Hello Folks,
Here is an account of what we did on [the day of the tsunami] and some afterthoughts.
7:20 a.m. Having put the alarm on snooze for the fourth time, we decided we'd better get up and get ready for work. I was working as tour leader on the boat that day but had a group of five private customers from Sweden to look after (three divers, two snorkelers). My wife, Oui, came along to help me with our private group. So we showered, set up the underwater cameras and then headed off to the pier.
8:00 a.m. The usual melee can be found at the pier, with numerous dive companies and hundreds of customers hanging around. This is the peak, peak time of year: it doesn't get busier than this. I had approximately 25 customers and about eight staff on our boat.
8:45 a.m. Having got everyone together (pick-ups coming from various different towns) we headed down the pier, onto the boat and off to Phi Phi. The mood was jubilant, with everyone looking forward to a great day's diving. With the Christmas hangovers gone, we just had calm seas and terrific scenery in front of us.
The trip to Phi Phi takes almost three hours, so after everyone had set up their diving equipment it was time to relax. Downstairs we were playing Finding Nemo, upstairs just fresh air and views.
10:30 a.m. The boat captain tells us that some of the boats going to other dive sites have had to turn back because of large waves and choppy seas. We find this almost unbelievable, as where we are located is beautifully calm.
More mixed reports come in [over the marine radio], although it is not clear exactly what has happened. The reports vary from "Earthquake at Racha Yai", a local small island, to "Large waves have destroyed Sarasin Bridge," the bridge connecting Phuket to the mainland. It later turns out that both reports were untrue. At this point we are still not sure of what has happened in Phuket or Phi Phi.
11:10 a.m. Phi Phi is in close view. Our dive sites are at two small islands (Koh Bida Nok/Nai) a couple of kilometres from the main Phi Phi islands. Normally at this time of day these dive sites have five to 10 dive boats from Phi Phi there. I am surprised to notice only one boat and assume that the others must all be hidden around the other side of these small islands. Time for the dive briefing.
11:45 a.m. Everyone is kitted up and ready to jump. We are still all completely unaware of what has happened, although there are now reports of some fishing boats sinking near Phuket. Just as we are about to enter the water, one of the crew points out a strange phenomenon about 400 to 800 metres away. There is a largish slow-moving area of brown bubbling water in the middle of the calm blue ocean. Expecting a possible thermocline bringing in dirty water, I warn everyone to stay close to their buddies in case the visibility drops.
11:51 a.m. The dive begins. Just before we descend, I comment on the good visibility and am genuinely excited about the prospect of a good, easy dive. This is a wall dive along the side of the island, with a small current to gently drift us along. With myself at the front, my three customers in the middle and my wife following up the rear, we descend down to about 16 metres.
11:53 a.m. I notice the visibility starting to drop down from about 15 metres to a couple of metres and, worried about the thermocline, bring the group shallower to about 5 metres. The small current that was allowing for a gentle drift suddenly increases rapidly and we find ourselves rocketed around the corner of the island.
Instantly, the current changes direction, and we are propelled backwards. Visibility is now down to less than a metre and I am thinking of aborting the dive only a few minutes in.
Next thing I know, another group of divers comes crashing into ours, and we all start to get sucked down and tossed around. Then we are pulled back up shallow then pushed down again: it is like being in a washing machine.
I instantly move close to the wall, where currents are generally weaker and motion for my divers to come over. Two are very close and manage to grab hold of the wall. The third momentarily disappears from view but a few seconds later reappears and joins the group.
My wife is nowhere to be seen. As she is also a dive instructor and very calm in the water I assume that she will make her way to the surface and switch my focus to the remaining three divers who are all relatively inexperienced.
I motion to the group to all link arms and then give the ascend sign. First we have to move away from the wall in case of waves at the surface bashing us against the island. As I expect, as soon as we move out, the waves and currents underwater start to throw us around. But with everyone linked together, I have only to focus on one thing: getting to the surface safely.
As a group we start to fin up. I am watching my depth gauge and note that we have already been sucked from 5 to 15 metres deep and so signal for everyone to fin harder. We have to be careful not to surface too quickly so as to avoid the risk of decompression sickness.
The four of us together form a stable pod and we slowly but surely make our way to the surface. I do not make my normal 5-metre safety stop, as I am concerned for my wife and the rest of the customers, too.
On reaching the surface we all get buoyant and I look around. There are divers everywhere and, to my relief, I can see my wife, Oui, about 20 metres from me.
The surface is choppy but not too bad. The boat gradually picks up the scattered dive groups, and I check that we have everyone back on board. There are still two groups missing, but they were dropped in a different place [from] the rest of us. We wait and eventually they, too, surface. I can now relax, knowing everybody is safely back.
12:30 p.m. Lunch is served and we turn on the TV on the boat. Now we start to see what has happened on the local news and are finally aware that it was an earthquake in Indonesia that has led to large waves being generated. We are still not aware of the catastrophe that has hit Phi Phi so badly.
After discussions with the captain, we decide to head back to Phuket but wait for the one other boat on the dive site to pick up their divers. The water around us is now a muddy shade of brown. Once the other boat is ready, we slowly head off together back towards Phuket.
16:30 As we approach the local Phuket harbour in Chalong, we see rows and rows of boats waiting in the deep water outside the pier. The local port authorities have deemed it to unsafe to approach the pier. We are now aware of the large waves but not of their impact. However, we wait patiently in the deep water, awaiting further news. Everyone on the boat seems calm and relaxed, surprisingly so, with only one customer getting frustrated that we can't get onto land.
