“At least it looks like I’m headed for a water landing…”
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. The best sailing on television isn’t on television. It’s on your computer, in the form of Swedish Match Tour TV. They have just added the 2004 Nippon Cup and a 2004 highlight program, so tune–or click–in. Both are well worth watching (try the Full Screen button), with great camerawork and announcers who don’t dumb it all down. And there’s plenty of tight action with miked-up skippers cussing at each other, and trying to spin the umpires. The hell with the networks. I hope these guys steal their lunch…
“Damn you, Gilmour! I know the producers love the crunch of gelcoat, but…”
It’s nice to go through life thinking you are special, unique, unmatched and unparalleled. But you never know. For example: I recently received an e-mail from a gentleman who also goes by the name Tim Zim. He is also 43. He is also into boats. He also has a blog. Okay, he’s British, and he’s not married to a Brazilian doctor. Plus, he’s a lot more crazy, I mean ambitious, than I am. Because his blog is all about his spontaneous purchase (he had never skippered his own boat before), and restoration of a clapped out, rusting, steel fishing trawler that was built in 1963. And it’s a great read. Part technical (with lots of pictures and details of the systems he is working on), part Zen (yes, restoring a fishing trawler can lead to new friends, new adventures and a new take on life), and part romance (he meets the love of his life as a result of this Quixotic project). So here’s to all the blogging TimZim’s out there. If I come across any others we’re going to start a union and meet annually in Florida…
MFV Lady Jane: “Isn’t she a beaut? Just wait ’til I get the hot tub installed…”
Little Big Mac returned to the Northern Hemisphere last night, setting yet another solo record: Ushant to the Equator, 60 days, 13.5 hours. That’s 1 day, 11 hours faster than Mon. Joyon, so there’s a lot of relief onboard B&Q. And, to top it off, Ellen called in this morning (to her HQ, not TWC) to say she thinks, hopes, and prays she’s through the Doldrums early. Why? Well, she’s got winds of 14-16 knots from the northeast. If it holds, that will be a humungous boost to her record prospects, but she’d better hold her breath and cross her fingers because the Doldrums sometimes seem to disappear, only to reappear again (which is a cruel, cruel joke from Neptune, if you think about it). The prognosis for the coming days is: sail on the wind, and pray that the pounding doesn’t break something important. You can read all about it in the latest daily report. And you can watch this short clip (Quicktime only; Hey, it’s not my fault! Forward all complaints to Offshore Challenges) of B&Q sailing along on a calm, moonlit sea to see that even in frustration there is beauty.
The race to the finish is going to be tight and tense. Ellen has just over 3,000 miles to go, a very complex North Atlantic weather picture, and a competitor (Joyon) who had just one or two slow days on this part of the course, and put up some big 400 mile days as he approached the line. Stay tuned…
“Damn, this whiskey tastes good…”
This time, slightly more conventional: DN iceboating. The DN World Championships just slithered to a close on the frigid pack of Lake Mendota, Wisconsin. Check out the website for lots of cool photos and race reports. And here is some great video of what a start looks like (click here), and what DN iceboats look like at speed (click here). For anyone who wants to sail really, really fast (and enjoy the thrill of horrendous crash potential, on top of the possibility of a frigid dunking) an iceboat has to be the cheapest, easiet way to go…
Pre-Start Maneuvers: “This Porta-Potty is damn convenient. But lousy aim is slowly melting the ice underneath…”
If you happen to keep your sailboat at Michigan City harbor, Indiana, you’ll be guaranteed lots of excitement…even before you go racing or sailing on Lake Michigan. That’s because when conditions are just right, you get this:
“Our Father, Who art in heaven…”
“Say, Bob, I think I understand both your boat name and all the velcro beer holders now…”
“Morrow, you bast*rd! When you said we’d be surfing today, I thought you meant WITH the waves…”
Solo French rower Maud Fontenoy is just two weeks into her trans-Pacific blister-fest, I mean oceanic row, from Peru to French Polynesia (which is Tahiti to most of the world; they just can’t give it up, can they?). She’s covered 591 miles, which is a decent 42 miles per day. But she’s got, gulp, 3,729 to go, which likely means at least another 100 days at sea. Luckily, she seems to have a full supply of magic mushrooms to help her cope, at least that’s what I conclude from this recent dispatch (I mean, I know I only talked this way when I was shrooming…):
“I rowed late; the sun went down as if looking for the freshness of the ocean.
The heat is so important that you think all the elements are boiling. The sea is bubbles, clouds of condensation appear at the horizon, The light is so bright that it blinds me.
The sky is mantling bit by bit, my eyes adapt slowly and I can see the first colors of the sunset. The clouds around the sun becomes like a tinged with pink; I can see a flower. Standing in my cockpit, I’m dreaming….
And slowly, quietly the night comes and my favourite lighthouse appear: it’s full moon and this quiet light calms my anguish. I can’t take my eyes away from it. The sea takes mysterious tincts. I hear the waves purruing near OCÉOR, but I already think to something else….how, after all that, is it possible to have doubts on what made me come here !
Don’t forget to look up.”
Very freaky, Mme. Maud. Unfortunately the supply apparently is not sufficient to ‘shroom every day (even if that were possible). Because here is the next dispatch she sent in:
“Storm / breaking waves / sky with thick clouds.
The daylight has disappeared. A clamy heat makes breathing difficult.
I’m tired.
Hope that it will be more quiet soon.”
