Today is the start of another month. Another month on this boat, and still not yet home. Had we had a clear run with the weather, we would of course have been back a good two or three weeks ago.
As it is, we're still stuck in horrendous conditions south of Jamaica. For aficionados of the Beaufort Scale, we've been battling into the teeth of a Force Eight gale ever since we left Panama, and we're now in our fifth day of it, and still no sign of it easing. It's frustrating to think that if the wind dropped we could be in Port Antonio well inside a day. As it is, we're looking at getting there on Wednesday. We can't wait.
Yesterday's highlight, if you can call it that, comes when we realise that the boat has shipped rather more water than we expected. This is due to the inefficiency of the Bomar hatch above the front cabin. The resulting leaks over four days have completely filled the three forward floor lockers with water.
So we stop the boat, and set to rescuing what can be saved from the lockers, and ditchimg what can't. Then we have to bail out the lockers, forming a human chain along the boat, ferrying the water using our toilet and washing-up buckets. It takes us over an hour, and in all, we reckon to have removed around 50 gallons of water.
With nearly quarter of a ton of weight off the front, the boat handles slightly better, and we get an extra knot and a half out of her. But the fine presentation box which housed the very nice plate presented to us in Egypt is ruined, along with a pile of other things. It's such exhausting work, and we've lost so much headway whilst drifting, we don't even have our evening meal.
The boat's electronics appear to be suffering from gremlins, too. We're greeted to regular beeping alarms to indicate that the GPS receiver has lost its fix. The boat is set to drive on a bearing, but more noticeable is the fast rate beep which indicates the autopilot has thrown a wobbler, and the boat starts driving around in circles. Alan reckons the navigation computer needs rebooting, but this isn't really the place to do that.
There's a certain degree of timing involved in nipping outside to use the toilet bucket. Apart from the odd rogue wave, the waves come at us in a fairly regular pattern, so the trick is to try and time one's pit-stop to fall between the waves which crash right over the roof. Yesterday I misjudge rather, returning to the cabin dripping wet.
Today is even more challenging. The time between waves going over the top is just a few seconds. And water is absolutely pouring through the hatch at the front. The best advert for our Bomar hatches is reserved for our arrival in Port Antonio, when we plan to buy ourselves a large roll of Gaffa tape and seal the damned things shut.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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We're now into day six of the run from Panama, and Jamaica is tantalisingly close. But it could still be another 24 hours before we finally make it to Port Antonio. The wind has dropped marginally, and as daylight comes, we'll try to add a few extra knots to our speed. But we have to be mindful of damage to the boat. Water is gushing through the front hatch, even with its temporary seal of electrical tape, and bailing out sessions are now becoming part of the daily routine.
It's ironic to think that this leg, around half the distance of our longest around the world from Salalah in Oman to Mangalore in India, is taking twice as long. Oh for the calm of the Indian Ocean again!
We've had a lot of problems with the navigation electronics through the night. The frequent alarms and equipment taking unpaid leave are all down to the high level of moisture in the boat. Even things which haven't come in direct contact with sea water are wet because of the lack of ventilation in the cabin. You know something is amiss when you start getting electric shocks from the carpet. The boat's electrics are in serious need of a good drying out, as indeed are we.
In fact, we've had to warn the people meeting us in Jamaica to be prepared for the fact that we might be a bit whiffy when they greet us ashore. Because we haven't been making the speed, our onboard shower attachment has been inoperative, and we've only dared try a bucket bath when we've had a tea stop once or twice. The problem there is that when you're sitting naked on the back of the boat when a large breaking wave crashes over the transom, you're dangerously exposed in more than one sense of the phrase!
I'm not impressed with the general drying conditions in the Caribbean, either. The T-shirt which I washed out on Wednesday night last week in Panama Colon is still wet. Without doubt a sodden thing. A description applicable to more than T-shirts.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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It's the most amazing of contrasts. The final couple of hours coming into Port Antonio on Tuesday evening sees us doing very nearly 25 knots. We tie up just after dark, where we're met by Tracy Prows, manager of the Port Antonio Marina. It's a tremendous relief to step ashore, damp and aching, after nearly six days at sea.
