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It's an ocean channel that separates the Indonesian island of Sumatra from the Mentawi archipelago. For much of the year, this 100-mile-wide waterway is busy with charter boats ferrying surfers to and from the islands, a paradise of palm-fringed beaches and perfect waves. Today, however, there isn't a boat in sight. Little wonder. These waters are also notorious for their unpredictable currents, strong winds, and treacherous reefs.
So when the passage is like it is now, churned up by stormy weather, even seasoned sailors steer clear. Except there is something out here in the waves, or rather someone. 50-year-old Brett Archibald is trying desperately to keep his head above water. These massive, massive swells were coming and on top of each swell is a big foaming ball of water. So while I was just treading water, those things would hit me and push me under and I'd be tumbling over and over.
Half the time I couldn't work out if I was going up or down. Without so much as a scrap of driftwood to cling to, he's been keeping himself afloat for hours, treading water and praying for a miracle. I'm really battling. I'm swallowing so much water. I'm cramping so badly. I'm going up, down, and I'm just thinking, I've got to keep positive. I've got to keep positive. Brett estimates that the nearest land must lie some 50 miles southwest. Maybe he can swim that far.
At the very least he has to try. But it's not just what lies ahead, it's what lurks below. Out of nowhere, he feels something. A sharp blow to the torso. My first thought was, oh my god, it's a barracuda because they are so prolific over there in that ocean. He peers down into the dark water and sees nothing. Just his own pale legs kicking. But just as he's about to turn and continue swimming, he feels a heavier blow from something far bigger than a barracuda.
And then this thing pushed me. It didn't hit me. It pushed me in the water. And I thought, "That's not a barracuda." This is the most horrific feeling. And my mind just said, "This is a shark. It's a shark." Never wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice? Welcome to Real Survival Stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives.
In this episode we meet South African surfer Brett Archibald, whose hopes for a memorable holiday come true, but for all the wrong reasons. During a stormy crossing, he is swept overboard into the Indian Ocean. "The next minute I woke up and I was in the middle of the ocean watching my boat sail away." In the dead of night, without a life jacket and 50 miles from shore, Brett has only one thing going for him: his indomitable will to survive.
I'm John Hopkins from Noisa This is Real Survival Stories. It's 2am on April 17th 2013. A surf charter boat, the Naga Lau, lurches over the choppy waters of the Indian Ocean. Below deck, Brett tosses and turns in his bunk. He can't sleep. He's soaked in sweat and his head is spinning. Lifting a corner of the curtain, he peers through the porthole.
Beyond the driving rain, he can just make out the boat's red navigation light reflecting off the surface of the massive swell. He rolls back over, groaning, holding his stomach. Some start to a holiday. Brett and eight friends are on their way to the Mentawis, a group of islands a hundred miles off the west coast of Sumatra. They've been coming here for years. Two weeks of surfing, drinking, and catching up in the sun lie in store. But for Brett, surfing is more than just good fun.
surfing is my, I find being in the ocean is my church. I've always seen it as mine. And it's so funny. I always sit in the ocean and I feel like that's my direct line to God. You know, I feel closest to God, one with nature. And I always chat, you know, I talk about my woes and issues and good things and bad things. And that's always been my go-to place, you know, when things are really going bad in my life.
And this year, things have been going especially badly. Back home in Durban, South Africa, problems at work almost forced Brett to cancel the trip. I phoned the guys and said, look, I can't come, my business is in trouble. And they were all like, no, you really need to go. And to the point, I sat and discussed it with my wife, Anita, and she'd said to me, Brett, look, I really think you should go. It's just, go for two weeks, clear your mind, come back, and then we can address all the issues with the business.
