Survival in Paradise: The true story of surviving a tropical storm and remote deserted island in the middle of the Indian Ocean

Survival in Paradise

The true story of surviving a tropical storm and remote deserted island in the middle of the Indian Ocean

Gordon S. Brace

Copyright © 1981 Gordon Stanley Brace

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Dedicated to my family and many friends who eased the way and all the adventurous souls unafraid to reach for their dreams.

Keep those dreams alive.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Foreword

Just One of Those Days

Preparing the Miken

Getting to Know You

Open Sea and the Maldives Islands

Next Stop Chagos/Something Massive in the Way

Our Island Home

Alone on a Deserted Island with Two Ladies

Rescued!

Postscript

Acknowledgements

About The Author

Foreword

January in Central Indiana is not desirable for the weather or any other events. Outdoor activities occur in a desperately cold, frozen environment, suited for only the hardiest souls; cold injuries are not uncommon. My trip from Florida to Indiana compounded negativity because I was traveling to attend my father’s funeral after an agonizing five-year decline in health.

My father was a mountain of a man, whose entire identity centered around a trip to Alaska when he was twenty years old. His Alaskan safari with his brother and grandmother involved towing a ten-foot Airstream trailer, exploring America’s newest state. My father’s role in this adventure was a match with his fascination for the Alaskan brown bear. The Alaskan bear is not an animal to be trifled with, and the bruin mirrored my father in personality and appearance. His mastery at storytelling and desire to always outdo the last safari trip kept me on a lifelong pursuit of greater and more intense life adventures.

My first real adventure was not in the tropical climate of the Indian Ocean like Gordon Brace’s story, but on a partially frozen lake where a wind shift left our seventeen-foot open boat trapped between ice flows. Herculean efforts by my father and me, with our oars, a shovel, and thirty-horsepower Evinrude, proved fruitless. A long, cold night trapped in the middle of a massive lake appeared to be our fate. Fortunately, a shift in wind and a little more effort freed us from the ice flows. Nature has its own ways, and we often find ourselves subject to those forces outside our control: strive to survive or be subjected to the wild and die. Gordon was the survivor that thrived in his environment.

After my father’s funeral, surrounded by his brothers and my cousins, we decided to make the pilgrimage to the Indianapolis Sport and Travel Show. The sportsman’s Mecca of Indiana, my father was the self-appointed leader of this annual foray to gather brochures, talk to outfitters, and plan the next adventure for that year. Canadian fishing trips, the western Rocky Mountains, or any other fancy that was tickled by the desire to break away. So, the gaggle of boisterous middle-aged men crashed the doors of the Indianapolis Colosseum to browse outfitters and peek into luxurious travel campers and boats.

Having read virtually every Peter Hathaway Capstick, Robert Ruark, and even Theodore Roosevelt book on Africa, my curiosity and need to take the African Safari were deeply embedded, although suppressed by always thinking the African Safari was the realm of super-rich celebrities and businessmen. At this point, I made my way alone around the show. I saw the display for Zulani Safaris, intrigued, I approached the booth just to see how far out of reach such a trip would be. Picking up the fantastic full-color brochure, perusing the photographs, Gordon approached. Khaki-clad, with a neatly trimmed scruff beard and piercing gray-blue eyes, Gordon started talking to me in his mottled African dialect.

Immediately intrigued by Gordon, I wanted to pepper him with a million questions, not necessarily about the safari, but Africa in general, and most especially who he was. Gordon projected a deep intensity that immediately grabbed the conversation and left a listener wanting to know more. Gordon exhibited the hardship, success, and striving in the most amazing environments that the average man can only read about. I have circumnavigated the globe, fought in two wars, and participated in a few skirmishes in between, and I was completely engulfed in the first conversation. Every success and failure showed in the eyes and face of this African.

After discussing prices and options of my safari and schedules, all of a sudden, Africa seemed possible. As I began to depart from an obviously busy man, I asked, I can’t place your accent, where are you from? Gordon straightened his posture, standing to his full height, I’m African! Ahh, I had just finished reading Frederick Courteney Selous's biography. I’m interested to hear more about your time there. Gordon then promised campfire conversations if I were to come to Africa. I don’t think Gordon knew at this time, but he had me sold.

Two years later, I’m landing at a basic asphalt landing strip at Polokwane airport in Limpopo, South Africa. A couple of hours' drive and I’m meeting Gordon for the second time, where he greeted me with an upward grip handshake and a hug, welcoming me to Africa and Zulani. Gordon was on his way to caring for some animals, so still punchy from two days of travel and confinement on aircraft, I asked if I could help, and he readily accepted. We climbed into a vintage 1970 Toyota Land Cruiser, which could have had B.C. as the suffix to the manufacture date from the appearance of the vehicle. I can only say the Land Cruiser was a magnificent-looking beast.

