Transatlantic, Upwind, Alone–What’s Not To Love?: Yesterday, 37 solo sailors left Plymouth in windy, wet conditions. Ahead of them lies 3,000 miles of cold, grey ocean, as they batter their way through frontal systems, exhaustion and potential catastrophe to reach Boston. It’s called “The Transat,” and it’s the granddaddy of all solo races. Started in 1960 by an English adventurer and innovator named Blondie Hasler (who raced in a 26-foot, junk-rigged cruising boat), the first Transat took more than 40 days. It was such a compelling and nail-biting competition that it has been held every four years since, and was the precursor to the solo races which eventually took sailors around the world. Today, the boats are the best of the best, high tech 60-foot trimarans, 60-foot monohull thoroughbreds tuning up for the non-stop, round-the-planet Vendee Globe this fall, and a handful of 50-footers. The first boats should be in Boston in just over a week…that is if they don’t capsize or break down. The weather, as usual, is for sh*t, and already the skippers are exhausted from lack of sleep (Hasler claimed he perfected the art of the one-minute catnap for this race). You can follow the whole shebang here, and read the latest daily report here. There are two American skippers, Kip Stone and Joe Harris, in the 50-foot monohull fleet, who will be fun to follow. Both are amateur sailors who just said, “What the f*ck,” bought racing boats, and are now out there getting cold, getting wet, and probably wondering what the hell they were thinking…



Transat Trimaran: “Whoa, Momma. Note to self: the manual advises that it’s important to keep at least part of the boat in the water at all times…”