NEWS

Man recounts the moment his boat was struck by lightning

Max Chesnes | Treasure Coast Newspapers

STUART, Fla. (AP) — The dark, ominous clouds crept behind them without warning.

The four fishermen huddled underneath the hard-top cover of the "Time Out" — a 31-foot Stamas idling 7 miles off the coast of Grand Cay, Bahamas.

The men came for fish, but would leave with something far greater: A story of the sea, rich with its rage, to be passed down for generations to come.

Maybe, they thought, the storm would pass.

Less than half mile away, they eyed the first lightning strike.

"It made us all cringe," said George Haddad, 71, of Palm City. "It was fairly close and the time between the lightning and the thunder was almost simultaneous."

And without warning, in the blink of an eye and the snap of a finger, the second bolt struck.

"We got hit," Haddad said. "It blew the electronics cabinet right off, right over all of our heads."

Nature's hammer

Haddad appeared a man akin to one found in a Hemingway novel: Seasoned and salted over by years of crossing the sea.

Just shy of 72, the Palm City native crossed over to Grand Cay with the hopes of catching something big. His brother-in-law Craig Linton, 68, of Palm City, and two pals Dave Defarrari, 68, of Stuart and Stan Lockard, 61, of Cocoa Beach puttered their way to a local fishing spot Aug. 10.

Blue skies met crystalline seas as a pile of fishing rods lay ready, locked and loaded for the day's haul.

And then, as if appearing from nothing, a storm rolled in.

"It looked like it was going to bypass us," Haddad recalled. "And you can't move fast through the shallow channel unless you're very familiar with it."

The first thing the men remember is the sound, Haddad said. A BOOM so loud and so piercing that all four of the fishermen lost their hearing for what seemed like 5 minutes.

Fried electronics and fishing poles scattered like shrapnel across the boat.

Confusion struck quickly after the lightning, followed by the reality of what was happening.

Haddad, who had his hands on the boat's steering wheel, was frozen to the machine as electricity surged through his body, he said.

"It felt like somebody hit me in the chest with a hammer," Haddad said. "It seemed like a long time, but it was probably only a couple of seconds."

A scramble for safety

Still in shock, the four men returned to their instincts.

Linton dropped an anchor — a classic weight and rope — after the primary electronic anchor was destroyed by the lightning.

Defarrari texted Page, Haddad's wife. Lockard called mayday on a handheld VHF radio, one of the only pieces of safety equipment miraculously spared by the strike.

"We were dead in the water," Haddad said.

But in a freak situation like theirs, the fear comes later. Action came first.

By some act of fate, all four men were unharmed by the lightning strike.

Haddad had always felt bogged down by the loads of safety equipment he carried on his boat for every fishing trip, he said. But the flares, the GPS and the life jackets all carry a new meaning for the four men who dodged the ultimate bullet from Mother Nature.

"You just never know what's going to happen," Haddad said. "And you should always be carrying that stuff."

Damaged equipment, but not spirits

Despite the series of chaotic moments, the four men kept their spirits high. Haddad said a "good Samaritan" in a nearby boat noticed the stranded men and towed them safely back to Grand Cay.

He never did get the name of the boater.

Once back in the Bahamas, Haddad was cleared by a local clinic for injuries. His only ailment from the lightning strike? High blood pressure.

The group of fishermen arranged for Sea Tow, a marine towing company, to bring the boat back to the United States, he said. The journey home took 19 hours.

In all, the boat's antenna, several fishing rods and almost all of the electronics were destroyed by the lightning strike, Haddad said.

The total damage to Haddad's boat was being estimated Friday (Aug. 16) by Marine Customs Unlimited in Stuart. He estimates it will be several thousand dollars but has no official number yet, he said.

"In the future, I'll be a little more cautious about the weather," Haddad said.

"But it's not going to keep me from going back out there."