The Death of Enza (and my part in her demise) The final part

The story we were told to tell was; 'We went sailing, we got wet, we went flying, we came home.' Fair enough, however this is not the story I have relayed so many times, to so many people. I felt therefore that this was not my story. What comes up, comes out. So out it came, from head to fist and onto paper over the past six months.

I have written this account purely as a cathartic exercise for myself. To help me rid the demons, daydreams and nightmares that have occurred since October.

I share it primarily for those on board that evening. Maybe as a way of letting them see similarity's to their own personal tale and feelings, or indeed and more importantly, the differences.

An event like this is certainly a large undertaking to break down mentally. I thought that I was 'over it' long ago yet here I am still reeling from that day and the days that followed.

The 'What if's' have long since faded from the forefront of my mind. The reality of it all though is still quite a task. So much thought is given to those that risked their lives to save ours; to those whom we left asleep in their beds to be given such an awful wake up call; to those that would find out about it later on and for the compassion shown to me by family and friends and even people I had never met, nor ever will.

The thanks that I have for all involved in saving my life, my friends lives and the sanity and happiness of those that surround me is beyond fathomable comprehension.

Why do I still put to sea? I do not know. Will I always put to sea? Yes, though under what guise I cannot possibly say. Maybe simply talking of 'rounding the horn' someday in my own boat will conjure up all of the imagery and colour that I need in my life. My life. There is a term I enjoy. For I am alive and I wake up happy some days purely at that simple little fact.

I am very pleased I have survived to be able to share with you my story...


...and go sailing.

Thank you,

Thom.