Saved from Galveston Bay
Fishing buddies rescued after two days stranded, clinging to oil platforms
RAYMOND Jacik clung for his life on the twisted remains of a gas platform that poked above the surface of Galveston Bay as waves pounded him against jagged pipes. For two days, Jacik held on to the platform deformed long ago by Hurricane Ike. His fishing buddy, Michael Watkins, was on another small platform hundreds of yards away. Both were cold and miserable.
“Please don’t let it rain,” Jacik prayed as he watched a storm gathering on the horizon. Moments later, temperatures dropped and huge waves began threatening to tear him away from his perch.
The friends had met two days earlier at Watkins’ house in San Leon. Watkins had the trailer carrying his 20-foot Larson outboard already hooked to the back of his Suburban when Jacik, who lived about a mile away near Dickinson Bay, arrived about 8 a.m. April 25.
Jacik followed in his pickup, and they drove a few blocks to Bayshore Park on Galveston Bay. The two friends, both clad in shorts and T-shirts, put the Larson in the water, started the 200-horsepower Suzuki outboard and headed into the bay for what appeared to be a good day for fishing.
For Watkins, 51, a retired construction worker, and Jacik, 49, a truck driver forced
to retire after a severe injury, this fishing trip seemed no different than hundreds of others they had made into the bay, which was tranquil on this clear, slightly breezy day.
They set out for a small gas platform about 4 miles offshore that they had fished near many times before. Watkins knew how dangerous the bay could turn. He forbade alcohol on his boat because a clear head was needed while on the bay. He kept his spark plugs clean and the Suzuki in top condition because a small boat with a dead motor could be sucked into the wake of one of the giant tankers that plied the Houston Ship Channel. They both donned life jackets.
By 8:30 a.m., they were anchored about 30 yards from the platform. Oil and gas platforms are favorite spots for fishermen because sea life tends to cluster around them. They could see the San Leon shoreline as they cast toward the small platform, about 4 feet wide with a pipe studded with valves rising several feet above it. They shed their life vests as they began fishing, as they had always done, a move they would come to regret.
They caught a stingray, a gafftop and a few hardheads during the first 20 minutes, then the anchor began to slide along the bottom. They tried to haul it up, and the line broke. Watkins eased the boat next to the platform, and they tied a line to it and allowed the boat to drift away so they could continue fishing. ‘No time to react’
They started to drift out when a swell seemed to come out of nowhere and dump water in the boat. Another followed within seconds, filling the stern with water. Then a wave struck the side and the boat went over, dumping Watkins and Jacik in the water.
Watkins was a poor swimmer, but an Igloo cooler smacked him in the face as he floundered and he grabbed its handles. The cooler kept him afloat and saved him from drowning.
“It was so fast, there was no time to react,” Jacik recalled.
Watkins still finds it hard to grasp.
“Who would have thought something like that could happen?” he said.
Watkins and Jacik made it to the platform, which barely had room for both of them on the flat metal lattice. The bay was suddenly turbulent, and the wind had risen.
They could see ships passing, and they waved their shirts at them. They saw dozens of vessels, but no one seemed to notice.
All day, they stood watching helplessly as boats passed, water surging up through the lattice and swells breaking over the platform. They were wet and chilled by wind.
They could see a large platform about a mile away that had two buildings on it. If they could make it to the big platform, perhaps they could find a radio, flares or at least a place to get out of the wind. The current seemed to be running toward the big platform. They could both hang on to the cooler and float there. Watkins was reluctant because it was risky. If they missed the platform, they could be swept into the bay with nothing but the ice chest to keep them afloat.
They considered it until late in the day and finally agreed to try it. They leaped together into the swells, each grasping a handle on the cooler. Watkins panicked. The water seemed to push against his chest, and he felt he couldn’t breathe.
He let go of the ice chest and flailed back to the platform. Watkins pulled himself back on top and watched Jacik and the ice chest drift out of sight. Families in turmoil
By 8 p.m., Sherry Watkins knew something was wrong. Her husband should have returned from fishing an hour earlier.
“I didn’t sleep at all that night,” she recalled.
Early the next morning she phoned a family friend, who advised her to call the Galveston County Sheriff’s Office. Sheriff’s Cpl. Chris Bryant arrived and stayed with her Tuesday until the U.S. Coast Guard took over search operations.
Sherry Watkins always believed her husband would be found.
“I never allowed myself to give up,” she said.
Deputies were uncertain who was with Watkins until they found the Suburban and the pickup at the boat launch. From the pickup license plate number, deputies determined that Jacik was with Watkins, and they were able to get his phone number.
Jacik lived alone with his 14-year-old daughter, Mahlea, who was worried when her father failed to return Monday evening.
“I just had the worst thoughts in my head,” she said. “You just don’t know. It’s so scary.”
