I will never comprehend how anybody at anytime ever thought it a good idea to be stooging around at 200 feet in the pitch black of night when you can't see anything ahead of you, let alone a lighthouse sitting on a great big rock in the middle of the sea flashing its light in your direction every 12 seconds. To my way of thinking, in undertaking such an activity, chances are eventually you're going to fly into something. And all for the reason of a situation where a doctor at a hospital on the other end of the radio has diagnosed, wrap it in a bandage and give him a panadol. I wonder in this instance what the outcome for the patient fisherman was, whether the severed thumb was re-attached, or the doctor was right (likely couldn't be saved).