The leg from Panama Colon to Port Antonio has assumed the dubious honour of being our slowest leg around the world. We averaged just 4.4 knots, all the more remarkable for the fact that we kept going the whole time. It was even slower than our passage from Naha, Okinawa to Choshi in Japan, where we covered virtually twice the distance, AND had three unscheduled nights ashore sheltering from storms.
Our heartfelt commiserations go to the Skandia Ocean Row team, whose attempt to row across the Alantic in record time and become the first such attempt to make a landfall in England has been abandoned due to a broken rudder. There are times when we too thought the game was up, but we've always managed to pull another rabbit out of the hat. Despite drive and autopilot problems, smashed windscreens, losing a propeller, illness, injuries and numerous huge storms, we've kept our goal in sight.
As it is, some elements of the media consider us as already having failed because we didn't break Cable and Wireless Adventurer's overall around the world record. When the UIM, the international governing body of powerboating, set the rules for circumnavigating the world, they very sensibly set different classes for records, recognising that you can't really match a boat 115ft long with one that's 33ft. It would be rather like putting Prince Nazeem in the same ring with Lennox Lewis and expecting an even fight.
We wanted to attempt the Cable and Wireless record because the inequality of the contest appealed to us, and in good conditions, Spirit of Cardiff is the faster boat, both on paper and on water. We proved that in October 2000 when we easily beat Adventurer's fastest leg around the world, from Gibraltar to Monaco. Given the right conditions from Horta to Gibraltar, Adventurer's last round the world leg, maybe we'll prove it again.
In the meantime, we're in the process of stripping everything out of the boat, drying things off, and tracking down the source of the gremlins in the navigation electronics. We're going to have a day or so here to recuperate, but in the meantime we're looking closely at the weather for the next hop to Fort Lauderdale in Florida. And hopefully this time it will be just a hop.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Panama Colon - Port Antonio
Time of leg: 5 days 13 hours 30 minutes
Length of leg: 587 nautical miles
Total distance covered: 20,422 nautical miles
Distance to go: 4,960 nautical miles
Average speed over leg: 4.40 knots
Time from Gibraltar: 86 days 14 hours 39 minutes
Fuel consumed: 740 litres
Average fuel consumption: 1.26 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Fort Lauderdale, Florida, USA
ETA: Monday
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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We're on our way once more, heading northwards for Cuba, and onward to Florida. Our stay in Jamaica proves to be more than just a welcome stop - it turns out to be an experience in its own right. We don't quite end up with the amount of relaxation we'd hoped for, but we make up for it Thursday evening.
Port Antonio has a fascinating history. It was the birthplace of tourism in the Caribbean, run off the back of the banana trade. We've been very kindly hosted by Earl Levy, owner of the Trident Villas and Hotel (www.tridentjamaica.com), probably the most famous hotel in Jamaica. It's a wonderful collection of white-painted villas and gazebos set along one of the most beautiful stretches of coastline. Our villa has large paddle fans in the ceiling, and a verandah with wicker chairs enjoying a secluded view of the sea, and peacocks strutting the lawns.
The elegant lounge in the main building has framed signed photographs of just a few of its many celebrity guests over the years - Tom Cruise, Whoopi Goldberg, Glenn Close, Noel Coward and Eddie Albert. But there have been many, many more. Luciano Pavarotti has stayed, and I discover as I chat to Earl that I'm sitting in the very chair relaxed in by Sir Anthony Hopkins the last time he came along. Trident has seen politicians and royalty, too. It was a great favourite with Princess Margaret, and Colin Powell has stayed, as well as John F. Kennedy Jr.
Earl throws a small reception for us, and one of the guests is Pat Flynn, widow of movie legend Erroll. She lives in Port Antonio, but when Erroll was alive, they owned Navy Island, a beautiful island set in between the two natural harbours of Port Antonio.