Meeting Gordon in his environment convinced me the man is the real deal, a real African to his very soul, and wears his wrinkles and scars as a war hero wears his medals on Veterans’ Day. Gordon’s adventures are not contrived vacations booked by luxury travel agencies or manufactured by the selection of a travel brochure; his adventures were merely the process of living, existing, and surviving in environments about which most only read.

As I read the book, I can see Gordon retelling this story at the campfire, with a distant look in his eyes as he recalls a most extraordinary story. I’ll never fail to be impressed by the level of hardship that is not by design or scheduled in a posh travel office but is a way of life in the African bush or on a remote tropical island in the Indian Ocean. Most of all, I’m fascinated by the easy pleasure Gordon and Elisabeth take from the simple adventure of their lives.

Captain David Hart

USMC Retired

Shipwreck trio saved after 82 days on island. 28 March 1981

Robinson Crusoe reunion. Amazing sea rescue saga of some lucky castaways. 15 April 1981

London Daily Express

From left to right, Nicole Hascoet, Gordon Brace and Elisabeth Brace

Just One of Those Days

How on earth did you manage to get yourself stranded on a desert island?

Oh, it was just one of those days.

Typical. It could only happen to you two!

A conversation my wife Elisabeth and I had with a close friend soon after we arrived back in civilization. Our experience was of course far from being just one of those days, despite our friend declaring the fact that we had been stranded on an uninhabited island in the middle of the Indian Ocean was somewhat typical of us.

In 1954, I was born in Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia). My mother, who had also been born there, was a schoolteacher, so she believed in the value of schooling. But for those days, she was a lady way ahead of her time, for she also believed in the Mark Twain maxim: not to let her child’s schooling interfere with her child’s education. She taught me to read and write even before I went to school, so at the young age of five, I was already somewhat ahead of my peers in the classroom.

At that tender age, my mother one day offered to send me on a three-week trip to a holiday farm in a neighboring country. I jumped at the chance. It was my first travel adventure, and I had an absolute blast! And it set the tone for my lifestyle to come.

Every aspect of the trip was organized and safe. However, upon my return from the excursion some people in our town voiced their disapproval due to my young age. My mother, as one who certainly would not to be told how to raise her child (bless her!), asked me every year afterward whether I would prefer a gift for Christmas and birthdays, or if I would instead prefer to travel - within her means, of course. No brainer. I wanted to see the world! Granny could buy the bicycle (I was no fool).

As it transpired, my grandparents got on board with this idea. The following year, they took me out of school, and together we embarked on a grand travel adventure - a major trip for anybody back then, let alone a six-year-old boy. We began the journey cruising the entire east coast of Africa aboard the Kenya Castle, a steam turbine ocean liner. (There was not much in the way of stabilizers back then, so we had to develop sea legs quickly—after several bouts of throwing up, I recall.) We traversed the Suez Canal, and stopped over in the Middle East, where I climbed aboard my first camel. Then we spent time in the Mediterranean and stopped over in Las Palmas and Tenerife, two of Spain’s Canary Islands. Later, we disembarked at South Hampton, England and traveled up to London. After staying there for a while, my grandfather and I both went to visit his homeland - Scotland.

On the return trip to Africa, we disembarked on the shores of Kenya, where we were met by my aunt, uncle, and cousins who had a cattle and coffee farm there. While visiting here we spent quite some time at the Kenyan Coast. It was there that I was given a diving mask for the first time and explored a coral reef.

Mask in hand, 6-year-old Gordon preparing to explore the corals off the coast of Kenya.

Underwater, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: the array of colors, corals, and marine life astounded me, and they still do to this day. It was then that my love for the ocean was born, and I sought out dive spots all around the globe. (It saddens me that the array of colors and variety of formations I saw back then are now reduced to gray rubble in many coral gardens I see today, because of damage that most scientists claim is due to climate change.) After spending some weeks in Kenya with my family, I returned home with my grandparents to Northern Rhodesia (Zambia) overland via Serengeti, Tanzania, and Malawi. I remember being wide-eyed at the impressive sight of the massive herds of the wildebeest and zebra migrations there, and the predators that shadowed them. I also vividly remember one day being amazed by the sky turning pink with thousands of flamingos in flight. My love affair with the wild places and wildlife was now as passionate as my wonder of the underwater world. By the age of eighteen, I had already traveled much of Europe but more so the Sub-Saharan African Bushveld and coastlines to satisfy my love for the wild places and my passion for diving tropical gardens. I had by then spent much of my life under African stars, hunting and fishing among the wildlife there, and free diving off various places on the African coastline. However, with my school days over, new and wider horizons beckoned, along with romantic tales of tropical coral reefs that sparkled like jewels in tranquil blue and green waters. So, I skipped University, left my home in Zambia and spent the next ten years searching for some of these wonders of the world.

