Climbing Tall, Tall Buildings…: Spiderman may be an American cartoon, but–like Jerry Lewis–the French have adopted him. How else to explain the remarkable number of French climbers who spend their time climbing up the sides of every lofty edifice they can lay hands on? They even have a website, which carefully tracks each conquest (yes, it’s in French…). What sort of buildings do they go for? Well, urban climber Alain Robert just knocked off Tapei 101, which happens to be the world’s tallest building. Forget King Kong’s favorite climb, the Empire State building. Taipei 101 is the Everest of buildings, standing 1,676 feet tall. And it took Robert just four hours to scale the thing. By the time he got to the top there were hundreds of people below cheering and applauding. And check out this video of one of Robert’s climbing buddies, as he eludes police and scrambles up the side of 685-foot office building in just 35 minutes. That must be his lunchtime workout. Anyhow, Urban Climbing has lots of cool pics to look at, and a great video page. C’est magnifique…
Alain Robert, AKA “Spidey”: “Merde. These windows have just been washed and they’re really slippery. I can’t believe I left my web shooters at home…”
Category: Uncategorized
Diver Dave Shaw–Body Recovered: When South African police went to recover all the gear Dave Shaw had used to try to retrieve the body of Deon Dreyer from the depths of Boesmansgat, they got a surprise. Two bodies came with it. And along with the bodies came clues to how Dave Shaw had died:
Police spokesperson Ernst Strydom said on Wednesday night that the bodies had been brought to the surface shortly after 17:00.
“Police divers, assisted by technical divers, started recovering the ropes and other equipment from the water this morning when they saw Dave Shaw and Deon Dreyer’s bodies at the cliff beneath the water.”
Strydom said the divers were about 20 to 25m deep when they saw the bodies.
There is a possibility that the bodies floated up when the divers pulled up the ropes used during the fatal dive.
Strydom said it appeared that Shaw’s equipment got entangled with Dreyer’s diving gear.
Strydom said the gear from both bodies were tangled together when they surfaced.
“The ropes and equipment got entangled in one coincidental loop.”
Tests will also no doubt be run on Shaw’s rebreathing apparatus to see whether it packed up on him while he was 270 meters down, trying to cut Dreyer’s body free. Most experts had doubted the bodies would be recovered, and while Shaw–who loved diving and Boesmansgat–might have been happy to rest there at the bottom for eternity, the recovery of the two divers is a blessing for the families Shaw and Dreyer left behind…
Boesmansgat: It surrendered its dead…
Wetass Video Of The Week–Don’t Do This: Apparently, some kitesurfers don’t need a tsunami to flirt with death. Check out kickass kitesurfer Neil Hutchinson’s wild ride. I guess it’s no shock that Hutchinson’s car appears to be…A HEARSE. Anyhow, Hutchinson summed it all up (as he headed to the emergency room) with two words: “F*ck, Dude.” As they say: it’s not the takeoff, it’s the landing…
“Uh-oh…”
An Incredible Tsunami Tale Of Survival: Of course, there are many, many incredible tales of survival. But this one, found on Yachting World, is a gripping read. It comes from American sailors Ed and Helen Muesch, who were sailing in the Blue Water Rally in their 43 foot Hans Christian Anderson. When the tsunami struck they were in Phi Phi Don in Thailand. Here’s an excerpt from their story:
Following breakfast we made a last-minute decision to stop at one of many Internet cafes to respond to e-mails from family and friends. In each e-mail we stated: “Wish you were here”.
At approximately 1045 we returned to the south beach to collect our inflatable and return to Tahlequah. Arriving at the beach we were stunned to discover little water left in the anchorage, a phenomenon we were not used to. Helen remarked she thought Tahlequah might be on sand. I added this was impossible as we were anchored in 40 feet of water a short time before.
We began dragging our inflatable through the sand to reach water in the distance. I saw rental powerboats and longtails racing towards us, skidding frantically but unable to make progress because of the sand. I commented to Helen how people abuse boats and how furious it made me. The skippers of the Thai canoes motioned us back and began jumping from their canoes to anchor them in the sand.