This year everything feels different. Aside from Brett's issues, the atmosphere among the group is subdued, somber in fact. A very good school buddy of ours had passed away and his funeral was going to be during the time that we were away so that was quite a stressful situation for most of us. And then on the Friday
very close friend of mine called us and said listen guys I'm off the trip and we said like what are you talking about and he'd just been diagnosed with stage four melanoma in his back that had to be operated on immediately we all had so much stuff going on in our minds you know it was quite a poignant time for all of us and that was all you know once we got together that's we all talked about you know Ed not being on the trip Rob having passed away so it was a I would say a
a melancholy group of guys when we got on the boat to head out. They're all getting older. At 50, the aches and pains from a full day in the ocean take longer to shake off, as do the hangovers. Still, they vowed to make the most of the trip. But from the moment they landed in Indonesia, things had been going wrong. The Naga Lau was late collecting them from the port town of Padang. By the time the boat arrived, darkness had fallen and the weather was getting worse.
Impatient and hungry, in the interest of time, they decided to skip the chef-cooked dinner on board and order pizzas instead. We got these calzone pizzas, three big, big calzone pizzas for the nine of us, three to a pizza. And to this day, I can still see them cutting that pizza open and the meat inside, it was just pitch black. It stank. We found out afterwards it was water buffalo meat. It wasn't even...
genuine beef and it just stank, it was rancid. Now rocking back and forth in his bunk Brett clutches his stomach. He only had a couple of bites, it was enough to get food poisoning. Meanwhile the nagalau continues to sway unsteadily over the rolling sea. It was one of the worst storms in many many years in that stretch of water. Five boats had gone out that night
Four international skippers and our local boat, local boat skipper, the four international guys all took heed of the weather, turned around and went back to harbour. Our guy just kept going. Brett kicks off his blankets and heaves himself out of bed. Then he staggers upstairs to the cockpit. He finds the captain wrestling with the wheel, trying to maintain a course. I saw our little dot on the GPS and we were not even halfway into the crossing.
Brett turns away. He needs some fresh air.
Emerging on the top deck, the ocean spray is bracing against his feverish skin. He spots his friend, Banger, lying stretched out on a bench nearby, a pool of vomit by his side. Another pizza victim. The boat's night watchman is up here too. Incredibly, despite the conditions, he's slumped on a chair, asleep, snoring away happily. Suddenly, Brett's stomach gurgles and churns. He rushes to the side.
I went to the barrier, the railing and I was holding on and I started vomiting and I vomited once, twice, three times and I just remember the third time I vomited I thought if I vomit like that again I'm gonna pass out. Brett opens his eyes as his head emerges from the water. He sucks in a deep breath. He paddles furiously, instinctively to stay afloat. Where on earth is he? What the hell is going on? For a split second he gets a glimpse of the starry night sky and thinks he's dreaming.
then a wave crashes over him filling his nose and mouth with seawater and then when my head popped up to the surface again and i suddenly in the cool air hit my face in a couple of yards 50 yards in front of me there was my boat and i was in the water he must have blacked out for a second after all from the exertion of the vomiting and fallen overboard but before he has time to process another wave engulfs him
As I lifted my head, I just got smashed on top of the head by this really big wave and pushed under and I was just tumbling around and there were times I was swimming thinking I'm clawing my way to the top and then next minute my ears would start getting sore and I was going the wrong way and I'd have to turn and swim back up coughing, spluttering, and you're coughing, spluttering and then another wave hits you and you just get pushed under and come up. The nagalau is chugging away. He can still make out Banga lying on the deck. The night watchman still asleep in his chair.
Brett calls out, but his voice is swallowed by the waves. And something speeds past him. It's the small tender boat being towed along behind the main vessel. And I put my head down and I tell you what, I don't think I did more than 10 strokes, but I swam with everything I had. I lifted my head up and the tender boat was now 50 yards in front of me. And in that moment, I just knew. Soon all he can see of the Nagalau is its blinking red navigation light until that too disappears into the blackness.
And my heart rate was over 180 beats a minute. And I remember thinking, "This is too terrible. This is adrenaline. Adrenaline's keeping me going. The moment this adrenaline runs out, I'm just going to sink like a stone to the bottom." And I remember just thinking, "Brett, you have to calm down. You have to calm down." Somehow, he keeps his head. Fortunately, the adrenaline and the endorphins are suppressing the nausea, for now at least.
