Its January and a new year.

This is an epic newsie, but there is so much to tell.

The whole world is probably totally Tsunami’d out.

But for those of us who were in the middle of the catastrophe I don’t think we will ever be over it entirely and I think the event changed many lives. I know it has ours.

Yachting stories have abounded, of heroic savings, of death defying recoveries, of epic survivals…..and of traumatic and devastating losses.

There was Kay Sira: she was off Kho Kridan when the wave struck and rolled a pleasure craft with 8 Scandinavians on board. Barry saw two little blonde heads screaming by his dinghy as he motored back to his boat from the shore, plucked them out of the water and returned the children to their parents.

The yacht Patrice was sucked in towards the cliffs at PhiPhi and just as Bob was about to be dashed on the rocks, the boat was summarily spat out into deep water, taking with him some people who had scaled the rocks to escape. He also managed to save a mother, but lost her baby, saved some scuba divers after their dive boat had abandoned them, but couldn’t save them all……..

The stories are never ending. There are enough to fill an epistle but some that touched close to our hearts need to be told……

Being South African, one of those is the story of Bruno.

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We first met Bruno and James when we were at anchor on our mooring buoy in Telaga, Langkawi. A catamaran arrived in the little anchorage behind the man-made islands and our eyebrows rose as we noticed a South African flag – upside down! Two sun-bronzed bodied and golden-haired lads, hale and hearty, waved as they passed and we guessed the reversed flag was an accident and not a distress signal.

A day later we met the boys.

And we were amazed to see that one of them, Bruno, was in a wheelchair.

Over the weeks we got to know Bruno and James and as their story unfolded we were left in awe and admiration at the tenacity and perseverance of determined minds.

It transpires that Bruno was a victim of violence in South Africa and after a motor accident, (in which he was a passenger) turned into a nasty incident, he was left a paraplegic. Before that the love of his life was the sea. He had done a stint in the Merchant navy, studied mechanical engineering and worked as a skipper on a surf and charter boat.

His dream was to own his own one day and sail around the world.

After the accident, his love of the sea became more intense. He needed the ocean to heal his soul and we felt his need with empathy. His tragic story of how his parents were two of only four survivors in the plane that was gunned down over Zimbabwe during the war, and how he had lost both his sisters added to the poignancy and the wonder of human endurance.

As we chatted about hopes and dreams; about things that had to be accepted and others that were worth fighting for, I saw the amazing quality of a young person who has overcome a terrible adversity. He was not going to give up – he is determined to live life to the full, to encourage others, and one day, to feel the warmth of sand beneath his feet.

It took months of rehabilitation and the psychological and physiological ups and downs of a traumatic disability till finally he determined to follow his dream. After many heartaches and set backs his fortitude won through and with his parents 100% behind him, in 2004 Lee McGregor came along as his guardian angel, saw the determination of the 30 year old paraplegic and gave him the catamaran, Sunlord. And that was the beginning of a love affair of a young man and his boat. Bruno has worked unceasingly to adapt the catamaran to suit his needs. The interior is simple to enable him to use his wheelchair or pull himself around the sleeping/cockpit/saloon area. He did not have the means for any fancy fittings and later we were horrified to discover that basic life preserving equipment was missing.

Our time together in Telaga was short as James, who is Bruno’s helper and “legs” was going back to South Africa to his family for Christmas. They couldn’t afford the luxury of staying in a marina so the plan was to secure Sunlord firmly off the northern beach of Patong with two anchors to be sure to be sure. A third anchor would be tied in place on the bow in the event of an emergency with 60 metres of red rope. They were content that Bruno would be safe to stay on his own on board. The beach is long and sloping, and by dinghying up to the shoreline, he could manage his wheel chair and get to town on his own. He valued his independence and this was the best anchorage to afford him that luxury.

On Boxing Day, he was on board when the first signs of the Tsunami were manifest. Water began to recede out of the bay at an alarming rate. Sunlord began to swing in circles in the eddying current and then the first wave hit. As with everyone else it was all so confusing. He watched in shock as the huge swell lifted Sunlord and the following wave swept towards shore, smashing longtail boats against the cliff face nearby and slamming down on unsuspecting people, flinging everything in its way along the shore line into the air. His instincts told him to get out of the bay, so pulling himself to the front of the boat as fast as he was able, he tied a fender to the two anchor chains and let the anchors run free. He had no windlass and no time to haul the anchors up manually. Then dragging himself back to the cockpit he was horrified to see a 6 metre wave curling towards him.

