Olympic rower forgoes Paris to rescue Brazilian flood victims: “I needed to row where my heart took me.”
As the days passed, I had no time to think about training. It felt like living in the middle of a war zone. Death, pain, and despair surrounded me. I took a boat and, along with some companions, started to rescue stranded people.
- 4 months ago
August 3, 2024
RIO GRANDE DO SUL, Brazil — When devastating floods ravaged my city of Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil, I made a difficult decision. I gave up my dream of qualifying for the Olympic Games in Paris to join the recovery efforts.
As an Olympic rower for the Brazilian national team, for 20 years I trained in various clubs across Brazil. My partner Piedro Tuchtenhagen and I trained in Rio Grande for the pre-Olympics in Switzerland, with a trip scheduled for May 9, 2024. However, when catastrophic floods hit Brazil unexpectedly, we decided rather than win medals, we needed to get on a boat and rescue people trapped in the aftermath.
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Rising waters: 10 centimeters per hour make floods unstoppable
On April 30, 2024, while training at the club, rains began falling in Rio Grande do Sul. I saw the water flowing but nothing caught my attention or made me worry. Living on an island, overflowing water became a frequent occurrence. I expected it to last a couple days, but the water level continued to rise. As the rain intensified and the flow grew enormous, I felt shocked, but never imagined what came next.
The water soon began to rise at 10 centimeters per hour. It felt unstoppable. We quickly organized boats at the club and loaded essentials by hand – items needed for rescues. When I returned the next day, I faced an even more dramatic situation. The gates of the club became blocked due to the rising water levels. I stood there, unable to react as desperation overwhelmed me.
Suddenly, I thought of my little daughter who lived in the area with her mother. I grabbed the car keys and raced to her house, dialing her number on my mobile phone, barely able to breathe. I worried whether the water reached them as nervousness and fear consumed me.
To my relief and surprise, the water had not yet reached their neighborhood. As I drove along the road, I saw a large number of people evacuating, carrying their belongings in backpacks and shopping trolleys. Suddenly, my phone rang, and I heard my daughter’s voice on the other end. Relief washed over me. I could barely utter a word as I pulled up to her house. My legs felt weak as I rushed inside and as soon as I saw her, I hugged her like never before.
The streets overflowed: “We grabbed what we could, packed it into backpacks, and left the house”
I immediately suggested to my daughter’s mother that we leave the next morning, but during the night, the water started to rise even more. The relentless rain prevented us from leaving as planned. By early morning, the streets overflowed with water, transforming into rivers carrying debris. My car lay completely submerged, and the scene looked desolate.
We had to get out at any cost. We grabbed what we could, packed it into backpacks, and left the house. The water reached our waists, as I carried my daughter on my shoulders. The experience left me in disbelief. The streets my daughter usually walked on her way home from school now looked like rivers. At times I feared falling, as the force of the water grew more intense.
We walked three kilometers with the water at our waists, listening to screams, sobs, lightning, thunder, and the falling of relentless rain. We arrived at the Grêmio Náutico club which transformed into a refuge and shelter. I felt a wave of relief. As soon as I knocked on the door, I broke down in tears. A tide of people arrived with us, estimated around 20,000 between those entering and those already inside.
The scene felt chaotic. I saw terror etched on everyone’s faces in that desperate atmosphere. No one knew what to do. At that moment, I realized the situation was catastrophic. I left my daughter safely at the club, and we began to mobilize to receive and distribute donations to the thousands of people who lost everything.
Navigating reddish, murky waters, Olympian encounters barely visible roofs and submerged vehicles
As the days passed, I had no time to think about training. It felt like living in the middle of a war zone. Death, pain, and despair surrounded me. I took a boat and, along with some companions, started to rescue stranded people. Every day at 5:30 a.m., we left on the boat, only to return at 9:00 p.m. or later. It felt exhausting, but we managed to save many people stranded in their homes.
I also spent time delivering and collecting donations, stopping to rest and see my daughter for a couple hours when I could. We navigated through reddish, murky waters, barely able to make out the roofs of houses and vehicles. Other rescue teams joined us with inflatable rafts, and we pulled people and pets up alongside us.
The first outings proved complex. Not everyone could fit in the boat. It felt heart-wrenching to see their desperation. People remained stranded on roofs with water soaking their feet. They appeared in window frames or on the shore, shivering, cold, scared, and hungry. Their cries for help overwhelmed me. We had to assess who to rescue first, promising to return for the others.
Hearing their pleas, begging us not to abandon them, felt devastating. Some stretched out their arms, showing me their children and threatening to throw them into the boat. Others jumped into the water, and I begged them not to, fearing they would be swept away by the current. Not being able to save everyone broke my heart. I remember babies traveling in my boat while their mothers soothed them with lullabies. They looked at me with wet eyes, smiling and thanking me silently.
On the second day of rescue the water depth reached ten meters
While helping people into the boat on the second day, I looked through the water and saw transformers from the electricity poles at the bottom. The water reached eight to ten meters deep. In another area, we spotted victims on a roof. As soon as they saw us, they panicked and shouted, but we couldn’t reach them. Other sunken houses separated us, so we called for reinforcements and stayed with them for nearly an hour.
Finally, we heard an approaching helicopter. Relief and joy spread across everyone’s faces as the helicopter rescued the victims. Another time, as we sailed in a boat called Sarandí, we passed houses partially submerged. Suddenly, we heard a woman calling for help from a difficult-to-reach place. We circled several times, trying to find her. Finally, we spotted her leaning out a window on the first floor.
She begged us not to leave her, having been alone for days. The waters rose dangerously around her. Suddenly, the current increased, putting our own stability in danger. We maneuvered quickly, racing against the clock. Looking around, we saw some wooden planks, ideal for pulling her out and getting her to safety.
This apparent coincidence saved her life. As soon as we pulled her out, she thanked us as she sat down in the boat. We covered her shivering, soaked body while she cried inconsolably, aware she was finally safe. I tried not to become depressed in the face of this tragedy. My mission during those days pushed me to work tirelessly, like an ant carrying its load. Once we arrived at the shelter, people expressed their gratitude. Soaked from head to toe, they hugged me and, with glowing eyes, said, “We made it.”
What started as a rescue soon turned into a marathon
What started as a rescue soon turned into a marathon. We worked tirelessly, navigating the dangerous waters and rescuing hundreds of people. At times, exhaustion hit me hard, but I never stopped. Every time I thought, “This is the last trip,” I remembered the people counting on me because I promised to come back. At times, we put more people on the boat than it could safely handle. At those times, the fear felt palpable. The desperate cries for help became a constant reality as residents waited for rescue.
The authorities joined in after a week. In the meantime, we organized the operations the best we could. With no strategic plan, we improvised everything. The guiding principle of our rescue became urgency. Deciding to pull out of the Olympic Games in France felt difficult, but given the situation, all doubt vanished. I knew friends and family who lost everything. I needed to row where my heart took me.
Now, the river remains higher than usual, but it receded from the city. In its wake, destruction remains everywhere. Death and neglect remain in still-flooded areas. The city needs rebuilding—a titanic mission that will only be possible with the help of the authorities. Today, most people fear they must start over from scratch. No one knows if disaster will strike again – tomorrow, the day after, next month, or next year. People lost everything and the waters drowned all hope.
Despite these harrowing experiences, I plan to continue competing and training in Flamengo. I feel infinitely grateful that my family and friends are safe. Sometimes, when I go out rowing these days, I remember and mourn the pain of those who lost everything, including their lives. I look at the horizon, hold on to my oars, push, and try to keep going.
