Friday, January 07, 2005
Wetass Technology--Eagle Cam: Speaking of birds (see below), here's a tiny camera that provides a real, and spectacular, birds-eye view. Strapped to Tilly The Eagle, the camera follows the action as Tilly soars, rolls, looks for prey, and has an incredible aerial dogfight with a territorial buzzard. You can watch it all online, and it's all mesmerizing. Thanks, Tilly, for the great ride...
"Finally done showing off with that camera, are you? Well, how about catching me some dinner before you land, you funky-feathered prima donna..."
"Finally done showing off with that camera, are you? Well, how about catching me some dinner before you land, you funky-feathered prima donna..."
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 11:20 AM 
Wetass Sport #3...: How many of you have thought to yourself: "I wonder if I could jump out of an airplane, fall to earth, and land safely...WITHOUT A PARACHUTE!? Probably none, because it's a pretty, umm, stupid thing to wonder. Luckily, there's always someone who dreams the impossibly stupid dream, and sport advances. In this case, that someone is an idiot, I mean creative genius (and Superman) named Jeb Corliss. Corliss, along with wing(ding)man Luigi Cani, are testing a wingsuit (which looks sort of like a superhero costume for an average 6 year-old) that they hope to land safely without a parachute. They'll probably attempt it this year. "Its very important to land with zero injuries," says Corliss. Ya think? Anyhow, you can watch a cool video of the project here.
Now, crazy as this all seems, it turns out that there are lots of birdmen (and birdwomen) out there (though still landing with 'chutes). And in case you imagine you are an eagle among mortals, you can buy your own wingsuit here. Before you leap, make sure to check out the FAQ, which say that you can fly up to 3 miles at 60-90 mph if you jump from the plane at 13,500 feet. They also provide answers to important questions such as "Can I fly on my back?" (Yes, but not very well) and "What if I land in the water?" ("If you don't have immediate help, avoid this situation by all means. This suit wasn't made for fish."). There's also an advice section (don't let your spouse see this) which addresses what are euphemistically called "Possible Funky Situations."
So what does it all look like? Just check out this video (are those flying Elvises?). And if you have five minutes and want proof that these guys have a sense of humor, check out this nicely done Top Gun satire. The birdpeople. Who knew...
Birdman: "What the f*ck are you staring at...?"
Now, crazy as this all seems, it turns out that there are lots of birdmen (and birdwomen) out there (though still landing with 'chutes). And in case you imagine you are an eagle among mortals, you can buy your own wingsuit here. Before you leap, make sure to check out the FAQ, which say that you can fly up to 3 miles at 60-90 mph if you jump from the plane at 13,500 feet. They also provide answers to important questions such as "Can I fly on my back?" (Yes, but not very well) and "What if I land in the water?" ("If you don't have immediate help, avoid this situation by all means. This suit wasn't made for fish."). There's also an advice section (don't let your spouse see this) which addresses what are euphemistically called "Possible Funky Situations."
So what does it all look like? Just check out this video (are those flying Elvises?). And if you have five minutes and want proof that these guys have a sense of humor, check out this nicely done Top Gun satire. The birdpeople. Who knew...
Birdman: "What the f*ck are you staring at...?"
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 10:14 AM
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Sydney-Hobart Inside Account...: If you've been depressed and feeling like you missed out on this year's Sydney-Hobart race, check out this excellent diary of the race, written by John Baxter of Doyle Sails Chicago. It'll give you a good taste of the world's most brutal offshore race. Plus, it's got lots of good pics. And if, after reading it, you're ready to book your ticket to Sydney next year, you hereby qualify as a certified Hardass Wetass...
Skandia Drifts Away...
(Photo: Ian Mainsbridge/PPL)
Skandia Drifts Away...
(Photo: Ian Mainsbridge/PPL)
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 3:39 PM
Try, Try, Again...: These guys all need to do a little more math before they pull these stunts again. Check 'em out:
Incoming!
Uh-Oh!
Ooof!
"Damn. I never wanted to be a poster boy..."
Incoming!
Uh-Oh!
Ooof!
"Damn. I never wanted to be a poster boy..."