But as he treads water, despair begins to fill him up. It's amazing how quickly our brain can think. And these thoughts are just firing through my brain. I knew that I was too far from land. I couldn't swim that far. I knew there weren't going to be any boats coming to rescue me. It was the middle of the night. It was the middle of the morning, 2.30 a.m. I'm thinking nobody's going to see me. I just knew this is where I was going to die.
I said goodbye to my wife, to my daughter, to my son. My daughter was nine years old and my son was six. And, you know, I was saying goodbye to them. And then when I got to my son, you know, it was like he'd been, he'd had a really tough birth. He'd had a virus that attacked his heart. And in a weird way, I thought, you know, my wife and daughter are going to be okay, but my son needs a dad. You know, I have to fight for him. Brett rallies. His legs start motoring again. He can't quit yet.
He remembers seeing the GPS locator back on board in the cockpit. They were right in the middle of the Mentawi Strait. That means he's about 50 miles from land. Given the rough conditions, it's unlikely any more boats will pass by tonight. His best hope is that one of his mates realizes he's missing, but that might not be till morning. He starts doing the maths in his head. Worst case scenario, no one realizes I'm missing until they get there.
I gave myself a 14 hour thing and I remember saying to myself, all I have to do is survive for 14 hours. Now, how am I going to do that? Without a life jacket, Brett will only stay afloat for as long as his body can hold out. Meanwhile, the storm is refusing to abate. Treading water is becoming increasingly difficult. He needs to change tack. So I decided to just swim breaststroke, just swimming.
Count, pull my arms, 1001, kick my legs, 1002. Pull my arms, 1003, kick my legs. And I just started this repetition, just took my mind off anything else other than doing that. I could see these balls of water coming. I could take a breath. I could dive under, come out the other side. And that ended up being a lot less fun.
physically demanding than just treading water and not being able to see where the waves were coming from. So whilst I wasn't swimming to get somewhere, I was swimming to just keep my head above water and be able to breathe. Brett fell overboard in just a t-shirt and board shorts. The shirt's only weighing him down, so he pulls it off and discards it. He continues swimming for the next three hours. He's a physically fit 50-year-old.
a keen long-distance runner and cyclist, and decades of surfing have built up the strength in his arms, shoulders, and lungs. Maybe, just maybe, he can stay alive long enough to be found.
I remember just looking skywards and berating God. I mean, I was screaming at Him, "Why have you put me in this place? This is so unfair. I've only been married for 10 years. My kids are young. I'm not going to see them grow old." And I remember just looking skywards and saying, "God, I'm going to survive this. You've got to help me here, buddy. I've got to survive this." At around 6:00 a.m., not that Brett knows the time, the sun begins to rise somewhere behind the thick, gauze-like clouds. Dawn has arrived, and with it,
a break in the weather. The storm abated to the point where it wasn't those big rolling crashing waves, it was just more these massive big swells, these undulating swells. I'd go down into a trough and then up the other side and down. With the sun obscured, Brett has no way of knowing which direction is south, towards the Mentawis. He could easily be swimming the wrong way. If only he had some means of getting a heading. He feels inside the pockets of his shorts. His hand closes around something,
The key card from the hotel in Jakarta. He looks at the flimsy shred of plastic in disgust, useless. And I threw this piece of plastic in the ocean thinking there's nothing I can do with it and in front of my eyes the plastic just goes pulled away from me and I suddenly realized current, current, current. Now he knows the ocean is pulling him south like a conveyor belt. That little piece of plastic
became my godsend. Every time I got tired, I'd check that I was going the right way. I knew the current went north to south. It's going to take me down to the islands. I'm going to hit the islands if I just manage to stay on this current. And that gave me such a positive mindset all the time. The hours drift by. Stroke, kick, stroke. To keep his mind occupied, Brett has conversations with people from his past, old friends and school teachers. He sings, too.
