British lone yacht skipper Ellen MacArthur logs 95 days of supreme physical effort, cheating death in an icy ocean and battling sleep deprivation before she sails into port to end her Vende Globe single-handed adventure
Day 1, November 9 2000
On a grey, wet and cold afternoon, Ellen MacArthur visits every skipper on the dockside, one by one, before the race starts. An incredibly strong bond exists between the 24 solo skippers. Thousands of people line the walls at Les Sables d’Olonne, waving and cheering, “Ell-en, Ell-en” as she crosses the start line at 4.11pm Her long-held dream to compete in this pinnacle of ocean sailing becomes reality. It was pretty amazing for me the emotion of leaving the dock and seeing all the people wave me off down the channel. It finally hit me during the night as I was working on the computer: This is it I’m doing the Vende Globe. It hadn’t really sunk in until then. So I’d better get on with it … Day 3
Fleet approaching Spanish coast. Spoke to my uncle (a GP) today, to ask him if I should stick a burning hot wire through my fingernail to release a bit of pressure as it was black after I trapped it while trying to open a ballast valve last night. The answer was yes. The blood spurted out, leaving a still sore but less painfully throbbing finger. I’m not totally happy with the boat speed. I guess this is partly due to the extra weight of what I’m carrying for the next three months. Day 4
Steep, savage seas, with 45-knot blasts right on the Cape of NW Spain.
Last night was the toughest I’ve spent on board. The wind went from 15 to 45 knots in 30 seconds. The seas were just horrific, I couldn’t stop her leaping over each wave and crashing down on to the next. At one point, the carbon shelving on which the stores are stacked collapsed. Very tired. Day 7/8
Belgian skipper Patrick de Radigues out of race after being knocked unconscious during a gybe. His boat sails under pilot on to a Portuguese beach but he is safe and OK. Trouble for Ellen, too: a sail destroyed. Next day Kingfisher passes through the race’s Canary Islands “gate” the first turning point and leaderboard. Michel Desjoyeaux in PRB leads, followed by Yves Parlier (Aquitaine). Kingfisher is chasing Marc Thiercelin (Active Wear). At sunrise he crossed [1,6km] to the west of me and I thought I had him … but he gybed back, about [3km] ahead and I thought he had got away. But Adventurer just came over to film and told me that I was third. Yippee!
Day 10
Very fast average speeds for all leading boats as they charge south. Estimated four days to the Doldrums. What a day! It has been a sleigh ride, non-stop surfing averaging more than 15 knots. I spent at least four hours helming it’s an amazing feeling, like being pushed over the top of a hill on a brakeless bike. The kettle’s on. Time to go. The paella should be rehydrated by now. Day 13
Feeling sore. I feel well, though my hands are covered in tiny, but incredibly sore little salt sores. The hotter weather is not helping. They need to stay dry and cool; impossible factors on a 1,8m oven. Day 15
Doldrums takes a grip. Just seen the most astonishing thing a satellite I guess coming hurtling down to Earth. But I can’t think anyone has sailed more slowly than us in the past six hours. Day 16
Leader Parlier crossed the equator on February 10. I crossed the equator at 3.25am celebrated with a bottle of champagne, most of it went on the boat not me on purpose. I thanked Neptune for letting us pass and prayed that all the other boats passed safely in both directions.
Day 20
Leading pack continue to charge south, 1?280km east of Rio. After 20 days at sea, I notice we have covered over one-fifth of the course. It is a very fast pace. I believe this race will be won by the most reliable boat, the one that can push enough, just for long enough but still keep things together. Day 26
Drama as kite gives way. There are always down moments and this is one of them. First off I noticed some chafe, which I knew I had to sort sooner rather than later, so I set to reinforcing and protecting the problem area. I made 720 bradawl holes and 720 stitches by hand and sorted out the tack problem. It was six hours of hard work, and my hands were really sore afterwards, but it was a success.
Then, when we were off and going well, suddenly the kite gave way and went under the boat and in the water. I had to stop and haul my biggest sail back in, untangle it from the bowsprit and everywhere else until I finally had a pile of wet cloth on the foredeck. Repair’s fine when I get a chance to dry the whole thing out, I’ll be able to see what the problem was. Once I had the gennaker back up I went down and just collapsed on the chart table seat and had a bit of a cry but it was only because I was so tired.