Looking into the distance I saw a small foam line on the horizon moving towards us. Helen and I agreed to abandon the dinghy and run back to the island beach for safety. Running, I continued to look behind to see the wave gaining distance at an unbelieveable rate.
Seconds later I turned again to see the wave hit a rental power boat. It broke apart as it fell in the surf. I realized it was useless to run. I told Helen to stop and I bear-hugged her. I remember saying to myself: I’m going to forget I have to concentrate on hugging her; I can’t release her no matter what.
We saw a boiling froth of sea coming at us with an increasing loud swishing noise; it seemed to go on forever. Foolishly, I dug my feet into the sand hoping to withstand the wave. As it hit I felt us smacked to the sand instantly. As we hugged I could feel us tumbling like toy dolls head over heels along the bottom.
The pressure and force of the water prevented us from surfacing. As my hands were ripped from embracing Helen we both surfaced against two palm trees and were held there by ferocious current. Helen was in shock, staring towards the ocean motionless. I held her, repeating again and again: “It’s over, it’s over. We survived. You’ll be OK.”
At that exact moment we were hit by a much larger wave. I felt the palm trees give way and again we tumbled together along the bottom, rolling over the island. I continued to focus on not releasing Helen. I kept thinking” ‘We’re going to hit something; we have to,’ and waited for that moment.
We continued tumbling, seemingly forever. I was running out of air and knew I had to make it to the surface. Forcing us to the top, I had time to gulp a quick breath before being forced down again. When surfacing I saw I was passing through the palm trees on the south side of the island and knew we were now going out to sea. Desperate, I had to make it to the surface again and made a final effort to reach the top.
I tried to surface but couldn’t because of debris everywhere. I lost my grasp of Helen a second time. My hand grabbed a floating cushion and I pulled myself to the surface only to be forced below again and again.
Swallowing water, I knew the end was near and felt death all around me. I remember feeling a sense of peace I had never felt before; everything seemed to go into slow motion, quiet and very peaceful. I recall saying to myself: “I wonder how long it takes to drown?” and: “I wonder if it will be quick?”, then I thought: “It’s over now and it’s OK”.
To find out what happened next to Ed and Helen, and finish the story, click here. “Wish you were here.” Right…
“Hey! Why are all you all running away?!…”
Ellen Rounds The Horn In Record Time: Little Mac crossed the longitude of Cape Horn early this morning, setting a jaw dropping new solo record from the English Channel to the Horn of 44 days 23 hours 36 minutes. That beats Joyon’s already incredible solo record by a whopping 4 days 2 hours and 25 minutes. Holy hell. Read the report here, and you’ll see that it was no cruise on a lake. Winds a steady 40-50 knots, with gusts up to 60 knots. Massive boat-breaking seas with lots of white water. Ellen was in total survival mode, dropping the mainsail and running under a small staysail alone (just like Francis Chichester) AND STILL DOING 30 KNOTS IN THE SURFS! Ellen was so wiped by the whole experience that she was actually in her bunk at the moment she officially passed the Horn. She had barely enough energy to make a brief call to her shore team. Here’s what she had to say: “Cold, tired and buggered, basically. Passing the Horn right now and I’m in my bunk, have been asleep.” Earlier the wildness of the scene had inspired a little poetry in an email:
“We are sailing in 30 to 40 knots right now, and getting very close to our gybe just 45 miles off the coast off western Chile. The seas are monstrous, and as i stand in B&Q’s cockpit i cannot feel that i shall miss this wild and wonderful place.. somehow the south finds places inside you that you were unaware you had, it conjours up the most vivid memories, shows you the most unbelievable and breathtaking sights.. Behind B&Q there is a rain filled squall – but from behind peepes the setting sun.. the light beams out a rich powerful, dominant orange over the grey darkness of the clouds – it lights the spray flying from the crests of the waves, giving them a delicate, almost furry texture.. how can such a powerful 40 foot wave be so delicate…? As the light gets behind a breaking wave it seems to lift the crest higher.. the striking turquoise colour seems as if it’s artificially illuminted from another source – such brilliant colour in an otherwise grey blue sea… A lone albatross circles ahead.. how many passing ships has he seen i ask… a tear comes to my eye – beacuse the albatross we see on this voyage are now numbered, their gracful effortless flight, and constant companionship will have to reamain etched in my mind till the next time…”
Ellen will stay in storm conditions for another few hours, until she can gybe and head north. She did manage to send in some great video (no wonder she’s so knackered; it also explains why she’s such good value for sponsors). Click here to watch her ride her 75-foot tri like a bronco and make a champagne toast to Cape Horn (nice French, too). Click here to see what sort of seas are chasing her. And click here to hear and see a modern racing tri slicing through big seas. Really nice stuff. She’s got 7,000 miles to go. The Southern Ocean leg is all about staying alive. The final Atlantic leg is all about keeping the boat together. Stay tuned…
Southern Ocean Farewell: “I’m so damn happy to be leaving this place, I think I’ll just pour this bubbly in…my ear.”
