TBO.com - TBO is Tampa Bay Online

The last Vikings

ADVERTISEMENT

By MICHELLE BEARDEN

mbearden@tampatrib.com

Published: October 11, 2009

HUDSON - The Brown brothers, two years apart and the middle of eight siblings, get along very well. That doesn't mean they agree on everything.

Like this summer, when they got caught in a treacherous storm in the Atlantic Ocean aboard their 21-foot flats boat. Somewhere along the stretch between the Shetland and Orkney islands off the coast of Scotland, as they hung on for dear life while being plastered by 15-foot waves, Bob Brown recalls that Ralph nearly got him killed at least six times.

"I only take credit for three," Ralph counters quickly.

"Six," Bob shoots back. "Six times I was almost a goner! And that was just one leg of the trip."

For a moment, silence hangs heavy in the air. Then both burst out laughing, though neither one concedes the point.

On June 27, the Browns left the dock at the Tampa Marriott Waterside, waving goodbye to a small gathering of friends and family. They were aboard the Intruder, designed and built by Ralph at his Dream Boats facility in Hudson.

Their goal: to be the first to cross the Atlantic in a small, open powerboat typically used for fishing in shallow waters. They grew up in Cocoa Beach and love the sea. But this voyage would certainly test that loyalty.

With no cabin (translation: no place to sleep), no keel and no sail, and with hurricane season in full swing, the Browns were the butt of jokes and earned the scorn of many. It didn't matter that they were stocked with safety equipment including survivor suits, GPS systems, high-frequency radios and an emergency position-indicator beacon. Or that Ralph was confident his boat's unique design would keep it from getting swamped in rough seas.

Foolhardy, naysayers said.

Even the "Guinness World Records" folks wanted no part of it, fearful of encouraging people to repeat such an attempt.

"Pretty much everybody thought we were nuts," says Ralph, 50. "In fact, a couple of experts wrote me letters how it was impossible and we were guaranteed to die."

Seventy-six days and 8,312 miles later, the ocean-weary brothers docked the battered Intruder at its final stop Sept. 10 in Weisbaden, Germany. They say they easily established three world records - including the longest ocean journey in a flats boat - and are now re-applying to get in the book. It won't be the first time.

In 2007, they earned a mention for their record-breaking 1,700-mile trip in the same boat from North Carolina to Bermuda to New York City.

'Two men in a tub'

Those who pledged money and offered prayers of support are relieved. For all the encouragement they gave, many quietly worried.

"OK, I wasn't completely confident, even if I acted like I was. It looked like two men in a tub," admits John Koko, a co-worker of Ralph's at Benco Insurance Planners. "Forget the Guinness book. They belong in Ripley's Believe It or Not."

The voyage was born of a promise made 29 years ago.

Once a free spirit who hitchhiked across the country, Ralph settled down when he enlisted in the Marine Corps. He was told to be prepared to be deployed to Iran, where tensions had heated up.

Those orders never came. They were thwarted in 1980 by Operation Eagle Claw, in which several branches of the military attempted to liberate the American Embassy in Tehran after terrorists took the ambassador and his staff hostage.

Three of his Marine comrades died in that ill-fated mission. Although Ralph never knew Sgt. John Harvey, Cpl. George Holmes and staff Sgt. Dewey Johnson, he vowed to never forget the sacrifice they made and to find a way to honor them.

But after his four years were up, he did forget. Ralph got married, had three kids, settled down with a job. Then he took a trip to Arlington National Cemetery with his family a few years ago and came upon the memorial plaque erected for Operation Eagle Claw.

He saw the names of the three dead Marines etched in the granite among the other victims and broke down in tears.

"I had made a promise and I didn't keep it. I lied," he says.

Ralph is a man of deep Christian faith and a strong sense of patriotism. He still carries his worn dog tags on his keychain. He felt ashamed.

Ralph came home to Spring Hill, where he works in financial services with a boat-building business on the side, filled with renewed energy to revive that pledge. He posted the Marines' names on a sheet of paper at home and his office and began brainstorming.

He wanted to raise money for military charities to benefit wounded veterans and families of fallen heroes. But he would have to do something outrageous to draw attention to the cause. His first plan was to build a yacht and attempt a speed record.

Too pie in the sky, he decided. After he and Bob had such success with their Bahamas trip, the plan to cross the Atlantic as a fundraiser began to take shape. They would raise the money by selling polo shirts or T-shirts imprinted with the slogan "Do More Than Just Say Thanks." Ralph did the math in his head and set a goal.

"All we need is 150,000 people" buying $10 shirts at $30 apiece, he told his brother. "That's $3 million. That's doable, right?"

Bob, a house painter from Merritt Island who craves adventure, didn't hesitate to sign on as first mate.

"Painting houses in the summer in Florida, or going on a record-breaking boat trip across the Atlantic with my brother for a good cause? Not much of a choice there," says Bob, a 52-year-old father of three. "Even though the whole thing may have seemed idiotic, I trust my brother. He knows boats."

Leaps of faith

First they had to convince their skeptical wives. Then they had to find sponsors for the estimated $125,000 cost of the trip.

