Adrift: A True Story of Love, Loss and Survival at Sea
THE HEART-STOPPING MEMOIR, NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE STARRING SHAILENE WOODLEY AND SAM CLAFLIN, AND DIRECTED BY BALTASAR KORMAKUR (EVEREST)A compelling, at times devastating, ultimately inspiring account of how much can go wrong on the ocean and how, miraculously, one woman conquered her own fears.‘An inspirational and empowering read’ Shailene WoodleyYoung and in love, their lives ahead of them, Tami Oldham and her fiancé Richard Sharp set sail from Tahiti under brilliant blue skies, with Tami’s hometown of San Diego as their ultimate destination. But the two free spirits and avid sailors couldn’t anticipate that less than two weeks into their voyage, they would sail directly into one of the most catastrophic hurricanes in recorded history. They found themselves battling pounding rain, waves the size of skyscrapers, and 140 knot winds. Richard tethered himself to the boat and sent Tami below to safety, and then all went eerily quiet. Hours later, Tami awakened to find the boat in ruins, and Richard nowhere in sight.Adrift is the story of Tami’s miraculous forty-one-day journey to safety on a ravaged boat with no motor and no masts, and with little hope for rescue. It’s a tale of love and survival on the high seas– an unforgettable story about resilience of the human spirit, and the transcendent power of love.Previously published as Red Sky in Mourning
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William Collins
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF WilliamCollinsBooks.com
This eBook first published in Great Britain by William Collins in 2018
Originally published as Red Sky in Mourning in 2002 by Hyperion
First published in the United States by Dey St, an imprint of William Morrow, HarperCollins Publishers, in 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Tami Oldham Ashcraft.
New afterword copyright © 2018 by Tami Oldham Ashcraft
Tami Oldham Ashcraft asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Film artwork on cover © 2018 STX Financing, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins
Source ISBN: 9780008300425
Ebook Edition © May 2018 ISBN: 9780008299569 Version: 2018-05-16
To the memory of my grandfather Wally J. Oldham,
the solid foundation in my life,
and to Richard Sharp . . .
who will live in my heart forever.
Contents
Eight: Water Above, Water Below
Sixteen: Hazana and Maeva Beach
Hearing the clank of the anchor shank as it hit the bow roller, I turned my attention to Richard. With a grand gesture, he waved to me—“Let’s go!” I shifted the engine into forward. As I nudged the throttle, Hazana gathered speed and we headed out of Papeete Harbor on the island of Tahiti. It was September 22, 1983, at 1330. In a month we’d be back in San Diego, California. If only I were more excited. I hated to leave the South Pacific. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see my family and friends, it was just too soon. We’d only been gone from California for six months and had originally planned to cruise the South Pacific islands and New Zealand before visiting home again. This change in plan left me feeling ambivalent. But as Richard pointed out, this yacht-delivery job was a dream come true—too good to pass up.
Shouts from the shore drew my attention. Turning around, I saw some of our friends waving good-bye. I stood up on the helm seat and waved with both arms high in the air as I steered with my bare left foot. I felt a pinch on my big toe as Richard took the helm with one arm and put the other around my waist. I looked down into his China blue eyes. They were full of joy. He squeezed me close and kissed my pareu-covered stomach. I couldn’t help but smile, he was like a young boy in his excitement.
“Anchors aweigh, love.”
“Yep, anchors aweigh!” I chimed back.
My eyes teared as I gave one final wave to the friends on the wharf who now appeared as lampposts on the quay. The familiar knot in my throat was a reminder of how hard it always is to leave, the thought that you may never meet again. Even though we will be back soon, I reminded myself, our friends will probably not be there. Sailors don’t stay long in one place—they travel on.
I took the wheel as Richard hoisted the mainsail. Taking a deep breath I scanned the horizon. The island of Moorea stood out to the northwest. Oh, how I loved the sea! I steered the boat into the wind, and the mainsail cracked and flogged as Richard launched the canvas up the sail track. With the boat turned downwind, the roller-furling jib escaped as slickly as a raindrop on glass. Hazana comfortably heeled over. What a yacht this Trintella is, I thought. Forty-four feet of precision. So plush compared to our Mayaluga.
Watching Richard trim Hazana’s sails, I reflected on how hard it had been for him to say good-bye to Mayaluga. He had built her in South Africa and he named her after the Swazi word meaning “one who goes over the horizon.” She had been his home for many years, and he had sailed the thirty-six-foot ferro-cement cutter halfway around the world. Mayaluga’s lines were sleek and pleasing to the eye, her interior a craftsman’s dream, with laminated mahogany deck beams, gleaming from layers of velvety varnish, and a sole—floor—made of teak and holly.
To avoid thinking too much about what we would be leaving behind, we had both kept busy during our last days aboard