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 3:21 PM
Ellen On The Edge...: Big Mac is having a brutal time getting to Cape Horn. Just check out her latest e-mail, and ask yourself how you would be coping:
"Hi there world out there... Today I feel a bit like I have awoken into a new world.... i have an aching hunger inside me which has been absent for
a while, and the sea and sky that have been so agressive are now flat and grey - both. The last three days of sailing have been undoubtedly the worst of my career. Never before have i experienced winds more unstable, more agressive, more unpredictable.. With a low pressure forming to our NW we found ourselves getting literally 'run down' by the energy and cold air rushing north to build it. My body has been pushed beyond its limits, once again i found myself screaming at the heavens. I am sure that I have never been as tired as that in my life. Sleep - such an easy thing to say - but an impossible thing to achieve in such unstable conditions. Winds have been all over the place - changing in direction by 50 to 60 degrees at times, and changing at times in strength my 30 knots in the space of a few seconds. In effect the worst conditions for a multihull, as capsize is a real possibility - and i have to say that flying along with one reef and the solent in 44 knots of breeze made me talk to myself constantly telling myself we were in fact going to make it. Yesterday was the worst day, with massive squalls, the same wind that was not predictable - the day begun with a constant 30 knots after a 47 knot gust, I was sailing with 3 reefs and staysail. I'm now full main and genoa. Reefs in, reefs out - body aching. I apologise to the albatross that came closer in wonder what my cries were all about. I was past it, just past it - empty, exhausted. But at that stage with no escape, no button to push to make everything ok again...no way to hide from the alarms and wake ups from continuously interupted doses - absolute exhaustion. I tried checking the weather out, and characteristic of the day the grib i picked up came in 6 days out of date - i didn't realsise so that threw me completely, and the end never seemed to be in sight. But one thing which does, did and wil always help is reading the e-mails of support. One yesterday from Oli, one of the team members who sent an unbelievable mail which could not help but pull you up on a bad day and the thousands that are flooding in to the website. I sat there reading peoples encouragement, and quite honestly cried. Cried just to see the support of so many people from so many places - it's humbling. I feel like they must be for someone else who is doing somenthing incredible. Yesterday evening the situtation changed - i could feel things were improving ater the final blast which was a hail storm. Not just any storm but an inch and a half of sleat in the cockpit. I don't know where the energy came from, as my eyes had been burning red with tears just moments before, but I made a snowman and fter that - slowly but surely - everything began to get better. By daylight i was on full main and genoa - and now i have a light breeze - but finally, thank god - a more predictable one. this is ellen out - about to eat something..."
Plus, she severely burned her arm, survived a crash gybe, and...oh yeah..another massive storm is about to pounce on her. Somehow she's almost 4 days ahead of Joyon's record pace, but at this point I think she's mainly preoccupied with getting past Cape Horn alive...
Storm Watch: "With another one on the way, I'd better make the most of this balmy Southern Ocean weather..."
"Hi there world out there... Today I feel a bit like I have awoken into a new world.... i have an aching hunger inside me which has been absent for
a while, and the sea and sky that have been so agressive are now flat and grey - both. The last three days of sailing have been undoubtedly the worst of my career. Never before have i experienced winds more unstable, more agressive, more unpredictable.. With a low pressure forming to our NW we found ourselves getting literally 'run down' by the energy and cold air rushing north to build it. My body has been pushed beyond its limits, once again i found myself screaming at the heavens. I am sure that I have never been as tired as that in my life. Sleep - such an easy thing to say - but an impossible thing to achieve in such unstable conditions. Winds have been all over the place - changing in direction by 50 to 60 degrees at times, and changing at times in strength my 30 knots in the space of a few seconds. In effect the worst conditions for a multihull, as capsize is a real possibility - and i have to say that flying along with one reef and the solent in 44 knots of breeze made me talk to myself constantly telling myself we were in fact going to make it. Yesterday was the worst day, with massive squalls, the same wind that was not predictable - the day begun with a constant 30 knots after a 47 knot gust, I was sailing with 3 reefs and staysail. I'm now full main and genoa. Reefs in, reefs out - body aching. I apologise to the albatross that came closer in wonder what my cries were all about. I was past it, just past it - empty, exhausted. But at that stage with no escape, no button to push to make everything ok again...no way to hide from the alarms and wake ups from continuously interupted doses - absolute exhaustion. I tried checking the weather out, and characteristic of the day the grib i picked up came in 6 days out of date - i didn't realsise so that threw me completely, and the end never seemed to be in sight. But one thing which does, did and wil always help is reading the e-mails of support. One yesterday from Oli, one of the team members who sent an unbelievable mail which could not help but pull you up on a bad day and the thousands that are flooding in to the website. I sat there reading peoples encouragement, and quite honestly cried. Cried just to see the support of so many people from so many places - it's humbling. I feel like they must be for someone else who is doing somenthing incredible. Yesterday evening the situtation changed - i could feel things were improving ater the final blast which was a hail storm. Not just any storm but an inch and a half of sleat in the cockpit. I don't know where the energy came from, as my eyes had been burning red with tears just moments before, but I made a snowman and fter that - slowly but surely - everything began to get better. By daylight i was on full main and genoa - and now i have a light breeze - but finally, thank god - a more predictable one. this is ellen out - about to eat something..."
Plus, she severely burned her arm, survived a crash gybe, and...oh yeah..another massive storm is about to pounce on her. Somehow she's almost 4 days ahead of Joyon's record pace, but at this point I think she's mainly preoccupied with getting past Cape Horn alive...
Storm Watch: "With another one on the way, I'd better make the most of this balmy Southern Ocean weather..."
