We still look out for them every day
A year ago this Wednesday, the crew of R116 were tragically killed when their helicopter crashed off Blacksod. Here, the locals who did everything they could to help rescue efforts recall the harrowing aftermath
‘You’re always wondering will anything turn up’
BEFORE, Blackrock Island was beautiful scenery, but now it means disaster — we’re never going to forget it,’ says grandmother Maura Uí Ruadháin sadly, adding: ‘Every time we look over at Blackrock now, we think of those brave men and their families. There’s no closure.’ Thursday night is card night at Ionad Deirbhle Heritage Centre in the sleepy fishing village of Blacksod. It seems fitting that it’s International Women’s Day when I meet some of the formidable local Mná na hÉireann, who dropped everything and put their lives on hold for seven weeks, to rally around the devastated families of our tragic Coastguard R116 heroes and the teams of rescuers. From the moment they heard R116’s crew had plunged into the treacherous sea off Blackrock Island in the early hours of March 14 last year, they moved into action.
In a few days’ time, the families and friends of these heroes — Captain Dara Fitzpatrick, Captain Mark Duffy, Ciarán Smith and Paul Ormsby, who plunged into the treacherous seas off Blackrock Island while on a rescue mission providing top cover for Sligo-based Coastguard R118 — will once again make the pilgrimage west. Once again, the open, loving arms of an entire community awaits them.
It’s nearing the first anniversary of the horrific R116 disaster, but here in the tiny, tightknit village of Blacksod, the timeline means little. To locals, the events of that fateful night remain fresh in their minds, with the families of Ciarán Smith and Paul Ormsby — whose bodies still haven’t been recovered — in particular in their thoughts.
As Maura says: ‘There’s no closure. It goes on and on and you’re always wondering will anything turn up. But with time, the hope gets fainter and fainter...’
As the mayday calls went out that night, fishermen took to the sea, to join the massive air, sea and land rescue operation around Blackrock Island and across the Mullet Peninsula.
A band of about 50 local women heard the call and made their way here to the Heritage Centre, where they served soup, sandwiches and hot drinks to the crew’s families, rescue workers, media and anyone else who arrived to help in the huge effort.
In those first, horrible few days, they never imagined their tiny community was about to become the focus of one of the largest and longest sea rescue operations in history. It went on for an agonising 42 days but ended sadly, with winchmen Ciarán Smith and Paul Ormsby still lost at sea.
‘We thought everyone would be found quickly and never imagined it would last so long,’ says Yvonne Keane.
‘Every day there were hopes built up, but they were dashed down,’ recalls Tina McCafferty. ‘The worst day was when they got the helicopter wreckage, and the men weren’t in there, it was heartbreaking.’
By day four, as the crowds of rescue workers and divers swelled, the women moved to the bigger Halla Naomh Bhreandáin.
Every day for those seven weeks, from dawn until dusk, they laid on hot breakfasts, lunches and dinners, and created a warm, loving space to which the devastated families could return for respite and comfort after another long day’s searching.
‘We took it in turns with the families and sat with them and encouraged them however we could,’ says Mary Willie Phat Lavelle, whose uncle was lost at sea, never to be found, many years ago. ‘It meant so much to them and to us, to be able to sit with them.’
Maura shakes her head: ‘All of them meant so much to us — it was all we could do.’
It’s been a week of fresh, starry nights here in Blacksod followed by crisp, sunny mornings. The sea glistens, calm and blue — a far cry from the stormy, treacherous conditions endured by the R116 crew a year ago. The first of the sea searchers who went out to look for them were also hampered over the following days by high winds and strong Atlantic swells.
This week, fishing boats bob gently in the water beside the lobster pot-lined pier, next to Blacksod Lighthouse. For weeks, this was the nerve centre of the rescue operation, the jump-off point for hundreds of search crew tasked with raising the wreckage and its heroes, from 40 metres of deep sea near Blackrock Island. It was here families came to pray and wait for news and the nation’s media gathered, tiring day after tiring day.