18:00 Speedboats have been arranged and come out in pairs to pick up the customers and staff. We are transported to another small port, where it is considered safer to land. People are urged to move quickly and leave all dive equipment behind. Soon everyone is safely back on land and transportation is waiting to take people back to the head office.
It is now we start to understand the damage that has happened as those staying near the beach in Patong are told that they may not be able to return to their hotels.
19:30 Everyone has been taken back to their hotels or alternative arrangements are being made. My wife, Oui, and I head off home to shower and eat. We are exhausted but thankful to have returned safely.
The following day we start to realise the damage that has occurred. In Thailand, Phi Phi and Khao Lak are the main areas that have been hit, and the toll on lives lost increases with each hour. Many hotels and homes have been destroyed, especially in Phi Phi,where it has been reported that only two hotels have been left standing. In the relative scheme of things Phuket got off lightly, especially compared to places like Aceh although unfortunately many people died here, too.
Thankfully, there were many close escapes. One colleague was spending his day off down at the beach. He noticed the unusually low tide but thought nothing of it: having to walk out a kilometre to get waist-high water is quite common in parts of Britain [where he was from]. Suddenly, he noticed the water moving rapidly back in.
He started to run but was caught up in the water, thought he was going to die and then found himself in the top of a coconut tree. As he was thanking his good fortune a second wave came crashing in. A building next to the tree was swept over, crashing into the tree and knocking the tree over, too. As he fell towards the water, for a second time he thought his time was up. He was then swept against a palm tree and scrambled up it for his life. This time he was finally safe.
A couple of days after I am sitting in a bar with the Swedish friends I went diving with. We have out a map of Thailand and are trying to follow the path that the waves followed. We realise how lucky we were. An hour earlier, and we all would have been leaving the harbour. Most likely the boat would have sunk.
Also, when we think of our underwater experience, we realise that we only got caught in the rebound, not in the main surges. The tsunamis themselves would have passed right under us whilst we were in deep water. When you are in deep water you don't notice if the depth suddenly increases by 5 to 10 metres!
Many people in Phuket are now angry about the international press coverage. Certainly there has been some serious damage in and around Phuket, but nowhere near as bad as has been portrayed. You'd think that the whole island had been flooded, whereas the water actually only came in up to about 100 metres inland.
The areas most badly hit were those homes, businesses and resorts right on the beaches, hence the high levels of devastation at Phi Phi and Khao Lak. Press reports to avoid Phuket because of high risks of disease are unfounded and utter rubbish.
The cleanup operation is well under way. In many places, including Kata where I live, you wouldn't know anything had happened. The only sign of something untoward is the silent streets and deserted beaches.
There are not bodies lying unattended on beaches. There is not lack of medicine. The hospitals here are, in my view, better than those in the UK. As for lack of blood, one hospital even sent out a message asking people not to come to donate anymore, as their blood banks were full and they had nowhere left to store it.
The biggest disaster that can happen to Thailand now is if people stop coming here on holiday. The local economy here has been devastated, with thousands of people losing jobs, and many businesses on the verge of bankruptcy. And you have to remember that there is no social security in Thailand. If you don't work, then you don't get paid!
We would, therefore, encourage people to keep coming and support Thailand by spending your money here. It is a clean, safe place to be, just as safe, if not safer, than most other tourist destinations around the world. Don't let one unfortunate freak of nature and thousands of over-dramatic news reports put people off. The people in the Land of Smiles are still smiling . . . for now!
Iain Page
Sharkey Scuba
Phuket, Thailand
Greetings, DAN and Members:
I was in Thailand helping with international victim identification teams. I am sending you the following email from a longtime Thailand resident. It is not good to put out a blanket statement about not going to the disaster areas because there are many areas in Thailand that were not hit too badly. These people need tourists to come, or they will go bankrupt and only add to the disaster. Yes, people should not go to Koh Phi Phi or Koh Lak right now, but most of the other areas in Thailand are up and running and need tourists. The beaches are clean and empty. Prayers, money, and support for the survivors are always needed. Thanks for your support!
Dear Friend,
Phuket has just suffered a grave human tragedy, but now its people are again threatened. This new threat comes from educated Europeans, Americans, Australians and others -- most of whom know better, but have to compete and sell. Sell news.
A commercial approach to disaster news threatens immeasurable harm to the very survivors of this tsunami tragedy who need help from the West, not increased hardship.
The news broadcast by global satellite TV and news organizations in the past weeks has given the world the impression that Phuket, Thailand, has been wiped out by the tsunami and now lies in ruins. Unbalanced, almost unethical reports have been seen on famed channels, reaching millions of viewers. I have seen discussion of the situation in Phuket, for example, voiced over horrific background images of complete devastation stretching to the horizon but taken in Sumatra.
Phuket's reality is very different. Though a few hundred people were tragically killed by the tsunami on the beaches here, little of the island has been harmed by the waves. Here are more facts:
- Almost none of Phuket's infrastructure has been closed down.
- More than 80 percent of its hotel rooms remain open to business as usual. Only a small percentage of the restaurants, shops, bars and attractions have been disrupted.
- Few places suffered damage more than 100 metres from the beach.
- There is no shortage of drinking water, food or serious threat of disease (nor lack of helpful, smiling people).
Life in Phuket is surprisingly normal, if saddened by the deaths.
