. As fate would have it, there was an eighteen-wheeler behind her. The truck hit her broadsides and totaled her car.
Luckily, she walked away from the accident. Thank God for all the new safety technology built into cars these days.
She says that her life flashed before her eyes in the millisecond before impact. I can’t imagine how scary it must have been, seeing that semi barreling down on her.
When she made the post, she asked for other people with near-death experiences to tell her about them. I’ve led a pretty adventurous life and have several tales to relate, so I thought I’d write about it here and send her a link.
Luckily, she walked away from the accident. Thank God for all the new safety technology built into cars these days.
She says that her life flashed before her eyes in the millisecond before impact. I can’t imagine how scary it must have been, seeing that semi barreling down on her.
When she made the post, she asked for other people with near-death experiences to tell her about them. I’ve led a pretty adventurous life and have several tales to relate, so I thought I’d write about it here and send her a link.
Me in the fourth grade My first dance with death came when I was nine-years-old. My father was a commercial fisherman and he decided it was time for me to learn the trade. What can I say? I was a cheap (free) deck hand.
After my first trip, he fired his deck hand because he said I was more help to him than Jim was.
Like I said, he was cheap.
Out our next trip, we headed to sea with a hold full of ice and full diesel and water tanks. We sailed at the crack of dawn after being up all night preparing the boat for the trip. I was tired and so was Papa.
After we cleared Newport Beach Harbor and all the local shipping, he decided to go below to catch a couple of hours’ sleep. He left me on wheel watch. I was too short to see out the pilot house windows, so I jumped up to the counter and leaned against the glass.
With the warm California sun pouring in through the glass, it wasn’t long before I was asleep. I awoke to a loud OOOh-OOOh-OOOh sound. I looked out the window and saw a green wall in front of us. It was a thirty-thousand-ton Japanese freighter.
We smashed into them, shattering the timbers on the bow of our boat. Both Papa and I should have died that day. Only his expert seamanship and the U.S. Coast Guard saved our lives. The whole story is in my book Blue Water & Me, Tall Tales of Adventures With my Father. You can get a copy at https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Strikes-Twice-Flaherty-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B01743KWT4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494435739&sr=8-1&keywords=Murder+Strikes+Twice.
After my first trip, he fired his deck hand because he said I was more help to him than Jim was.
Like I said, he was cheap.
Out our next trip, we headed to sea with a hold full of ice and full diesel and water tanks. We sailed at the crack of dawn after being up all night preparing the boat for the trip. I was tired and so was Papa.
After we cleared Newport Beach Harbor and all the local shipping, he decided to go below to catch a couple of hours’ sleep. He left me on wheel watch. I was too short to see out the pilot house windows, so I jumped up to the counter and leaned against the glass.
With the warm California sun pouring in through the glass, it wasn’t long before I was asleep. I awoke to a loud OOOh-OOOh-OOOh sound. I looked out the window and saw a green wall in front of us. It was a thirty-thousand-ton Japanese freighter.
We smashed into them, shattering the timbers on the bow of our boat. Both Papa and I should have died that day. Only his expert seamanship and the U.S. Coast Guard saved our lives. The whole story is in my book Blue Water & Me, Tall Tales of Adventures With my Father. You can get a copy at https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Strikes-Twice-Flaherty-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B01743KWT4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494435739&sr=8-1&keywords=Murder+Strikes+Twice.
The second near-death experience for me was a couple of years later. I was again fishing with my father, but this time I was old enough to know the ropes.
We were sailing up the coast from San Diego to Newport, Oregon. It was late in the season and Papa had to get me home in time for school to start.
We left Morro Bay and headed north around Point Sur despite bad weather reports. It was Papa’s hope that we could round Point Sur before the storm hit. He was wrong.
A massive storm with hurricane-force winds swept down out of the North Pacific. Rain and hail pummeled the boat. The hail stuck to the decks and superstructure in a solid sheet of ice, making the boat top-heavy.
The waves were higher than the boat. I looked out of the pilot-house windows and couldn’t see the top of the next wave.