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 2:53 PM
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Vendee, Vendee...: The three leaders (Le Cam, Riou and Golding) are all around the Horn and headed north up the Atlantic toward the finish. Click here for latest daily report and here for positions. Less than 100 miles separates the top 3, which is simply unbelievable after two months and more than 20,000 miles of sailing. Any of these guys could win, and we're in for a thrilling final leg. Just consider that in 2000 Ellen MacArthur was more than 400 miles behind the leader, Michel Desjoyeaux, at the Horn, and still managed to pass him (albeit very briefly) at the Equator. Despite its blood-curdling reputation Cape Stiff was exceedingly gentle on the top three. Here's Mike Golding's account:
"The cape was fantastic. It was a beautiful clear day with a sea breeze from the east. At around 60 miles from land I could clearly see the mountains. I don’t know if that was because of a refraction of the light. I really enjoyed the late evening at the Cape. I was about 3 miles off at around midnight GMT. I opened a rather large bottle of champagne and had a little drop or two! I haven’t kept a count on how many times I’ve passed the cape but I think it must be 7 or 8 times. I remember that each time I’ve been surprised by the weather. I only have one recollection of a time when we had really strong winds. I was racing crewed and we had 55 to 60 knots of easterly, which is very different from this time around. It’s generally been quite kind. It is clearly a big relief to have left the Southern Ocean. The icebergs put a different perspective on things. Any three of us (Golding/Le Cam/ Riou) stand a chance of winning now. Any of us can pull away little by little. I firmly believe that anything is possible..."
And don't miss the fantastic video (taken from the air and on land) of 2nd place racer Vincent Riou rounding the Horn on PRB, which can be found on the Vendee Globe website video page. If you ever wanted a good look at the famous headland, this is it. Leader Jean Le Cam's video of a Southern Ocean iceberg is pretty cool, too. God, I love the Internet...
Riou Rounds In The Sun: "Wow! Am I truly at the bottom of the world or is all that New Year's champagne causing hallucinations...?"
"The cape was fantastic. It was a beautiful clear day with a sea breeze from the east. At around 60 miles from land I could clearly see the mountains. I don’t know if that was because of a refraction of the light. I really enjoyed the late evening at the Cape. I was about 3 miles off at around midnight GMT. I opened a rather large bottle of champagne and had a little drop or two! I haven’t kept a count on how many times I’ve passed the cape but I think it must be 7 or 8 times. I remember that each time I’ve been surprised by the weather. I only have one recollection of a time when we had really strong winds. I was racing crewed and we had 55 to 60 knots of easterly, which is very different from this time around. It’s generally been quite kind. It is clearly a big relief to have left the Southern Ocean. The icebergs put a different perspective on things. Any three of us (Golding/Le Cam/ Riou) stand a chance of winning now. Any of us can pull away little by little. I firmly believe that anything is possible..."
And don't miss the fantastic video (taken from the air and on land) of 2nd place racer Vincent Riou rounding the Horn on PRB, which can be found on the Vendee Globe website video page. If you ever wanted a good look at the famous headland, this is it. Leader Jean Le Cam's video of a Southern Ocean iceberg is pretty cool, too. God, I love the Internet...
Riou Rounds In The Sun: "Wow! Am I truly at the bottom of the world or is all that New Year's champagne causing hallucinations...?"
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 10:46 AM
Wetass Video Of The Week...: I've never gone BASE jumping, and I probably never will (at least voluntarily). It's a bit too artificial for me (I like my near-death experiences to come at the hands of Mother Nature). But it sure does make for some great video. So check out this fearsome compilation of killer jumps. Oh, Mama...
"Damn, this sure is a popular spot..."
(Photo: Marc Audap)
"Damn, this sure is a popular spot..."
(Photo: Marc Audap)
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 10:31 AM
The Genesis Of A Marine Painting...: Ever wonder how much work it takes to go from a blank page to a fully realized marine masterwork? No? Well, even so, check out this very cool animation of the evolution of famed marine artist John Mecray's portrait of Ted Turner's "Tenacious," which won the deadly 1979 Fastnet Race. You can find other animations of Mecray's work here (I particularly recommend this one, which shows America's Cup thoroughbreds "Volunteer" and "Thistle"' crossing tacks...and includes a handy animated summary of the race itself). Thanks to Dave McCreary at Scuttlebutt Europe for finding Mecray's gem of a site...
Port Crossing: "Hey, English Dudes! You might as well break out the tea because you're done..."
Port Crossing: "Hey, English Dudes! You might as well break out the tea because you're done..."
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 10:11 AM
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Hillary Talks Everest...: Just cruising the web I came across a fascinating interview Outside did with Edmund Hillary in 1999, shortly after the body of George Mallory was discovered on the mountain. Click here to read the full interview, which is entirely refreshing for its modesty, its sanity, and its perspective. Here's some of the best stuff, though:
A self-described "average bloke," Sir Edmund Hillary made one of the century's landmark feats seem properly human and straightforward. His most famous quotation after summiting Mount Everest with Tenzing Norgay on May 29, 1953, isn't anything pretentious or enigmatic but rather a simple aside to expedition mate George Lowe: "Well, George, we knocked the bastard off."
He went on to knock off another half-dozen Himalayan peaks, drove a tractor to the South Pole, took jet-boats up the Ganges, and launched the Himalayan Trust, which has built 30 schools, two hospitals, and 12 medical clinics in Nepal's Khumbu region, and gave proper honors to his climbing partner, Tenzing Norgay, right up until Norgay died 13 years ago....
OUTSIDE:
With the recent discovery of George Leigh Mallory's body, the burning issue is, once again: Who got to the top of Everest first? Do you mind tackling that question?
