I nearly died the other day.
I’m fine, I have minor injuries and still hav trouble walking because of severe muscle cramps in my calves, but I’m OK. If you want to hear the full story, read on.
On Monday, December 12, 2022 we set out around noon to a remote beach in Puerto Rico, called Playa Escondida. Drew, Loic and me were shooting all day while the rest was enjoying the beach, we were done just as the sun set behind the backdrop of coconut palm trees and lush tropical vegetation. It was an incredibly beautiful beach, one of the best I’ve ever been to.
Exhausted from a long day of shooting in the sun, I went for a swim as soon as we were done with the shooting. Mattias warned me that there were strong currents and I didn’t take his warning as serious as I should have. I got caught by a rip current and got pulled out towards the open sea, away from the shore, after just a few seconds of swimming. I realized what was happening instantly. I’m a certified rescue diver and that only makes this more embarrassing, as I should been aware of the danger. And I have been in currents before, both under water and above the surface, but nothing like this. Ever.
At least I knew what I had to do: swim parallel to the coast rather than fight against the current, stay calm, save your powers. I decided to swim towards the East, because I was closer to that end of the 10km wide bay, but after a while I realized that I wasn’t getting anywhere… somehow the current was drawing in all directions, all at the same time, just not towards the shore. 15 minutes after I got into the water, I realized that I wasn’t going to get out without help, and so I was waving the international SOS sign at my bandmates on the shore, while yelling “help”, “mayday”, “lifeguard” and “get a boat!”. My bandmates were yelling back at me but I couldn’t understand what they were saying, and so I wasn’t sure if they understood me either. And so I kept screaming and waving, knowing that all this was essentially exhausting me quicker and taking time away from staying alive… but I needed my guys to know where I was.
I saw a piece of driftwood, and managed to get a hold of it. It was a trunk of about 15cm diameter and it was thoroughly soaked, so without much buoyancy, but it was something to hold on to and save energy. At one point I was relatively close to the shore and heard David yelling “help is coming”. That was a relief, at least they understood the situation, and so I was like ok, hang in there and wait it out… but I didn’t know what type of help was coming— a boat? A lifeguard with one of these motorized boogie boards? A helicopter?
The water was warm, and that was a good thing. No risk of hypothermia. Sweat was dripping from my forehead, the swimming was challenging in the current and waves were occasionally crashing over my head.
And then I ended up in a dead calm spot, it was creepy… the waves yielded to completely calm and idle waters, but the peace was treacherous. All of a sudden there was a strong undertow that pulled me under water, I couldn’t do anything. I got back to the surface after 15, 20 seconds, but I lost my piece of driftwood, and this was the first moment of panic. I was panting, I swallowed water, I was tired. I had been in the water for about an hour at this point, and despite swimming parallel to the coast, I was further away then 30 minutes ago.
I didn’t want to get back into this dead calm spot with the undertow, which was probably because of rocks in the water causing a swirl, a massive natural whirlpool, and so I decided to try the other direction: still parallel to the coast, but this time towards the West. This also meant that I had been wasting my time for the past hour, and I was now swimming towards the wide open end of the bay, some 10km in the distance.
I saw a black rock looking out of the waves, it was popping up from time to time and disappearing again, but it was real and I swam towards it. I tried to stand on it, but the surge was so strong that I only managed to stand up for a split second, waving at the shore, before I fell. I tried a few more times but I realized that it was more exhausting than swimming, and so I gave up. At this time it was almost completely dark and I saw my bandmates at the shore had turned on their phone lights. They were still there, but further away. I saw planes in the sky, taking off somewhere close, but they were too high, they weren’t here for me. There was no moon at all, and soon it would be pitch black.
A first cramp shook my left calf. I was still fine, but waves were washing over my head more frequently at this point, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was getting tired or because I was further away from the shore and the waves were getting bigger; probably a bit of both.
Going West wasn’t taking me anywhere either, I was going further and further away from the shore. I managed to grab another piece of driftwood, but it was much smaller and with even less buoyancy, it was a part of a palm leaf. It was just a little more than nothing.
2 hours after I got into the water, I found myself dead tired in the Atlantic Ocean on a black, moonless night. I lost hope. I said goodbye to my loved ones, loud and clear, to an audience of noone. I always laughed about the anecdote how French poet and lifetime atheist and blasphemist Arthur Rimbaud converted to Christianity on his deathbed, but I actually prayed… Get me out of this alive, I’m not ready to die yet. I have a lot of shit to do still. I was desperate. I felt like there was nothing else I could do. The waves were getting bigger and the lights of my bandmates phones were still there, but now very distant. I had stopped yelling and waving a while ago.