I ask her what she thinks of current plans to commercialise it, and she pulls a face. "When my husband and I lived there," she says, "we lived on a boat, and the island was our garden. We were always here except when we had to go to Los Angeles for filming."
Earl takes us for a walk along a beautiful winding trail to the Castle. Originally built as his home away from Kingston, the Castle is now part of Trident, and can be rented in its entirety for a cool six thousand dollars a day. It has the look of a place much older than it really is, with antique furniture, and all sorts of architectural curiosities, including a pair of crocodile statues guarding the main entrance, made, I'm told, by the man who did the special effects for "Jaws"
As stops go, we certainly needed this one, although having overcome the initial severe bout of land-sickness, we now have to get used to being on the water again. Our very special thanks to Earl Levy and his daughter Suzanne for their wonderful hospitality, to Lesley and Gareth Halliwell, who plyed us with far more Red Stripe than was good for us, and to Jim Malcolm, HM Ambassador to Panama for setting this up.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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It's uncanny the amount of progress we're making. After our nightmare journey from Panama to Jamaica, we didn't dare hope for too much. And yet here we are zipping along at 17 knots.
We'd had a number of options as far as our route was concerned, depending on the weather forecast. We're following Plan A, going north to Cuba, skirting round the eastern tip through the Windward Passage between Cuba and Haiti, and then along the Bahamas chain. Another option would have been to hug the south coast of Cuba, and follow the Florida Keys from the other side, but that would have added over another hundred miles to the journey.
Cuba appears to us not long after midnight. We come within just a few miles of the US Naval Base at Guantanamo Bay, and given its current status, we had wondered whether we might expect any visits or unusual activity during the night. But no, all is quiet, save for a few fishing boats.
The Windward Passage certainly lives up to its name, and provides a bumpy ride, so the second half of the night isn't quite so sleep-friendly. But the consolation prize is that it doesn't really cut down our speed - at times we're making 20 knots. In fact, we're doing so well we've revised our arrival time into Fort Lauderdale. We'd originally estimated Monday morning - now it looks as though some time Sunday afternoon will be closer to the mark.
The next few hours will also see us cross the Tropic of Cancer for the fourth and final time. Another little milestone to remind us that we really are on our way home.
And as we pass through a heavy if short-lived squall during the morning, it seems that the Gaffa tape used to seal the worst two of our three leaky hatches has done the trick. Let's hope they stick with it.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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As we approach the Florida coastline, we begin to appreciate the problem the US authorities have with refugees and drug runners trying to make it across the Straits of Florida from Cuba. We see one or two dilapidated boats drifting in the water, and as we pass Miami, a US Coastguard cutter is keeping a watchful eye on us.
As we come into Fort Lauderdale, we catch some radio traffic for Spirit of Cardiff, but as Alan tries to respond, we hear someone else answering in our name. It seems there are two Spirit of Cardiffs (or is that Spirits of Cardiff?) here on the same day. Most confusing.
Fort Lauderdale is a modern equivalent of Venice. Every house has a waterfront - indeed, there seem to be more boats here than cars. There's very much a laid back kind of holiday atmosphere to the place, with boats to-ing and fro-ing along the waterways. And there's a large helping of show-off here, with what Alan describes as cafe racers - massive racing powerboats whose engines gurgle throatily as they cruise from one waterfront cafe to another.
Nearby is Port Everglades, with P & O line's Grand Princess, one of the largest cruise liners in the world, tied up. A lot of cruises start from here, as evidenced by the several big brightly lit cruise ships which we see through the night on our way along the Great Bahama Bank.
The only problem here is the weather. Instead of Florida's fabled sunshine, there are huge black clouds, and frequent deluges of rain. It just can't stop following us about.
We're very grateful to Andy and Tess Dent (and Daniel) for giving up their Sunday afternoon to ferry us around from one shop to another. It was all down to Andy's mum Norma, who saw Spirit in Cardiff Bay the day before we set off. She mentioned it to her son Andy, who lives near Fort Lauderdale, and the rest is history. So thanks Norma for the contact.