SIR EDMUND HILLARY:
No. I don't find it very hard to answer, to tell you the truth. I have two replies really. One is that I regarded Mallory as a heroic figure in my younger days, and if he had succeeded in getting to the top I think it would be fantastic. However, I have always felt that you haven't completed the job on the mountain until you get safely to the bottom again, so even if they had discovered that Mallory had been first to the top, I could at least claim I had been the first person to get to the top and then safely down. [Laughs]...
It must have seemed daunting to make an attempt after other great climbers had failed to return. What did you encounter as you approached the summit, and were you and Tenzing confident that you would make it?
When Tenzing and I were climbing the long steep slope to the South Summit, the snow was very soft. It seemed on the dangerous side for a potential avalanche, so I turned to Tenzing and said, "What do you think of it?" He said that he didn't like it very much, and I said, "Will we carry on by this route?" Tenzing looked for a moment and said, "Just as you like." So we carried on. [Laughs] There was never any question that we wouldn't push on, and we found that the conditions did improve, and we finally reached the South Summit.
We looked along the summit ridge to the top of the mountain, and it was quite impressive. In those days, we used our ice axes to cut steps. Nowadays nobody cuts steps because they have much better equipment. But I led down onto the ridge, and I cut steps all the way along it, until about halfway, when we came upon an abrupt section, a rock step. At 29,000 feet, nearly, this looked rather formidable.
But on the right-hand side, I noticed a narrow crack where the ice was breaking away from the rock. It looked just large enough for me to crawl inside, so I wriggled and jammed my way up and reached the top of the step—the one now called the Hillary Step.
It was then for the first time that I knew that we were going to get to the top. Earlier in the expedition, I was never absolutely confident that we would be successful. All I knew was that if we gave it everything we had, then we might have a good chance. But I did have a sort of a sneaking feeling that if anyone got to the top, it could well be me...
What were you feelings when you summited?
I didn't jump around and throw my arms in the air. My feeling was essentially one of considerable satisfaction.
In many ways, Tenzing was more emotional than I was. In a sort of Western fashion, I reached out my hand to shake his, but that wasn't good enough for him. He threw his arms around my shoulders and gave me a hug. And I gave him a hug, too.
When we got back to Base Camp, one of the members of the expedition brought out a bottle of rum. We weren't great drinkers on this trip, but he poured some into our various mugs and we drank it down. Because of the altitude, we were quite affected by it. Someone turned on a radio and picked up the BBC in London just as they were announcing that our British expedition had succeeded in reaching the summit. And for the first time, it struck me. We got to the top. If the BBC announces it, it must be right.
Many journalists at the time asked whether you or Tenzing reached the top first. Did it matter to either of you who first set foot on the summit?
The question of who reaches the top of a mountain first is completely unimportant to the climbers involved. It was only afterwards that the media in Nepal and in India brought up this question. It was a very uncomfortable period for us. The media were constantly harassing us. I knew the answer, of course, as did Tenzing, but we did not regard it as being very important. We finally agreed that we would say that we reached the summit almost together. In actual fact, as I wrote in my book and as Tenzing has written in his book, I was leading at the particular time and did actually set foot on the summit a few meters ahead of Tenzing. But as far as we were concerned, we had reached the summit together.
How did you feel about all of the attention you received after summiting?
I regarded it all as a bit of a joke, to tell you the honest truth. I realized that we had done quite well, but we just climbed a mountain. It didn't warrant all the reaction that there had been from the world. I've tried to maintain that attitude ever since. These challenges are great, and they are very satisfying, but they are certainly not the beginning or end of the world.
Ahh, an era when men were modest...
Hillary and Tenzing: "Okay, what's next...?"
A self-described "average bloke," Sir Edmund Hillary made one of the century's landmark feats seem properly human and straightforward. His most famous quotation after summiting Mount Everest with Tenzing Norgay on May 29, 1953, isn't anything pretentious or enigmatic but rather a simple aside to expedition mate George Lowe: "Well, George, we knocked the bastard off."
He went on to knock off another half-dozen Himalayan peaks, drove a tractor to the South Pole, took jet-boats up the Ganges, and launched the Himalayan Trust, which has built 30 schools, two hospitals, and 12 medical clinics in Nepal's Khumbu region, and gave proper honors to his climbing partner, Tenzing Norgay, right up until Norgay died 13 years ago....
OUTSIDE:
With the recent discovery of George Leigh Mallory's body, the burning issue is, once again: Who got to the top of Everest first? Do you mind tackling that question?
SIR EDMUND HILLARY:
No. I don't find it very hard to answer, to tell you the truth. I have two replies really. One is that I regarded Mallory as a heroic figure in my younger days, and if he had succeeded in getting to the top I think it would be fantastic. However, I have always felt that you haven't completed the job on the mountain until you get safely to the bottom again, so even if they had discovered that Mallory had been first to the top, I could at least claim I had been the first person to get to the top and then safely down. [Laughs]...
It must have seemed daunting to make an attempt after other great climbers had failed to return. What did you encounter as you approached the summit, and were you and Tenzing confident that you would make it?