Transatlantic Beach Cat Record Update: Still no detailed report on Gancia and Miceli’s site. But Hans Bouscholte, part of the crew that set the record Gancia and Miceli broke, has kindly provided a report on his website:
“Sailing from Dakar in Senegal to Guadeloupe in an open catamaran of 20ft is not easy. Trying to break the 1986 record of 18 days and 22 hours by Pradel(Fra) and Laurent(Aus), 3 sailors lost their lives. In 1999 Hans Bouscholte(Ned) and Gerard Navarin(Fra) set a new worldrecord after 4 attempts of mainly French crews. On a modified Inter 20, Bouscholte and Navarin sailed the 2700 miles in 15 days, 2 hours and 26 minutes. On the 9th of january 2005, on their second attempt, Andrea Gancia and Matteo Miceli(ITA), sailing their 20 ft cat Abaco broke this reference in a new Worldrecord(to be ratified by the WSSRC) of 13 days, 13 hours and 58 minutes. Andrea and Matteo were 36 hours, 58 minutes faster than Bouscholte and Navarin.
Good VMG Speed
They left Dakar on the 27th of december with favourable weather, tradewinds and moderate seas. Halfway, the wind got lighter and the Italians had to gybe offen to sail the westerly course. Because of the sunburn, constant manouvres and humidity, Andrea and Matteo had severe wounds on their hands, feet and body. In the last 300 miles, the wind got stronger, 20-25 knots of NE with big 3 meter waves. Exhausted but happy, Gancia and Miceli arrived sundayevening at 21 hours 26 minutes LT in Guadeloupe.
Commentary Hans Bouscholte
Andrea and Matteo made big gains on us in the beginning. We had a big leakage the first night, hitting an unidentified object and after partially repairing the leakage, we had to pump 2 hours a day clearing the water. We also lost time in the manoeuvres, because of big wounds on our hands. In the end we were navigating under floating anchor without any sails for 15 hours because of a tropical storm with 40 knots of wind and 5 metre waves.
It hurts to lose the hard fought record, but it happens sooner or later.
Congratulations to Andrea and Matteo, you sailed very well and fast.”
Thanks, Hans. Very interesting and very sporting…
Bouscholte Plays Beach Cat Bingo: “Dude, I thought we’d be in surfer jams, sipping Mai Tais..”
Sydney/Hobart Wrapup–Three Down, None To Go: This year’s race featured three super-maxis, and their designers and engineers should be scratching their heads. First, Skandia lost her keel, went upside down, and was eventually towed in a complete (and uninsured) $4 million wreck. We’ve posted the pics, but click here for a great TV news summary of the whole sad story. It’s got helo’s-eye footage of the abandonment, the floating wreck and an interview with owner Grant Warrington.
Not to be outdone, Konica Minolta flew off a wave and threatened to break in half. Click here to read an interview with designer Jim Pugh, who analyzes what might have gone wrong.
That left one maxi, Luddi Ingvall’s new Nicorette, to take line honors. So far, so good. But yesterday, during an easy corporate sail the mast, err, fell down:
“This afternoon, during a corporate sail with Nicorette sponsor clients, the 90 footer was about half a mile seaward of the entrance to the Gold Coast Seaway at around 3.30pm (AEST), sailing under main and headsail, in a flat seaway, at about 10 knots.
Suddenly with a thunderous crack, her mast splintered and broke near the boom gooseneck and fell cleanly into the water.