After a hectic afternoon, we have a short moment to relax, meeting members of the Lauderdale Yacht Club, the club responsible for bringing the Whitbread round the world yacht race to the USA. So thanks, too for their hospitality. This one came about as a result of our new friends in Jamaica knowing John and Shirley Douglas, who live in Fort Lauderdale, but also have a home in Port Antonio. As they say, it's not what you know that counts, but who you know.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Port Antonio - Fort Lauderdale
Time of leg: 1 day 20 hours 47 minutes
Length of leg: 738 nautical miles
Total distance covered: 21,160 nautical miles
Distance to go: 4,280 nautical miles
Average speed over leg: 16.49 knots
Total elapsed time from Gibraltar: 91 days 6 hours 6 minutes
Total elapsed time at sea: 68 days 18 hours 52 minutes
Fuel consumed: 1,439 litres
Average fuel consumption: 1.95 litres / nautical mile
Number of refuelling stops to go: 4
Next stop: Wilmington, North Carolina, USA
ETA: Tuesday
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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After a huge deluge during the night, accompanied by thunder so loud it shakes the boat, we're now well on our way to Wilmington, cutting straight across from the southern tip of Florida to North Carolina. As we pass Cape Canaveral, eyes strain skywards for signs of shuttle launches. Sadly the skies are booster-free today, so all we can do is concentrate on what's ahead of us, where another big pile of clouds appears to be building up. So far, any weather we've had has been an annoyance rather than a hindrance, and we're making good progress, helped along by the Gulf Stream.
When funds were really tight, we'd said we would make our final decision as to whether or not we could carry on when we reached Fort Lauderdale. It was the absolute limit our funds would take us, and it was also a logical place to stop. Fort Lauderdale is the boating capital of the United States, and if it had come to it, it would have been the best place to leave the boat in order to sell it. Secondly, flights back to the UK from here are inexpensive - when money was at its tightest, the very least we could guarantee ourselves was enough to fly the three of us home.
Fortunately we have now achieved the minimum funding to complete the circumnavigation, thanks to our many supporters around the world, and the match-funding generously provided by Cardiff County Council and Cardiff Harbour Authority. But it was touch and go for quite a while.
We're very grateful to everyone for their support. It may just be the three of us on one little yellow boat, but we're also very conscious of the wider appeal of the project. Many thousands of people follow our progress every day - from the schools who use us as a living example of geography in action, to those who simply derive pleasure from following a great adventure.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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"Following a textbook run from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, the 33ft powerboat Spirit of Cardiff arrived outside Cape Fear Yacht Center, Wilmington, North Carolina in the early hours of Tuesday morning."
That, at least, is the good bit. Only problem then is the sand shoals across the narrow Carolina Inlet, which don't appear to have much in the way of buoys or lighting, mainly because they shift with every tide. They operate on a system here called "local knowledge".
So we end up spending the rest of the night drifting offshore, waiting until daylight so we can find our way in without running aground. Four feet of water, we're told, is often all there is to play with here. "Four feet of water, I can live with," says Alan Priddy. "It's the no feet of water that gets a bit more tricky."
As the boat is serviced, we have a steady stream of media interest, including Gavin Williams from WWAY Wilmington - News Channel 3. He shoots a news item, and then wonders if he can liven it up with some of our video footage. It transpires we don't have the necessary connectors to link my tiny camcorder to cameraman Mark Simpson's professional machine. So whilst Alan and Steve head off with our man on the ground Neil Elam to do the shopping for the provisions for our run to Halifax, I take a ride with Gavin and Mark to Channel 3's studios in Wilmington. There we manage to transfer some of my video of the Panama Canal transit, along with some scary "at sea" footage.