Locals here have always been used to the thunderous whirring overhead, signalling the arrival of a rescue helicopter.
It was all hands on deck over at the Blacksod Lighthouse too, where Vincent Sweeney had been waiting that night for his friends aboard R116. He was the last person to make contact with crew members before raising the alarm.
Rescue helicopters land on the helipad beside the lighthouse every week — the previous week, the Dublin-based R116 landed here to refuel after an almost identical mission, giving top cover to its Sligo-based colleagues. Now, it wasn’t his friends he was refuelling but colleagues coming and going out to find them at sea.
By 3pm, the Irish Coast Guard confirmed Captain Dara Fitzpatrick had died. By late afternoon, the sea began spitting more wreckage from the deep. Meanwhile, distraught families of the crew were making their way to the Mullet Peninsula, with no idea of the harrowing few months that awaited them.
Captain Mark Duffy’s family lived through a harrowing four days, from the time Navy divers located his body, to being able to bring him up. But the same closure was not granted to Ciarán Smith and Paul Ormsby’s families.
Coastguard crews were scrambled from all over the country, the Navy arrived, the RNLI, the Gardaí, the Civil Defence, mountain rescue teams and West Cork Rescue Team being but a few who arrived to help.
But behind the scenes, too, were the unsung heroes — local fishermen.
Today Blacksod Pier is deserted, a tangle of hundreds of lobster pots, miles of rope and fishermen’s tools. The only sound is that of water gentle lapping against the fishing boats and a distant hum of a trawler.
A few heads appear on a boat at the end of the pier. One of them is Michael Billy Lavelle, who found the ‘ping’ of the black box that ultimately led to the wreckage being found. He used his skills and knowledge of the currents to get in close enough to Blackrock Island and ultimately help unlock the mystery of what caused the crash.
His sharp blue eyes gleam up at me distractedly from his boat. He has no interest in bragging about his decisive mission that changed the course of the search. Like most of the fishermen here, he’s a man of few words.
Nearby is his father-in-law Henry Keane, whose son Sean headed straight for the crash site the moment news reached them about the disaster. He continued searching with his brother Henry for two weeks, even after the Navy had enforced a three-mile exclusion zone a few days into the search.
Henry says: ‘The fishermen don’t say much but they rolled up their sleeves and every waking hour they were out there.
‘The lads were invited up to Dublin and Galway for awards but it’s hard for a young fella making a few quid to take time to go find a black tie and suit and a hotel in Dublin,’ he says of the 2018 Meitheal of the Year award. Meitheal is the name for the old Irish rural tradition of gathering on neighbours’ farms to help save the hay or other crops. ‘I can’t see why they can’t send someone from Dublin to hand it over on the pier for them.’
All the fishermen I meet in Una’s Bar — where talk is never far from the disaster — seem frustrated they weren’t allowed be more hands-on in the search once the Navy came in. Henry’s words are echoed by another local fisherman, 80-year-old Johnny Walker, grandfather of 32 and a great-grandfather eight times over.
Johnny found Ciarán Smith’s helmet, radio aerial and life jacket while walking miles of the shoreline in late September and says he’s still constantly on the lookout for signs of the missing men, while lobster-potting on his boat, the Regina Ann.
As well as searching the sea, he joined farmers who walked the shores for weeks on the western side of the peninsula, from Blacksod to Erris Head.
‘Those men are always on your mind,’ he says. ‘If you see something floating, no matter how far away, you’ll go to find out what it is. I always walk miles of the shoreline and one day I set out from Elly Bay on the west Atlantic side and I glanced and saw something red and went down to the shore.
‘As soon as I picked it up, I knew it was one of the crew’s, the complete outfit. I dropped it into the barracks.
‘I felt it may have helped as now Ciarán’s family have something that was a part of him once he went on board that helicopter. I met some of Ciarán’s family and
‘Some houses took 20 divers, we all chipped in’
they thanked me.’
In fact, Ciarán’s family often visit the area and sit on a bench they erected at the Blessed Well looking out towards Blackrock. The plaque on it reads: ‘In loving memory of Ciarán Smith who died on March 14th 2017 at Blackrock, Co Mayo on Rescue Helicopter R116. RIP.’
