by Karen Telleen-Lawton, Noozhawk Columnist (read the original in Noozhawk by clicking here)
My niece texted me first about the Conception tragedy. She knows I’m often on the islands and Santa Barbara Channel boats as a volunteer naturalist. My heart sank to read early reports of the fire, reports that only worsened as the days progressed.
For the first week or so after the deadly fire, I woke often in the night, imagining the trapped passengers and the horror of the crew. I wondered whether any light-sleeping passenger awoke or when the last one got up to use the head (toilet). I pictured a crew member making his last rounds, and whether any clues were missed.
I try to imagine what kind of fire could spread so quickly as to block both exits before any of the dozens of people were aware. If I had awakened, could I have forced myself upstairs through a wall of flames?
A medical friend says extreme heat rather than the actual fire prevents people from running through flames. She believes the passengers plus below-deck crew member may have awoken for only “a breath or two” before they would have been overcome and not suffered further.
I spent some 20 nights on the Conception over the past decade. My “career” as a local volunteer naturalist began in the Galapagos in 2003. A group of about 15 of us — volunteer docents for the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden plus some spouses — hired a small boat with crew.
When we met our Galapagos guide and told her we were from Santa Barbara, she exclaimed, “Oh, Santa Barbara! That’s the Galapagos of the north!”
My husband and I had been discerning a joint activity for our empty-nesthood years. We decided to train as volunteer naturalists on the islands and channel.
Some of our favorite shifts have been on the Truth Aquatics dive boats. The comradery, the food, and of course the marine and island life were amazing. The crew were friendly and casual about everything except safety.
The bunks took some getting used to. When we first peered into the dark hold below deck, David had to overcome claustrophobia and I had to deal with motion sickness. We had faced down these impediments on our Galapagos boat by sleeping on lounge chairs on the deck under trillions of stars, which was wonderful.
On the dive boats, however, we were sardined three-high in the rocking hold, pitch dark at night save some safety lighting on the stairs. The Scopolamine sea-sickness patch made my ocean voyages possible. We told ourselves we were being rocked in our mothers’ arms and got used to it.
It was not a luxury vacation, but a rewarding way to spend our time.
Now I wonder why I never considered the possibility of fire on the main deck. Why had I never tried to climb the ladder to the top bunk with the emergency hatch, pushing it open just for practice? I didn’t think about whether and why a night watch was required, or what that duty entailed.
My husband and I are determined to be more mindful when our actions or inactions may put others at risk. Sleepers in our charge, children, pedestrians and cyclists, and people with illnesses or disabilities all deserve our attentiveness. Being prepared for emergency means being mindful all the time.
I believe some good can emerge from this tragedy.
Karen Telleen-Lawton, Noozhawk Columnist
Karen Telleen-Lawton is an eco-writer, sharing information and insights about economics and ecology, finances and the environment. Having recently retired from financial planning and advising, she spends more time exploring the outdoors — and reading and writing about it. The opinions expressed are her own.