It's scheduled to go out on their six o'clock evening news programme, and as ABC affiliates, they'll be offering it to ABC for transmission nationwide, as well as CNN. Stardom! I even get to sit in the news anchor's chair in the studio, although I'm not sure whether I passed the audition. Naturally I'll be sitting next to my satellite phone with bated breath.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Fort Lauderdale - Wilmington
Time of leg: 1 day 5 hours 4 minutes
Length of leg: 498 nautical miles
Total distance covered: 21,658 nautical miles
Distance to go: 3,800 nautical miles
Average speed over leg: 17.17 knots
Total elapsed time from Gibraltar: 92 days 21 hours 13 minutes
Total elapsed time at sea: 69 days 23 hours 56 minutes
Fuel consumed: 947 litres
Average fuel consumption: 1.90 litres / nautical mile
Number of refuelling stops to go: 3
Next stop: Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
ETA: Friday
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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It's an irony. Here we are, the boat in neutral as we brew up our morning tea, drifting somewhere in the western Atlantic level with Norfolk, Virginia, and we're actually going faster without any power than when we were thrashing painfully across the Caribbean from Panama to Jamaica. With the combination of a following sea and the Gulf Stream, we're notching up over 5 knots without any effort whatsoever.
We've had to make arrangements to get our radar replaced when we arrive in Halifax. It actually packed up during the run through extraordinarily bad conditions between Panama and Jamaica, a consequence of what I suppose one might call extended wear and tear. We've been running without it ever since, which if nothing else proves an interesting alternative way to improve your night vision. In the meantime, we're keeping our fingers crossed we don't run into any fog.
Today is a day where lethargy appears to have crept in big time. Maybe it's because we're heading further north, and are therefore suffering from latitude sickness. But there's also the realisation that we're now not that far from the end of this epic journey, and our thoughts are turning to the grim reality of having to go straight back to work once we get home - one of the inevitable consequences of not having earned a cent for nearly four months.
A short break with a hefty dose of remedial therapy might perhaps have been better...
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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Wednesday night turns out to be a night to remember, or one to forget, depending on your point of view. It's the first night in three weeks that we feel the need to use our Snugpak sleeping bags, but more to the point, it's a pain-racked night of little sleep.
We'd been warned to expect to lose our following sea for a while, and just about on cue comes the head sea. It's not as awful as our Caribbean experience, but we're down to around 10 knots, and the up and down slamming is enough to cause injuries.
Alan is nursing bruises in various places, whilst I've rekindled my back injury - able to stand up or lie down, but not to sit unsupported. Steve is fine, although he's probably in credit after having suffered a vicious bout of food poisoning a couple of days ago. As day breaks, the wind has dropped, and we're now making a comfortable 20 knots. So we will be in Halifax, Nova Scotia on Friday morning.
As we pass the US border into Canada, I'm able to reveal we did rather buck the system as far as US immigration rules are concerned. When we did all the paperwork in Kodiak, Alaska at the beginning of June, we were given a six month cruising permit, and then royally ripped off 195 dollars each for a 30 day visa. Not so much land of the free as home of the pay!
Of course, we didn't bank on further delays in California or the Caribbean, so by the time we reappeared on the US east coast at Fort Lauderdale, our visas had long expired. Much as we love our many friends in America, there was no way we could afford another six hundred dollars for two short stops, so we kept stumm on all matters official. Sorry...
But for all that, there's the feeling that we're now on home ground. Having crossed the Atlantic via St John's and the Azores last year, we know what to expect. In fact, there's every possibility that with the forecast of better conditions than we experienced last year, we may even get across quicker. If Neptune is kind to us, we should be in Gibraltar next weekend, and home very shortly afterwards. Fingers crossed...
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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It's one of those strange misconceptions I've carried with me through most of my life, like the supposed billiard table flatness of the Red Sea and the Caribbean. I've always thought of Halifax, Nova Scotia as dull and damp, with lifeless grey concrete buildings. The kind of place you needed to be paid to visit. The truth of course is hugely different.
Halifax is a beautifully green city, with many lovely houses and delightful waterfronts. And whilst locals admit it does tend towards the dull and damp quite a lot, today we've brought blue skies and sunshine with us. Something of a change for us, to be sure.
We're tied up at the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron, the oldest established yacht club in North America. The location is nothing short of spectacular, situated on the historic north-west arm of Halifax Harbour, overlooked on the other side of the water by a shallow wooded slope and some splendid and doubtless very expensive houses.
