WHOOOOSH! John barely had time to think as oxygen was sucked into the instant inferno above him. Just seconds earlier he’d been simply carrying out a repair in the saloon, now he was fighting to save his boat – and his life...
It’s taken five years for John and Cheryl Kestle to finally be able to share the story of the horrific experience they endured on a remote beach in the Gulf of Carpentaria, Australia.

The months leading up to the fire had been perfect. After years of powercat boating, the Kestles were living their retirement dream, delighted with their 35’ sailing cat, PHOENIX and looking forward to many more seasons aboard. The boat’s name held more than the usual novelty value, John and Cheryl often lightheartedly shared the fact that the boat had literally risen from the ashes of a factory fire during its construction.
Before embarking on the long trip north, John and Cheryl had enjoyed short shakedowns, learning about multihull sailing and affecting modifications to their new boat. During work breaks from their respective jobs (Cheryl in nursing and John as a Forester and Fire Control Officer), they prepared both themselves and the boat for the extended cruise. New engines, davits, canopy, and sugar scoops were fitted and in February ’97, the Kestles retired and excitedly prepared for their trip of a lifetime. Good friends Bruce and Dawn on their 40-foot sailing cat, CATAPULT, accompanied them, leisurely exploring the Queensland, Northern Territory and Western Australian coastlines. Stunning sunsets, seafood feasts, great sailing – their dream of tropical cruising had far exceeded their expectations. But, with the cyclone season looming, it was soon time to return south and the two multis headed homeward.
Strong winds delayed them for a week in Karumba at the bottom of the rugged and isolated Gulf of Carpentaria, but with no sign of the winds abating, it was eventually decided to put to sea regardless and to make some headway. The shallow waters of the Gulf are notorious for their extremely choppy nature in less than ideal conditions, and the low bridge-deck PHOENIX really suffered a pounding as they bashed to windward. After many hours of this punishment, John and Cheryl noticed water on the carpet around the base of the saloon table. Understandably alarmed, CATAPULT was notified and it was immediately decided to seek shelter and investigate. A small creek was the closest tributary,120 miles north of Karumba, and thousands more from anywhere else.
The next day both boats were beached at high tide and the problem located. It seemed that heavy drawers within the saloon table had worked the supporting leg until it had slightly delaminated from the bridge-deck floor. While Cheryl, Bruce and Dawn busied themselves with routine hull cleaning, John began repairing the saloon floor, using the necessary assortment of materials... glass, resin, acetone, and thinners. As anyone who has worked with these chemicals knows, especially in the heat of the tropics, the fumes from these materials are considerable – and highly combustible. To clear the fumes and aid in the drying process, John set up a small 12-volt fan… And the nightmare began.

A single spark from the fan’s motor ignited the fumes instantly, setting the starboard saloon roof afire, the extensive synthetic liner exuded thick acrid smoke and provided a perfect channel for the fire’s destructive path. Cheryl was quickly on hand with salt water in the cockpit, but the billowing clouds of toxic black smoke soon forced her from the boat and she scrambled distraught off the transom. Inside the now blazing saloon, John’s attempts to quell the inferno with an extinguisher were proving useless and with horror he realized there was no way he could leave the boat through the companionway – a wall of flames barring his exit. His experience in Fire Control told him the situation was now critical. Fighting panic, heat, and the overpowering fumes, he grabbed their camera and logbook and retreated to the port forward cabin in a daze. Frantic screams from the beach reached him through the maelstrom, as Cheryl, Bruce and Dawn urged him to get out of the boat anyway he could. The fire was spreading at an amazing speed and it wouldn’t be long before the entire coachroof was ablaze, with any chance of escape remote. After an agonizing few minutes, John’s head finally appeared out of the port hatch and he slowly crawled free, collapsing on the deck in shock and exhaustion. More urgent coaxing was needed before he fell 10 feet from the deck to the sand, emotionally devastated and suffering from smoke inhalation, but amazingly otherwise uninjured. An admirable attempt was made to save the furler but John quickly realized nothing could be done but to watch in horror as their beloved boat burnt to the sand. Having good friends nearby was a blessing but the close proximity of CATAPULT was of definite concern. Luckily the strong wind was blowing offshore as CATAPULT sat only meters away – uninsured. Although obviously distressed, Dawn had the forethought to grab her camera and photograph the disaster as it unfolded, helping greatly in the ensuing insurance process.
One hour later, PHOENIX was gone.

