French Rower Departs, Capsizes, Loses Boat

by Alan Pollock

Suffering from the early stages of hypothermia, Coindre spent hours in the water unsuccessfully trying to overturn the boat. Monday morning, he sent a satellite distress signal and was picked up, by Coast Guard helicopter. As of press time Tuesday afternoon, Coindre had chartered a local fishing boat to search for his rowboat, but had not yet returned to port.

Flanked by a small flotilla of boats crowded with well-wishers, Coindre’s 19-foot ocean rowboat was towed by a Stage Harbor Yacht Club tender to a position about two-and-a-half miles east of Chatham. Coindre looked confident and well prepared for the voyage, and with good reason.

Coindre has already crossed the Atlantic three times, twice on the easier east-to-west trade winds route, and last year he rowed the challenging North Atlantic route, traveling from Chatham to Cap Ouessant, Brest, France, in 87 days. His boat, the Ladybird, is well stocked with provisions, and most importantly, sea-tested. Last year, the boat capsized early in the trip and Coindre had to learn how to shift his weight in the watertight cabin to cause the boat to right itself. Before its voyage was over last year, Coindre’s boat had capsized a dozen times without serious incident.

Aboard the boat this year was a small arsenal of electronic equipment, including two short-range marine radios, two global positioning system receivers, a satellite telephone, an emergency radio beacon, and two Argos beacons—rented for him by two Chatham benefactors—which regularly signal his position to satellites.

"All is ready. I am ready," Coindre said in an interview last week. Coindre said he did not expect to have a chance at breaking the world record for the fastest solo row, given his late departure date. But in a bid to become the first man to cross the Atlantic four times, Coindre said he relishes the challenge.

"I will do everything for success," he said.

At 12:09 p.m. Saturday, Coindre pulled his first oar-stroke before rowing off into the haze.

Coindre’s first full day of rowing was excellent; he rowed 68 miles in a five- to 10-knot southwest wind. Coindre’s plan was coming together: he had hoped to make a quick passage over Georges Bank to reach the safety of deep water, and was well on his way to doing so.

In that first day, Coindre encountered 10 fishing boats, as if to underscore the need for him to get away from the boat traffic near shore. The other danger of the shallow water near shore is the effect it has on the seas. When otherwise gentle ocean swells move over the bank, they can create unpredictable, choppy water.

But on Sunday the seas were still calm, and Coindre saw many ocean birds and five whales; he was visited by an airplane pilot who made a close pass, apparently in curiosity. Emmanuel wasn’t even feeling the effects of seasickness, common even among seasoned ocean rowers in the first days of a journey. After a full day’s row, Emmanuel went to sleep, unfazed by the weather forecast that called for 30- to 35-knot winds Monday.

At around 3 a.m. Monday, Coindre was over Georges Bank, in less than 12 feet of water, when the Ladybird was struck by a single, large wave. Coindre was sleeping in the boat’s weather-tight bubble when the Ladybird overturned. Standing on the roof of the cabin, Coindre began shifting his weight and climbing up the side of the boat, trying to force it to right itself. Coindre could see the ocean below him through the closed hatch, a clear plastic dome, which was slowly leaking water.

Three hours later, the cabin was about one-third filled with seawater and Coindre still could not right the Ladybird. The other times his boat had capsized, the rower had learned to use the momentum from subsequent waves to help turn his boat upright again, but this time the sea quickly subsided, leaving him dangling underwater.

"At the end of the third hour, I had to make a decision. The sea was calming itself, the elements would never have made the boat recover to normal position," Coindre wrote in his log, posted by his parents on his Web site. He decided to force the hatch open and dive through the hole, coming up on the surface.

For five more hours, Coindre tried to right the boat from outside, with no luck. In desperation, he activated his Argos beacon’s distress switch. The signal was received in Alaska and forwarded to France, where the Argos technicians made a series of phone calls, first to his parents’ home. Coindre’s father telephoned the French coast guard, which contacted the U.S. Coast Guard, and within minutes, a Falcon jet from Air Station Cape Cod was being diverted to Coindre’s last known position. Meanwhile, Coindre used his satellite phone to reassure his parents.

The Coast Guard also launched a helicopter from Cape Cod, which hoisted him aboard at 11:50 a.m. Monday.

"I am grateful to the Coast Guard," Coindre said in an interview Monday evening.

With time rapidly ticking away, Coindre and his host family, Geoffrey and Jane MacDonald, arranged to hire a local fishing boat to search for the Ladybird, which had been left adrift. In an impromptu meeting at the Chatham Fish Pier at around 6 p.m. Monday with fisherman Peter Taylor, the group decided to leave Chatham at midnight in order to arrive at the Ladybird at first light Tuesday. Geoffrey MacDonald said he was helping to finance the salvage mission.

Whether the Ladybird would ever be found remained very much unclear Tuesday afternoon. The Ocean Rowing Society, which contracted for the Argos beacons, said the beacons were no longer transmitting the boat’s position—probably because they are underwater. If the boat remains capsized, it will be very difficult to spot from the sea, Ocean Rowing Society Director Kenneth Crutchlow said.

"You can be within a quarter mile and not see it," he said. "If they find that boat, it will be because of extraordinarily good luck."

But Coindre is driven to find his boat, he said before departing Monday night. When rowing across the ocean, he said he considers the Ladybird to be an extension of his own body.

"It’s not just my boat. It’s me," he said.

Contact Alan Pollock