Two places in Thailand were wiped out: Phi Phi Island, 48 kilometres southeast of Phuket, and Khao Lak, 100 kilometres north in neighbouring Phang Nga province. They are our neighbours, and we feel for them.
Each time international news organizations and foreign newspapers talk of Phuket in the same apocalyptic terms as Sumatra, Sri Lanka or Khao Lak, they are hurting the chances of the local Thais in Phuket picking up their lives again. Poor reporting and focus on the sensational chases away future tourist clients, ensuring these people's lives will be difficult for much longer.
Every day that such false impressions of Phuket continue means increased hardship for its people. Correcting this is where you can help.
To give precise information on the situation on Phuket we at Thai-based ARTASIA PRESS have put eyewitness accounts of the island, beach-by-beach onto our website (below). If you love Phuket, are interested in it, or otherwise want to help its people get through these difficult times, please look at the real situation.
And, please, forward this message of reality to as many friends as you possibly can.
Sincerely,
John Everingham, Publisher
ARTASIA PRESS
Bangkok, Phuket, Samui and Bali
website with beach-by-beach accounts of Phuket: www.phuketmagazine.com
To Whom It May Concern,
Many people overseas have been asking what they can do to help those here in Thailand affected by the tsunami disaster. Obviously sending money to aid organizations is an excellent way to start, but we also need to be looking at what we can do long-term. For those of us foreigners here, we have the option of returning home, or re-locating elsewhere to find work. For the Thai locals, this luxury does not exist.
Contrary to what is sometimes being portrayed, Phuket itself is safe and ready to accept tourists. What the locals need to rebuild their community is tourism. They are now more than ever dependent upon tourists to come to Phuket and stay in the resorts, hotels and guesthouses, eat at the restaurants, go shopping, go on day trips, and go diving. Without this, the local Thai population will suffer even further.
The media is currently portraying the most negative image possible of the recent events as drama “sells.” We now need to move past this and work towards re-establishing the tourist industry that the huge majority of locals solely rely on. They are ready to get on with their lives, but they can’t do it without you!
What we are asking of you is to help Thailand by communicating this to the general public. By doing this you will be helping the Thai community as a whole recover from this horrible disaster. Let’s re-build Thailand together!
Sincerely,
Kylie Stevenson
SSS Hyperbaric Services
Phuket, Thailand
Phone: +66 1978 5876
Tuesday, day 2 [after the tsunami], was the most horrible one for me. My dive center decided to take the boat out and see if we could "help" in Phi Phi. We ran around trying to get all the dive instructors out of bed and on the boat. More than half refused to go . . . scared of other waves or still dealing with their emotions.
I went. With five others. We managed to convince the local Thai captain to drive the boat, which can carry 35 people. We ran around buying covers, fresh water bottles, food, medical supplies, all the other dive school [couldn’t] go but gave us their oxygen cylinders. We also packed our dive gear. We were on a mission . . . HELPING.
We had one-hour boat ride to get there. We were dead silent. We tried to do a "briefing" of what our plan of action was going to be. Halfway there, the boat slowed down, trying to pass in between the coconut trees that were floating away, then we stopped in front of every boat we found submerged, hoping no one was in this one, or this one, or that one.
Then, debris, trash, everywhere floating . . . clothes, fins, cosmetics bottles, dead fishes. Finally we got inside the bay of Phi Phi. Thai navy boats leaving the island were crossing us, packed with tourists on their decks.
We came off the boat and walked around, stepping over housing, trees, televisions, beds, chairs, restaurant plates, pieces of broken windows. We decided to talk to someone in charge, and HELP.
For those who have been to Phi Phi, if you look at the sandy beach right in the middle, other than the strong concrete walls, there is NOTHING left. Dive centers, bungalows, restaurants, all is gone. We took an hour just walking around in silence.
Finally we get through to one guy in charge, they were shocked to see us there. He gave us two rescue guys to come with us on the boat, and he asked us to go around and see if we found any more floating bodies.
So we left with trash bags, covers and sheets, going back and forth in the bay and finally around the entire island.
We found cats and dogs alive and lost. And a monkey. We took him on board, and came back home. They left him at the Buddhist temple on my island where we know the monks will feed him.
On the ride back, I wondered why? What have we done to deserve this? Why so many people? Is it us, humans, not being ecologically concerned enough with the environment? Is it the overfishing of the seas?
It was hard for the mind, and my heart stopped many times yesterday. But I am sticking around. Maybe people will realize our island has been "lucky" with only 60 dead, and they will come this way. I don't know. I will be sticking around for a while to see how the tourism industry will do. But the streets are quiet, and tourists are still trying to go back home.
If by January’s end there is no one, I go around Asia to hopefully discover a better [view] of it.
I thank my guardian angel. And let's have minutes of silence for those who were left behind.
Andlauer Anne-lyse
The diving community came together and became our support, our medical care, our food.
My name is Paul Landgraver, and I am a survivor of the tsunami. I had just returned to Khao Lak, Thailand (the part worst hit) after completing my DMT course in Honduras.
What an inauguration! I hadn't even sent in my dues and form yet. I want to say that if it weren't for the training I had received from Ron Ellerman (the Remote Medic course was incredibly helpful) there would have been many more lives lost. Aside from stand trauma victims, there were a great many near-drownings (as well as drownings) that I had to deal with.
Here’s my story.
