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He began to scream.Īlvarenga remained sitting, gripping the tiller tightly, determined to navigate a storm now so strong that harbourmasters along the coast had barred fishing boats from heading out to sea. But this crashing, soaking journey back to shore? He was sure their tiny craft would shatter and sharks would devour them. He was capable of working 12 hours straight without complaining and was athletic and strong. At times he refused to bale and instead held the rail with both hands, vomiting and crying.

As the weather worsened, Córdoba’s resolve disintegrated. Alvarenga and Córdoba had never spoken before, much less worked together.Īlvarenga tensely negotiated their slow advance toward the coast, manoeuvring among the waves like a surfer trying to glide and slice his way through. Alvarenga, keen to get out to sea, arranged to go with Córdoba instead, a 22-year-old with the nickname Piñata who lived at the far end of the lagoon, where he was best known as a defensive star on the village soccer team. But at the last minute, Perez couldn’t join him. Photograph: Matt RidingĪlvarenga had prepared the boat with Ray Perez, his usual mate and a loyal companion. The icebox in which Alvarenga hid from the sun. The boat was loaded with equipment, including 70 gallons of gasoline, 16 gallons of water, 23kg (50lb) of sardines for bait, 700 hooks, miles of line, a harpoon, three knives, three buckets for baling, a mobile phone (in a plastic bag to keep it dry), a GPS tracking device (not waterproof), a two-way radio (battery half-charged), several wrenches for the motor and 91kg (200lb) of ice. If they could bring it ashore, they would have enough money to survive for a week.
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On the deck, a fibreglass crate the size of a refrigerator was full of fresh fish: tuna, mahimahi and sharks, their catch after a two-day trip. With no raised structure, no glass and no running lights, it was virtually invisible at sea. While Alvarenga steered, Córdoba was frantically tossing water back into the ocean, pausing only momentarily to allow his shoulder muscles to recover.Īlvarenga’s boat, at 25 feet, was as long as two pick-up trucks and as wide as one. The spray and crashing waves dumped hundreds of gallons of seawater into the boat, threatening to sink or flip them. Together with his inexperienced crewmate, Ezequiel Córdoba, he was 50 miles out at sea, slowly negotiating a route back to shore. He was a veteran captain and knew that he needed to regain the initiative. An inexperienced navigator might have panicked, started baling and been distracted from his primary task: aligning the boat with the waves. O n 18 November 2012, a day after being ambushed at sea by a massive storm, Alvarenga was trying to ignore the growing pond of seawater sloshing at his feet. Over the course of more than 40 interviews, he described his extraordinary survival at sea. Later, I would sit with Alvarenga for many hours, back at his home in El Salvador, as he described in detail the brutal realities of living at sea for more than a year.

When he washed ashore (in the same boat that he had left Mexico on), thousands of miles away, he was steadfast in his rejection of interviews – even posting a note on his hospital door begging the press to disappear. It turned out there were dozens of witnesses who had seen Alvarenga leave shore, who had heard his SOS. I was sceptical, but as a Guardian reporter in the region, I began to investigate. Who survives 14 months at sea? Only a Hollywood screenwriter could write a tale in which such a journey ends happily. Briefly, Alvarenga became a household name. The photo of the bearded fisherman shuffling ashore went viral.
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Several observers noted a similarity to the Tom Hanks character in the movie Cast Away.
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Alvarenga cracked a quick smile and waved to the cameras. Expecting a gaunt and bedridden victim, a ripple of disbelief went through the crowd. Dressed in a baggy brown sweatshirt that disguised his reedy torso, he disembarked from a police boat slowly but unaided. I was so hungry that I was eating my own fingernails, swallowing all the little pieces Salvador Alvarengaĭays later, Alvarenga faced the world’s press. But surviving in a vibrant world of wild animals, vivid hallucinations and extreme solitude did little to prepare him for the fact that he was about to become an international celebrity and an object of curiosity. Floating across the Pacific Ocean, watching the moon’s light ebb and flow for over a year, Alvarenga had battled loneliness, depression and bouts of suicidal thinking.