Ralph met Norm Miller, chairman of Interstate Batteries, at a men's prayer group. Miller is a founder of I Am Second, a nonprofit Internet ministry that features videos of faith-based testimonies of hope, inspiration and transformation. He liked Ralph's passion. He offered some money, batteries to help power the boat, and the Internet venue for the brothers to share their story upon return.

Benco, Ralph's employer, chipped in. John Koko, an ex-Army Ranger, did, too. If anyone could pull off such an improbable voyage, it was his tenacious co-worker.

"Ralph's like the little engine that could. He says 'I think I can, I think I can' so much, that he makes it happen."

"It can't sink, it can't sink, trust your equipment, trust your equipment, don't panic, don't panic, help us, Lord Jesus, help us Lord Jesus."

Ralph repeated those words over and over again in his mind as monster waves pushed the Intruder closer to the rocky cliffs he knew were out there but that he couldn't see. The night was inky black off the Faroe Islands, a Danish province halfway between Scotland and Iceland, and the boat spun and turned, pummeled by waves.

Unable to get a good read from his GPS, Ralph felt the weight of possible doom - for his boat, for their mission, for their lives.

And then, out of the darkness, a bright star appeared and shone through the clouds. Its brief and welcome light allowed Ralph to get his bearings, lock their position and navigate the boat to the safe shores of Torshavn, the capital of the Faroe Islands.

The Browns later learned they had wandered into an area known as Tindholmur, one of the deadliest patches of water in the world. An islander told them that being caught in a storm there was like throwing a raisin into a pot of boiling water in the dark. Some of the locals, with strong Nordic roots, started calling the brothers "The Last Vikings."

"Without that star, we would have been toast," Ralph says. He's a man who believes in miracles.

Breathtaking memories

It wasn't the only time the brothers received a "distinct and unequivocal answer to prayer" just at the right moment.

"I'm telling you, this trip was buried in prayer," he says. "From the beginning, God had his hand in it."

Along with the harrowing times, there were dozens of positive, breathtaking memories. Some were captured on video camera and posted on YouTube: Bob taking a wakeboarding spin behind the boat in his wet suit, grinning ear to ear amidst towering icebergs.

Regrettably, they have no photographic proof of the "Jaws"-sized shark that circled the boat, or the pods of whales that swam alongside them.

"We probably saw at least 50 whales altogether this trip," Bob says.

"No, a lot more than that," Ralph says.

"I'm not talking about giant dolphins, they don't count. I'm talking about whales. We saw about 50," Bob says.

"No way. I saw 50 in at least one pod!" Ralph argues. "You must have been sleeping all those other times."

A moment of silence again, then laughter. The brothers agree to disagree on the little things.

Home again, back to earth.

They don't have to heat up dinner in a 12-volt Crock-Pot anymore, or sleep in turns under the stars, tethered by a rope and swathed in a vinyl blanket. The adventurers are back to being dads and husbands, back to work.

The Intruder is homeward bound, somewhere in the Caribbean aboard a freighter at a cost of about $6,000. Ralph estimates he's out about $50,000, since they weren't able to get enough sponsors and funding to pay the trip's expenses. He's not complaining; this was his vision, his dream.

What distresses him is less tangible.

"We met strangers who became fast friends in every single harbor. People who stepped up and bent over backwards to help us, and these are friends I will likely never see again," Ralph says. "That leaves me with a real sense of emptiness."

Supporters followed online

Bruce Schulman is one of those new friends.

"What they accomplished is unbelievable," he says. A business development consultant from Plymouth, Mass., he read about the Browns' voyage on the Internet and offered to help with media coverage and logistics at their 20 refueling stops along the Atlantic coast.

He kept in daily contact with the Browns, updating their GPS coordinates and itinerary at crosstheatlantic.com so supporters could virtually follow the journey. Through Schulman's efforts, people at the next stop knew to expect the brothers. On a tiny outpost island in Cartwright, in the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador, residents left the lights on for the Browns' late-night arrival.

"Ralph and Bob got to quit calling themselves wild and crazy guys. They were prepared and they were focused," Schulman says.

The voyage may be complete, but the mission is far from over. Fundraising fell woefully short of the $3 million goal. Paying for the shirts left just $7,000 so far for the eight military charities - six American, one British and one Canadian - they chose to help.

Ralph can't stop thinking of John Harvey, George Holmes and Dewey Johnson.

"I won't stop talking about this until we make our goal. Everyone wants to hear about the trip across the Atlantic, but that wasn't what this was all about," he says.

In Waltham, Mass., a tower sits on the banks of the Charles River, commemorating the Viking fort established by the great Norse explorer Leif Ericson in 1000 A.D., some 500 years before Columbus arrived in North America. Nordic legend holds that one day the spirit of the Viking warriors will make the treacherous ocean trip back home across the Atlantic, to the remote Icelandic land from where they came.

Ralph, a man who believes there are no coincidences, smiles. He and his brother just may be those last Vikings. They were born in Waltham.

Ralph and Bob share some of their story on Michelle Bearden's "Keeping the Faith" segment today during the 9 a.m. newscast on News Channel 8. Keyword: Voyage, for links to more video footage, Ralph's blog and information on how to support the "I Am Second

Share this:

Loading Comments...

Email Print

ADVERTISEMENT