Sitting around, day after Christmas, just staring at the TV, some movie we've seen before. Mid-morning, post-breakfast stupor controlling Karin and me. The power flickers and we moan. We'll have to get up and do something? Then we hear some yelling outside.
I look out the front door, still puffed up with pride about our new house, just 400 feet back from the beach. People are running up our street yelling. It looks like a fire at the large two-story resort that effectively blocks our view of the beach. Smoke and dust coming up and all these people.
Then a small line of really brown water comes rolling toward us. That's weird. But I reckon it must be some strange full-moon high tide. So we go upstairs so we don't get wet. I look out the window and try and take some pictures.
There is a quiet rumble to it, like those white-noise generators supposed to help you sleep. The water is getting higher and higher, and then it destroys our friend's cement bungalow. Next, our front door caves in, and then water is coming up the stairs!
This was the last point my brain worked for a long time.
We try and throw a mattress out the window to float on, but the water is rising too fast. Out the window we climb. It's all going so fast: it's faster than conscious thought, and by the time we are on our second-story roof, the water is coming out the window. We jump.
Karin doesn't jump at the same time; or did I jump too early? We're separated. I scream her name, but the crashing roiling water mutes me.
I can't hear her. I scream and scream until I get hit by something and pulled under. I can't swim to the top, I pull myself through trash and wood to the surface and off I go.
Ahead are trees wrapped in flotsam and as I look a Thai man is struggling to get free of it. As I pass by at 30 mph I realize he is impaled on a piece of wood and can't even scream.
My brain shut down when Karin disappeared, and now all I can do is survive. Something triggers and I swim. I swim to avoid the trees that will trap me, possibly kill me. It seems that I am atop the crest of the tsunami, which is less like a wave than a flood.
From on high I can see the water hit buildings, then rise, then watch the buildings collapse into piles of concrete and rebar. I swim to avoid these.
Left and right I paddle, looking ahead the whole time, trying to figure the hazards. None of this is conscious, this isn't me thinking it out: it's some recessed part of the brain coming out and taking control.
I was busy seeing the weird things, like massive diesel trucks being rolled end over end. Or the car launched through the second-story wall of a former luggage shop. Or the person high up in a standing tree in a lurid orange thong. Or the older foreigner who got stuck in the wood and steel wrapped around a tree, and then his body torn off while his head remained. I couldn't scream.
I was pulled under; my pants caught on something. I decided that this was neither the place nor time for me to die, and ripped my pants off. I surfaced into a hunk of wood, which cut my forehead.
Some people reached out to me, and I [reached] back, but the water was too fast and erratic. Some people screamed for help, and I told them to swim. Some people just stared with empty eyes, watching what happened, but seeing nothing.
At some point, I passed a guy, cut on his cheek, holding onto a big piece of foam. We just made eye contact and shrugged apathetically at each other. Then I turned ahead to watch fate. When I looked back he was gone.
Trees were pulled down, and their flotsam added to the flow. I was hit by a refrigerator and pushed toward a building that was collapsing. I swam and swam and swam and swam and still was pushed right toward a huge clump of jagged sticks and metal.
I was pulled under, kicked toward the mass, cut my feet and kicked again. I popped up on the other side, spun around and pulled under again.
Down there, I knew it was not the time, and I pulled my way up through the floating rubbish of my former town. I pulled and pulled and my lungs ached for air.
This seemed to go on for weeks: time simply left the area alone. I grabbed the edge of a mattress and floated. Breathing, just breathing. Awareness brought back by the sound and look of a waterfall.
Trying to push up onto the mattress more and more, and it took my weight less and less. Tumbling over the edge, sucked under again, and out I shot, swirled into a coconut grove, where the water seemed to have stopped. There was even a dyke-like wall around the grove.
The water spun and churned, but went nowhere and got no higher. It wasn't swimming, or climbing, but something in between. I made my way to the land.
Every step had to be careful with broken glass everywhere and sheet metal poking out. It was a long, slow struggle.
The low rumble had stopped, and now is the occasional creak of wood on wood and metal scraping. Moans came across the new brown lake. A small boy was in a tree crying, asking for his parents in Norwegian.
I climbed up onto the dyke and looked around. I screamed out for Karin, getting responses in Thai only. I stood there, panting, trying to find a thought, anything.
As I came back to earth I needed to pee. The first thing I did after surviving the tsunami was pee! Along limps an older Thai guy, finds me, naked atop a dyke amid the destruction, covered in mud and filth.
I spent the next minutes running from high point to high point screaming out for Karin. If I made it, she could too. There was no response from her.
I found plenty of other people, and helped whom I could, but always looking across this vast area of new lakes for her head.
Through the trees was a PT boat, a large steel police cruiser. The boat and I had been brought more than a kilometer (2/3 mile) inland.
I was standing near a tree, hoping for a clue, anything to say she was out there somewhere. A small boy in a tree whimpered, and I pulled him down. We went inland. There were houses, still standing, a whole neighborhood atop a rise that was untouched. Just feet away were cars wrapped around trees. I handed over the boy.
I had finished my medic training exactly one month before, so I went to work. Pulling people out of mud, from under houses.
One car, upright against the trunk of a tree still had the driver. He was dead. It went on. Before this I had only seen a dead body once or twice. That was remedied very quickly.
I pulled people out of the water, only to have them choke and die right there. I would take someone's pulse, scream for help, then find that they had died before we could do anything. It was beyond any nightmare or fear I have ever had.
An older Thai woman came up to me with a pair of shorts and averted eyes. She was ashamed that I was totally naked. I slipped them on. She smiled and scurried away.
