One Lucky Dolphin
Only Larry Csonka could come out of a life-and-death situation with enough energy left to sign autographs.

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On the football field, Larry Csonka withstood years of pounding to help carry the Miami Dolphins to three consecutive Super Bowls. But last September, the Bering Sea accomplished what none of his gridiron foes could. As a boat carrying the NFL Hall of Famer attempted to gain harbor in Alaska’s West Aleutians, gale-driven 20-foot seas pounded the champion fullback and his crew into puking, semiconscious hulks.

Csonka, 58, has a lively second career as the host of OLN’s North to Alaska. Over the Labor Day weekend, he and his team were in the village of Nikolski on Umnak Island, rushing before the onslaught of the seasonal storms to film a reindeer hunt at the island’s north end, reachable only by boat. Csonka’s crew—including executive producer Audrey Bradshaw, soundman Rich Larsen, cameraman John Dietrich, hunting guide Tom McCay, and Dwight Johnson, captain of the 27-foot Augusta D—estimated that they had a seven-hour window for the hunt before the storm would hit.

After an uneventful three-hour boat ride to the reindeer grounds, a number of delays closed that window pretty quickly. Csonka’s decision to go for a larger reindeer meant a longer hike to get to it, and after packing out the meat, Csonka and McCay decided that McCay should go back for the antlers. It was getting dark by the time they were back on the boat.

“It’s easy to be a Monday morning quarterback,” Csonka says, “but the mistake was that we didn’t drop anchor in behind the mountains where we were. That predicated itself on another mistake, which was that we stayed too late in a place where we couldn’t see into the bay, where 14- to 16-foot waves were building. By the time we poked our nose out, it was dark and the storm was on us. Then we couldn’t get back into the mousehole we’d crawled out of.” They had no choice but to go into the teeth of the gale.

Three hours later, and just 3 miles from safe haven back in Nikolski, the Augusta D’s bow began submarining, meaning she’d crash down the back of a wave but couldn’t ride up the next. A couple of rogue 20-footers spun the boat broadside in what Csonka describes as “whirligigs.” Johnson had to let the storm take control of the boat in an effort to avoid capsizing. The long-range radio antenna had been lost, so they couldn’t contact the Coast Guard 600 miles away in Kodiak. The Augusta D required just a touch more bad luck for everybody in it to die.

After letting the storm turn the boat, Johnson ordered his seasick passengers to put on heavy-neoprene survival suits. The Augusta D’s only lifeline was the short-range antenna, which could reach the lodge in Nikolski. Its manager began relaying the boat’s GPS reading every 15 minutes to the Coast Guard. A rescue team set out from Kodiak, but it was a 10-hour flight. Csonka and his mates had to fend for themselves for the night.

By the next morning, the storm had subsided to 10-foot swells, calm enough for a basket to be lowered from a helicopter to rescue them. A Coast Guard chopper arrived after 9 A.M. The diver landed on the boat and had the crew bundled off within 45 minutes.

Mindful of the Hall of Famer they had on board, the Coast Guard team presented Csonka with a football. The metaphor was unavoidable: Csonka had, yet again, run the gauntlet. It was the game ball. He signed it then and there: Thanks for pulling my ass out of the sea. Larry Csonka. #39.