John ‘Stinker’ Clarke tells of his rescue

MY wife Ella and I arrived in Fingal Bay in 1975.

My first impressions were how beautiful the beaches, conical mountains, islands and rocky headlands were.

Coming from a fishing family in Tweed Heads, I weighed up the fishing opportunities inside the port, along the beaches and the offshore reefs.

The reefs off Fingal come right to the coastline, meaning that I didn’t have far to travel in a boat to catch great fish – mulloway, snapper and just about everything else.

Fingal was, and still is, the greatest place my family and I could have lived.

Many years ago, considering all the fishing options available to me, I bought a small boat with an 8hp motor to target the close reefs – ‘Stinkpot’.

Over all these years I have launched Stinkpot off Kiddies Corner on Fingal Beach hundreds of times and headed out towards the breaking reefs in front of the Fingal Outer Light.

Rarely did I return home without a cracker catch of snapper.

Over the years I have experienced numerous dodgy situations, but I always managed to arrive home on time.

A recent Wednesday evening was different.

With a 2.5 metre swell and a solid south-westerly wind I considered the conditions ideal for snapper off the Lighthouse.

Dropping anchor around 2.30pm, I was excited at the prospect of great fishing. The whales were jumping everywhere, breaching within 20 metres of my tinny, and a huge school of salmon circled the boat.

I had two thumping snapper in the Esky when conditions worsened, which finally made me decide to go home. The sea was too big.

As I was lifting the anchor around 3.30pm a big wave washed over me and the boat, totally swamping ‘Stinkpot’.

I knew immediately that I was in strife as the conditions were hostile, there was no one else on the water, and swimming ashore was out of the question as the big waves pounded the rocks.

The boat capsized and I was in the water.

My only positives, as the sun set, was I knew that Ella would set the rescue wheels in motion when I didn’t arrive home on dark.

I was wearing a life vest, which barely kept me afloat but certainly saved my life. As darkness set in and a cold breeze blew across the water something nudged my shoulder – an oar. Then the other oar, which I held on tightly to add a little more buoyancy. Then a bucket, which I tipped upside down with air inside – more buoyancy. I remained positive and unafraid.

It was about 5.30 pm in total darkness that I realised that my only hope was that rescue efforts were under way on land. I concentrated on staying afloat and saving what energy I had.

When I started to shiver, I realised that hypothermia was setting in.

Back on land, Ella had set the rescue effort in motion.

At this point there are many that played a part in saving me. My mate Ray Grech, who knew exactly where I would be. My daughter Jodie in Brisbane who, when informed of the situation, contacted her friend Kel Strong, who immediately contacted Sergeant Clint Brown the Head of Water Police, a friend for years.

Supported by Marine Rescue, Clint and crew motored out in front of the lighthouse after notifying the Westpac Rescue Helicopter of my probable position.

Now, after close to five hours in the water, I had one thought – a helicopter to find me and Clint Brown to pull me out of the water – then I saw the light coming along the coast!

A young emergency doctor, Hannah Hall, onboard the helicopter, spotted me with a handheld power light.

My position was immediately radioed to the Water Police, who motored into dangerous water and pulled me out.

I have very little knowledge of what happened after seeing the helicopter. A couple of paramedics, who I knew, took me to John Hunter where I was warmed up.

Being warm is a magnificent feeling.

The only way I can express my sincere appreciation to all involved is to pass on the valuable lessons learnt.

Wear a lifejacket with an emergency positioning-indicating radio beacon and tell someone, including Marine Rescue, when you will return.

I have been asked what I thought about in the five hours I spent in the water.

My fantastic family were on replay. I realised that I had not entered my footy tips in the Fingal Bay NRL competition. With friends, I am writing the History of Nelson Bay Rugby – I am halfway through with much to do. Many other trivial thoughts flashed by.

Thankyou to the amazing support my family and I have received from the local community and the wonderful organisations we have to look after us – Police, Water Police, Marine Rescue and Westpac Rescue Helicopter.

The input and effort of friends and ex-students of Nelson Bay High School kept me going.

The whole chain of events has been incredibly humbling.

By John ‘Stinker’ CLARKE