In the greatest act of courage I’ve ever seen in my life, Papa stood at the helm for thirty-six hours as he fought the storm. We were headed into the teeth of the monster, but going backwards over the bottom, the wind and current was so strong. Another few hours and we would have ended up on the rocks.
Finally, the storm broke and we limped into Monterey Bay. Once again, we should have died out there. God only knows why we made it. I felt that I must have something important to do with my life that fate spared me that day.
Once again, you can read the whole adventure in Blue Water & Me.
We were sailing up the coast from San Diego to Newport, Oregon. It was late in the season and Papa had to get me home in time for school to start.
We left Morro Bay and headed north around Point Sur despite bad weather reports. It was Papa’s hope that we could round Point Sur before the storm hit. He was wrong.
A massive storm with hurricane-force winds swept down out of the North Pacific. Rain and hail pummeled the boat. The hail stuck to the decks and superstructure in a solid sheet of ice, making the boat top-heavy.
The waves were higher than the boat. I looked out of the pilot-house windows and couldn’t see the top of the next wave.
In the greatest act of courage I’ve ever seen in my life, Papa stood at the helm for thirty-six hours as he fought the storm. We were headed into the teeth of the monster, but going backwards over the bottom, the wind and current was so strong. Another few hours and we would have ended up on the rocks.
Finally, the storm broke and we limped into Monterey Bay. Once again, we should have died out there. God only knows why we made it. I felt that I must have something important to do with my life that fate spared me that day.
Once again, you can read the whole adventure in Blue Water & Me.
Coasties crossing the bar at Winchester Bay, Oregon
That fall, 1962, my cousin Tony, his wife, Rose, and Abuelita, my grandmother, came up from Southern California to visit us in Oregon. Tony wanted to go salmon fishing.
Papa wouldn’t take a day off from work to go with him, so the rest of us piled in the family station wagon and headed to the coast.
We chartered a fishing boat and my sister, Quita, and I joined Tony and Rose and three other passengers on the great adventure.
Being the big, strong 11-year-old commercial fisherman that I was, I was the only one who caught any fish. The tide turned and it was time for us to head in. The other passengers were upset that they hadn’t caught anything, so the captain decided to stay out until everyone had a fish.
When we headed in, we were crossing the Umpqua River Bar against the tide. I have since learned that is a recipe for disaster.
The boat was tossed around like a cork in a maelstrom. We capsized and everyone went into the water. I surfaced near Quita. Neither of us could swim. A wave hit us and I was forced down, under the water. I went so deep that I touched the bottom. I fought to swim to the surface. My lungs were bursting. I gave up and exhaled. I don’t know what happened, but I took in a full breath of water and shot to the surface.
This time I came up near Tony. He clung to a piece of plywood. We spotted an orange life-jacket floating out of reach. Tony swam to it, kept it and gave me the plywood.
Somehow, the two of us reached the jetty. I gave up a dozen times, but Tony goaded me on. I wouldn’t be alive today if Tony hadn’t forced me to keep fighting.
Two workers on the jetty spotted us and helped us out of the water.
That day, six people lost their lives, including my sister. It was a turning point in my life.
Papa wouldn’t take a day off from work to go with him, so the rest of us piled in the family station wagon and headed to the coast.
We chartered a fishing boat and my sister, Quita, and I joined Tony and Rose and three other passengers on the great adventure.
Being the big, strong 11-year-old commercial fisherman that I was, I was the only one who caught any fish. The tide turned and it was time for us to head in. The other passengers were upset that they hadn’t caught anything, so the captain decided to stay out until everyone had a fish.
When we headed in, we were crossing the Umpqua River Bar against the tide. I have since learned that is a recipe for disaster.
The boat was tossed around like a cork in a maelstrom. We capsized and everyone went into the water. I surfaced near Quita. Neither of us could swim. A wave hit us and I was forced down, under the water. I went so deep that I touched the bottom. I fought to swim to the surface. My lungs were bursting. I gave up and exhaled. I don’t know what happened, but I took in a full breath of water and shot to the surface.
This time I came up near Tony. He clung to a piece of plywood. We spotted an orange life-jacket floating out of reach. Tony swam to it, kept it and gave me the plywood.