You can just feel her head throbbing. So let’s call it hangover Haiku. All foolin’ aside, it’s worth reading through Maud’s dispatches because they are endearing, revealing, and full of interesting detail about fishing, the pleasures of a clean T-shirt, and the battle against salt…
How To Survive 150 Days Alone On A Rowboat: “If yesterday was mushrooms, today must be spliff-day. And I know my stash is in here somewhere…”
It’s Oscar time, and TWC’s nominee for Best BASE Jump Video, Most Soothing Soundtrack, and Most Beautiful Location comes from (he’s on a roll this week) Uncle Bob Steele. It’s shot in Norway and is the first BASE jump vid that makes me think: “Hmm, maybe I’d like to do that…” Except there’s one problem. Is it just me, or do some of these jumpers have to maneuver mid-air to avoid becoming Norse ketchup on some of the outcroppings? Check it out for yourself…
“This is so damn beautiful, I hope I don’t forget to pop my chute…”
Okay, here we go. The weird winter sports are starting to trickle in to TWC Central. Here’s a great tip from reader Thomas Robert. He writes:
“Here is a true winter wetass competition sport: ice canoe
It all takes place on the great St-Lawrence River, in the region of Quebec City (French wetassing!!). There are 5 teammates per canoe: 4 rowers, and a helmsman. The concept is simple: when you’re on the water, you row, and when you get on the ice, you jump out of your canoe and start pushing through. The blocks of ice can stream down the river to a speed of up to 4-5 kt, depending on the tide, creating advantageous openings, or closing on promising paths…strategy, anticipation and physical fitness are key.
The competition is at the highest level, with over 40 teams (including 10 women-only teams) competing this year. From almost-professionnal crews, using carbon-fiber canoes, to amateurs, using old heavy fiberglass canoes.”
Soounds like fun, right? Thomas didn’t get into the apres-canoe, but I’m sure it involves something hot and highly alcoholic (at least I hope it does). Check out the website if you are ready to sign up. And just in case you are on the fence, here’s what it looks like…
“Alright, alright, I’ll get out and push…”
“Shouldn’t we throw a lemming or something in first, to check for killer whales…?”
“Oh merde! Last year that tug maniac sunk four of us, and here he comes again…”
This is getting ridiculous. Bruno Peyron and Orange II are only 2 days into their non-stop record run and they are already 1200 miles down the track. If they keep this up they’ll smash the Ushant-Equator record of 6 days, 11 hours by about a million hours. During the first day the big cat was cruising along between 28 and 35 knots all the time. It’s hard to even imagine what that must feel like. Since then, she’s slowed down to ONLY 20-25 knots. Believe it or not, I bet the crew feels like they are just crawling along at that speed, which tells you how quickly you get used to–and start to expect–ridiculous speeds in these big multihulls. Anyhow, they’re kicking Cheyenne’s butt for the moment, and you can check out the comparative courses, as well as get all Orange II’s nav data on this handy dandy page (I may find it annoying that I can’t rip photos from Orange II’s site, but I have to admit that it’s chock full of great info…).
They’re not exactly on a collision course, but about 3000 miles south Ellen MacArthur is heading north for a combined closing speed of about 50 knots. The southeast trades have finally kicked in for Bic Mac, and they are stronger than forecast which has put her back ahead of Francis Joyon by a meager 68 miles. Forecasting technology these days is incredible but you never know exactly what you are going to have for wind unless you are actually there. Ellen will need a little more of that because the forecast ahead still isn’t so great, and Joyon had a very fast passage of the Equator and virtually non-existent Doldrums. Here’s Ellen’s latest take:
“I think I am dealing with it okay, trying to be philosophical and having some sleep really does help on that front. But it is just the unknown – I am just so nervous about what’s going to break, what’s going to go wrong, are we going to get through the Doldrums, what are we going to be dealt in the northern hemisphere, is it going to be an 80 knot storm that Britain has been hit by so many times before, or are we going to run into a high pressure – we just don’t know what’s going to happen. There are so many unknowns and we are getting closer to the finish – its literally just a case of 14 days and then its all over whether I’ve broken the record or not. I’ve just got to do the best I can in that time and I feel pretty nervous about that.
I just want to feel like we’re going home and, right now, we’re still three days away from the Equator. To take four days longer than Joyon in the South Atlantic is just terrible. I keep telling myself it’s not over, we only need to break the record by a second, you know, we’ve just got to hang in there and do the best we can with the weather we’ve got. Hopefully, if we don’t hit too many hurdles, we’re still in with a chance…
I’ve put everything in – my heart, my soul, my flesh, my blood, just everything. I’ve never pushed this hard, I’ve never driven myself so hard, I’ve never got so close to the edge for so long – never, ever. And it’s not through choice, its just through pushing so hard and the changeable conditions and the demands of a boat like this. It’s been a real rollercoaster – I really had to grunt up, and it’s not over yet, we’re not there yet. When we get north of the Doldrums, I’ll start to feel happier, I think. It will start to get cooler and we should have some relative concentrated north-east Trade Winds, even if they are not that strong, it should be relatively fast sailing and if we can have that and get some miles in to the finish… We’ve just got to do the best we can.”
I guess she’d better break the record, because it’s hard to imagine going through this again…
B&Q Struggles In The South Atlantic: “Pretend I’m on holiday, pretend I’m on holiday…”
(Photo: Royal Navy)
The Earthist Chronicles 