Day 29
I went partying last night! A good night. The sea temperature is now down to 3C and when on deck you can really feel the cold coming off it. I am getting very layered up now with the fleeces and linings and I wear a hat at all times. I went partying last night with the Royal Ocean Racing Club at their Christmas dinner. I phoned up and it was so fantastic to hear the 350 sailors there whooping and cheering at me down the line as I scooted along at up to 25 knots and then made loads of noise when we said goodbye. It was great, this is great. I am where I want to be. This is my dream. Thanks everybody! Day 30
Icebergs a close call for Kingfisher. I awoke with a start from a short nap. I looked out of the window in the cabin and there it was an iceberg right by the boat. Within seconds I was on deck, and we passed within 15m to 20m of the berg, actually sailing through the white water next to it. All I could think of was what would have happened if we had hit it. The radar was alarmed, but as is sometimes the case, this berg was invisible to it, even when I was right next to it. Day 31
Champagne again. Kingfisher passes the longitude of Cape of Good Hope a quick sip from a bottle of champagne to celebrate. PRB retakes second place from Sill. Kingfisher is fourth.
Feeling a bit achy and tired this morning, not sure why. It’s cold, but I’ve got used to it. If I’m chilly, I just get on deck and start trimming the mainsheet with the winch grinder. I get to warm up and the boat goes surfing faster perfect. Day 32
All change. Michel Desjoyeaux and PRB take the lead, with Sill in company. Parlier (Aquitaine) is becalmed in his very southerly position. Kingfisher slips to sixth place. Dominique Wavre smashes the 24-hour record just days after it was set by Yves Parlier, recording just under 430 miles in 24 hours.
A month ago losing a couple of places like that in the official list would have really stressed me. But now I have a much better perspective, and the Southern Ocean. I’m racing my race, definitely noting what is happening around me, but taking care of my boat and me before anything else. Waves coming from all directions. It’s amazing, we just pick up a wave, accelerate, get faster and faster and just keep on going.
Day 38
Ellen cries herself to sleep. I really screwed up yesterday, I misread my notes and waited too long for the pressure to drop before gybing. Stupid fool I was so p***** off I cried myself to sleep in my bunk, for the first time. So angry during night that I put up the genoa in 35 knots. Fast if nothing else … now blowing 40 … time to roll it up! Day 39
The closest to death I have come. As I sit here now I feel worse than I have ever felt in my life. Physically I am totally exhausted and mentally not so far off. My whole body aches. My mind feels like it’s been frozen. Yesterday was the hardest challenge of my life, though this morning feels 10 times worse. It started when the tack of the staysail blew off. I dropped the halyard immediately and went on to the foredeck to sort out the mess, not easy in 45 knots. It was then that she started to go to gybe, and before I could make it back to the cockpit her deck was vertical, and we were lying helplessly on our side. A fairly bad situation to be in but what was to come was far worse.
I realised that I couldn’t get the mainsail down to fix a problem with one of the battens, which had broken. Neither love, money nor the best will in the world was going to let me lower that sail without going up there to remove the batten. Going up the rig in 40 knots plus just doesn’t bear thinking about. It was bitterly cold, the biting wind cutting into the bare skin on my hands and face. The first part, to the first spreader, was OK because I still had energy but to the second spreader was 10 times harder with each inch I climbed. I was beginning to tire, as each wave we surfed on (about 10m high) was trying to throw me off. The last 60cm to the second spreader were the hardest 60cm of my life. I struggled to inch my way up, and hung there a while banging away at the mast trying to recover. I found the energy from I don’t know where, and made it on to the spreader.
You’d think getting down was the easy bit but it took me closer to the edge than I wished to go. Each few inches I descended I had to take my weight with my hands, or legs, which proved exhausting. I arrived at one point with all my weight on my right wrist in one of the webbing loops on the sail. I hung there, banging into the mast, trying desperately, and unsuccessfully, to get my foot through the gap between the sail and the mast. I started to hurt badly. It took over an hour to get down just 15m. I barely had the energy to put the sail back up again, then collapsed in the cockpit. As I dashed about working, my vision went funny I was seeing stars permanently, as if I was about to black out. This morning was worse. I saw a rip in the genoa, along the foot. I tried to fix it. It was impossible. Even with the sail sheeted hard behind the main it flapped and flicked in my face, and ripped out the stitching I was trying to put in.
