COLOMBIAN HANGOVER - Part One

SetSail note: While spending several months in Aruba, Lynne and Chris adopted a dog, a half chow/half collie they named Takoon. On her maiden voyage, Takoon became violently sea sick, which led Lynne and Chris to make an unplanned stop in Baranquilla, Colombia. There they had an experience every sailor would rather avoid. Here is Part One of the story about their run-in with Colombian pirates.

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12000 nm into the circumnavigation, four years on the journey, 36 hours in Colombia, and the bubble burst.

It was dark moon, just before midnight, March 27. The sound of a boat's wake hitting our steel hull stirred me. "They're here!" I woke Chris.

"Who's here?" he asked.

"The freaking welcoming party!" I shouted. He jumped up to close the hatch, and saw the first of six armed men board MALAIKA.

Earlier that night I had insisted that we lock the companion way, which can only be done from outside, and so Chris climbed into the cabin through the hatch, which was left ajar, but secured.

Both hatches have bulletproof glass portholes, and so we could see them trying to smash the glass with their guns. They had not brought tools with them, as they expected the companion way to be open, like the other 3 boats pirated earlier this year.

"Chris," they shouted, "Open the door, it's the police!"

We looked at each other. "They know us." We can count the people we know here on one hand.

With only a little flash light, they stumbled around and yelled at us to put the lights on. Chris quickly disconnected the batteries. They tried unsuccessfully to break the lock.

"MAYDAY! MAYDAY!" I wasted precious minutes in vain. They heard my call and cut the SSB aerial.

The lock would not budge and so they chopped around it. The hatch is hard teak and it took them over an hour to gain entry.

The entire duration I was calling for help on the radios. I was answered on the VHF ch 16 by the Colombian Coast Guard, who asked me to confirm our position as Pt. Hermosa, Puerto Velero.

Never to be heard from again, or ever seen.

The guys outside were getting frustrated, and so with two of them on each side of the hatch, they tried to lift it open. After enough prying they managed to lift it slightly, but Chris was able to deploy a can of pepper spray into three of their faces. He also continued to hang on the inside of the hatch, holding it down. The pirates never worked out that the hatch slides back and doesn't lift up to open. That is what saved us.

Once the lock was chopped free, they pulled out the first and second wash boards--the third always sticks. With the hatch closed overhead, the entry was too small to walk through and would have required them to crawl. It was safer for them to call us out one at a time, rather than them come inside, as they did not know what else we had to arm ourselves with.

When it became evident that they were going to gain entry, the panic that had seized us earlier evaporated. A calm overcame us and everything slowed down. It felt like my ears were blocked and my thoughts echoed in my head. We could die tonight, but that's O.K. I have had a few good innings and this is as good a time as any. With that Chris took my hand and said, "When the door opens we get out!!! And you get into the water, ASAP. Don't stop to chat, straight in the water, and I will follow."

The pirates called us out, and Chris went first. Three of them grabbed him, and they struggled around the table. Chris was able to maneuver himself to the back of the boat against the rail. The cockpit had been ransacked and the well was open, so space was limited. Two of the pirates returned to their positions, but one remained and attempted to tie Chris's hands together in front of him. Chris kept moving and so the guy was not able to tie a knot. They called for me, and I crawled out. While I was still crouched down in front of the hatch, one guy took my arm.

One last look at Chris and I swung my elbow back as hard as I could. I felt the crunch when I connected the gent holding my arm. Only afterward did I find out that he had a .38 aimed at the back of my head with one foot on the cabin and one on the bench, legs spread eagle! I supported myself on the companionway, so that I swung my elbow back and pulled myself forward into a dive all in one motion.

Hands brushed me in an attempt to catch me, but I was already in the water. Chris, using the distraction, opened his hands and shoved the guy, still trying to tie him up back into the well, hitting his head. Chris back-flipped into the water and dove down as deep as possible. I hadn't been up for air yet and heard the splash behind me. Not knowing who it was, I decided to turn and face whoever was going to pop up, rather than have them chase me.

Chris surfaced, right in front of me, "Swim, Woman, what are you waiting for!" It was a dark moon that night, and we could not see their boat. We thought that they had tied alongside MALAIKA, and that it would only be minutes before they came for us. Chris suggested that we split up to increase our survival chances, and I reminded him that "Hell hath no fury..." We swam for our lives together.

Later we learned that the bandits had intended to spend the night, as their boat had dropped them off and left.

Only once it was shallow enough to walk did I realize that I had broken my toe, connecting it on the rail while diving overboard. Chris dragged me by the scruff of my neck, "Catch your breath, Baby, I've got you--we will have to run fast when we get to the path."

We hoped to find Gustavo, the first person we had met here in Pt. Velero. He had assisted us with Takoon's medical emergency earlier that day and he had a cell phone. However, we couldn't find the path. Instead, we came across three fisherman whom we had also met earlier. We were surprised, both that they were awake, and that they knew it was us before we said a word. They calmed us down, and sent a runner to Gustavo's house to call the police. We sat on the beach and looked over the anchorage. It was so dark we couldn't see MALAIKA, but we heard a collision.

The police arrived two hours later. Three cars and two motorbikes. It was too dark for us to notice that they were wearing Anti-Narcotics badges. Two officers escorted us back to MALAIKA in Gustavo's dinghy, which was the only one available in Pt. Velero. We were given ten minutes to assess the damage. Then we were forced, against our will, to once again abandon MALAIKA and Takoon in the dark. They insisted we go and make a Denuncio, or a statement, at the Baranquilla police station at 03h00.

Back on the beach, the main officer was only interested in how much money we had left, and the value of our stolen possessions. I told him that we had not had enough time to assess the damage and that we would rather go to the station the following morning, since we were concerned about our boat and dog. They laughed, and shoved us into an unmarked police car. There two plain-clothed policemen laughed even louder when I asked to see their badges.

En route over non-existing sand roads, we realized just how isolated we were. Our driver first got lost and then stuck. 04h30 we arrived at the station to discover that no one spoke English. We had no money on us, so no one wanted to take our statement. Eventually, the youngest girl there sat down and just started typing out our very limited Spanish and many hand gestures. She made many errors, but as we were unable to read Spanish, we were none the wiser. That turned out to be irrelevant, as a Denuncio made at a police station is of little use in an investigation in a country controlled by military law. The police only take notes, they don't pursue anything, or pass any of their notes on. If you want an investigation to take place, you have to go the Fiscalia, but we were not told that by anyone then. We only found that out much later.

At 06h00 we returned to MALAIKA, this time to discover the actual magnitude of our loss.

To be continued next week...