Johnny continues: ‘The fishermen here have the knowledge of the area and the currents and some think they should have been let help more than they were, but that’s the way it goes. Once Lavelle marked the spot, we were sent away outside the three miles — that’s a long distance in a rolling swell of water. Lots of us fishermen were frustrated we were told to feck off away from the site. It goes against everything we do.
‘If you’re trawling, and you get a call, no matter whose boat it is, you stop your work and pull them ashore. Anyone in trouble, broke down, you go get them — that’s the rules we all live by.’
But of course, the sheer number of rescue professionals arriving at Blacksod as part of the effort demanded rule and order.
On April 8, more than 100 fishing vessels searched from Galway to Mayo to Donegal.
‘We were waiting to accommodate 30 divers and by Friday night we had to find beds for 180 divers in a three-mile radius of the hall,’ says retired schoolteacher John Gallagher, who owns Teach John Joes and co-ordinated the volunteers at the hall.
‘Some houses took 20 divers, everyone chipped in.’
Holiday houses were opened up to rescue workers while local B&Bs, including Léim Siar, threw open their doors to anyone in need. John praised B&B owner Hannah Quigley who helped lighthouse keeper Vincent Sweeney, his wife Doreen, and children Erika and Simon looking after workers who visited the lighthouse. Annette Gallagher and Philomena Cawley also did Trojan work.
There’s just one elderly gentleman sipping a pint of Guinness at the bar when I visit John Joe’s. John opens a booklet he compiled of touching and poignant letters and messages sent mainly from schoolchildren around the country to the families and rescue workers.
One 10-year-old girl from Castlebar sent a box of buns and a letter saying: ‘It’s nothing big but only a couple of buns — you’re all so brave.’
Another unsigned letter came from a family saying Rescue R116 had airlifted and saved a family member. John smiles: ‘They were simple gestures but meant so much to the families. The compassion showed by children from all over was incredible.
‘Their generosity, their donations, their pictures, their spirit boosted the families and all the women working here. We posted them up on the wall and the families went over to read the cards and letters.’
John is also humble about his role in the effort. ‘I don’t have the comforting skills but the women did what Mná na hÉireann did all their lives, providing comfort and love and warmth. I can’t praise them enough. We had 106 people on our texting group we could call at any stage, within a threemile radius.’
He adds: ‘We’ve had our share of losses at sea and we understand the importance of finding the bodies. We never asked why or what happened — we just wanted to return the bodies to the families.’
But their wishes weren’t to be and after 42 days, the search was wound down.
John says: ‘It was tough winding down the search but it wasn’t our call. The biggest day of disappointment was the day the wreck was lifted and the bodies weren’t attached. We kept it going but eventually the Gardaí closed it all down. The volunteers gave blood sweat and tears, we went as long as we could.’
This weekend, a team of 100 cyclists from Ballyglass Coastguard Unit, An Garda Síochána and Belmullet Cycling Club will pedal from Dublin to Blacksod, in memory of the heroes, arriving on Sunday evening.
Early next week, the families will join their friends here on Blacksod for a private hillside candlelit vigil, followed by a Mass the next morning and a wreath-laying ceremony at the Lighthouse.
Afterwards, they will join the Navy for an emotional wreathlaying ceremony at sea.
After an already hellish 12 months, the grief-wracked families are facing into another gruelling year. Having endured more pain this month, when the bad weather saw inquests postponed until the end of March, they are now anxiously awaiting the final report from the Air Accident Investigation Unit (AAIU).
A damning preliminary report into the accident raised major failings, including that the warning system to avoid crashes into terrain did not include Blackrock Island on its database. As the true story of what really happened to Rescue 116 emerges over the coming months, the heroes will undoubtedly dominate the news cycle once again.
But before then, the families will return to Blacksod, to once again huddle close with the villagers who kept them warm and held them up as their worlds collapsed around them.
‘The volunteers gave blood, sweat and tears’