Roaming the former streets looking for foreigners to send to the higher ground, a place where we could all meet and tend to wounds.
After an hour some Thais came screaming out of the mud saying there was another wave coming, and flying into the hills. We were left alone. Those who could walk did, the rest were carried. We made a new base, higher and safer. And the same thing happened again. And again.
Eventually we ended up in the jungle at a park, where there was water and high ground. It was messy.
Eventually there were about 300 foreigners, about 120 of whom were injured pretty severely with broken limbs and ribs, near-drownings. Everyone had gashes of some kind, severed fingers or toes and shock everywhere.
There was no medicine, no tools, no scissors, no bandages. Nothing but well water (of questionable cleanliness) and some sticks and clothes. I tried to find anyone medically trained.
It was only the diving instructors who all had [knowledge of] basic first aid. So we cleaned wounds with the water, we broke sticks and set bones and talked people into a relatively calm place. If someone was severely cut, we used their own clothing to mend the wounds.
It was a horror story. The floor was covered in blood, people were moaning or vomiting or asking us to help them. And more arrived with every new wave of cars and trucks fleeing the "next wave."
After hours of this, we got news of helicopters evacuating the injured. So everyone rushed toward the trucks. I had push and pull people out of the way: the ones who needed the evac the most were the ones who couldn't get to the trucks.
After 20 minutes of sorting through the priorities, and feeling like we had a handle on it, someone brought me to a girl who was bleeding severely out of her thigh. She was in shock. No one had brought her to our little clinic area; instead they had left her in the back of the truck.
Finally, after a few helicopters had pulled out the worst, I headed back down. We drove through rubber tree plantations and coconut groves. It seemed quiet and relaxed. At the last corner it was devastation. The road was clear and dry up to a certain point, and then it was a horizon of rubble. I shuddered.
Someone on a scooter came up and asked for a doctor. Everyone looked at me! I jumped on and they took me up roads I never knew existed, and over bridges that were barely standing until I was brought to five foreigners in the middle of nowhere.
One of them was a good friend and diving instructor. It was the first person I had seen that I knew. It was a total joy. He was banged up pretty bad, but he got out and off to the hospital. Then Thais came roaring up the hill, saying there was another wave. We had to carry four more people with broken bones (including a broken hip) up a hill. There was no wave.
I stumbled back down, wandering through the town, looking for people to help. Eventually I made my way back to the dive shop where I worked. We had always whined about how it was too far off the main road, but it survived. It was a center for the survivors. I walked up to find friends alive and things clean and organized.
I had been able to keep on, doing what I could to help people, to close out my mind to what was around me and look only at what I was doing, to not see the dead people, to not worry about where Karin was. I had held together so well.
When I found out Karin was alive, it all fell apart. I could smell the destruction, the horror I had just walked through, just lived through, that she had lived through.
My body shouted out all the bruises and cuts I had ignored. It all struck me and threw me to the ground. It was too much. I could no longer accept this.
Karin and I hugged and ate, then slept. My feet were cut up, I had small cuts all over my body, and a sinus infection from all the bad water. Karin had gotten hold of a coconut tree, wrapped herself around it and never let go. She had a few bruises and small cuts and a black eye. I was ecstatic to see her.
Most of the rest of our friends had come through. They had set up first aid stations and help stations, organized food and created a center for people to meet. The diving community came together and became our support, our medical care, our food: they did everything they could to help and then some.
The next day I went back to where my house had been and surveyed the damage. One bungalow nearby had been lifted up and dropped on top of another.
The whole beach was visible, meaning all of the two- or three-story hotels that had lined it were gone. There was a jet ski near our house. The bottom floor of our house was gone, the upper floor was missing a couple of walls. The only thing left was a plastic Jesus doll I had bought as a joke.
So I was left with nothing in the world except my own plastic Jesus.
The level of destruction is virtually impossible to describe. On our beach we had approximately 2,500 hotel rooms. It looked to me that maybe 50 could still even be called hotel rooms.
The week between Christmas and New Year's is the busiest of the week. Without warning, without an evacuation plan, the survival rates were minimal. The wave at our house was about 7 meters high (20 feet), and in some places it was 10 meters (30 feet) high. It wiped out the third floor of most resorts.
For my own experience, if not for the medical training (even the most basic CPR) of the dive professionals and their sound minds, there would have been no help of any kind [for 18 hours]. It [took that long] before we had government and NGO aid come into our area.
Although harrowing, this experience was a very positive reinforcement of all the training we [dive professionals] do. I will be pushing basic first aid everywhere and for everyone. As a matter of fact, I am already signed up for a DAN DEMP Instructor course and will do several other DAN courses over the next few months. As a DMT, I know most of these materials already, but now I can and will teach them.
I know the guys who set up http://www.diveaid.co.uk, and they are doing a great thing. I am sure you are inundated with charity requests, but please check out their site. All their energy is now focused on helping the Thais from our community to rebuild their lives and homes. It's a “divers for the diving community charity.” At the very least, check out the "stories" section for other people's account from our town.
By Paul Landgraver
San Francisco, Calif.
An Account from Phuket, Thailand
My husband Gary and 16-year-old son Peter were on a dive boat in Phuket at the time of the tsunami. They had a late start getting out of Chalong Bay and so were not in the water at 10:27 when the wave hit.