Somehow, the two of us reached the jetty. I gave up a dozen times, but Tony goaded me on. I wouldn’t be alive today if Tony hadn’t forced me to keep fighting.
Two workers on the jetty spotted us and helped us out of the water.
That day, six people lost their lives, including my sister. It was a turning point in my life.
My wife Connie and I were going skiing with our friends Rich and Kathy at Snoqualmie Pass northeast of Seattle. Rich had just broken up with his girlfriend and we thought a good day on the slopes would help.
Boy, were we wrong. As we skied the day away, Rich’s girlfriend showed up at the lodge with a new guy. Rich was crushed. His first reaction was anger. Then he was so upset that he couldn’t ski anymore, so we headed down the mountain.
I forgot to mention that we went up in Rich’s car. When we left, he slid behind the wheel and I didn’t think it might not be safe to have an emotionally upset young man driving on snow and ice covered roads.
He was angry and got angrier. He hit the road like he was mad at it. I cautioned him several times about driving too fast for the road conditions. He paid no heed.
Washington Highway 2 is cut into the mountain sides with the bottom of the canyons about two thousand feet below. There are no guard rails. We rounded a corner and Rich lost control of the car. It spun out and time dropped into slow motion.
We made a three-sixty on the icy road, sliding ever closer to the edge. Connie and Kathy were screaming in the back seat. Rich was cussing. I remember looking at the canyon yawning below us and thinking “This is it.” I was fully ready to die.
We came within inches of the edge, the car continued its spin and turned back towards the mountain side. We smacked into a snowbank at sixty miles an hour. The drift cushioned the impact. We were all thrown around in our seatbelts, but no one was seriously hurt. Connie and Kathy were burned. They were pouring hot chocolate from a Thermos as we went out of control.
My heart was beating about a thousand beats a minute.
Since then, I have never seen Rich push the limit driving. And we all lived happily ever after.
Boy, were we wrong. As we skied the day away, Rich’s girlfriend showed up at the lodge with a new guy. Rich was crushed. His first reaction was anger. Then he was so upset that he couldn’t ski anymore, so we headed down the mountain.
I forgot to mention that we went up in Rich’s car. When we left, he slid behind the wheel and I didn’t think it might not be safe to have an emotionally upset young man driving on snow and ice covered roads.
He was angry and got angrier. He hit the road like he was mad at it. I cautioned him several times about driving too fast for the road conditions. He paid no heed.
Washington Highway 2 is cut into the mountain sides with the bottom of the canyons about two thousand feet below. There are no guard rails. We rounded a corner and Rich lost control of the car. It spun out and time dropped into slow motion.
We made a three-sixty on the icy road, sliding ever closer to the edge. Connie and Kathy were screaming in the back seat. Rich was cussing. I remember looking at the canyon yawning below us and thinking “This is it.” I was fully ready to die.
We came within inches of the edge, the car continued its spin and turned back towards the mountain side. We smacked into a snowbank at sixty miles an hour. The drift cushioned the impact. We were all thrown around in our seatbelts, but no one was seriously hurt. Connie and Kathy were burned. They were pouring hot chocolate from a Thermos as we went out of control.
My heart was beating about a thousand beats a minute.
Since then, I have never seen Rich push the limit driving. And we all lived happily ever after.
The Victory under tow
My most recent brush with death came on our cruise down the Mexican coast. Dawn and I were alone on the Victory and it was the best week of my life. We sailed off shore in sunshine with a warm fifteen to twenty-knot breeze.
Out of San Diego, we trimmed the sails and didn’t touch them for days. We ran downhill with the wind off our starboard quarter and the current pushing us along. For days on end, our knot meter read ten knots. I had no idea the old girl could go so fast.
Every day we watched the whales play. Mostly they were California Grays, but occasionally we saw a humpback heading south early and Dawn spotted a pair of blue whales, the largest creatures to ever inhabit this planet, swim towards the Victory, then dive underneath.
The days began and ended with huge pods of dolphin swimming towards shore to go fishing. We were literally in the midst of hundreds of the beautiful animals. Old sailors believe that dolphins bring good luck to a ship.
