The Earthist Chronicles

It really doesn’t get any more action packed than this. We’ve got Ellen, Bruno, Jean, Vincent and Mike. All racing their guts out, in three different events. So let’s take a tour, shall we?

First up, Ellen. Little Big Mac has now pushed her lead over Joyon’s seemingly unbeatable solo circumnavigation record to more than 2 days, with just over 2,000 miles to go. She’s hammering north with the help of decent trade winds, scrapping for every extra mile she can get and praying that her boat stays more or less in one piece and doesn’t hit anything. Most sailors with a 2 day lead in this stretch of water would be laughing and drinking Mai Tai’s. But Ellen can’t afford to. Joyon put up some massive runs over the last four days of his record bid, and Ellen is facing a massive high pressure system parked over Ireland, which could eat her up. And even if she avoids that trap, the forecast right now is calling for brutally strong headwinds as she approaches the Channel. In other words, this thing is going down to the wire, and every f*cking minute and mile will count. Unbelievable, really…

Well, if you think Ellen v. Joyon is exciting, we’ve got more. The Vendee Globe leaders (Le Cam, Riou and Golding) are all within 650 miles of the finish, and all within 60 miles of each other. Not only that, the two leaders–Le Cam and Riou–are within a mile of each other (no, that’s not a typo) after 85 days of racing. This is the tightest Vendee ever, and anything could happen. Riou and Le Cam are separated by a lot of water, so one or the other has made the best tactical decision. And Golding, who’s on new leader Le Cam’s line is going faster than anyone. Golding, as usual, is most quotable, and not just because he’s speaking English. Here he is on former leader Riou risking such great separation between himself and the chasing pack: “Having sailed such a beautiful race it does seem rather daft to have dropped such a clanger at the end. Even if he gets away with it, I believe what he’s done is a big mistake. He shouldn’t have let that happen.” Jeez, Mike, I don’t thing Vincent is going to be buying you that steak dinner you keep dreaming about. And here’s Iron Mike on surviving the frustrating conditions of the final sprint: “All sorts of things could happen. In these conditions, I could easily see a rig coming down, frankly. You can’t afford to be fully powered up. If you happen to find yourself at 100 per cent performance, it’s just coincidence. There is a lot of load going through the boat, and you look up at the rig and think, how long is it before something goes ‘ping’? You can’t see these squalls coming, they haven’t got labels on…I’m not coping with it very well. I can’t make the boat display its best qualities, and I can’t display my best qualities if I’m forever changing sail plans. I’ve found it excruciatingly difficult. I’d do anything to get out of these changeable conditions. I’d climb the mast to get out of this. It’s so random I’m not able to do anything with it, except that I am closing down the miles. So to that extent, I suppose you grin and bear it, and hope the miles keep on coming down.” Golding says that he has been taking out his stress on anything breakable (and expendable) and that he has been doing a lot of cursing. Four more days to go…

And last but not least, cruising along at high speed into the Southern Atlantic we find B. Peyron and his jolly crew on Orange II. The big cat will cross The Line ahead of Cheyenne’s time, but behind Geronimo’s 6 say, 11 hour record time (update: Orange II crossed the Quator after 7 days, 3 hours, giving her a lead of 190 miles on Geronimo’s Jules Verne time and 534 miles on Cheyenne’s world record time. Orange II has averaged more than 20 knots since the start). Now Peyron and his cat are hoping that the unbelievably favorable weather forecast for the South Atlantic pans out. Normally, boats heading to the Southern Ocean have to head far west, and contend with light winds to get past the St. Helena high. But right now the forecast has the high well west, with a corridor of northerly winds to the east. If that holds up, Orange II will slingshot into the Roaring Forties with a huge advantage. We’ll see. In the meantime, check go to the video page on Orange II’s website and check out the start (1/24) and the two most recent clips for some good maxi-cat shots…



Ellen Exclaims: “There’s got to be a better way to make coffee…”

Golding Grouses: “Did I mention it was wet, too…”

Peyron Prays: “Please, St. Helena high, oh please, please, please, we’re coming as fast as we can…”

“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…”