While Alan and Steve set to stripping out the radar ready for the friendly local radar repair man, I jump (or hobble, to be more precise) into a taxi for a quick appointment to get my back injury checked out by a physiotherapist. An hour later, I emerge slightly better equipped to deal with the rigours of the next few days, and I even get a lift back to the boat in the deal. Physiotherapist Linda Langley is a keen boater herself, and like everyone else, can't believe that our tiny powerboat has come most of the way around the world.
We also meet up with Hugh Vincent. We'd been given a small gift to pass on to him by friends in Panama. Yes, it really is a small world. A former vice-commodore of the RNSYS, Hugh treats us to a fine lunch in the club's impressive clubhouse.
And then it's back to a few tweaks to the radar before we set off, out past the evocative memorial to the many Titanic victims who were brought in to Halifax. All being well, we should be in St John's by Sunday morning, and then on our way on the big leg across the Atlantic.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Wilmington - Halifax
Time of leg: 2 days 16 hours 24 minutes
Length of leg: 952 nautical miles
Total distance covered: 22,610 nautical miles
Distance to go: 2,850 nautical miles
Average speed over leg: 14.78 knots
Total elapsed time from Gibraltar: 96 days 2 hours 39 minutes
Total elapsed time at sea: 72 days 16 hours 20 minutes
Fuel consumed: 1,944 litres
Average fuel consumption: 2.04 litres / nautical mile
Number of refuelling stops to go: 2
Next stop: St John's, Newfoundland
ETA: Sunday
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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As we zoom along the south coast of Newfoundland at over 20 knots, pushed along by a brisk south-westerly wind of some 15 to 20 knots, we think back to last year. Our Atlantic crossing from New York to Lizard Point followed this same route to St John's. I remember our being in big following seas in pitch darkness, and whilst the bow frequently crashed into waves, we were more concerned about the possibility of crashing into ice.
Today it's beautiful. Although the air is pretty cool, the sun is out. I spot a pod of killer whales just after coming on for my second two-hour watch, their distinctive dorsal fins looking like sails as they cruise through the waves. Not much later several dolphins pass the boat, leaping out of the water as though in joyful appreciation of a fine sunny day.
We're hoping to get into St John's late Saturday. Last year we went from a big following sea to a big head sea as we turned the south east corner of Newfoundland and started heading north. This time we should have it somewhat better. We won't be able to refuel till Sunday morning, so we should get a decent few hours of sleep into the bargain.
Today Alan has been messing about with the transfer pump responsible for keeping the main fuel tank topped up from the other tanks. Bought in America to replace one which had burned out, this one is going tick - tick - tick - tick, when it should be going ticktickticktickticktickticktick!
The upshot of it is that after squirting a cleaning spray into it, mounting it in different positions, not to mention the judicious application of violence in the form of several whacks with a large hammer, it's been pronounced well and truly beyond help. So instead, a hose has been run from one of the side tanks outside, through the doorway and under the rear seat with the fuel fillers to ensure the main tank which feeds the engine has plenty of diesel flowing into it. Nothing more than a pipe dream...
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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If only we'd had weather this good on the other side of North America. We'd originally banked on arriving in St John's in the early hours of Sunday morning, but our progress is so good, we get in a good deal earlier, on Saturday night.
Out at sea, the temperature is nothing much to write home about. We don our thermal underwear and put on an extra layer of clothing in anticipation of chilly conditions. So we're rather surprised to see Egbert Walters on the quayside waiting to meet us, wearing nothing more than T-shirt and shorts. Surely the Newfies aren't that impervious to cold? No, it's us. It is in fact quite warm here, and we're just a tinge overdressed.
We met Egbert last year when he helped out with the stop during our Transatlantic Challenge. His grandfather came from Cardiff, so he has a real interest in the project's Welsh connection. He's even postponed leaving on his holiday in order to be here for us. Thanks, Egbert, we really appreciate everything you've done for us.