If I ever sang a song that had a negative connotation or was a negative song, my mind just said, "Bad song, stop it. Sing happy songs." And I only just sang happy songs. I counted, I talked to people, and it was so weird. I mean, those first six, seven, eight, nine hours just went by. Every now and then, the rain showers down. Brett flips onto his back and lets the drops land in his mouth. Against all odds,
is rising to the challenge. It just has to keep moving. Hour 9 morphs into hour 10, hour 11 into 12. It's incredible what our minds and our bodies can do. I kept thinking the moment the pain became too much, it's just when the mind takes over, you just say, you know what, you can't cry about this. There's no choice. You've got to work your way through this pain. You've got to work your way through the cramps. You've just got to keep going. And the only way you can do that is by keeping swimming.
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By 4pm, Brett has been in the water for nearly 13 hours. His muscles throb, his shoulders and hips burn, and his back aches. How long can he really keep this up? As his resolve wavers, he catches sight of something through the drizzle. I go up over this large swell and in the distance I see this boat coming. And then I go down into the trough and then I go up again and I see this boat. And it's far away, but it's this tiny little speck on the horizon. As the speck gets closer,
Brett recognizes the royal blue hull, the familiar shape of the bow and stern. This boat gets larger and larger and larger and suddenly there is my boat and it stops. It's the Nagelao. I can see Banga on the top deck. I can see Niall Hegarty, another friend of ours.
And I'm having all these thoughts in my mind of being rescued. Are we going to be talking about this for the rest of our lives? Are we going to be laughing? In a couple of minutes, I'm going to be drinking beer with the guys. We'll talk about this. We'll laugh. Carried on the current, Brett soon drifts to within 100 yards of the Nagalau. He waves his arms and screams at the top of his lungs. He can see Banger and the others peering over the railings on the port side. What are they looking at? Whatever they've seen, it's not him.
Brett drifts right past the bow, still yelling. Then he's at the stern. He keeps yelling until his throat is raw, but the wind and the rain are drowning him out. The current is pulling him away. Any minute now, he'll be past them. I am screaming. I am screaming to the point I think my lungs are going to come out of my throat. I'm just, hey, guys, hey, hey. And I'm looking, and then I suddenly realize they're not coming to get me.
Brett swims with everything he's got, but when he stops and lifts his head, the distance between him and the vessel has only increased. And I just watched them sail away, and then this storm, this tropical storm, I'll never forget this black, black, black cloud just came sweeping across the ocean, passed over my head, enveloped the boat, they were gone. Brett bobs in the undulating swell, staring at the empty horizon as the storm clouds draw in.
Salvation was right there, literally within touching distance. Suddenly Brett feels a flash of pain on his leg, then another on his arm, his chest, then everywhere. And the next thing, my throat and my neck and my back and my shoulder just on fire and I drifted into this hole. Everywhere I looked was just all these Portuguese man of war. He's surrounded. All around him are pink and purple translucent blobs with thick tentacles.
Such is his despair now. As the venom burns his skin, Brett actually welcomes them. At least they offer a clarity to his fate. And they were stinging me and I was so happy. I knew how I was going to die and I just, at last I had the answers. These things were going to sting me to death and I was going to sink to the bottom. Brett surrenders himself to the swarm of Portuguese men of war. But while his mind submits to their poisonous tendrils, his body refuses.
Almost counter to his own conscious will, his survival instinct kicks in. I remember pulling them off my throat and around my shoulders and my hands were all on fire. I was swearing at Portuguese man of war. I was talking to sea creatures, you know, like, "If you bow me, you're not going to put me down. I'll show you." And that got me so energized. I tell you what, I thought I could swim forever.
It's like a short circuit, firing up his brain, restoring life to his tired limbs. Brett swims hard and escapes the swarm. Now he's back on course, on his impossible journey south, towards the distant islands. He uses the hotel keycard to keep himself oriented, checking the southerly current. Hour 15 turns to hour 16, then hour 17. Resilience. It's something Brett developed at a young age. He had to.