John had narrowly escaped with his life. The placement of the 12-volt connector in the cockpit had been fortuitous as he had popped his head out into the cockpit to plug in the fan. Had he been breathing in the saloon when the fumes ignited, his lungs, also holding the flammable ingredients, would have been irreparably seared... As they watched PHOENIX burn helplessly, the full impact of the incident’s horrific potential truly hit home...
Being so isolated, the boats were out of VHF range but a crab fisherman happened to be camping on the creek and made contact with his brother who had an HF radio. The Karumba Police was notified of the incident, but since no physical injuries were sustained, investigations were delayed until the next day. John and Cheryl collapsed aboard CATAPULT that night, the smouldering ashes of PHOENIX beside them being slowly doused by the incoming tide.
The next morning they sifted through the ruins but apart from $25 in dollar coins, their search was fruitless. The boat was completely gutted. The sailing cat that just 48 hours earlier had been photographed while sailing happily was now reduced to a surrealistic sculpture of charred framework resting forlornly on a pile of sodden ash...

Luckily John had his wallet on him during the fire, saving important cards and a little cash, but all of their liveaboard possessions were gone along with a dream that had been years in bringing to fruition. John was particularly distressed about losing the two new motors, fitted in October of ‘96 and just one year later, almost to the day – completely decimated. PHOENIX’s mast was gently laid out on the beach, literally the only thing left uncharred, but a poignant reminder that not everything was lost – John and Cheryl heard a rumor years later that the mast was discovered and utilized by a passing yachtie. They like to hope so, at least a part of PHOENIX may have risen from the ashes.
Seargeant Kennedy from Karumba arrived by 4-wheel drive and the Kestles were taken back to the little township where they were touched by the community’s generosity. Seargeant Kennedy and wife Anne, kindly opened their home to the Kestles the first night, even lending them their car to drive during their stay. Free motel accommodation was supplied by the townsfolk, along with clothing and various offers of support. The consolation offered by Bruce and Dawn during and after the catastrophe, followed by the kindness of strangers in Karumba, really helped John and Cheryl get back on track.
Phoning family and friends was difficult – their first year of retired life aboard hadn’t ended too well! Initial concerns and worries were sure to be validated and the inevitable pleas to abandon the dream ensue... but their fears were allayed by unconditional support. Not once was the notion of ‘jumping ship’ suggested. Their insurance company proved a considerate and efficient group. Just 5-6 weeks after the loss, the Kestles were paid in full for the market value of PHOENIX.

Determined to find another boat and resume cruising, they began immediately to scour the East Coast for another multihull, and by December had found their current boat, a Simpson 11m WINDSONG – with high bridge-deck clearance – and no carpet or forerunners! Months of cruising the East Coast salved the memory of losing PHOENIX and October ’98 found them, once again, in the Whitsunday’s, enjoying the areas spectacular cruising grounds and totally happy with their new boat’s performance and comfort. John’s birthday had rolled around and on October 1 they headed out of Airlie Beach, intending to celebrate in one of the many beautiful Whitsunday anchorages. They were flying along in blustery but exhilarating conditions with the boat handling well, when a 40-knot bullet hit and – BANG! The diamond stay let go and the mast bent – and then toppled. “Could this really be happening?” they thought as the mess of mast, sail and boom lay in a twisted wreck around them... Almost a year to the day and another freak setback... After the tragedy and horror of the fire, a dismasting seemed almost blasé. The situation was assessed, photos taken, and the rig then calmly cut away.
PHOENIX may not have risen a second time from the ashes but John and Cheryl certainly have, continuing to enjoy six months’ cruising each year and becoming more than able sailors, even racing’ WINDSONG to success in numerous regattas. Their story is inspirational, showing not only the indomitable spirit of human nature, but also the powerful lure of a cruising lifestyle where challenges on all scales often demand resilience beyond the norm…