Tuesday morning, a neighbor sent a text message saying a search was underway for her father. A sheriff’s deputy called about 9 a.m., telling her “that the possibility of finding him was not good and he was probably dead and I should prepare myself,” Mahlea recalled.
While the call plunged her into a deep sadness, a call from another deputy brightened her mood. He assured her that her father was tough and probably still alive. ‘Waiting for a shark’
Jacik tried to steer the cooler toward the big platform, but the current pushed him in the wrong direction. He tried to get to a smaller platform but was swept past it. Jacik feared he would be swept up in the bay. He saw a tangle of pipes poking above the water, his last chance. As he kicked toward the remains of the gas platform, he felt a sudden pain in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. Later, he would learn that he had suffered a heart attack. Despite the pain, he lunged for the platform and grabbed a pipe. He held on until the pain subsided. The ice chest floated away.
The pipes were rusted and jagged and the swells kept pushing him against them, cutting his back and his legs.
“I kept waiting for a shark to tear my leg off, there was so much blood in the water,” he said.
He stayed there all night, mostly thinking about his daughter. He wondered if he would ever see her again but remained determined.
“I would have held onto that pipe for a month if I had to,” Jacik said. “I remember saying to myself and God, ‘We’ve made it this far; I’ve got to make it.’ ”
Watkins, while cold and uncomfortable, felt secure on the platform and never doubted that he would be rescued.
“I was getting disgusted that I wasn’t found,” he said.
Despite their resolve, fear was ever present.
“Yeah, I was scared,” Jacik said. “You would bean idiot if you weren’t scared.”
Watkins put an arm through a T-shirt sleeve and waved it at passing ships all day Tuesday. Jacik, out of sight on the other platform, took his Tshirt off and waved it fruitlessly.
A Coast Guard helicopter found their boat floating bottom up Tuesday afternoon about 4.5 miles from where it overturned. Helicopters began flying search legs of 9 miles, each leg 400 yards apart, using the spot where the boat was found as a reference.
As darkness fell, Jacik could see the lights of searching vessels on the horizon. Then the storm struck.
Jacik found a rope hanging from the jumble of pipes and tied himself to a pipe just below the water. As the storm grew in intensity and the waves battered him, he turned to face the platform and curled his head toward his chest, shivering with cold.
Watkins wrapped himself around the standpipe, grasping valves.
The storm subsided by the next morning with Watkins and Jacik still clinging to life. ‘Thank God you’re here’
An MH-65D Dolphin with a four-member crew was running low on fuel as it made its last 9-mile pass before heading back to base at Ellington Field. By this time, all they expected to find were bodies. The overturned boat suggested the worst.
Lt. Joshua Scritchfield, co-pilot, was scanning from the left seat about 10:30 a.m. and saw something flapping on an oil platform.
“It didn’t look right to me,” he said.
Jacik watched the helicopter fly by and waved his soggy T-shirt furiously. He felt despair as it seemed to head away, but then it returned.
Lt. Zach Gross veered the helicopter to the left, and they came into a hover over Watkins. Gross kept his eye on the fuel gauge.
“There wasn’t enough time to mess around,” Gross said. “We had to be really efficient.”
Flight mechanic Nikki Moore secured rescue swimmer Jesse Weaver to a winch cable and lowered him to the water. Jumping was too risky because of the possibility of pipes or metal objects in the water.
Weaver unhooked and turned to Watkins.
“My name is Jesse, and I’m going to be your rescue swimmer today,” Weaver said. He told Watkins to jump, then swam him away from the platform. Moore lowered a basket, and Watkins was lifted to helicopter.
The helicopter moved to Jacik’s platform, where he had climbed onto the pipes.
“Thank God you’re here, man. What do you want me to do?” Jacik said to Weaver.
In a few minutes, he was aboard the helicopter for the 10-minute flight to the Coast Guard base where ambulances were waiting. One took Watkins to Bay Area Regional Hospital; another took Jacik to Clear Lake Regional Hospital. Finally reunited
Sherry Watkins got a call from the Coast Guard: “I have some really good news for you. We found them and they are OK.” She rushed to the hospital and found her husband.
“I walked in the room where he was and I just grabbed him,” she said.
The call to Jacik’s family went to Mahlea’s grandparents, who phoned her with the news. The family hurried to the hospital.
“He wasn’t supposed to get up, but he sat up and I hugged him,” Mahlea said.
On Thursday, Jacik and Watkins were invited to the Igloo Products Corp. plant in Katy where coolers like the one that saved their lives are manufactured. Each was given a cooler to replace the one they lost.
On Friday, they visited the Coast Guard base at Ellington Field to be reunited with the air crew who rescued them and the planners who coordinated the search. The fishermen hugged each of the Coast Guard men and women involved and invited them to a celebratory barbecue at the American Legion Post 291 in San Leon.