Buoyant Gibson survives shipwreck

EDITOR's NOTE: This article originally published in The Advocate on Aug. 24, 2011. To view original post, visit AccentAdvocate.com.

By Brett Abel, brettsabel@gmail.com

Charles Gibson has survived a career in law enforcement that has spanned 30 years. But during his Fourth of July vacation he faced the greatest threat of his life.

Along with 26 others from the Bay Area who "love to fish," Gibson said, he took an annual trip to Mexico to catch big deep-sea fish.

This was the seventh vacation the friends had taken together and the third year the group went to San Felipé, a fishing town on the eastern coast of Baja California.

"It was the same ship, same captain, same crew," said Gibson, 54, who has been chief of Contra Costa Community College District Police Services for five years.

The trip was almost routine: drive down with a couple coolers each, and also fishing gear and clothing. Arrive in San Felipé on Friday and stay in the El Capitan Hotel on Saturday. Load gear into the 115-foot ship, the Erik. Caravan to a second parking area and come back in one truck.

Back on the vessel, the group would enjoy a day-and-a-half of open-sea fishing with a few guys in a 20-foot panga.

"There are two to three people in the middle of the Sea of Cortez in a little boat looking for fish," Gibson said. "It's part of the excitement, patrolling, getting big fish. It's challenging."

But this year they didn't even cast their lines.

Rude awakening

The sea was calm that weekend with no warning of danger.

"A couple even commented how calm the sea was," Gibson said.

He slept three decks below, waiting to go fishing the next day.

Suddenly, Gibson's cabinmate who he'd only met two days before, "Fish" Rich, woke him and told him to evacuate the sinking ship.

He ran to the deck, as the ship now leaned to the left side. Crew and vacationers alike pulled people off the boat before it capsized.

"I remember the look of terror in the eyes of people standing there," Gibson said.

Crew members ran out of life vests before Gibson could get one.

Before he could find an extra flotation device, a 40-foot wave yanked Gibson into the water.

"It is 2 a.m., I'm up and treading water," he said. "I was in my birthday suit, under water thinking, ‘Gee, this water is warm.'"

Out of Gibson's left eye he saw the Erik sinking stern first.

"It was like the Titanic," he said. "The ocean just swallowed it."

With the ship gone, so were any artificial lights.

"It was pitch black," he said. "There are no lights in the middle of the ocean."

Kicking to keep his head above water, Gibson found a cooler floating in the water and grabbed hold.

He heard yelling all around. People were confused and panicking, not just from being stuck in the sea without a boat, but also burning from the Erik's leaking gas and diesel fuel.

Gibson joined a group of six survivors, four fishermen and two crewmen, who tied three coolers together.

So close yet so far

Five miles away, they saw lights on the horizon and two islands, one to the left, one to the right, each about 3 miles away.

Gibson said the group focused on getting rescued.

"We were trying to get to the light and not focus on our plight. We could've died, been eaten by sharks," he said. "What else you got to do?"

Six of the seven took life vests and decided to head for land while one remained with the coolers.

As the six worked toward its goal, the water continued to split them further. Five took off like "Olympic swimmers" while Gibson used slower strokes, alternating between his sides and back.

But 15-foot swells and waves increased the feeling of isolation.

"It would go down and you can't see the island, then back up and you can see, back down and can't see anything," he said. "I couldn't see anyone. I was in the middle of the ocean alone."

Reason to live

He worked toward the island to the right. Swimming for hours not seeming to get any closer.

Stuck between two oases, nowhere near either, Gibson's mind wondered.

"I thought about a lot of stuff, mostly a reason to survive," he said. "Family, friends, work, whatever I could to motivate myself and keep going."

He explored the differences in boxing and mixed martial arts.

"In MMA you can tap out, but to tap out here meant death," he said. "Old boxers would fight until the end. There is something to be said about that."

As he floated like the red top of a fishing buoy, Gibson thought what it might mean to not make it.

"Lord, I've lived a good life and if it's my time, it's my time," he prayed. "If not, I'm going to fight like hell until I save myself."

‘Back to sleep'

Three hours later, Gibson was finally near the big rock.

Swimming closer and closer, Gibson's foot touched ground for the first time in nine hours.

He tried to make like a seal and climb atop the rocks. Once he got on, a wave came and knocked him off, onto a second rock and Gibson prepared for "the end."

But Gibson asked the Lord to give him a little push and a wave took him away from the rocks and pushed him toward a beachy area.

As the waves pushed him, he rolled once, twice and on the third thrust he crawled out of the water onto the island.

"It felt so good to finally be out of water," he said after spending 16 hours in the water. "I put my vest on a stick and collapsed from exhaustion for hours."

As he slept alone on the beach, the sounds of the waves crashing onto shore haunted his dreams.

"The waves would shake the island like an earthquake," he said. "When I closed my eyes it felt like I was in the water."

When he woke up, Gibson saw two men in boats and thought he might be saved, finally. But what he saw were merely two notorious albatross.

"Back to sleep."

His savior

Gibson's next sight was a friendly, familiar one, Fish Rich.

"Hey neighbor," he said stumbling across Gibson on the beach.

From the beach at 6 p.m. on July 3, Gibson saw what he'd been waiting for 16 hours: help.

"There were two guys in a boat picking up coolers like they were shopping at Wal-Mart," he said.

The villagers followed the debris trail from the ship and eventually ran into its survivors.

The boat dropped off four men and came back for the six remaining on the island with Gibson.

Eight men rode in the small boat with four coolers to shore.

A Mexican military helicopter took survivors to a hospital to treat their recent injuries, including dehydration and burns from exposure to the leaked fuels.

"It was a real scary period," Gibson said. "We didn't know how many people were lost or rescued."

Independence Day

The next day was July 4.

"It was the Fourth of July, but it didn't seem like it," Gibson said. "The Fourth of July is a happy time, a time for barbecues and fireworks. I was just happy to be alive."

As word circulated about the Erik's sinking, media swarmed Gibson and the other survivors.

The 19 at the El Capitan elected Gibson spokesman and he read a prepared statement and was interviewed on NBC's "Today" show.

"We had to craft a message, one voice, one goal: keep authorities searching for our friends," he said.

Ultimately, one died and seven people were never found and are presumed dead.

Little heroes

Jose Oliveira, who has worked with Gibson since he arrived five years ago as chief, said Gibson's high-survival mode is taught at the academy.

"In the police academy they teach you about the will to survive despite the circumstances," he said. "Chief Gibson is a very good example of never giving up on yourself."

Susan Sedillo, Gibson's administrative assistant at Diablo Valley College for four years, gathered cards and ordered a bouquet of cookies arranged into the shape of a foot, encouraging Gibson to get back on his feet.

"That was a life-changing experience for him," she said. "I'm sure he's changed in ways most of us will never know."

Between the 16 hours on his own in the sea and the month that passed since, Gibson has pondered life and priorities.

"There is a little hero in all of us that close to death and an appreciation for life and what is important," he said. "Material possessions, policy and procedure don't carry so much weight."

Among those heroes, Gibson remembers a 71-year-old man on the boat who saw life rafts tied up. He took a knife and went under the sinking ship to cut the boats loose.

"The guy who woke me up didn't have to," Gibson said. "Guys helping each other, pushing, pulling; it's heroic."