With both motors in full throttle he knew from his surfing experience that he needed to keep the boat forward and slam right through the wave, but as he sped forward, he saw a red rope appear between the hulls in the water behind him and realized with horror that the third anchor and rope that he had on his bow had untied and somehow foul-hooked the anchor chain he had just let go. He knew he had no time to get to the front of the boat to cut himself free. With a sickening lurch the whole snag of chain and rope brought Sunlord to a grinding halt and slewed him side-on to the tidal wave. There was nothing he could do and as the catamaran was lifted up and hurled into the air, he prayed. “Well, God, You have brought me all this way, but now it seems my number is up.” He braced himself clinging to the wheel.

But there are still things Bruno is meant to do, because the wave had so much force in it that it was a like a huge block of water and instead of falling off the back of it, he stayed on top. Crawling and dragging himself forward on Sunlord once again, he cut the rope and third anchor free. The force of the water moving towards the shore was so great that two engines at full throttle was no match as the catamaran was at first swept towards the breakers and then suddenly turned and with that incredible power of angry nature he was spat out to sea.

Out in deep water he picked up a traumatized jet skier, but had him working on the awnings and setting up a jury rig in no time, so that he could hold off from some other boat when he found one and once things had settled down. And the two of them drifted out at sea for the rest of the day and night, not knowing what was going on, because he has no SSB Radio and only a hand held VHF which hasn’t much strength. The following day, he motored back closer to shore and found a fellow yachtie against whose boat he could raft until he could retrieve his chain and anchors.

When I spoke to him after the event he was both shaken and elated.

“I did it!” were his first words.

“I proved to myself that when the chips were down, I could think clearly and react appropriately – and I did it all on my own!” he was overjoyed.

But that isn’t the end of the tale.

Bruno needs help.

He does not have the basics that sailing demands and surviving the Tsunami has made him more aware of that. So we are appealing to any of you who know big companies who would be willing to sponsor Bruno to please let us know. He would be willing to advertise for them in any way they wish. We firmly believe that Bruno is a shining example of a young person who has so very much positive to offer so very many disabled people. He is a courageous young man whose life didn’t stop with the loss of the use of his limbs. He is an inspiration and his spirituality is deep and sincere. He needs to continue his quest, but without sponsorship, his sailing future looks pretty bleak.

These are the basics that he needs

1. Windlass
2. SSB radio
3. VHF radio
4. Life raft
5. Refrigeration
6. More adaptations to the inside of his boat

It’s amazing in the wake of a disaster, how different people react. The world has rallied around and funds and aid have poured in to Phuket. We don’t have t.v. coverage and the snippets we have heard are second and third hand, but to see people, foreign and local, working together, who have gone beyond what is “in the line of duty” has been very humbling.

We also felt that we needed to be involved and give back a little of the kindness that we have been shown, but Phuket was overwhelmed with help. We had recourse to stop in the mouth of the bay off the island Yao Yai a few days after the Tsunami, at the change of tide to avoid the strong current that was whipping up the sea. We heard the sound of chopping in the jungle fringing the island but couldn’t see the village hidden around the corner. Yao Yai is an island that is a bit off the beaten track and which has no tourist attractions, but to which we have often escaped from the melee of foreigners in high season. We had got to know the people in the stilted fishing village in the mouth of the bay, and I had written in a newsy of the time Desre (our daughter for those of you who don’t know) had been to visit, and how the vivid images of her doing cartwheels on the beach with the children who had led us along the jungle path to it, are a memory that will stay with me forever. We had walked through the paddy fields on that occasion where we met a young girl, Dang, who spoke good English. She told us how she worked during the high season on the nearby island of PhiPhi. Des had just had a 3 month stint working on PhiPhi at a dive concession and so they swapped acquaintance stories as we passed the time of day together.

I pause here to tell you about PhiPhi Island. There are two – PhiPhi Don (Big island) and PhiPhi Ley (little island) where the movie, “The Beach” was filmed.