When Tenzing and I were climbing the long steep slope to the South Summit, the snow was very soft. It seemed on the dangerous side for a potential avalanche, so I turned to Tenzing and said, "What do you think of it?" He said that he didn't like it very much, and I said, "Will we carry on by this route?" Tenzing looked for a moment and said, "Just as you like." So we carried on. [Laughs] There was never any question that we wouldn't push on, and we found that the conditions did improve, and we finally reached the South Summit.
We looked along the summit ridge to the top of the mountain, and it was quite impressive. In those days, we used our ice axes to cut steps. Nowadays nobody cuts steps because they have much better equipment. But I led down onto the ridge, and I cut steps all the way along it, until about halfway, when we came upon an abrupt section, a rock step. At 29,000 feet, nearly, this looked rather formidable.
But on the right-hand side, I noticed a narrow crack where the ice was breaking away from the rock. It looked just large enough for me to crawl inside, so I wriggled and jammed my way up and reached the top of the step—the one now called the Hillary Step.
It was then for the first time that I knew that we were going to get to the top. Earlier in the expedition, I was never absolutely confident that we would be successful. All I knew was that if we gave it everything we had, then we might have a good chance. But I did have a sort of a sneaking feeling that if anyone got to the top, it could well be me...
What were you feelings when you summited?
I didn't jump around and throw my arms in the air. My feeling was essentially one of considerable satisfaction.
In many ways, Tenzing was more emotional than I was. In a sort of Western fashion, I reached out my hand to shake his, but that wasn't good enough for him. He threw his arms around my shoulders and gave me a hug. And I gave him a hug, too.
When we got back to Base Camp, one of the members of the expedition brought out a bottle of rum. We weren't great drinkers on this trip, but he poured some into our various mugs and we drank it down. Because of the altitude, we were quite affected by it. Someone turned on a radio and picked up the BBC in London just as they were announcing that our British expedition had succeeded in reaching the summit. And for the first time, it struck me. We got to the top. If the BBC announces it, it must be right.
Many journalists at the time asked whether you or Tenzing reached the top first. Did it matter to either of you who first set foot on the summit?
The question of who reaches the top of a mountain first is completely unimportant to the climbers involved. It was only afterwards that the media in Nepal and in India brought up this question. It was a very uncomfortable period for us. The media were constantly harassing us. I knew the answer, of course, as did Tenzing, but we did not regard it as being very important. We finally agreed that we would say that we reached the summit almost together. In actual fact, as I wrote in my book and as Tenzing has written in his book, I was leading at the particular time and did actually set foot on the summit a few meters ahead of Tenzing. But as far as we were concerned, we had reached the summit together.
How did you feel about all of the attention you received after summiting?
I regarded it all as a bit of a joke, to tell you the honest truth. I realized that we had done quite well, but we just climbed a mountain. It didn't warrant all the reaction that there had been from the world. I've tried to maintain that attitude ever since. These challenges are great, and they are very satisfying, but they are certainly not the beginning or end of the world.
Ahh, an era when men were modest...
Hillary and Tenzing: "Okay, what's next...?"
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 1:44 PM
Wetass Video Vault...: Man vs. Beast. Sometimes the humans win, and sometimes the animals win...
Score one for the lion...
Score one for this speedy conservationist...
The lion hunt is appalling. It's hard to believe people really get their rocks off this way. Too bad the lion only got in a glancing blow...
"Hey, Loser! How about you try it without all the guns? You're paying a lot of money and that will be much more exciting..."
Score one for the lion...
Score one for this speedy conservationist...
The lion hunt is appalling. It's hard to believe people really get their rocks off this way. Too bad the lion only got in a glancing blow...
"Hey, Loser! How about you try it without all the guns? You're paying a lot of money and that will be much more exciting..."