I guess we didn’t have enough dolphins.
We were about five miles off of Punta Abreojos. Arbreojos is Spanish for Keep Your Eyes Open, six hundred miles south of San Diego. The point was so named because of the rocks that stretch out to sea around it.
I had carefully plotted our course outside the dangerous rocks. We stood three-hour watches. We changed watches at four pm. Dawn went below and I took the deck.
I did the checks I did at the beginning of each watch. Everything was A-OK. I settled down in the cockpit and let Henry (out automatic pilot) run the boat.
In the waning hours of daylight, I spotted white water about two miles dead ahead. I watched carefully and didn’t see it again. What was it?
I went below to check the charts. It couldn’t be rocks, the MEXICAN charts showed clear water. It must have been a whale breaching.
It was getting dark and I was getting cold, so I decided that, while I was below deck, I’d put on warmer clothes. I just pulled on my sea boots when we hit.
It sounded like a freight train smashing into a concrete barrier. Sixty thousand pounds of boat tipped up on its nose. I was thrown from my feet. When I got to the deck, the Victory was dead in the water. The pressure of the wind on her sails heeled her over ‘til the lee decks were under water. A wave lifted us and she smashed into the rock again, then it passed and we came back up.
Dawn crawled to the companionway hatch and yelled, “What happened?”
“We’ve hit a rock. Get your lifejacket on.”
We were stuck on the uncharted rock. I fired up the engine. We couldn’t go forward, nor yet go aft. The waves smashed us into the rock again and again.
I looked to seaward and saw a monstrous wave hovering over us. This is it, I thought, we’re dead. “Hold on,” I yelled.
The wave smashed down over us, flooding the decks. Water poured down into the cabin. I clung to the wheel or I would have been washed overboard. The wave lifted us over the rock and into deep water.
I headed out to sea and deep water, but we weren’t safe yet.
Dawn reported that we had water coming in. We got the sails down so we could handle the boat easier. Then the steering went out. We couldn’t control our direction.
I called in a Mayday. We got no response. “I guess we’re in this by ourselves,” I told Dawn as I fought to keep the boat afloat. About forty-five minutes later, I heard a call on the radio, in Spanish.
“To the boat that called Mayday, this is the Abreojos Fishing Cooperative. Can you read me.”
You betcha.
I talked with the man on the radio. They were from the fishing cooperative and they were launching a patrol boat to come out and help us.
By now it was dark and the wind was roaring. The patrol boat couldn’t find us, so we set off flares. They tried to take us in tow, but the waves were so high that we snapped the three-quarter-inch tow line.
Finally, we had to abandon ship and go ashore with the fishermen.
Once again, I shouldn’t be here writing this today. I don’t know how or why I’ve survived these experiences, but I try to make my life the best it can be each day.
My log from the crash is on-line at http://pennwallace.com/disaster-at-sea-2012.html. I hope you’ll read the whole story.
Now that I’ve told you my near-death stories, I have a huge, fear-filled week coming up. This will probably be my closest brush with death yet.
You all know by now that I’m afraid of dogs. Dawn agreed to dog-sit for a friend with two rescue, special-needs dogs.
A couple of days ago, she got a call from her mother in Panama. Her step-father is coming to the States for surgery and Joyce wants Dawn to fly down and be with her for three weeks while Wes is gone.
That’s a no-brainer. Three weeks alone with her mother on a tropical island paradise (except for the bugs and snakes.) What's not to like?
Oops! That leaves our friend without a dog-sitter. Guess what? I got volunteered to fill the gap. I strongly believe in honoring your commitments and we made a commitment that we would take care of the dogs. I didn’t realize then that “we” meant “I.”
So next week I’ll be writing about my fear-filled adventures taking caro of two vicious beasts for five days. Stay tuned, it should be a hoot.
Out of San Diego, we trimmed the sails and didn’t touch them for days. We ran downhill with the wind off our starboard quarter and the current pushing us along. For days on end, our knot meter read ten knots. I had no idea the old girl could go so fast.