After trying to fix that sail I was at my lowest point in the race. I cried out loud to the heavens. I am losing miles because of a stupid tear in a sail. So frustrating. I can’t sleep, or switch off. Day 40
The world’s a better place. Ached a lot when I woke this morning, but life is considerably better than 24 hours ago. I had to slow down for three hours to repair the genoa, but it’s done getting it fixed, at least for now, has done great things for my morale.
Day 42
Kingfisher lies third after the dismasting, a day earlier, of Yves Parlier. He is OK does not need assistance from Ellen who is finding life hard. I’m constantly on edge: I think the big winds are still 24 hours away. The guys farther back in the fleet have been experiencing 60-plus knots, so I know it’s going to be a rough Christmas this year.
Day 46
Damaged, exhausted … new limits. I extended my limit. I’m battered, bruised and exhausted. A lost sail, a broken halyard, four hours at top of a mast to fix it. My forearms are shaking. Why? Why now? Why do this to me? The mainsail has to come down, then it’s back up with it, with the last reserves of energy. Unfurl the genoa. Grind and grind on the pedestal to get it trimmed 150m2 of sail powering up the boat again. Drag the remnants of the lost sail, soaked in freezing water, down the fore-hatch to the sail graveyard. But it’s not over …
Day 47 Christmas Day!
Team office closed, Ellen and boat still open for business. She had more than 70 different people ring her to wish her well during a conference call. Day 50
Third-placed Ellen sails into the immense Pacific albeit the Southern Ocean part, one of the world’s most isolated regions. Next land that the skippers will hope to see will be Cape Horn. I’ve never seen squalls quite so violent … in just over 24 hours’ time we shall be on the same longitude as Auckland [where she was built]. I think Kingfisher is feeling she’s close to home. Day 53
PRB had a 180km lead from Sill with Kingfisher, third, forced off to the south.
I feel quite low now … this is the hardest part for me putting us in the right place. The worry, the constant fretting the hours staring at a computer screen analysing and reanalysing till you are blue in the face. Guess this is what I lack the experience. The experience of standing by a decision and understanding it in a way different to how I do now. Day 54
Tears on New Year’s Day. Not the best of New Years. I’ve never cried so much in my life. I’m really not sure why I’ve been feeling so low. I’m very tired, and maybe I’ve not realised how much the past 50 days have taken out of me. This morning I lay in the cockpit and just cried for two hours. I’ve never done that in my life before, not like this … I don’t seem to be able to sleep, and that of course is making it worse. I certainly miss my family and friends but I don’t feel lonely. Day 56
Ellen’s most testing time. Ten icebergs in one day. Never in my life before have I experienced such beauty, and fear at the same time 10 icebergs so far today. They have ranged from 50m in length, to about 80m. The first was not a surprise, the second neither really but when the third, fourth, fifth and sixth all appeared in a line with just a mile between them I was bewildered at their frequency. I wanted to gybe north, but ended up hand steering to pass three of the bergs to windward. I gybed between the fifth and sixth only to see the next two the seventh being the most enormous of all … I was forced to hand steer to pass the seventh. It was enormous, and for a while I didn’t think we’d make it to windward as the wind rose to 30 knots. We made it and I was then faced with the most beautiful iceberg I could imagine. Wide, blue, high-arched caves, and a height that must have been similar to the white cliffs of Dover. So quiet, apart from the waves breaking about its base. High faces of pure white harshly disfigured by deep blue cracks roughly cut from above. Every 10 minutes I stick my head out and look. Every time I dodge the flying freezing spray squinting at the horizon till my eyes sting with the cold. I’d just made a cup of tea to try to thaw out when I thought I’d have a last check. Of course there was a berg stayed up there for half an hour … freezing cold, but eyes glued to the water for growlers (small pieces of ice that break off the main berg). Several times, despite trying to duck, the visor of my jacket is pounded by the waves. Frozen eyelids again. Day 58
Kingfisher moves into second place.
Sailed yesterday under-canvassed. I should have had the reef out, but I know it was time to rest more than I have been doing. I have to build up my reserves. As a result of Sill’s problems with the broken gennaker halyard, Kingfisher has managed to move into second place. Day 62
Big trouble for Kingfisher with PRB 500 miles ahead when the gennaker halyard breaks for the second time. I couldn’t believe it … suddenly the boat slowed and I just knew what had happened once again my body feels like it has been dislocated in a dozen places. I had to work out the best plan to save the sail at least when we were stopped we bought some time. As I stumbled across Kingfisher’s rolling deck, seeing her sails down, I could not help but feel she resembled a wounded bird. I felt for her. I fought for an hour and a half to get it back on deck on further hauling huge rips were present … My heart sank … again up the mast and a repair that I’m not even sure is possible.