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 9:58 AM
Vignettes From The Southern Ocean--Ellen E-mail: Another long(ish) e-mail from Ellen MacArthur (where does she find the time?) on life in the Southern Ocean. Amazingly, she continues to find beauty and inspiration, despite appalling fatigue and difficult sailing conditions:
"Well, things have been quite tough over the last few days... We're in a very unstable wind situation, and poor B&Q has been stopping and starting like there's no tomorrow. The sky is blue mainly, but there are many clouds - some angry, some not - which come in towards us like angry demons to attack us with their angry icy gusts. Yesterday we had a few pearlers where the wind reached over 38 knots sustaining 35 [knots] for 40 minutes... The sky went black, and the sea a silky grey as the hail stones poured down from the heavens to batter the waters surface. B&Q was flying, surfing into the high 20's, sailing deep, down the waves, on the limit - but thankfully not over. I made the most of the second such storm to collect some spare water - so went forward to the mast to hold the bucket under the sail. The water fell - just above freezing temperature - as it melted off the sail. As I watched the storm pass over us my skin stung as the hefty hailstones banged into me, they clattered off the deck so they must have been hitting hard - I guess they've fallen a long way! I saved 2 litres of drinking water then washed some thermals with the rest - though little smells now as it's so cold but that will all change when things warm up! Last night we had wind all over the place - and strength from 5 knots to 38 knots. We felt as if we were weaving in and out of the wind - somehow evading it... Frustrating and exhausting with so many sail changes [11 in 24 hours]. I managed a few hours of troubled sleep - waking each time to the ear-piercing alarm telling me once again the wind had risen. I dragged myself off the floor where I was huddled in my oilskins under a fleece blanket - and looked to the sky to see yet another demon black cloud. Though the night was hard and exhausting, there was a really beautiful aspect - sunset was magnificent with the orange glow lighting up the waves, and the birds around us lit up by this 'warmth' of light. It's amazing to see the darkest clouds blacken the sky but the boat before it glowing as before a winter's fire. Just stunning. Now I can see the sky at night I realise that the dusk just runs in to night, and it never really gets dark at night. In fact, there is always that golden glow on the horizon - dusk melting into dawn then bringing the new day. At least the nights are short. This morning things are a little more stable and the decision is which sails to put up. I'm my own worst enemy in these situations, always wanting B&Q to be sailing as well as she possibly can be - that's hard in the squally conditions though - hard when the wind speeds are very hard to predict. But I made myself useful, telling myself to give it an hour or so... Putting safety on the tramp lashings, bailing out the three buckets full of water from the windward float. I tried to seal it better this time with silicone. It seems just yesterday I was in there bailing out a few buckets. It's a bizarre feeling sitting with your head poking out of the float - it's narrow, but about as deep as I am tall - so when the hatch is out you can stand on the hull - I felt like a character out of wacky races, my little head poking out of such a huge graceful shape. I smiled anyway but I guess being out here alone kind of does that to you!
ellen xx"
She's more than 60 hours ahead of Joyon's record. But look what it's doing to her hand...
"Damn, I've got about 2 hours of peeling to do tonight..."
"Well, things have been quite tough over the last few days... We're in a very unstable wind situation, and poor B&Q has been stopping and starting like there's no tomorrow. The sky is blue mainly, but there are many clouds - some angry, some not - which come in towards us like angry demons to attack us with their angry icy gusts. Yesterday we had a few pearlers where the wind reached over 38 knots sustaining 35 [knots] for 40 minutes... The sky went black, and the sea a silky grey as the hail stones poured down from the heavens to batter the waters surface. B&Q was flying, surfing into the high 20's, sailing deep, down the waves, on the limit - but thankfully not over. I made the most of the second such storm to collect some spare water - so went forward to the mast to hold the bucket under the sail. The water fell - just above freezing temperature - as it melted off the sail. As I watched the storm pass over us my skin stung as the hefty hailstones banged into me, they clattered off the deck so they must have been hitting hard - I guess they've fallen a long way! I saved 2 litres of drinking water then washed some thermals with the rest - though little smells now as it's so cold but that will all change when things warm up! Last night we had wind all over the place - and strength from 5 knots to 38 knots. We felt as if we were weaving in and out of the wind - somehow evading it... Frustrating and exhausting with so many sail changes [11 in 24 hours]. I managed a few hours of troubled sleep - waking each time to the ear-piercing alarm telling me once again the wind had risen. I dragged myself off the floor where I was huddled in my oilskins under a fleece blanket - and looked to the sky to see yet another demon black cloud. Though the night was hard and exhausting, there was a really beautiful aspect - sunset was magnificent with the orange glow lighting up the waves, and the birds around us lit up by this 'warmth' of light. It's amazing to see the darkest clouds blacken the sky but the boat before it glowing as before a winter's fire. Just stunning. Now I can see the sky at night I realise that the dusk just runs in to night, and it never really gets dark at night. In fact, there is always that golden glow on the horizon - dusk melting into dawn then bringing the new day. At least the nights are short. This morning things are a little more stable and the decision is which sails to put up. I'm my own worst enemy in these situations, always wanting B&Q to be sailing as well as she possibly can be - that's hard in the squally conditions though - hard when the wind speeds are very hard to predict. But I made myself useful, telling myself to give it an hour or so... Putting safety on the tramp lashings, bailing out the three buckets full of water from the windward float. I tried to seal it better this time with silicone. It seems just yesterday I was in there bailing out a few buckets. It's a bizarre feeling sitting with your head poking out of the float - it's narrow, but about as deep as I am tall - so when the hatch is out you can stand on the hull - I felt like a character out of wacky races, my little head poking out of such a huge graceful shape. I smiled anyway but I guess being out here alone kind of does that to you!
ellen xx"
She's more than 60 hours ahead of Joyon's record. But look what it's doing to her hand...
"Damn, I've got about 2 hours of peeling to do tonight..."
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 9:48 AM
Monday, January 03, 2005
Trans-Atlantic Beach Cat Crossing: If you had to select a craft on which to cross the Atlantic you wouldn't--at least if you don't like to suffer--choose a 20-foot beach cat. But in the world of sailing there's always someone willing to sail somewhere on some ridiculous craft, usually in an attempt to set some sort of new record. And the transatlantic beach cat record, while not exactly popular, has gained enough respectability over the years that it's not too surprising that there are two Italians (Andrea Gancia and Matteo Miceli) who right now are in the middle of a run from Dakar to Guadalupe, aboard a 20-footer. As of this morning they had sailed 1430 miles and had 1137 to go. According to their calculations they are 272 miles ahead of the record pace, and I'd tell you more about how it is all going except their daily logs are all in Italian. They do however, have a pretty useful history of this record (in English) on the site:
"The idea of crossing the Atlantic with a sport catamaran was born in 1986, when two attempts took place.