Every day we watched the whales play. Mostly they were California Grays, but occasionally we saw a humpback heading south early and Dawn spotted a pair of blue whales, the largest creatures to ever inhabit this planet, swim towards the Victory, then dive underneath.
The days began and ended with huge pods of dolphin swimming towards shore to go fishing. We were literally in the midst of hundreds of the beautiful animals. Old sailors believe that dolphins bring good luck to a ship.
I guess we didn’t have enough dolphins.
We were about five miles off of Punta Abreojos. Arbreojos is Spanish for Keep Your Eyes Open, six hundred miles south of San Diego. The point was so named because of the rocks that stretch out to sea around it.
I had carefully plotted our course outside the dangerous rocks. We stood three-hour watches. We changed watches at four pm. Dawn went below and I took the deck.
I did the checks I did at the beginning of each watch. Everything was A-OK. I settled down in the cockpit and let Henry (out automatic pilot) run the boat.
In the waning hours of daylight, I spotted white water about two miles dead ahead. I watched carefully and didn’t see it again. What was it?
I went below to check the charts. It couldn’t be rocks, the MEXICAN charts showed clear water. It must have been a whale breaching.
It was getting dark and I was getting cold, so I decided that, while I was below deck, I’d put on warmer clothes. I just pulled on my sea boots when we hit.
It sounded like a freight train smashing into a concrete barrier. Sixty thousand pounds of boat tipped up on its nose. I was thrown from my feet. When I got to the deck, the Victory was dead in the water. The pressure of the wind on her sails heeled her over ‘til the lee decks were under water. A wave lifted us and she smashed into the rock again, then it passed and we came back up.
Dawn crawled to the companionway hatch and yelled, “What happened?”
“We’ve hit a rock. Get your lifejacket on.”
We were stuck on the uncharted rock. I fired up the engine. We couldn’t go forward, nor yet go aft. The waves smashed us into the rock again and again.
I looked to seaward and saw a monstrous wave hovering over us. This is it, I thought, we’re dead. “Hold on,” I yelled.
The wave smashed down over us, flooding the decks. Water poured down into the cabin. I clung to the wheel or I would have been washed overboard. The wave lifted us over the rock and into deep water.
I headed out to sea and deep water, but we weren’t safe yet.
Dawn reported that we had water coming in. We got the sails down so we could handle the boat easier. Then the steering went out. We couldn’t control our direction.
I called in a Mayday. We got no response. “I guess we’re in this by ourselves,” I told Dawn as I fought to keep the boat afloat. About forty-five minutes later, I heard a call on the radio, in Spanish.
“To the boat that called Mayday, this is the Abreojos Fishing Cooperative. Can you read me.”
You betcha.
I talked with the man on the radio. They were from the fishing cooperative and they were launching a patrol boat to come out and help us.
By now it was dark and the wind was roaring. The patrol boat couldn’t find us, so we set off flares. They tried to take us in tow, but the waves were so high that we snapped the three-quarter-inch tow line.
Finally, we had to abandon ship and go ashore with the fishermen.
Once again, I shouldn’t be here writing this today. I don’t know how or why I’ve survived these experiences, but I try to make my life the best it can be each day.
My log from the crash is on-line at http://pennwallace.com/disaster-at-sea-2012.html. I hope you’ll read the whole story.
Now that I’ve told you my near-death stories, I have a huge, fear-filled week coming up. This will probably be my closest brush with death yet.
You all know by now that I’m afraid of dogs. Dawn agreed to dog-sit for a friend with two rescue, special-needs dogs.
A couple of days ago, she got a call from her mother in Panama. Her step-father is coming to the States for surgery and Joyce wants Dawn to fly down and be with her for three weeks while Wes is gone.
That’s a no-brainer. Three weeks alone with her mother on a tropical island paradise (except for the bugs and snakes.) What's not to like?
Oops! That leaves our friend without a dog-sitter. Guess what? I got volunteered to fill the gap. I strongly believe in honoring your commitments and we made a commitment that we would take care of the dogs. I didn’t realize then that “we” meant “I.”
So next week I’ll be writing about my fear-filled adventures taking caro of two vicious beasts for five days. Stay tuned, it should be a hoot.
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