After the Tsunami a charter had taken us to PhiPhi Ley, passed PhiPhi Don to Railay in Krabi and back to Chalong. We were devastated to see the destruction caused by the Tsunami to PhiPhi Don. The bow-tie shaped island with high land on either side of a sand spit had its bustling town built in the middle with two bays on either side. The Tsunami hit from both sides and the force destroyed the whole village flattening everything and killing all but a very few survivors. It is the most popular tourist destination for back packers in Thailand and being the Christmas season there were estimated to be five thousand young people on the island. Being ten o’clock in the morning most of them were sunbathing or walking through the maze of curios shops. We have had nightmares about the could-have-been’s and to hear the helicopters and see the rescue ships back and forth has clouded our minds and wrenched at our hearts.

But life goes on and as our charter guests have cancelled one by one it has given us time to gather our wits, give thanks that we are alive and mull over the happenings of the past week.

And so our thoughts turned to Dang and the fishing village on Yao Yai and began to nag.

There were so very few survivors on PhiPhi and with her slight physique the chances of Dang getting out of the carnage alive, we knew, were very slim. But what of her family who relied on her extra income for survival? We had this urge to see if we could lend a hand in some way to the locals. We had offers from friends and family in SA and the UK of funds if we could direct them, and so we set off to Yao Yai.

And quite a trip it turned out to be. The sea was very unsettled and difficult to sail with wind on the nose so we motored there through some turbulence. Debris littered the ocean - from trees and shrubs to houses and boats and when the sea is choppy it is difficult to see what lies just under the surface of the water. Once at Yao Yai in the shallows at the foot of the bay a line of women and young people were shuffling through the muddy shallows looking for belongings that had been washed away. We lowered our dinghy and motored ashore and round the corner to where the stilted village had been.

A pitiful sight.

The pier on to which the fishing boats had once tied up was gone and many of the stilted houses washed away. Fishing boats that hadn’t sunk were in the mangroves at the end of the bay – probably waiting for the next big high tide to be able to be extricated. Longtail boats littered the surrounds in various states of damage and engines pulled out onto higher ground were drying out and being worked on.

My heart went out to poor people who had so little to begin with, and were now left with less.

But how incredibly resilient these Thais always are. And the place was already beginning to be re-built with the sounds of wood being chopped in the surrounding forest and frames for the wooden houses being nailed together

We were greeted with smiles all round. Children came shyly to practice their “Hullo” and “Goodbye” on us and the adults their “Where you go?” The latter never requires an answer because that’s as far as their English goes, but it is said with so much interest that one cant help going into the long spiel of “We have come to talk to your Headman. Do you think you could take us to him old Pal?” To which we naturally get a big smile and a “Mai pen rai” Which we know to mean “No understand”

But we persevered as we walked through the village, recognizing our tee-shirts and the clothes that we had dropped off for the villagers on previous visits and chatting to all our acquaintances – them in Thai, us in English neither parties understanding the other but happy in our mutual friendliness.

We found two young girls on a motor bike further along the track and they knew a few more English words. With our miming and mixture of English and the few Thai words thrown in, we thought we could detect a flash of a light bulb, when the girl riding pinion jumped off and indicated for Don to get onto the motor bike.

They disappeared along the trail the way we had come and I wondered if he was being abducted….lucky boy…..it turned out to be a joy ride, and he walked back having been shown Katrine in the bay!

I sat at the road-side with some of the women who chatted away to me and I to them and in a strange way we were able to connect.

And as we chatted I recognized the path to Dang’s house and I pointed in that direction. A dusty child was sent running and to my amazement a while later along the jungle track came Dang. What a joyous meeting! She had been on PhiPhi and had survived and as the stories came pouring out I wept.

She told with anguish how the water in Tonsai Bay had receded at an alarming rate and to such an extent that children ran into the bay to pick up fish and look at the exposed coral, and then of the horror of the wave and her grief at not being able to save them. We mourned with her the loss of her friends, and gave thanks with her that her baby which she had left in Yao Yai with her mother, was spared.

The sun had almost set by the time we dinghied back to Katrine. A swell rocked and bumped us all night with strong North easterlies that kept us on guard and in the morning we up anchored and sailed in a following sea back to Chalong.

And now we have things to do.

With two months worth of charter work lost, (what the hell – its only money) we have been given a chance to give back a little of the lots we have received. We are off on a mission to Yao Yai.

There is work to be done.

Oh, and if you have a chance….please speak to the media who have done more damage to Phuket than the Tsunami did. These people desperately need tourism. PhiPhi will never be the same – it has gone for ever – but the rest of Thailand is back and running…more pristine than before......and that Thai smile is there in all its glory…more beautiful than ever.

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