The local Quality Inn has offered us the use of a conference room with ensuite bathroom so we can have a clean up. But since we can't refuel until Sunday morning, we decide to utilise the rest of the facilities, bringing our sleeping bags so we can doss on the floor.
St John's certainly seems a lively place on a Saturday night. We gravitate to an Irish bar, testing the quality of the Guinness, along with some splendid steak and kidney pie. Later on, in another bar, I discover that Yamaha don't just make world-beating marine diesel engines, but excellent musical instruments as well. I find myself accompanying the bar's resident guitarist on a rather fine five-string Yamaha bass guitar.
As we leave St John's on the mid-ocean leg of our Atlantic crossing, the weather is a good deal more promising than it was last year, when everybody thought us insane for leaving the harbour. There was the possibility that we might have had a depression to contend with some time in the next 24 hours or so, but even that has had the good grace to move out of our way.
Now we have just one more refuelling stop before we complete our circumnavigation of the world. So it's goodbye North America - next stop Europe!
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Halifax - St John's
Time of leg: 1 day 3 hours 36 minutes
Length of leg: 501 nautical miles
Total distance covered: 23,111 nautical miles
Distance to go: 2,300 nautical miles
Average speed over leg: 18.15 knots
Total elapsed time from Gibraltar: 97 days 14 hours 06 minutes
Total elapsed time at sea: 73 days 20 hours 11 minutes
Fuel consumed: 1,012 litres
Average fuel consumption: 2.02 litres / nautical mile
Number of refuelling stops to go: 1
Next stop: Horta, Azores
ETA: Wednesday
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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Our epic voyage around the world has produced many ironies, not least the number of times we've said something would happen, only for events to change our plans entirely. Monday was just such a day. We were well on our way to the Azores, our arrival in Gibraltar predicted to be this Saturday or Sunday, with our triumphal return to Cardiff planned for Saturday 27th July. Sadly that won't happen now.
It was just after breakfast time on Monday that Steve Lloyd suffered massive chest cramps and difficulty breathing. Suspecting a heart attack, we immediately contacted the Canadian Coast Guard, who arranged for a Search and Rescue helicopter to be despatched from Gander to come out to us.
Unfortunately they didn't have mid-air refuelling, so the helicopter had to fly from Gander to St John's, refuel there, then out to the Hibernia oil platform which we passed on Sunday night, refuelling there before meeting us at a pre-arranged point. Basically, we were beyond the helicopter's range, so it was up to us to reduce the distance as quickly as possible. That took us around eight hours.
The pickup was nothing short of dramatic. Our first contact was with a Canadian Air Force C130 Hercules, acting as spotter and co-ordinator for the rescue helicopter. Once they had a visual on us, they then flew back to guide in the Labrador (Canadian version of a Chinook).
We'd been instructed to proceed into the wind (we've been used to that on this trip) at a minimum speed for steerage, and to remove all obstructions from the deck and protruding objects. So Alan sets about removing our flagpoles and aerials.
We've also been told we'll feel the boat being pushed along by the helicopter's downdraught. The Labrador spends a long time flying at around thirty feet just behind us and to one side, its downdraught virtually flattening Spirit's characteristic whale-tail wash, and sending a blizzard of spray into the air.
Two men in bright red suits and bone-domes are winched down onto the deck. One of them is a paramedic, who quickly attends to Steve, and prepares him for the lift up to the helicopter. We've already put Steve in his survival suit, and he decides to use a strop under the arms rather than being strapped into a litter. "That way's a little scary unless you're unconscious," says the paramedic.
Before we know it, Steve is up in the air, along with his rescuers. The whole day has been a traumatic one, and it ends leaving Alan and me alone on the boat to make our way through the night back to St John's and take stock from there.
In an age when most people can expect a paramedic to be with them within twenty minutes, it's a salutory reminder of the extreme nature of our expedition - beyond immediate assistance. Steve bore what was clearly a long, painful and frightening ordeal with a great deal of courage.