Just before [the wave] hit, my husband noticed the water had grown murky and seemed to have whirlpools in it. When he turned to alert the boat captain, he realized that the captain was in trouble: though he was gunning the engine at full throttle, the boat wouldn't move forward. Fortunately all they experienced was what seemed to be a turbulent, high tide.
Back at the Marina Phuket Hotel, I waited in terror (not knowing their fate) until their boat finally was able to get in about 3 p.m.
We had just joined your program the previous week. Thankfully we all made it home. We mourn for all those who didn't.
Toni Woods
While I was sitting across from the main market in Phuket Town, a local gentleman bent down to converse with me in broken English about the tsunami disaster.
After our conversation, he proceeded to give me several oranges from his bag, which he said were for my children, wishing us happiness, peace and good health in the New Year. He appeared very distressed with the death of so many tourists visiting his country.
Thai people are remarkable as they have great empathy and caring for others when their own hearts are breaking.
With great trepidation, my husband, Bill, and I departed Vancouver, British Columbia, on Dec. 27, returning to our sailing vessel Canik at Yacht Haven Marina in Phuket, Thailand. Reports of the unprecedented tsunami were coming in fast and furious, the devastation of life and property too catastrophic to comprehend.
Upon our arrival, we were greeted by a marina and sailing vessel that appeared just as we left them seven months earlier. Before our departure in May, we tried to leave Canik at a new marina in Langkawi, Malaysia, called Telaga Harbour. Luckily, our attempts were thwarted as there was not a boat dock available. Hence, Yacht Haven on the northeast side of Phuket Island became Canik’s new resting place.
As fate would have it, Telaga was hit hard, with [many] boats sunk, while others sustained extensive damage. The docks rose higher than the posts holding them due to the magnitude of the incoming waves, allowing docks and boats to float away crashing into each other and the break-wall. Fortunately, there have been no reported deaths of cruisers to date as many of the boats were unattended.
Death and destruction in Phuket is localized to the west coast beaches; therefore, life outside these affected areas appears outwardly normal, although the lack of tourists is clearly evident. While I was sitting across from the main market in Phuket Town laden with bags, a local gentleman bent down to converse with me in broken English about the tsunami disaster. After our conversation, he proceeded to give me several oranges from his bag, which he said were for my children, wishing us happiness, peace and good health in the New Year. He appeared very distressed with the death of so many tourists visiting his country.
Thai people are remarkable as they have great empathy and caring for others when their own hearts are breaking. I was very moved by the experience. This outpouring of concern is indicative of the great care rendered all tourists in the aftermath of December 26.
My attempts to volunteer prove how quickly the Thai government and local people are handling the tragedy, as just a week after the tsunami, foreign help was not required at the local government office unless you were an interpreter.
We drove to the International School, where the homeless were being sheltered (as the school was empty due to the holidays). After donating clothes and magazines which were appreciated, I offered our help for any project, but our assistance was not required. However, our contact information was taken in the event our services could be put to use in the future.
On our rented moped, Bill and I visited the west coast beaches attempting to contact local people we had met on previous visits. Shockingly, our favorite restaurant in the small beach community of Kamala was totally destroyed, with no word on the fate of our friends, as the few Thai workers on site could not speak English or us Thai.
A reporter and camera crew from UNICEF were filming the vast destruction in this area. Inquiring, we learned they were donating school supplies to all six districts to ensure that schools would open on time. School routine, allowing some order of normalcy, will help the healing process.
The Phuket Gazette [Volume 12, Issue 2] stated,” Kamala was the area on Phuket worst hit by the wave. There, it claimed some 65 lives, including 9 foreigners, left 50 families homeless and damaged a further 200 homes.”
We drove north of Kamala to Surin Beach where, in great contrast, there was little evidence a tsunami had hit. Cabanas and lawn chairs were lined up like sentries all in a row on the beautiful, pristine sand beach. Unlike Kamala, Surin harbour is much deeper which prevented the wave from building up to a great height and breaking on the shoreline.
The local staff could not believe their good fortune, with no loss of life and only minor damage. Patong Beach was another story with its famous seaside establishments left in partial ruins. What we find truly remarkable is the swiftness by which the local population is cleaning up and rebuilding. Bulldozers, cranes, various sorts of heavy equipment are ubiquitous as are dedicated throngs of female sweepers, brooms flying high.
With the absence of tourists in the wake of the tsunami comes hardship of another kind: the loss of livelihood for so many local people. The Thai government is combating this by promoting and advertising the wonders of this magnificent country. The psychological barrier invoked by the great loss of life makes it difficult for foreigners to vacation here, although serious consideration must be given to the dire consequences if tourists stay away.
The Tourism Authority of Thailand [TAT] Governor Juthamas Siriwan stated on January 3 that any delay in recovering from the December 26 tsunami will cost the country 10 billion baht (approximately 330 million Canadian dollars) a month in lost tourist revenue. As a result, the TAT are in a hurry to let people abroad know that any danger from the tsunami has already passed, and many tourist destinations that were damaged are recovering and are expected to be fully operational within a month. [The Phuket Gazette, Volume 12, Issue 2]
At this rate, rebirth will be rapid, given the industrious efforts of the Thais which we have evidenced firsthand. Vendors at Patong Beach have moved their wares back approximately 1,000 feet from the shoreline to streets untouched by the waves. However, the lack of tourists always keen to cash in on unbelievable bargains makes life stressful and worrisome. One young vendor showed me his injuries and described stories of his friends who had been swept away. The narratives related by local people and many of our cruising friends are the makings of nightmares.