The first was by Frenchmen Daniel Pradel and Tony Laurent, who set the record in 18 days and 22 hours.
The second attempt was made, that same year, by the renowned Primagaz skippers Laurent Bourgnon and Frederic Geraldi, who took two days less than the French.
In 1993, two Frenchmen tried to better their record, with a KL18, but they took 21 days and 6 hours.
Nobody did better than Bourgnon and Geraldi until 1999, when the record was shattered by Hans Bouscholte and Gerard Navarin, sailing on a NACRA, who set the new record of 15 days, 2 hours and 26 minutes."
And here's a description of their custom-designed ride:
"Balance Ocean Cat 20' is a 20 foot catamaran, designed by Sito Avilès Ramos specially to beat the Atlantic record with a two-handed boat. The large number of watertight compartments, seven on each hull and a double crash-box at the bows makes it unsinkable; moreover, the use of carbon fiber remarkably reduces its weight and makes this catamaran extremely rigid and resistant."
This is a very, very tough physical challenge, with blazing sun, endless salt water spray, and absolutely no compromise in the way of comfort. So hats off to Gancia and Miceli, and we wish them fair winds....
Transatlantic Duo: "Excuse me, Matteo. It's a nice boat and we're going fast, but what do I do when I have to pee...?"
"The idea of crossing the Atlantic with a sport catamaran was born in 1986, when two attempts took place.
The first was by Frenchmen Daniel Pradel and Tony Laurent, who set the record in 18 days and 22 hours.
The second attempt was made, that same year, by the renowned Primagaz skippers Laurent Bourgnon and Frederic Geraldi, who took two days less than the French.
In 1993, two Frenchmen tried to better their record, with a KL18, but they took 21 days and 6 hours.
Nobody did better than Bourgnon and Geraldi until 1999, when the record was shattered by Hans Bouscholte and Gerard Navarin, sailing on a NACRA, who set the new record of 15 days, 2 hours and 26 minutes."
And here's a description of their custom-designed ride:
"Balance Ocean Cat 20' is a 20 foot catamaran, designed by Sito Avilès Ramos specially to beat the Atlantic record with a two-handed boat. The large number of watertight compartments, seven on each hull and a double crash-box at the bows makes it unsinkable; moreover, the use of carbon fiber remarkably reduces its weight and makes this catamaran extremely rigid and resistant."
This is a very, very tough physical challenge, with blazing sun, endless salt water spray, and absolutely no compromise in the way of comfort. So hats off to Gancia and Miceli, and we wish them fair winds....
Transatlantic Duo: "Excuse me, Matteo. It's a nice boat and we're going fast, but what do I do when I have to pee...?"
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 3:39 PM
Boesmansgat Body Recovery...: In November I posted a report on a world record 270 meter dive made by Australian Dave Shaw in the deep water cave called Boesmansgat (Dutch (I think?) for "Bushman's Cave"). Not only did Shaw set a new world depth record, he came across the corpse of a diver named Deon Dreyer, who died in the cave some ten years earlier. Shaw got in touch with me to correct a point or two in my report, and it turns out he's a great guy. So great, in fact, he's about to go back into Boesmansgat sometime in the coming week to make an attempt to recover Dreyer's body. Click here to watch a news clip about Shaw's discovery of the body and a good description of what Boesmansgat is like. This story has some good details about Shaw's discovery and Dreyer's death:
"Dave Shaw looked me straight in the eye and made me a very big promise. He said, 'I will fetch your son.' I believe he is the man who will go down 271 metres underwater to bring back my boy," Theo Dreyer says.
For the past 10 years, the body of 20-year-old Deon Dreyer has been lying at the bottom of Bushman's Cave near Danielskuil in the Northern Cape in silt 271m underwater...
"As I swept left with my light, I saw a body as plain as day," Shaw wrote in his dive report. "He was lying on his back, arms in the air and legs outstretched."
There was a chain around the skeleton's wrist. His diving mask and fins were still in place.
Shaw attached his guideline to the diver's remains and terminated the dive. The remains are believed to belong to Deon, who disappeared on December 17, 1994...
According to Theo, Deon, who raced modified cars, hunted, dived and was a whiz with electronics, had a passion for living on the edge.
"Deon began scuba-diving when he was 17 and had clocked about 200 dives. He did everything to the fullest extent. For him, diving became more than just watching fish. He got into technical (deep-water) diving because the challenge was bigger."
Theo says Deon may have been an adrenaline junkie but he was not reckless.
"He planned his dives meticulously. Before every dive he prayed."
On December 17, 1994, Deon was part of a support crew for SA Cave Diving Association divers whose target was to dive 150m.
A day before the planned dive, the team went on a "bounce", which is dive-speak for a reconnaissance. On their way back up, at 60m, Deon gave the three-finger diver's hand signal to his buddy, indicating that everything was OK.