The mast and sails are in 22 metres of water and the total bill is expected be around $1 million.
A Nicorette spokeswoman, Jane Hyland said the crew and guests had returned to the marina and Police confirmed no-one was injured.
‘Unfortunately these boats are a bit like F1 racing cars,’ she said.
‘You can race them through Bass Strait and nothing happens to them and then in very moderate conditions we break a mast.’
She said an early assessment suggested there was an engineering failure.”
“Engineering failure.” Ya’ think? I mean, I doubt if the mast was designed to do that. A full report is due to be posted on Nicorette’s web site. Until it is, you can amuse yourself with Ingvall’s excellent report on Nicorette’s line honors victory in this year’s Sydney-Hobart. It’s got great detail on the weather, Nicorette’s tactics, and a nearly hour-by-hour account of how they won. Check out this interesting vignette on what it’s like to field press calls during the middle of the race:
“Speaking to the press on my satellite phone, questions were posed to why we were behind and the answer was easy. We lost at least 6 miles on our “boo-boo” after the start and another 12-18 miles due to sailing with a small spinnaker meant for reaching, when we should have had the “Nicorette Green Stones” (Or Big Bertha as I call my Running spinnakers) flying.
Yes, yes. But do you think you have any chance of catching them now?
What do you say, off course I bloody well think so, I have the fastest boat and a great crew, we have had a setback, but we are still carrying out our plan.
A few hours later another press call on the satellite phone.
According to the yacht tracker you are not catching up, why??
Blasted “Yacht Tracker”, I cannot sit in the middle of the Bass straits and explain over a 5 dollar a minute satellite phone to everyone that needs to know that we are sailing higher (closer to the correct course) and the others are sailing faster (and more off the correct course) and although the tracker says that they are doing well, the lower they disappear under our line the longer it will be for them to come back.
It is clear as mud. What goes down has to come up again…or something like that.”
Ah, it’s enough to make you nostalgic for the good old days, when half the point of ocean racing was to disappear offshore where you sailed blissfully in your own little universe until you hit the finish…
“There’s no doubt about it, Ludde. We’re definitely faster with the mast up…”
Annals Of Achievement–Transatlantic Beach Cat Record: Right now Italian sailors Andrea Gancia and Matteo Miceli are no doubt nursing the Mother Of All Hangovers in Guadalupe. Why? Well, wouldn’t you celebrate if you had just sailed across the Atlantic from Senegal in a 20-foot beach cat, beating the old record by about a day and a half, and setting a new world record of 13 days, 13 hours and 58 minutes? Moreover, numerous rum drinks are a very good remedy for the massive salt water sores they are likely nursing. Apparently, they are still too rough to update their website, but check back. They have promised a full report. This is an impressive record. Their average for the 2700 mile exposure-fest was 8.24 knots (though in reality they sailed more miles at a higher average speed), and they improved the old record of 15 days, 2 hours and 26 minutes by almost 10 percent. That’s a massive jump, so they should be enjoying themselves. At least until the next pair of beach cat crazies takes a crack at their new mark. These guys seem to be next on deck, though they seem to keep pushing back their attempt and may not go until next year. Stay tuned…
“Andrea, you bastard! You never told me we’d have to sail the damn boat back to Africa…”
Dave Shaw–Perspectives: Technical diver Dave Shaw’s death at the bottom of Boesmansgat as he tried to recover the skeletal remains of Deon Dreyer has touched off an outpouring of emotion, grief and introspection. Here is some of what’s happening.
First off, here are a few more details from Shaw’s last dive. The full article is here:
“At 6.33am, Shaw was meant to deliver the bodybag to Shirley waiting at 220m.
“Don will be the first person I smile at when I hand him the body,” Shaw had joked at a dive briefing on Friday.
Shirley would have continued to the surface with the bodybag passed to divers waiting for him at 150m. The bodybag would have been passed from diver to diver to emerge at the surface about 7.30am.
After Shaw had handed Dreyer’s body to Shirley, he would have begun his slow ascent to the surface. He had planned to be in the water for 12 hours to allow for decompression. If all had gone according to plan, Shaw would have eventually been helped out at 6pm.
But all did not go according to plan.