And it was down to Alan's masterful seamanship that enabled us to reduce the distance towards the helicopter pickup in heavy following seas. Needless to say we're very grateful indeed to the Canadian Coast Guard, Air Force and other parties to the rescue for their professionalism, and to St John's Health Science Centre, where Steve is now recovering.
We'd welcome any offers of assistance, particularly from any of our supporters in St John's. If you can help, please call Nadia in the first instance on +44 7802 795583
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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We've been absolutely overwhelmed by the number of messages of support we've received since Steve was airlifted to hospital after suffering a massive heart attack. Now that his family are aware of the full circumstances of our traumatic day on Monday, I can reveal that Steve very nearly died on us. His doctor has told him that the only thing that saved him was his excellent state of fitness.
However, the upshot of it all is that Steve will never again set foot on Spirit of Cardiff. He remains in hospital awaiting further tests to determine the way forward for future treatment. Dependent on the results of those tests, he may be pronounced fit to travel in the next week or so, but in the worst case scenario, he may have to remain in St John's for two to three months.
As far as Alan and I are concerned, we are physically, mentally and emotionally unable to consider continuing at the moment. Whilst many well-wishers have encouraged us not to give up now so close from the end, the fact is we've pushed ourselves too far. We are absolutely wrecked, and all the aches, pains, and inability to remain focussed on anything or keep our balance - which we expected at the end of the trip - are happening to us now. When we visited Steve in hospital this morning, he actually looked in better condition than we do.
There is also the moral issue that having gone this far together, it would be inappropriate for us to continue without Steve. He has put his life and soul into the Around the World project as much as the rest of us, and a record without him would be a hollow victory. World records come and go, but what's more important to us is sticking together. Call us the three musketeers if you like, but for us it's all for one, and one for all.
The plan at the moment is to put the boat into storage for a month or so until we can make further arrangements after we've recovered. The world record is gone, but the boat will return to Cardiff, and will have completed a circumnavigation of the world, even if not as a world record under the strict rules of the RYA and UIM.
Ironically, we find that the Bed and Breakfast we're staying in is the same place used by Mark Stubbs and his Skandia Ocean Row team before they set off on their abortive attempt to row across the Atlantic. And with a home for the boat sorted, I will be returning to the UK in the next couple of days, while Alan remains in St John's to be with Steve until he's fit to travel.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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Spirit of Cardiff is now out of the water at the Royal Newfoundland Yacht Club. Following the usual run of Spirit weather, Alan and I have stiff head seas to contend with on the 35 mile run round from St John's Harbour to Conception Bay. The boat will be serviced and readied for a transatlantic crossing, which we're looking for some time in a couple of months. Original Spirit of Cardiff second in command Jan Falkowski is on standby to help crew the boat.
Whilst being treated to lunch at the yacht club, we prove once again how Spirit of Cardiff has shrunk the world. We meet Lorraine Vardy, sister of Jim, skipper of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police catamaran which stopped us off Vancouver Island back in June. "Jim told me to watch out for you," says Lorraine. "He told me you guys were nuts!"
The main news of the day is that Steve's tests to determine the extent of the damage caused by his heart attack are being carried out on Friday. Naturally, we're keeping our fingers crossed that they result in his being discharged over the weekend, and that he may be able to travel home next week.
In the meantime, this is the last of the regular updates. I am flying home on Friday, as there is nothing more I can do in St John's. But do keep checking the web site for further news.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Report transmitted by Iridium satellite network
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Following Steve Lloyd's successful surgery on Friday, Doctor Fury, head of the St John's Health and Science Centre Coronary Care Unit, said the best place for him to recover was back home with his family.
Unfortunately that didn't quite square with Air Canada's strict "no fly" policy for anyone within two weeks of surgery. Alan discussed the situation with Doctor Fury, who said that although he was happy that Steve was safe to travel, he was unable to provide the written permission required by the airline.
The only thing left to do was to smuggle Steve out of Canada, and not tell the airline what had happened. Alan and Steve returned to the UK on Monday morning, and are now spending time at home with their families.
Alan Priddy will be announcing his plans for Spirit of Cardiff in the next couple of days.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully 2002
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