Icelandic Disaster: Retirement Gone Wrong

In June 2017, 65-year-old Morrie Piersol received an email that would change his life.

After retiring from a long career teaching theatre to schoolchildren, he was eager to return to his old passion: sailing. The message offered just the opportunity he’d been hoping for — a friend of a friend was organising an ambitious voyage from Chesapeake Bay, with planned stops in Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Greenland, and Iceland.

After meeting the captain, 75-year-old Wes, and going on a few test sails together, Morrie was officially welcomed aboard. Joining them was Bobby, who, in his early fifties, was the youngest of the trio.

They would set off aboard The Valiant, a 40-foot-long sailboat, white with a red stripe down the side. Compact and in many ways quite basic, it had a small hatch leading to the companionway below deck. They would cook on a portable stove, sleep in tight quarters, and live simply — but for Morrie, it was a dream come true.

Leaving port, conditions were idyllic: whales cruised alongside them and seabirds wheeled in the sky above.

Two weeks into the voyage, however, plans had to change. Inclement weather forced them to abandon their Greenland stop and head straight for Iceland instead. It would be their longest leg yet — a gruelling 1,400-nautical-mile stretch across the North Atlantic. The detour meant more time in open water and harsher conditions: icebergs, erratic weather, and poor visibility.

This is not designed to be a particularly oceangoing sailboat. It's designed to be a fast racing boat, not for these kinds of conditions.

Morrie Piersol

On July 24th, just days from Reykjavik, the weather turned again. The wind vanished, leaving The Valiant adrift. For two days, the crew sat idle on a glassy sea beneath an oppressive sky. A wall of fog and rain moved in, and under the strange, perpetual light of the Arctic summer, the world turned to endless grey.

When the wind returned, it came with force. The waves began to mount — swelling to 21 feet, crashing over the hull and drenching the deck with icy spray. Then, at 3 a.m. on July 26th, disaster struck.

I heard this tremendous roar. And the boat got picked up and tossed, smashing onto the water on the low side of the wave.

Morrie Piersol

The companionway twisted violently as the vessel slammed sideways into the sea. Morrie couldn’t tell which way was up. The boat seemed to disintegrate around him. Water gushed in, and within moments, The Valiant capsized.

At that moment, I thought there was a high likelihood that I probably won't survive this. Because I thought I was going to drown…

Morrie Piersol

Against the odds, the boat righted itself. Wes and Bobby sprang from their bunks to assess the damage. Incredibly, none of the men was injured — but the boat was in terrible shape. The cabin was half-flooded, the electrics blown, and the temperatures were brutal: 4°C in the air, 9°C in the water. Sailing any further was impossible. They activated the Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon and sent out a distress call.

In the meantime, they did what they could. They bailed water, discarded unnecessary gear, and stuffed a mattress into broken windows to stop further flooding. Slowly, the water level dropped, giving the vessel a little more stability. But there was nothing to do now but wait.

The one thing that did keep crossing my mind was that if it ended negatively, it would be very difficult for me to accept that I wasn't going to see my family again.

Morrie Piersol

At 10 a.m., Morrie heard the hum of a plane overhead. He switched on the emergency radio and made contact with the pilot. They set off a flare — and the pilot spotted them. But he wasn’t there to rescue them. It was a reconnaissance flight. Still, he brought good news: a ship was on the way.

An hour later, a massive vessel appeared on the horizon. The crew deployed their life raft and paddled toward it. As they neared, a rope ladder unfurled down the ship’s side. Morrie, physically drained, grabbed the lowest rung and began to climb. It was agonising. Eventually, with the support of the crew, he made it.

Wes and Bobby soon followed, and all three were brought safely aboard the Greenland government ship. The crew still had work to complete, so the rescued men remained aboard for a few days, well-fed, clothed, and cared for. Once the mission was over, they were dropped off in the Icelandic fishing town of Grindavík. From there, they made their way to Reykjavik and caught a flight home.

The ordeal didn’t diminish Morrie’s love for the ocean. Just two months later, he and his wife bought their own sailboat — this time content to cruise the gentler waters of Chesapeake Bay.

Looking back, Morrie says he feels only gratitude — for his crewmates, for the rescuers, and for the luck that saw him through.

It's an experience that was pretty extraordinary. Having been the recipient of that kind of good fortune, effort, and help from a lot of people is pretty significant. It’s humbling.

Morrie Piersol