A year after leaving home my wanderings brought me to Denmark, where I was first introduced to the stimulating world of scuba diving in the North Sea, searching for ancient shipwrecks. It was also there where I met a beautiful young lady, Elisabeth. She was one of those ladies who anyone couldn’t help but love within minutes of meeting her. The two of us fell in love and were married a while later. Elisabeth had (and still does have) a fascination for all the wonders the world has to offer. We made a superb team together, planning and chasing many of these wonders, nearly always managing to seek out the sunny places once we felt winter nipping at our heels.

This led us from the icy North Sea to the tropical waters of the Caribbean on one of our travels. There, we made a modest living by diving for black coral, seashells, and lobsters. On one occasion, we barely survived a storm out at sea in one of the local divers’ flimsy boats. To my delight, Elisabeth, instead of being deterred by this frightening escape, was excited to experience more - and more was to come.

Later I took my new wife cruising down the west coast of Africa. We traveled by train from Cape Town up to Zimbabwe, where Elisabeth fell in love with the wild places of Africa. We often sat alone together, listening to the roars of lions or the cry of the fish eagle as we watched many sunsets over many African rivers, the Kafue, Lundi, the Fish River Canyon, and Zambezi. We rafted the best white water in the world below Victoria Falls; explored the ancient Zimbabwe ruins; fished off the Skeleton Coast of Namibia; and conducted many safaris in reserves such as Okavango, Luangwa Valley, and the national parks of Kruger and Etosha. We traveled to the Cape, the most southern tip of Africa, where I fished and dove commercially for a living. Here we had a delightful episode working for a time with dolphins. Then we headed north to climb to the glacier on top of Kilimanjaro (I have that T-shirt).

Even farther north, Elisabeth and I were mesmerized by the stunning beauty of the coral and marine life below the Red Sea (where I nearly saw my end in a deep-water canyon dive). Then we traveled much farther north to the Arctic Circle, where we camped beside waterfalls overlooking fjords in the fairyland mountains of Norway. We made many friends across Europe. Some we joined on sailboats on the Greek Islands, lazed in the sun with on the Costa Brava, and enjoyed duty-free wines at the sidewalk cafés of Las Palmas. The songs of British pubs are not unfamiliar to us.

We traveled across the ocean to Australia, where we worked huge tractors, plowed the unforgiving land of the outback, and, of course, marveled at one of the true wonders of the world: the Great Barrier Reef. Travel, like most things of course, has its cons along with the pros, but either way, Elisabeth and I would always find our experiences to be rewarding. I have always felt somewhat indestructible. Although, like anyone, I do not like to fail, I have always lived with the philosophy of not being afraid of failure but more afraid of what I might miss out on if I did not at least try. I don’t want to die wondering, What if? So, at times I have pushed the envelope more than a little, and Elisabeth has always supported this and even trusted it. This consequently resulted in more than a few harrowing exploits along the way. Our friend, of course, knows us and our many adventures well, and perhaps if you did, too, and are something of a fatalist like our friend is, you may also say that our adventurous lifestyle had led us to being stranded on an uninhabited, deserted island in the middle of the Indian Ocean was somewhat typical of us. You may also go on to say that this lifestyle, along with fate, led us to what is known as the gem of Asia. The island of Sri Lanka.

Prior to arriving in Sri Lanka, we had planned to return to St. Lucia in the Caribbean. We had spent some time there, diving with the locals and taking tourists to dive spots. This resulted in us meeting someone there who offered us the opportunity to run the water sports section of a new holiday complex that was being built on the island. While this was a few months away from being operational, we returned to Denmark for a while and awaited our recall.

When word came, we headed for London from Copenhagen in transit to the Caribbean. Perhaps serendipitous, we attended a trade fair while in London to kill time and chanced upon the Sri Lanka exhibit. It captured my interest immediately, with its stunning beaches, exotic places, and rich history mixed with several cultures. The gem of Asia seemed to be an apt description. What also caught my eye, however, was that the exhibit claimed that Sri Lanka boasted the most inexpensive fishing boats to be found anywhere in the world.

We had never before considered going to Sri Lanka, but as I have always wished to own my own boat, this information lingered in my mind like bait on a hook. However, we had committed to going to the island of Saint Lucia in the Caribbean, which undoubtedly was a wonderful opportunity for us, and really did suit our lifestyle. The day after arriving in London, we heard some troubling news. Hurricane Allen, which was considered one of the worst on record, was headed for the Caribbean with Saint Lucia directly in its path. The following day, we heard from a news broadcast that the island we were headed for had been totally destroyed. Almost every building, plantation, and coconut palm had been flattened. Even the coral reefs had been seriously damaged. We hastily sent a message to our contact (who was