When he was 11 years old, he discovered his father bleeding in the bathroom. He had just attempted to take his own life. And my life at that moment changed forever. I became the head of the house. My dad was diagnosed at that stage with manic depression, which became, as known today and very common, lots of people called bipolar. And so we lived in a family with that around us all the time. And certainly that changed.
that mental strength from that moment on that I had to have in keeping our family together and doing what I could do to keep the family together and everything else was certainly played a role. You know, I have no doubt that the ability to put all my thought processes into place and just focus on specific things to keep going came from that background. As Brett continues pushing himself through the water, he is still suffering the effects of food poisoning.
As the adrenaline wears off, the vomiting and diarrhea return. And yet minute after minute, hour after hour, he stays focused on his objective: just keep going. Later that afternoon, out of nowhere, he feels something against his back.
And then this thing hit me in my back left kidney. And my first thought was, oh, my God, it's a barracuda because they are so prolific over there in that ocean. They can devour a human being and they travel in packs, I'm thinking, or in shoals. And I'm thinking, oh, my God, it's a shoal of barracuda. But when the second impact comes, Brett realizes it's not a barracuda at all.
And I remember going under the water, I opened my eyes, the visibility was so amazing, that ocean is just, you can, it feels like 30, 40 meters, you can see. I just saw the shark coming at me and I remember going, "Oh my God, oh my God." And all I could think was, "You have to make this quick." And I lifted my head up and I said to the shark, "Just bite me, bite my neck off one go and then it's all over." But just then, he notices the distinctive dark coloring of the shark's fin.
I look and I see the fin of the shark and it's a black-tipped reef shark. I've dived in many places around the world. I've dived with black and white-tipped reef shark. They're nosy and they're inquisitive and they'll come and push you around, but humans are not their food. Then Brett recalls that these sharks tend to dwell in shallow coastal waters, which means he can't be too far from land. An outlandish idea starts to form in his mind. As this shark was coming to me,
I knew he was going to have a bite. I'll just shove my left arm down his throat because I can't catch a shark. That'll stop him. Then I can throw my right arm over his body and I'll just hold on. And his tail will just go and it'll be like a motor. And the motor will steer me to a reef. By hitching a ride on this shark, he'll cover the remaining 30 or so miles in no time. But in the few seconds it takes for him to formulate this madcap scheme, the shark turns tail and vanishes back into the murky depths.
And you know that's the only time I cried. I was like crying and I was like, "Please come back, please come back." Because it was the, since my boat had gone, it was the only thing I'd seen that could, that I thought could save my life, you know? He was gone, gone. The sky is still gray and overcast and then the last daylight fades. Went from daytime to nighttime, sunny like that, and I still remember, it was light just now, how come it's dark? And then I got so despondent again because I knew I just, there's no ways I can swim through another whole night.
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Sign up and download Grammarly for free at grammarly.com slash podcast. That's G-R-A-M-M-A-R-L-Y dot com slash podcast. Grammarly. Easier said, done. It's sometime around 9 p.m. The storm has passed, and the choppy waves have settled into long, gentle swells. Fragments of pale moonlight break through the clouds.
Suddenly I saw the stars.
I was a boy scout, I started doing, I saw the Sun and Cross, I did my turn a half times down, measured okay that's where south is, I worked out where north, east and west is. And then I remember seeing these three stars, they were in the ocean and I was like, my head was going up and down, I'm swimming, I think but stars don't, they're not in the ocean. And I suddenly remember thinking, oh my god that's land. And what it was, was these three villages in the jungle with just a pinprick of light showing
I'm going to hit land, I got pumped up, I'm so excited this is going to happen. It looked so close and in my mind I thought, oh, I can do this, you know, I can swim. Brett lines himself up with the distant lights and resumes swimming. The night rolls by and he keeps going. But sometime later, as he checks the lights again, he finds they're gone. Just like that, the current. It must have pulled him past the islands and out towards the open ocean. And then it was just pitch black again and I was like,
And in my mind, I'd been sucked down the Mentawi Straits and not hit land and I was now going into the main Indian Ocean. And at that point I realized, hey, if I hit the big ocean, I'm never going to hit land, there's not going to be boats, this is the end. Brett has been in the water for around 24 hours. He cracks, his limbs stop moving, hallucinations swim before his eyes.
