Everything that goes wrong, he finds a solution.
Somewhere between New Zealand and Fiji, in waters that do not forgive miscalculation, a yacht named Cahuna lost its rudder in 40-knot winds and five-metre swells, leaving four people — a retired police officer, his teenage daughter, and two young sailors — to hold themselves together through a week of cascading failures. It is an old story, the sea testing human ingenuity against its indifference, and once again the answer came not from a single heroic act but from patience, improvisation, and the quiet courage of people who refused to stop problem-solving. A rescue vessel is now on its way, and the horizon, for the first time in days, holds something other than uncertainty.
- The Cahuna's rudder vanished entirely in deteriorating conditions near Minerva Reef, stripping the yacht of its primary means of steering at the worst possible moment.
- Setbacks arrived in waves — a snapped sea anchor, a flooded toolbox, a propeller tangled in a fuel transfer line — each one closing off another avenue of escape.
- Skipper Steve Dawson improvised relentlessly, fashioning a replacement rudder from a spinnaker pole and plywood and powering his tools from a vacuum cleaner battery when the sea destroyed the rest.
- Some 300 rally yachts sailed nearby, yet trade winds and dangerous conditions made any peer rescue impossible, leaving the crew isolated even within a fleet.
- Back in Whangārei, Dawson's wife monitored satellite updates between hospital shifts, describing the ordeal as a washing machine — and her husband as the calm eye inside it.
- The YWAM Koha relief vessel has now altered course toward the Cahuna, with a potential tow to Suva harbour offering the crew their first concrete path to safety after nearly a week adrift.
Steve Dawson was four days into a Pacific crossing with his daughter Shifrah, sailor Broch Carter, and dive instructor Charlie Harris when the weather closed in near Minerva Reef. A camera inspection of the stern confirmed what the failed steering had already suggested — the rudder was simply gone. Winds were gusting to 40 knots, swells reaching five metres, and the Cahuna was without primary steering in some of the ocean's most unforgiving waters. A nearby skipper, watching helplessly, later said he felt gutted. There was nothing anyone could do.
What followed was a week of compounding failures that tested the crew at every turn. Dawson, a retired police officer with decades of sailing experience, built a makeshift rudder from a spinnaker pole and plywood. When the sea anchor line snapped, the crew fashioned a drogue from chain and rope. When a wave flooded the toolbox and destroyed the power tools, Dawson switched to a vacuum cleaner battery to keep working. When a Canadian yacht attempted a diesel transfer and the line fouled the Cahuna's propeller, the engine became useless too. Each solution revealed a new problem, and each problem demanded another solution.
Around 300 yachts were sailing that week as part of the Pacific Rally, but the trade winds made any rescue attempt too dangerous for fellow sailors to attempt. The crew rationed their Starlink satellite power carefully, staying in contact with the outside world in careful intervals. In Whangārei, Lisa Dawson — a medical oncologist and Steve's wife — tracked weather forecasts and satellite updates while continuing her work, describing the first day as though her family were trapped in a washing machine. She spoke of her husband's steadiness, his reputation among those who know him as the Bear Grylls of the sea.
The four crew members — ranging in age from 19 to 63 — held their morale together through resourcefulness and Dawson's experienced leadership. He had made the Fiji passage before, had skippered flotillas through the Greek Islands, had decades of accumulated calm to draw on. That history seemed to matter.
A commercial tow was estimated at around $180,000, but relief was coming through other means. The YWAM Koha, a relief vessel, altered its course to intercept the Cahuna midweek. Its managing director confirmed the captain was in direct contact with Dawson, and technical advisors were assessing whether a tow to Suva harbour was feasible. For the first time in nearly a week, the crew had something more than improvisation to rely on — a ship on the horizon, and a real prospect of reaching land.
Steve Dawson was four days into what should have been a routine Pacific crossing when the weather system began its approach toward Minerva Reef. He and his daughter Shifrah, along with experienced sailor Broch Carter and dive instructor Charlie Harris, were aboard the Cahuna, a yacht headed for Fiji as part of a larger Pacific Rally fleet. The skipper of a nearby vessel, Third Wind, was monitoring their progress closely. Then the steering failed.
