Detail account of how an American journalist missed the ill-fated Titan submersible trip because she could not come up with the $5,000 fee demanded by the organisers
Sharael Kolberg
At 9:59 a.m. on Monday, June 19, I received an email from an editor I had been working with at Scientific American magazine that read:
“I’m so sorry to read this morning about a submersible going missing, and I Just wanted to check in briefly and confirm that you’re okay.”
As my eyes scanned the text, my hands covered my mouth as I gasped, “Oh my god, oh my god,” I said to my husband Jeff, nearby. “The sub is missing! Holy crap!”
“What?!” he replied in shock. “The one that you were supposed to be on?”
We both got goosebumps at the thought. Within minutes, it was all over the news, and we were glued to the live coverage, hoping for the best possible outcome.
It all started back in January, with a blurb in an industry email newsletter that caught my attention. It was a call for “Mission Specialists” for an 8-day Titanic expedition, to study the deep ocean ecosystem and its impact on the planet.
As an adventure travel writer, I immediately emailed OceanGate to see if I could get a seat on the Titan submersible, to cover the expedition.
After months of numerous emails back and forth with OceanGate’s in-house public relations representative—gathering information about the excursion, the ship that would be taking us to the site, the submersible and who would be on it, the duties of the Mission Specialist, the scientific research that would be conducted—I finally got her to agree to secure a spot for me, depending on guaranteed media coverage, and was told that I would be the first journalist to dive to the Titanic on the Titan.
I got to work and carefully crafted story pitches to editors at publications that I felt it would be a good fit for. There were so many possible angles for this type of excursion: Would you pay $250,000 to See the Titanic Shipwreck Up Close?, Citizen Scientists Help Uncover Secrets of the Deep Ocean on Titanic Expedition, Titanic Shipwreck Expedition Unveils Unexpected Deep Sea Life Diversity.
I had about a half-dozen national magazines and websites that were interested in various (non-overlapping) angles. I have never fought so hard to secure publication for an article in my life. It was such a thrilling concept to go where fewer than 300 people had been, to see a part of history that has been documented in books and movies, to witness deep ocean life that was mysterious and fascinating.
There was just one catch. It would cost me $5,000. As a rule, for work assignments, I never pay more than I will earn. The fee for a Mission Specialist (a.k.a. Citizen Scientist) to attend the Titanic expedition is $250,000, but since I would be garnering national coverage (and hopefully inspiring those with the $250,000 to join future expeditions), the company agreed to drop the fee to $5,000, the price to cover “berth and board” expenses.
I pressed on and didn’t let the fee deter me. As I understood it, the Mission Specialist would be helping the scientific community achieve their objectives through a variety of roles—diving the wreck site, gathering data, assisting with surface operations, attending lectures from expert scientists—and the fee they paid would help underwrite the cost of the expedition.
While in discussions about what to expect, I was informed that, in the submersible, I would be joined by Stockton Rush, the president and founder of OceanGate; Paul-Henri Nargeolet, a veteran Nautile submersible pilot and 30-time+ Titanic diver; as well as a five-time NASA shuttle astronaut that has completed more than 40 hours of spacewalks and also summited Everest.
I would be in good hands. The thought of being in a cramped submersible for nearly 10 hours, and going 2.5 miles deep, was unnerving, but I was never afraid for my life.
Also on board the MV Polar Prince, a Miawpukek Horizon Marine Services ship that would be taking us to the dive site that was a day-and-a-half journey from St. John’s, Newfoundland, would be the Miawpukek First Nation crew, in addition to potentially a First Nation artist in residence, cadets from the Memorial University Marine Institute, and experts, scientists, marine biologists, and maritime archaeologists that would give presentations throughout the mission.
With only a couple of months to go before the voyage took off for the deep Atlantic, I emailed companies and organizations to try to get sponsors and/or grants to cover the $5,000 fee, to no avail.
I tried to convince the OceanGate public relations representative that the amount of coverage I would garner would far outweigh the price they would’ve paid in advertising for similar publicity. No luck. They decided to give my seat to a paying customer.
It was so disappointing. I had tried so hard for the “story of a lifetime.” But there was nothing I could do to change their minds. Money spoke. I told myself, “There’s always next year,” knowing they would do two more dives in the submersible in 2024.
When the search for the submersible began, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. It was an out-of-body experience knowing that instead of sitting comfortably on my couch in my home, with my adorable dog next to me, watching the story of the missing submersible unfold—I could have been on the submersible, in the dark, cold, cramped conditions, with four other strangers, praying for my life… or worse, as it turns out.
I kept thinking that it could’ve been my photo on TV. I prayed day and night for the safe return of the crew.
One thing that did strike me while watching the story play out across multiple news channels, was the fact that the media quickly sensationalized the facts…that it was a “tourist” excursion and that the Titan was cobbled together with off-the-shelf components.
As an insider, privy to information gathered over months of research and discussions, I was shocked that the news outlets were giving such a narrow narrative of what was a much larger picture, and intentionally pulling out the most damaging information while leaving out critical data that would’ve given their audience the opportunity to make their own interpretations.
On Thursday, June 22, our worst fears were realized—the crew had not survived. But the saving grace was that apparently it was instantaneous and no one suffered. When the announcement was made on live TV, my husband started crying and hugged me tightly. My heart sank for the families of the crew members.
I can’t imagine what that would’ve been like for my family had I been on the Titan, especially considering that I recently beat breast cancer. For me, it was both a feeling of relief and guilt. Why wasn’t it me? Now, I had cheated death twice. There must be a reason I’m here.
This experience sent me into an existential crisis. Unlike surviving breast cancer, with the submersible situation, someone else perished in my place. Rather than being happy that I was alive, I couldn’t help but feel sad for those that didn’t make it…and their loved ones that would have to go on without them.
From what I gathered, the crew members were all such incredible people, with amazing accomplishments, off-the-charts intelligence, an enormous amount of bravery, and a true zest for life.
I have yet to discover why I was spared, but what I do know is that the crew members were role models as to how to live life to the fullest—do what you love, with curiosity and with passion, and without fear or regret. May we all live life in this way, in their honour.
Culled from Newsweek
Sharael Kolberg is a travel writer and author.