Shaw got to the bottom but never came up – and while there will be much speculation about equipment failure and deep-water blackout – the reason why he didn’t surface will probably remain a mystery.
Peter Herbst, one of the technical divers, said Shirley was waiting for Shaw at 220m, but after five minutes there was no sign of Shaw [At 220m, Shirley saw no sign of Shaw, nor did he see bubbles – which would have been a sign that Shaw was ascending. He saw a light in the distance, but the light wasn’t moving. He knew something was wrong.] “A second group of divers were at 120m and went to 150m. They were supposed to be there for two minutes to accept the bodybag. But after seven minutes there was no sign of Don or Dave. They came up.
“I met the divers at 90m. I looked at the bottom and I only saw one light. I proceeded to 120m and that’s when I saw Don. He wrote on a slate. ‘Dave’s not coming back’.”
And here is some more insight into Shaw’s motivations. Full article here.
“Dave Shaw, 50, wanted to “do a dive that nobody has ever done”, said his friend and colleague Dave Hughes, a member of the 14-strong team that supported Mr Shaw at the Boesmansgat cave in South Africa’s Northern Cape province.
Mr Hughes, a Johannesburg businessman and diver, also supported Mr Shaw in his October 2004 world record-breaking dive, in which he had discovered the skeletal remains of 20-year-old Deon Dreyer 271 metres below the surface.
“He would have gone there even if there was nothing to fetch … He wanted to explore and investigate, that was what was driving him,” Mr Hughes said…
In a recent interview, Mr Shaw said: “Life has been full in various ways – I choose to make it so, I guess. I am very lucky to have a wife who, even though she does not understand my desire to do these things, allows me to do them, as she knows it is part of my make-up.”
Mr Hughes said: “I think he was also happy that if Boesmansgat was going to be his grave that would be as good a grave as any. He would be at peace.”
Deon Dreyer’s parents are devastated, of course. First their son dies in Boesmansgat, and then another life is lost in the attempt to retrieve the body. Full story here:
“Dave assured me beforehand he would bring Deon’s remains to the surface, come what may”, said Theo Dreyer.
“We prayed for him the previous night.
“The extremely traumatic events really hit me and my wife, Marie.
“First it was Deon’s drowning 10 years ago in Boesmansgat.
“The little flame of hope after Dave Shaw found the remains two months ago on the floor [of the cave], and now – all has been in vain and old wounds have been reopened.
“Above all, there is new uncertainty.
“Did Dave perhaps finish the task before he himself died? We’ll never know. “The father of two young people gave his life for Deon.
“What deed could be more selfless?”
Finally, even though Dave said that he did not want anyone to risk their lives to recover his body if anything went wrong, the South African police are seriously contemplating an effort to go get him. I’d say the only problem is that Dave Shaw is the only diver who has ever been to that depth, so they’ll only be risking more lives. Boesmansgat is already a grave. Perhaps it’s time to stop filling it up.
If you want to see more photos of Dave Shaw doing what he loved, check out this photo gallery. It’s nice to remember him in action…
Update, Update: Just received this comment from reader Brett Hawton:
Just spoke to Don Shirleys best friend and Don raced down to 250m (from 220m) as he saw Daves light stop moving below (vis was very good) then his oil filled Hamerhead unit imploded on his rebreather (Dave had the same unit so it may have gone too) and he had to bail out leaving his friend just 20m below. Don then got into serious diffulculty on the way back up as he manually drove the unit for hour after hour. At some point he also breathed some wrong gas too. He started with DCI problems by 40m. Anyway by the time he arrived on his shallowest stops his legs and arms were already totally paralysed with DCI. As I write now, he is still undergoing recompression treatment 3 days after the event and has so far recovered well. We all pray for his speedy recovery and for Dave’s family too…
Dave Shaw Decompressing: “Okay, it’s a bit chilly after 11 hours. But it’s quiet, and beautiful…”
A Very Bad Day…: Sea kayaking can get pretty exciting. But I’d venture to say that it can’t get any more exciting than this…
“Damn, he moved again. Well, if I can’t get my jollies by flopping onto little birds, maybe I’ll try a more stationary target…”
The Earthist Chronicles 