I saw a Dutch East India pirate ship or these two guys, they were pirates. It sailed up to me. And I remember just treading water and I'm going, thank you for saving my life. And they said, swim. They even said, swim, young man, swim. And I remember going, thanks for the young brother. I'm 50 years old. He sees the Nagalau too, clear as day, real enough for him to swim right up to it and gaze into the faces of his friends who smiled down at him.
And I tell you what, I was at such peace, you know, I just said, "Hey, thanks for trying, guys. I saw you come back for me. We just didn't make it." I was at peace. I said goodbye to my family and I just let go, you know, and I went down. Brett slips under the surface, then sinks deeper and deeper into the void. He has finally lost consciousness. But as he descends, the pressure builds in his ears.
A sudden explosion of pain jolts him back awake. His eyes snap open and he thrashes his way back upwards.
I remember my brain just screaming and saying, "Brett, what are you doing? The sea is so calm. You've seen the lights. You've seen there's land there. Fight, boy, fight. It's going to be daytime soon. Fight, fight." And I remember just in this dark water, just my eyes closed, clawing my way to the top, coughing, spluttering, opening my eyes, and it was daylight. And I remember going, "This is bizarre." Back above water, Brett blinks in confusion at the golden dawn sky.
When did that happen? Somehow, he has survived the night. He remembers those elusive pinpricks of light. He squints towards the horizon, no sign of them. But he can make out something else. A faint, brown, smudge, dry land. He must have just lost sight of the lights in the water. Yet again, Brett summons his strength and strikes out for the islands. Soon, dizzy with exhaustion, he hears splashing and voices nearby. Another hallucination, no doubt.
When he turns around, he sees a small boat bobbing over the waves. And this time, it's real. I see a fishing boat. I see a little Indonesian fishing boat. I see the guys with their hand lines. I hear them. I try and scream, "Hey, guys, over here!" My tongue was so swollen,
So swollen that nothing came out of my mouth. And I remember going, Brett, come on, come on, just move your tongue. Just from having so much seawater in my mouth all the time, my tongue was swollen to like the size of a tennis ball. So I think, OK, I can't shout to these guys. I'm just going to swim up to them. But as Brett splashes their way, the oblivious fishermen start up their motor. This boat is practically within touching distance and they sail their way.
And that was the time that broke me. That broke me completely. I just have got nothing left and I make a conscious decision to end my life. I'm going to drown myself. I'm going to drown myself. I'm not going to let nature do it. I'm going to drown myself. And I remember swimming down and turning and actually lying prone with my arms out like on a cross and lying flat and looking up. And I remember thinking, my eyes are open. It's such a beautiful day. I don't think, probably about two meters, two meters below.
Under the water, I'm prone like this and I take this massive breath. And it was the most amazing thing. I filled my lungs with water. He has resigned to the prospect of dying. But once again, his body seems to have other ideas. As the salt water flows over his raw, swollen tongue, the pain causes him to cry out. He tries to inhale water a second time and a third, but he can't do it. And suddenly, his mindset switches again.
And I went, Brett, what are you doing? You stupid. It's a perfect day. Fight, man. Fight, fight, fight. And I remember swimming to the surface of the ocean and just vomiting water and coughing and spluttering. And I think, I've got to get this water out of my lungs. And I look up and I saw this black cross on the horizon. The sea is calm, calm, calm. I see this black cross on the horizon. And I looked at it and I went, and it was a cross, a black cross. Brett assumes he must be hallucinating again.