In the accident report team leader Dietloff Giliomee wrote: "Then at 50m we noticed a light below us. An eternity of confusion followed which could have lasted seconds. It was only when John-Wesley (Franklin) signed a cut-throat gesture that I realised what was happening. I started to descend for a chase. Back at 50m I estimated that Deon was at least another 40m below us, and his fading light indicated that he was dropping fast. I decided it was a suicide chase and we abandoned the effort."
Theo believes his son had deep-water blackout, a rare event when a diver passes out because of the effect of gases under pressure at extreme depth on the body.
"A light switch just went off and that is it, it's goodbye. He sank fast. The divers just saw the beam of his torch," Theo says.
Heartbreaking. And this story details some of the technical aspects of Shaw's upcoming recovery attempt:
"I plan on spending up to five minutes at 270m recovering the body," [Shaw] wrote.
"If I have to bailout, the dive will extend to 764 minutes.
"At the bottom, one tank will last just 3-4 minutes.
"Once on the bottom, I have to cut Deon out of his dive harness, place him in a body bag (custom built), hook a strong wire line to the dive gear, get back to the drop line with the body bag and the other end of the line fastened to the dive gear, hook that line to the drop line, and then start my ascent, with the body.
"Quite a lot to achieve in five minutes."
He said a portable, two man recompression chamber would be posted on the surface, 70m up from the actual cave entrance, in case of complications.
There would be a mine rescue team on standby to get the diver from the cave entrance to the chamber and a doctor and other medical staff and equipment on hand.
I've been in touch with Shaw and will post any reports he sends on the recovery attempt. It's no simple task to get to that depth and back again alive, particularly with a body, so keep your fingers crossed...
Deep Diver Dave Shaw: "Well, you'd look funny, too, if you'd just dived to 270 meters AND seen a skeleton..."
"Dave Shaw looked me straight in the eye and made me a very big promise. He said, 'I will fetch your son.' I believe he is the man who will go down 271 metres underwater to bring back my boy," Theo Dreyer says.
For the past 10 years, the body of 20-year-old Deon Dreyer has been lying at the bottom of Bushman's Cave near Danielskuil in the Northern Cape in silt 271m underwater...
"As I swept left with my light, I saw a body as plain as day," Shaw wrote in his dive report. "He was lying on his back, arms in the air and legs outstretched."
There was a chain around the skeleton's wrist. His diving mask and fins were still in place.
Shaw attached his guideline to the diver's remains and terminated the dive. The remains are believed to belong to Deon, who disappeared on December 17, 1994...
According to Theo, Deon, who raced modified cars, hunted, dived and was a whiz with electronics, had a passion for living on the edge.
"Deon began scuba-diving when he was 17 and had clocked about 200 dives. He did everything to the fullest extent. For him, diving became more than just watching fish. He got into technical (deep-water) diving because the challenge was bigger."
Theo says Deon may have been an adrenaline junkie but he was not reckless.
"He planned his dives meticulously. Before every dive he prayed."
On December 17, 1994, Deon was part of a support crew for SA Cave Diving Association divers whose target was to dive 150m.
A day before the planned dive, the team went on a "bounce", which is dive-speak for a reconnaissance. On their way back up, at 60m, Deon gave the three-finger diver's hand signal to his buddy, indicating that everything was OK.
In the accident report team leader Dietloff Giliomee wrote: "Then at 50m we noticed a light below us. An eternity of confusion followed which could have lasted seconds. It was only when John-Wesley (Franklin) signed a cut-throat gesture that I realised what was happening. I started to descend for a chase. Back at 50m I estimated that Deon was at least another 40m below us, and his fading light indicated that he was dropping fast. I decided it was a suicide chase and we abandoned the effort."
Theo believes his son had deep-water blackout, a rare event when a diver passes out because of the effect of gases under pressure at extreme depth on the body.
"A light switch just went off and that is it, it's goodbye. He sank fast. The divers just saw the beam of his torch," Theo says.
Heartbreaking. And this story details some of the technical aspects of Shaw's upcoming recovery attempt:
"I plan on spending up to five minutes at 270m recovering the body," [Shaw] wrote.
"If I have to bailout, the dive will extend to 764 minutes.
"At the bottom, one tank will last just 3-4 minutes.
"Once on the bottom, I have to cut Deon out of his dive harness, place him in a body bag (custom built), hook a strong wire line to the dive gear, get back to the drop line with the body bag and the other end of the line fastened to the dive gear, hook that line to the drop line, and then start my ascent, with the body.
"Quite a lot to achieve in five minutes."
He said a portable, two man recompression chamber would be posted on the surface, 70m up from the actual cave entrance, in case of complications.
There would be a mine rescue team on standby to get the diver from the cave entrance to the chamber and a doctor and other medical staff and equipment on hand.
I've been in touch with Shaw and will post any reports he sends on the recovery attempt. It's no simple task to get to that depth and back again alive, particularly with a body, so keep your fingers crossed...
Deep Diver Dave Shaw: "Well, you'd look funny, too, if you'd just dived to 270 meters AND seen a skeleton..."
Posted by Tim Zimmermann @ 3:14 PM
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