I can attest firsthand to the fact that Phuket still has much to offer tourists not only as a beautiful, tropical haven but as a place where friendly, warm, and welcoming people can be found on every corner.
When I reflect back to all the wonderful local people we have met along the beaches of Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand and Sri Lanka grief fills my heart when I think of their possible fate. The resilience and will of the human spirit to overcome adversity, along with the generosity and empathy displayed throughout the world, will provide the strength to carry on.
Let us hope that 2005 will bring peace to the world and healing to so many suffering people.
Diving in the Maldives During the Tsunami
Hello Everyone!
Thanks for all your concern! When I sent out my seasons greetings email, it never crossed my mind that I would be writing to all of you again so soon!
[After the tsunami] communications are all more or less back to normal. I received so many emails, and I'll try to reply individually, but here is a short version of what happened to me when the tsunami hit the Maldives.
It was one of the strangest experiences in my life, DIVING while the tsunami passed overhead.
We were supposed to go to another site farther away that morning, two hours by boat, to check out some mantas, but due to lack of enthusiasm (Italians like to sleep in and didn't want to get up at 7 to dive, thank God!), I decided to go to a shark point about 20 minutes away instead.
The weather was absolutely beautiful as usual, but the sea was very rough, and the decision was made not to tie down on the Thila, like we usually do. Another lucky decision, because the sea is usually calm, the crew tied the rope as tightly as possible and didn’t leave any extra rope to allow for water movement/tide changes, like we do in SA.
I had four experienced divers with me, and we did a negative entry to avoid the [choppy] top conditions. The visibility was not the best, about 20 metres. The currents were strong, and I decided to stay close to the wall.
We were about 25 minutes into the dive, when everything changed. I was at about 20 m when I had to equalise like crazy, but I was staying at the same spot! The depth had suddenly changed, the visibility went down to about 2 metres, and we had a massive surge motion.
I didn't know what had caused it; all I could think of was that it was on or near full moon, and that it may be a freak high tide.
When the currents changed again and were throwing us around like [we were in] a washing machine, I really got worried. Even the fish were behaving erratically: the sharks came so close I could reach out and touch them.
That’s when I decided to cut the dive short, at about 35 minutes into the dive. We literally crawled, holding onto the reef to get to the 5 m safety stop. Like flags in the wind. I don't know what we would’ve done if the boat wasn't there to pick us up.
Santana, the local divemaster, in the meantime, was frantic with worry and came with our other dive boat to see if we were OK, thinking that we had tied down to the reef. When we hit the surface and heard what had happened, we broke ALL records getting divers back on board!
We headed for Halaveli, not knowing what to expect. Back in Halaveli everyone thought that they had lost us, and it was welcome to [be] remember[ed]! This was a “once in a lifetime” experience, which I hope never to repeat. My guardian angel may not be around next time.
It's amazing how the different nationalities reacted to this crisis: the Italians wanted to know immediately how quickly they would be evacuated back to Italy and were frantic, the Germans wanted to know the exact reason for the tsunami and more details, whereas all the English got themselves a beer and a high spot to watch what was happening.
It's really an unimaginable disaster, which we only started hearing about as the days passed. Here on Halaveli, in the Ari Atoll, we were more protected by other islands around us, so the water damage was minimal.
All the normal water activities have resumed, and we are diving again. We had to wait for the strong currents to subside, so we will only really start to see if there is a lot of damage to coral as we visit the various dive sites.
Well, there you have it - I dived the tsunami and survived!
Liz from Halavely Islanda, Maldives
(Taken from http://www.mydive.it by the DAN Europe Foundation)
After The Wave...
A short note from the writer:
I think it is important for people to know that the tsunami damage in Thailand, though severe in some areas, was not “general devastation over wide areas” but quite highly focused. From the perspective of a diver, there is absolutely no reason not to go to the Phuket area or the Similan Islands area.
Larry Hutchinson
...Should I Dive in Thailand?
If you had a scuba diving trip planned to Thailand’s Phuket Island area dive sites or up into the Similan Islands, I’m sure you’re asking the question: Should I dive in Thailand?
No wonder. You’ve seen the TV news coverage, you’ve browsed the Internet, you’ve talked to booking agents and dive operators, and you’ve got more questions now than before you started: How’s the diving? Can I get a hotel? Is it safe there?
Well, if you’ve thought about all of this and have any doubts about putting yourself, your family, or your money at risk, I am here to tell you that Phuket and the Similans are ready to [have] you. Even better, if you’ve thought about sending some aid to those affected by the tsunami, please do so.
As to Accommodations...
Certainly there were areas that were hit hard. Patong Beach sustained some significant damage, but the cleanup is progressing quickly. Basically most anything that was more than about 100 meters back from the beach is open for business and the beach itself is fine.
The Karon and Kata Beach areas sustained some damage, but it is mostly cosmetic. The infrastructure is working normally, and I’d take my family there tomorrow. Listen to the dive operators: they live there, and they will give you the straight story. They are smart people, they know that if they don’t [give you the straight story] you won’t be back again, and this area depends on repeat tourists.
Unlike typhoon damage which covers large areas, the [tsunami] damage in this area, although severe in some cases, is limited to a relatively small area close to the beach. Koh Phi Phi was severely damaged, but as I haven’t been there I won’t comment. Check with people who have. The beaches are still there and they are just as nice as ever, although you may have to settle for a beach towel instead of a lounge chair for a little while. The bars and restaurants are open, and there are plenty of hotel rooms to be had.
