Being found, being lifted

Rescue is a chain of ever-shorter-range signals, and the survivor’s job is to keep every link working: the EPIRB transmitting (lashed upright, antenna clear — it is doing more than anything else in the raft), the handheld VHF saved for when rescuers are within line of sight, flares spent only on a target that can see them — parachute rockets to be searched FOR at range, handhelds and orange smoke to be steered AT close to. The SARTSARTA liferaft transponder that paints a distinctive trail on rescuers’ radar or AIS for the final miles.full glossary →, if you have one, paints you onto the searching ship’s radar for the final miles.

A helicopter rescue has its own etiquette, learned best before it is shouted over rotor noise: TOUCH THE WINCHwinchThe geared drum that multiplies your pull on a loaded rope. Turns go on clockwise.full glossary → WIRE ONLY AFTER IT EARTHS in the sea (static from the aircraft is violent), never make the wire fast to anything, do exactly what the winchman signals and nothing extra, and from a yacht expect to be lifted from the water or the raft rather than the deck — the mastmastThe vertical spar that carries the sails.full glossary → is in the way. Strop on, arms DOWN over it, thumbs up, and let the professionals fly.

And the quiet half of being found: someone ashore knowing to start the search. The shore-contact discipline from passage planning is a survival item exactly equal to the flares — an overdue report from a named person turns “nobody knows” into “the Coastguard is already looking”, which on a cold night is the difference that matters.