But as he looks closer, he realizes he isn't. The cross is in fact a mast with a sail furled. It's another boat sailing just a few hundred feet away. He needs to summon one final burst of energy. I made a pact to count to 300 without lifting my head. I count to 300 and then I'll lift my head. And one of two things will happen. That boat will be there and they'll see me and I'll get rescued or I'll miss it completely. I'll be so exhausted. I'll lift my head up
No boat, I'll sink to the bottom. And I put my head down and I swam. When he reaches 300, he lifts his head, gasping for air. The boat is still some distance away and he's completely out of energy now. He sinks low in the water, staring at the vessel in desperate hope, willing them to just see him. And I heard this roar come off their boat. All the whole crew, he'd obviously said, there he is. And
The bow of the boat turned towards me and they're coming at me and they said, "I came out of the water like a water polo goalie." I remember it. I just saw the boat turn. They're coming straight at me. They were all pointing at me. I knew they had seen me. And I remember just coming out the water, waving like this. And as I was going back underwater, I remember putting my hands like this and just saying, "Thank you, God. Thank you, God. Thank you, God." The next moments are a blur. Brett feels arms pulling him up out of the water.
He feels the smooth plastic of an orange lifebuoy. Then, after 28 hours adrift in the Indian Ocean, Brett is hauled onto the deck. His rescuers are the Australian crew of the Baron Joey, another surf charter and one of several boats that have been scouring the strait for him. I remember just going, Aussie, Aussie, Aussie. I love you guys. I love you guys. I'm moving to Australia tomorrow. Where do you live? Where do you live? Thank you. Thank you. And I mean, they said I was just like a man possessed.
but brett's euphoria belies the grave condition his body is in the medic on board restores his fluids with a saline solution then he starts performing a kind of heimlich maneuver forcing the sea water from brett's lungs i would have been dead in two hours i've learned a lot about it now because i'd filled my lungs with water my lungs were so full of salt water i i would have been dead in two hours of secondary drowning if those doctors hadn't
turned me over and literally hammered the water out of my lungs. The crew simply cannot believe they found Brett alive. They fully expected to be retrieving his dead body, if they found anything at all. His survival is remarkably, utterly improbable. On top of everything else, when they take his blood pressure, the medic finds he's come close to cardiac arrest. And I remember saying to the doctors, like, how much longer did I have to go? He said,
you defied all odds i mean you more than double the time we gave you but he said it honestly wouldn't have been another longer than half an hour yeah i think i was right at the end but here i am even an olympic swimmer would only be expected to last 16 hours at most just how he kept going is still regarded as something of a medical mystery the australian boat returns to land
And in the coming days, Brett flies home to South Africa, where he's reunited with his loved ones. I definitely suffered radically from post-traumatic stress syndrome.
There were times, one time I was driving home from work, I lived right on the coast, I saw that there was a storm over the ocean where I lived. I mean, I ended up, found myself in the rain. I parked on the side of the road, I climbed down on the rocks, sat by the ocean. I was just getting, the waves were washing over me. This is so bizarre. I mean, am I alive in my mind? At that moment, I hadn't survived. You know, I'd made all this up in my mind. I was dead.
But as time goes on, he notices other, more positive ways in which the experience has changed him. I think I've got a far stronger and a far closer relationship with God than I had before. And I'll keep growing that, you know, I'll keep working on that and finding answers there. My family, I think family is always a tough one. I'd been a very absent father. I try to change that.
I still make mistakes, but I think I'm a far better person from that perspective. I'd been very focused on career and money and everything. I made a pact never to chase money again and make it my most important priority in my life. I mean, my life changed 180 degrees in every aspect of the way I look at the world, what I want out of the world. I have to be honest, it's not easy. You know, we human beings, we fail, but I...
I made three things my priority and I call them my three F's, my faith, my family and my friends. And I'm only going to focus on those three F's. It just gave me such massive faith back in mankind and human nature and just our power and the will of the human spirit. The human spirit is the most incredible thing on this planet. And we don't, typical of humans, we focus on all the negatives as opposed to the positives. So that is what I try to do every day of my life.
In the next episode, we meet Alex Messinger. He's a Minnesotan teenager who journeys into remotest Canada in search of true adventure. He never imagines he'll end up fighting for his life on the sub-Arctic tundra. Hundreds of miles from civilization, he and his friends will face a grueling journey back towards home. Alex must battle injury, infection, and the elements if he is to live to tell the tale. That's next time on Real Survival Stories.
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