Up in the Similans you will have to look hard to see much on-shore damage. There was some [damage] on Islands #4 and #8 but if you’re on a liveaboard you’ll never know the difference: it still looks like paradise.
Could It Happen Again?
I’m not a seismologist but I’d say anything is possible. But it’s highly improbable. Skeptical? I understand, but I was there before and after Boxing Day. I’ve logged over 200 dives in the area on sites like Hin Daeng, Hin Muang, Koh Doc Mai, and especially in the Similans, Koh Bon, Koh Tachai and Richelieu Rock over the last few years.
We were up in the Similans from 19 Dec. to 23 Dec. on the Colona VI and the diving was fantastic, like I’ve become accustomed to. It was so good that I managed to talk the cruise director, Mark Allen, and Patrick, the owner, into letting me go back out on 24 Dec. for another six-day trip, despite the fact there was no cabin space left and I would have to sleep on deck! The winds were up Friday night, so we elected to head north to the Similans rather than risk not being able to make it out to Hin Daeng and Hin Muang because of rough seas.
Just Before the Wave
Christmas Day was filled with four great dives, a nice Christmas present. Boxing Day saw us returning from an early morning 61-minute dive on Barracuda Point about 20 minutes before things got a little strange.
Now I grew up, and have logged hundreds of dives, in the cold waters of the Gulf of Maine, where the tide fall is in the range of 6 to 10 meters (versus the 2-3 meters of the Similans). I’m used to seeing a lot of water movement on a tide change and diving in crazy currents.
Water started pouring through the gap between Islands #5 & #6 (Koh Payu), tidal rips (standing waves) could be seen all around, and the water was a mean-looking greenish color. This was not the Thailand sea condition I’d become accustomed to! Neither Mark, who’s logged thousands of dives over six years in the Similans nor our Thai captain with 30 years’ experience had ever seen anything like it.
We watched the water draw back on a small beach on Island #4 (Koh Miang) about 2-3 meters vertically and then come back in and flood the beach. This happened two or three times. None of us really knew what had happened until the radio brought us news of the devastation in places like Kao Lac . . . so that’s what a tsunami looks like.
In the interest of safety we suspended diving operations for the rest of the day, waiting we thought, for the tsunami to hit, not realizing that it already had. For us, aside from a little crazy water, it was just another beautiful day on a liveaboard dive boat in Thailand.
What About the Diving?
Well we stayed up in the Similan Islands and over the next 10 days dived all of the sites in the Similan Islands, Koh Bon, Koh Tachai and Richelieu Rock.
Breakfast Bend, one of my favorites, was badly damaged. This is a steep, deep, boulder site, and the damage started deep at 40 meters, with large sections of substrate torn away up to 2 meters thick. Much of this beautiful site is rubble, kind of like diving in a quarry. Deep Six and Christmas Point were also hit hard with similar damage.
On East of Eden there is one section of salad coral below “The Bommy” that was hit hard, but the rest of the site is in good shape. For the most part, the rest of the sites in the Similans are fine, with only minor damage. Some table corals that were turned over have been fixed, and you will see some occasional damage but the diving is great.
“Clouds” of fish, leopard sharks, turtles, octopus, blue spot stingrays, black- and whitetip reef sharks, beautiful soft corals, hard corals and sea fans: everything the Similans are famous for. If you are into “small stuff” the macro world is just as fantastic as ever, with nudibranchs, flatworms, ghost pipefish and tiger-tail seahorses looming large in the viewfinder of your camera.
Koh Bon is pretty much as it has been, some damage in the “bay,” but this place that endured years of dynamite fishing has staged a miraculous recovery over the last few years. The West Ridge is largely unaffected, and I saw three manta rays there doing their version of water ballet in the currents. This is still one of my favorite dive sites.
Koh Tachai, another of my most favorite sites in the world, is still the place of strong currents and “gazillions” of fish. You don’t dive this site for the corals, you dive it for the fish, and they haven’t gone anywhere. This is always a place that challenges but rewards you. I’ve seen more cool stuff on this site than any other single site, including manta rays and whale sharks.
Richelieu Rock, out in the open ocean, was essentially untouched. This is a great site: don’t spend all of your time looking for mantas and whale sharks, because if you know where to look, you’ll find tiger-tail seahorses, ghost pipefish, harlequin shrimp, frogfish and my favorite, peacock mantis shrimp. And while you are doing your safety stop inside the “horns,” don’t forget to have a look at the school of chevron barracuda that hang out there.
I haven’t personally been there, but I understand from divers I trust, that Hin Daeng and Hin Muang are in great shape (these are awesome sites) and that the rest of the sites in the South are “open for business.”
Yes, Thailand has suffered a natural disaster but the extent of the damage is nothing like Indonesia, Sri Lanka or Chennai. A far greater and more insidious disaster is if people stop going to Thailand to vacation and to dive.
Business As Usual
For the most part it is “business as usual” in Thailand, and everything that you want to go there for is readily available. As for me, I’m taking my daughters to Kata Beach for spring break the first week in March, and we are going up into the Similans on the Colona VI for some diving. If I don’t see you there it’ll be your loss, and I’ll have the dive sites all to myself.
Still have questions? Feel free to e-mail me at mainediver218@yahoo.com; I’ll try to answer your questions.
Larry Hutchinson, Diving Fanatic & Global Traveler
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