Annals of Inanity–Oceanic “Art”. Nope, this isn’t the red tide, or the after-effects of an Al Qaeda attack on a whale. It’s just the latest offering by Chilean-born shock artist Marco Evaristti, who painted this iceberg off Greenland. “The Ice Cube Project” required 780 gallons of red dye mixed with seawater, 40 minutes, and three fire hoses on three icebreakers. “We all have a need to decorate Mother Nature because it belongs to all us,” the artiste said. “This is my iceberg; it belongs to me.” Uh, okay, Marco. Evaristti’s last stunt took place at a Danish art gallery in 2000. He filled 10 blenders with goldfish, and then invited gallery visitors to turn the blenders on. One did…and animal cruelty charges were subsequently filed. Hmm, I wonder if this guy gets any funding from the NEA…


Annals Of Invention–Scubadoo: Those wild and wacky engineers just keep cranking out the crazy products. This time it’s an underwater motorcycle. You stick your head in an air-filled dome (no regulator necessary) and off you go. But before you start ordering your underwater leathers, here’s the bad news: these supersized bathtub toys only do about 3 mph. Users will just have to stick to Viagra…



“C’mon Diablos, let’s ride! First we’ll freak some snorkelers out. Then we’ll slap some grouper around…”

Weekend Update–Geronimo Pasted, Cheyenne Almost Home: You sail the Southern Ocean often enough, and sooner or later you are going to get whacked–even if you are in a 110-foot trimaran that is capable of outrunning most weather. That’s been the fate of Geronimo, southeast of New Zealand, which got blasted by an intense storm lying across their path. 50 knot winds, 25-30 foot seas, frigid temperatures. C’est horrible. Geronimo ended up taking down all sail, and the crew endured numerous dings and dents as they were thrown around. The boat-breaking conditions also slowed the big tri considerably, knocking her more than 1000 miles behind Cheyenne’s fast Southern Ocean pace. De Kersauson is clinging to the fact that he is still about 1000 miles ahead of Orange 2002 (for a video of what it’s like onboard Geronimo at speed, go the above link and click on the video link below De Kersauson’s portrait…). But beating Orange 2002 to lose to Fossett won’t make The Admiral very happy…

Meanwhile, catching Cheyenne is going to require a big, fat run of good weather for the French boat, because Cheyenne is continuing to stretch. She hit the Equator over the weekend, setting the fastest times from the English Channel to the Equator, and the fastest time from Cape Horn to the Equator. The weather for the remaining 2500 miles to the finish is looking anywhere from okay to pretty damn good. So Fossett’s big cat just needs to sail the remaining distance without a major breakdown. So far, the only major worry is the collapse of the starboard hull toilet seat. Dave Scully reports on the indignities of round the world record breaking:

“I am sure it was designed by responsible engineers, who probably calculated test case loads of up to 100kg or so, based on static load, added a safety factor, and called it good. What they did not count on is the dynamic load of a seated body rising and falling through about 3m. The resultant compression on the seat when the dynamic force of the falling body is taken into account must exceed their wildest imaginings.

Ours, on the starboard side, started developing stress cracks in the Southern Ocean. As we charge up the south-east trades, the bows chopping the whitecaps like twin cleavers in the hands of a demon butcher, sitting on the toilet is a major feat. As the bow drops, one is suddenly weightless, suspended in space like an astronaut. Then the bow crashes into the trough, and gravity suddenly resumes its calling with interest, and one compresses into the circumference of the plastic ring separating flesh from raw porcelain.

We have, we hope, another five days of this punishing sailing, and the seat, well, it may join the cooking gas, the Mars bars, and the porridge on the list of things we will have to live without, unless Mike finds the time to have a go at it with some carbonfibre and paste.”

At least they are in the tropics, so the porcelain is not too cold…



Cheyenne Crewman Jacques Vincent is on His 7th (!) Racing Circumnavigation…

(Photo: Nick Leggatt)

Have A Wetass Weekend…

Alpathon Update–19 Down, 63(!) To Go: A few weeks ago TWC reported on two Wetass Frenchmen–Patrick Berhault and Philippe Magnin–who are attempting to climb all 82 4,000 meter Alps in 82 days. Well, they are knocking them off, one by one, and going strong. Some bad weather has put them about a week behind schedule. But they are already doubling and tripling up on some days. Here’s a somewhat convoluted report which nevertheless will give you sense of what their absurdly exhausting days are like:

“Patrick and Phillip woke up early this night at 2.30 and at about four o’clock in the morning they left in a direction of Emile Rey (4068m) pass in hope to rush by it (and the main thing, by its rockfalls attending the ascent) before the day’s beginning. From there they started climbing Brouillard (4068m) – their first today’s “4-thousand” mountain via the posh mixed ridge… Then they are going on the movement on the ridge up to summit of Baretti (4006m), their today’s second “4-thousand” mountain. ” It’s a very beautiful, pyramidal top, with own charisma. Is a pity, that it is a little far,” – Patrick comments. After Baretti Patrick Berhault and Philippe Magnin are going to descend to Emile Rey pass again to head for their third “4-thousand” mountain of this day – Louis Amedee (4470m). Then they plan to make their trip further on the ridge to the fourth summit – Mont Blanc de Courmayeur (4765m), and, at last, at 17.20 the prospect to Mont Blanc (4810m) will be open…”

Incredible. The more I think about this one the more I love it. Just when you think there’s nothing new to try, a couple of guys sitting around in a bar somewhere come up with something that’s creative, easy to understand, and–most of all–unf*ckingbelievably difficult. Stay tuned. This is a monster project…



Mountain Maniac Magnin: “Look at all these goddamned Alps. What the hell were we thinking, Patrick?”

Annals of Intervention–Free Willy: Divers from the Center For Coastal Studies and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration are going to try to disentangle a North Atlantic Right Whale from some fishing gear that has been killing it slowly for more than a week. The whale was tagged with a satellite transmitter off the coast of Florida, and has been tracked north while the teams wait for suitable weather. Today could be the day. Why all this effort to save a single whale? Well, there are only about 300 North Atlantic Right Whales, and every year a few are run down by ships or wrapped up and killed by fishing gear. So every one counts (find out more about Right Whales here). But it’s not easy working with an exhausted, panicked 40 ton animal. You should see the size of the syringe used to sedate the whale…



“You humans made this gear….So get it the hell off me. Now!”

(Photo: NOAA)

JV Jumble–Ho-Hum: Geronimo is passing under New Zealand, a solid 500 miles behind Cheyenne’s pace, but 1350 miles ahead of Orange 2002. Unlike Cheyenne, they just haven’t been able to sit on one or two depressions, and ride them across the Southern Ocean. Still, they have been improving on Orange 2002’s performance, and Geronimo’s web site helpfully provides the figures to prove it:

“The total number of nautical miles covered in the first 30 full days at sea was 12,904.04 for Geronimo, compared with 11,847.37 for Orange.

The average daily distance covered point-to-point since the start was 444.97 nautical miles for the grey trimaran, against 408.53 for the catamaran Orange.

The average speed achieved since the start by Olivier de Kersauson and his crew has been 18.54 knots. The figure for Bruno Peyron and his crew at the comparable stage of their 2002 attempt was 17.02 knots.

Geronimo’s best day so far was Day 15 (12 March 2004), in which she covered 608.61 nautical miles point-to-point, at an average speed of 25.26 knots. Orange’s best day was her Day 17, when she covered 532 nautical miles at an average of 22.15 knots. In both cases, these best performances were recorded in the South Atlantic, a few days before rounding the Cape of Good Hope.”

One thousand miles from the Equator, Cheyenne has finally found the trade winds, and has managed to maintain a lead of a few days over Orange 2002. It’s been a frustrating 3 days for the crew. Dave Scully is reduced to pleading:

“The track made by the little green boat on the chart plotter has changed from long smooth arcs, to a drunken scrawl, and all the while the ghost ship Orange is closing the gap we have spent three quarters of the distance around the world opening. The crew is tired of looking at it.

Well, you get a bit of this on the big jobs, and one knows that all it will take to turn the mood around is another 5kts of wind speed. We are not hard to please. But we would like it NOW PLEASE, BECAUSE WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF LAUNDRY TO WASH! The WSSC does not offer a consolation prize for cleanliness on arrival in Ouessant.”

Next up are the Doldrums and Equator. Very tricky stuff, which will keep Adrienne Cahalan glued to the nav chair…



Yo, Adrienne: “I know Steve is worried about the record, but I wish he’d let me up on deck at least ONCE a day…”

The Wetass Library: I’m on a major mountain climbing literature jag, and because there is a documentary which just hit the theaters am reading Joe Simpson’s Touching The Void. This is Simpson’s beautifully written account of crawling off a Peruvian mountain with a broken leg, after his climbing partner Simon Yates was forced to abandon him on the mountain to save his own life. It’s an incredible story. After pioneering a route up the remote Siula Grande, Simpson fell on the descent and shattered his knee. He knows instantly he is almost certainly dead and will probably never get off the mountain. But Yates tries to lower him down thousands of feet of steep, dangerous mountain face. Eventually, in the midst of a storm, Yates inadvertently lowers Simpson over an ice cliff. The rope is not long enough to get Simpson to the bottom, and he is too weak to climb back up to solid ground. Yates is locked into a belay seat carved out in the snow, holding Simpson’s full weight. Neither climber can move, and if something doesn’t change they will both freeze to death. Slowly, Yates’s belay seat starts to collapse underneath him. He has two choices: try to hang on and almost certainly be pulled off the mountain with Simpson; or, cut the rope. It is a brutal, brutal, dilemma. But Yates does what he has to do. He cuts the rope–knowing that he is almost certainly sending his friend and climbing partner falling to his death–because if he doesn’t the Siula Grande will kill two climbers instead of just one. Here’s Yates’ account in the book of what was going through his mind:

“The knife was in my sack…Fumbling at the catches on the rucksack I could feel the snow slowly giving way beneath me. Panic threatened to swamp me. I felt in the sack, desperately searching for the knife. My hand closed round something smooth and I pulled it out…It needed no pressure. The taut rope exploded at the touch of the blade, and I flew backwards into the seat as the pulling strain vanished. I was shaking…I was alive and for the moment that was all I could think about. Where Joe was, or whether he was alive, didn’t concern me in the long silence after the cutting. His weight had gone from me. There was only the wind and the avalanches left to me.”

And here was what Simpson was thinking at the same moment, as he dangled over a gaping crevasse:

“My torch beam died. The cold had killed the batteries. I saw stars in a dark gap above me. Stars, or lights in my hand…Then, what I had waited for pounced on me. The stars went out, and I fell. Like something come alive, the rope lashed violently against my face and I fell silently, endlessly into nothingness, as if dreaming of falling. I fell fast, faster than thought, and my stomach protested at the swooping speed of it. I swept down, and from above I saw myself falling and felt nothing. No thoughts, and all fears gone away. So this is it!”

Amazingly, Simpson survives a 100-foot fall. As he lies in the crevasse he pulls the rope end to him and sees that it has been cut. He understands. He is not bitter. He took his chances, and knew Yates had made a choice, the right choice. But he doesn’t give up. He manages to crawl and climb his way out of the crevasse, and drag himself over six miles or rough ground and glacial moraine to surprise Yates at their base camp, just hours before Yates was planning to pull out. A truly amazing story, and one in which Simpson and Yates face death with dispassion, courage, and brutal honesty. Can’t wait to see the movie (for a taste, download the trailer here)….



Touching The Void: An Epic Story of Courage, Friendship and Confronting Death In the Mountains

TWC Quick Hits…:

Angry Hikers in New Zealand Setting Booby Traps For Mountain Bikers: Thumbtacks, plus logs and trenches cunningly placed around blind corners. New Zealand authorities now troubled by spike in landmine importation…

Australian Teenage Schoolgirl Lands 1,000 Pound Shark: Battles monster for 8 hours, talking on cell phone the entire time…

Hiker With Bionic Leg Walking Length of Appalachian Trail: Can hop 20 feet…in slow motion and accompanied by funny sound.



“Sure I like your company, Rex. But if you pee on my leg one more time, you’re going home…”

JV Jumble–Fashion Police Issue Tickets: Geronimo is back to cruising at 20-plus knots, but is still about a day behind Cheyenne’s Southern Ocean pace (though 1275 miles ahead of Orange 2002). Cheyenne has finally busted out of light air jail and is clawing north toward the Trade Winds, and still has a 941 mile lead on Orange. The warming weather has got the crew stripping down from full foul weather cover-up to more individualistic tropical wear. Navigator Adrienne Cahalan is appalled and calls the worst offenders out. Irishman Damian Foxall is top fashion criminal:

“Picture the scene, we are amongst squalls, towering big black thunderstorm clouds full of rain and wind which are associated with the low pressure system to our west. Even though we are in the tropics there is not a ray of the yellow stuff to be seen. The watch on deck calls over the VHF for the standby watch to come and reef the main and change to the storm jib as we start to see upwards of 30kts on the dial. Well you can imagine our surprise when Damian emerges from the hatch in silk paisley boxer shorts and knee high Gill sea boots. That awesome combination together with a tight fitting lycra top and sou’wester hat made me wonder whether he was not about to give us a tuneful rendition of ‘YMCA’ rather than run the bow for a sail change.”

Nick Leggatt runs a close second:

“Yesterday in another sail change and just after being freshly washed, Nick strolled up on deck in a collared shirt, neat ‘ironed’ pleated shorts and docksiders. He looked like he was either heading straight on to the golf course or out for a day race from Cape Town Yacht Club. Very peculiar. When questioned about how he achieved that look after the clothes he was now wearing had been squashed in a bag for almost 50 days he commented: “Its a miracle: even though there has been no laying of hands”. Well a wave later came and finished him off but he continues to wear the same gear sopping wet and will do so for the next week. This is the same person who took off his foul weather gear on Day 9 at the equator and still had his jeans on from when we left the dock.”

At least crew morale is high….



Fashionista Foxall: “Oh man, wait ’til they see what I’ve got on underneath all this gear…Back home in Ireland I’d be arrested for indecency.”

(Photo: Nick Leggatt)