Time slowed down. My movements were becoming less in quantity and intensity, and it took me a while to notice the sound of a helicopter in the distance. I knew it was here for me. It was cruising over the bay with search lights, and I was screaming “yes” to an audience of no one. The helicopter came towards me and I thought they saw me as I was in the cone of light, but the helicopter flew right over my head and disappeared towards the other end of the bay. I was frantically screaming “come back” over and over again, again at an audience of no one.
It came back 10 minutes later and at that point the waves had gotten huge and I was regularly going under water, my breath had become shallow, I swallowed a lot of water, I was panting, gasping, and furious. I knew I was drowning and it pissed me off, so I couldn’t help but scream until the next wave would silence me. Fear of death is a strong motor. It gives you tremendous strength even when you have none left, it’s a weird metaphysical power.
The helicopter came back and I waved and screamed but again it flew over my head… and when it came back another 10 minutes later, I couldn’t wave or scream anymore. My only hope was that it would see me regardless. It hovered about 100m away from me and suddenly I was in the middle of the cone of light. I thought that they must have seen me now but I still wasn’t sure, and I knew I had close to no time left. My breath was shallow as fuck and I was swallowing a lot of salty water. I was thinking “why don’t they come closer? Why don’t they throw me a fucking rope?”
Then another light popped up coming from the open sea: a boat.
Drowning is a long process and at this point I was well underway, probably spending 60% of time with my mouth above the surface and 40% below. I didn’t see the small boat for a while as I was struggling staying afloat, but then all of a sudden it was there, right in front of me. Someone threw a safety buoy at me. I grabbed it. I fucking grabbed it and I was laughing frantically as I put me head and right arm through it. This is it. Pull me out.
I didn’t manage to put my other arm through it. A massive wave rolled up towards the boat from behind, and the last thing I saw was the top of the boat, about 5 meters away, straight up right above me. The wave hit and smashed down on the boat and myself. I went under water and felt the boat hit my right shoulder. I was whirled around under water and the only thing I was thinking was “hold on to this goddamn thing (the life buoy) whatever it takes: don’t let go. I hit rocks, with both legs, feet and knees and with my back, 2 or 3 times. I didn’t feel any pain. I held my breath for what felt like more than a minute. After I hit those rocks, everything was happening in ultra slow motion. I didn’t know where the surface or the bottom was because I was hurled around and lost any sense of orientation, but at one point I felt the pressure in my ears gradually relieving and I knew the buoy that I was hugging like a teddy bear was pulling me towards the surface. It did, and I breathed. I was relatively close to the boat still and tried to shout but I couldn’t anymore. Nothing was coming out of my throat. They saw me regardless. They pulled half of my body on the back part of the boat and one of the guys was yelling at me in Spanish that I should push myself up. I couldn’t and I yelled back: “fuera, fuera, vamos!!!” We were still close to those rocks and the next wave of this kind would annihilate us altogether. “Vale”, the coast guard dude said and signaled the captain to give it full throttle towards the open sea. I think it was against protocol, as half of my body was still hanging off the boat and in theory I could have gotten my feet into the boat motor, but I didn’t care much about my feet at this stage.
30 seconds later they slowed down and pulled me into the boat, between 2 massive waves. I knew I was safe then. They asked me if I was ok. I couldn’t talk, I just nodded. Only then I realized that I was bleeding from multiple wounds on both legs and couldn’t angle my left leg, but none of this mattered.
I looked at the stars above me and after a few minutes I could engage in conversation with the nice folks who risked their lives to save my stupid ass. I felt incredibly thankful and ashamed all at the same time. Ernesto was the guy who pulled me out of the water. I gave him a bear hug and invited him to our show on Wednesday. “Como se llama to banda”, he asked me, “The Ocean” I replied and he laughed out loud… “que irónico!”
The waves were immense, 8-10 meters is a rough guess, I had never seen anything like this before. The captain had to constantly slow down and accelerate again to avoid the beatings. My earlier desperate prayer had now taken animistic turns: this was an angry Atlantic Ocean out here taking revenge for my escape, I thought. At least I was too fucked to get sea sick.
We reached the harbor 20 minutes later. It was 8.30, I had been in the water for 2 and a half hours. My wounds looked bad but were mostly superficial. I was coughing for 2 hours and my throat was sore from swallowing salty water, which caused diarrhea luckily only after I got back to the shore. I couldn’t walk because both legs were shaken by cramps… but I was alive.
A couple of factors determined my survival.
Ernesto told me that this was their 4th mission on that particular beach in the last 10 days… and twice they couldn’t find the swimmer in distress and had to return without them.
Every day of my life after this one is a bonus day.