Dawson reported the problem to George Oliver, who advised him to check the stern with a camera. What he found was the rudder—simply gone. The loss came at the worst possible moment: winds were gusting to 40 knots, swells were climbing to five meters, and the Cahuna was now without primary steering in some of the Pacific's most unforgiving waters. Oliver felt the weight of it immediately. "I felt pretty gutted for him," he would later say. "There wasn't a lot we could do."
What followed was a week of cascading failures that would have broken most crews. Dawson, a retired police officer with decades of sailing experience, began improvising. He constructed a makeshift rudder from a spinnaker pole and plywood, working methodically through the chaos. The crew deployed a sea anchor to stabilize the vessel, but the line snapped. They fashioned a drogue from chain and rope instead, using sails and limited engine power to maintain some semblance of control. Then a large wave crashed over the deck, flooding the toolbox and destroying the power tools Dawson needed for his repairs. He adapted again, switching to a vacuum cleaner battery to power what work remained.
The setbacks kept arriving. A Canadian yacht, the Naida, attempted to transfer diesel fuel across a line, but the line became entangled in the Cahuna's propeller, leaving the yacht unable to use its engine at all. About 300 yachts were sailing that week as part of the Pacific Rally, but none could help—the trade winds and conditions made any rescue attempt too dangerous. Oliver explained the brutal calculus: turning around would have endangered his own boat and crew. There was nothing anyone could do but watch and wait.
Back in Whangārei, Lisa Dawson—a medical oncologist at the local hospital and Steve's wife—was tracking satellite updates and weather forecasts while continuing her work. She described the first 24 hours as if her husband and the crew were trapped in a washing machine, tossed about by forces beyond control. Yet she also spoke of Steve's calm, his cleverness, his ability to find a solution to each new problem. "People call Steve the Bear Grylls of the sea," she said. The crew maintained contact through Starlink satellite communications, though power was precious and they rationed it carefully, turning the system off whenever possible to preserve battery life.
The four crew members—Dawson at 63, his 19-year-old daughter, Carter at 23, and Harris at 29—remained remarkably positive throughout the ordeal. Lisa credited her husband's decades of experience and steady leadership. He had completed the Fiji passage before, had skippered charter flotillas through the Greek Islands, where he had met Lisa in the early 1990s. That history, that calm competence, seemed to hold the crew together even as one thing after another went wrong.
A professional rescue was being arranged. The cost of a commercial tow was estimated at around $180,000, but help was coming another way. The YWAM Koha, a relief vessel, altered course to intercept the Cahuna midweek. The ship's managing director, Marty Emmett, confirmed that the captain was in direct communication with Dawson and that technical advisors were calculating whether a safe tow to Suva harbour was possible. For the first time in nearly a week, the crew had more than improvisation and resilience to rely on. They had a rescue ship on the horizon.
Notable Quotes
Everything that goes wrong, he finds a solution. He's very adaptable.— Lisa Dawson, skipper's wife
I felt pretty gutted for him. There wasn't a lot we could do.— George Oliver, skipper of Third Wind
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What strikes you most about how Dawson responded to losing the rudder?
That he didn't panic or freeze. The moment he confirmed it was gone, he started building. A spinnaker pole, plywood, a vacuum cleaner battery—he was working with what was in front of him, not waiting for perfect tools or conditions.
His wife called him the Bear Grylls of the sea. Do you think that's accurate?
It's one way to say it. But it's more than survival instinct. It's decades of experience meeting a crisis with calm. He'd done this passage before. He knew boats. That knowledge is what let him adapt so quickly.
The crew stayed positive. How much of that comes from the skipper's demeanor?
Almost everything. A 19-year-old in a yacht without a rudder in 40-knot winds could easily spiral into fear. But if the person in charge is methodical, problem-solving, not panicking—that sets the tone for everyone.
What about the failed rescue attempts? The snapped sea anchor, the propeller entanglement?
Each one was a fresh setback. But they didn't compound into despair because Dawson had already proven he could improvise. The crew learned to expect the next problem and trust he'd find a way through it.
Why couldn't the other 300 yachts help?
Trade winds and conditions. Turning back would have endangered their own boats and crews. Sometimes the most responsible thing is to stay your course and let professional help come instead.
What does it mean that his wife was tracking everything from shore?
It means she understood the stakes and the reality. She wasn't minimizing it or pretending it was routine. She was watching the weather, the forecasts, the satellite data—and still going to work, still functioning. That's its own kind of resilience.