Day 66
After a time going slow without the halyard, Kingfisher is back on track and Ellen finally passes the Cape two days and 17 hours inside Christophe Auguin’s record pace from the 1996 event and just over two days behind the race leader Michel Desjoyeaux. Day 75
Ellen closing in on PRB. The pressure is rising, in more ways than one… Kingfisher this morning is positioned just 50 miles to the south of PRB and still 200 miles to the west. Behind Ellen, Active Wear has closed to less than 200 miles. This morning feels like a new start. It’s incredible … we’ve had little wind and now, thank goodness, it seems in 36 hours we might be able to tack [signalling entry to the South East trade winds, to the north of the St Helena high-pressure system the “hole” that has been blocking the route of PRB for days now]. It’s a constant job of looking at tacking, trimming, keeping going. Frustrating we need new winds. Day 80
Tough in the Atlantic, less than 300 miles from the Equator… almost too late to choose another position to cross.
I’ve been hand-steering all night, the replacement wind instrument wand wasn’t working properly… I’ve been preparing mentally for another climb. I’m tired, but now it’s light I have to go and sort it out [which she then does].
I’m totally exhausted, my leg is black from the bruises, I’ve got scratches and holes all over me. It was brutal. Once I got to the top a rain squall came over, the boat half-gybed on its own seven times. The wind was all over the place. The only way I could get her back the final time was to try to flick the top of the mainsail over with my body so the wind would fill on the right side again … I just want to cry. Day 81
Back in the Northern Hemisphere and just 26 miles behind PRB! Ellen’s third crossing of the equator in 10 months.
My body still aches quite badly and I definitely need to get more sleep. Mich not surprisingly took a few kilometres on me yesterday during the day, but while I was sleeping immediately after coming down from the mast, I was heading further east than before as I just left the genoa up, and so we’ve closed on longitude [east/west separation], which I didn’t actually want to do. He has, of course, not left me much room for manoeuvre. As he hit the calms I was still going great but I know that whoever gets away first is going to stack the kilometres on.
Day 82
Kingfisher ranked first! Ellen sailed to the top of the ranking during the night. The 3am positions put her 5km ahead, although 14km to the south and further east than PRB in the battle to exit the Doldrums. Mich and I are suffering here, we’ve done just 104km in 24 hours, it’s desperate. I am very, very tired, having entered the Doldrums quite exhausted after climbing the mast … that wasn’t the best way to start this battle with the calms. I guess I had no choice. Mich and I are very stuck. This is exhausting. Day 83
PRB touched the Trade Winds about 10 hours before Ellen and managed to get away to the north and west now holding a 46-mile lead. Once I lost my westerly position I never had the opportunity to get back there. I’m still kicking myself for my mistake three days ago when I fell asleep after climbing the mast, and let the boat head farther east. I always wanted to be west, but that moment of fatigue lost me that advantage … I can’t help thinking where I would be if I’d held that more westerly position going into the calms. Day 84/85
The long route north. PRB, Kingfisher, Sill and Active Wear are possibly for the first time in a month all sailing in basically the same conditions. Then disaster (or something) strikes … Kingfisher is damaged when she sails in to a solid object, suspected to be a semi-submerged container. She’s left 79 miles behind PRB; 2,438 miles to go to finish for Ellen.
All of a sudden there was the most almighty crunching sound and the boat felt like she had hit land. As I glanced behind to see what I had hit I saw part of the rudder and the daggerboard floating away. It was a gut-wrenching moment. I immediately ran through the boat, checking in all the watertight compartments that there was no water in there. There was obviously a big risk of having ripped the bottom of the boat open. The hull was fine, and it appeared that it was just the appendages [daggerboard, rudder] that were damaged … I will just try to do the best that I can. I promised that … could I still catch PRB? Big question. Anything can happen, absolutely anything can happen. Day 89
PRB extends lead as storm approaches. Where are they? They are now to the west of Madeira, heading towards Cape Finisterre, the final landmark before the finish at Les Sables d’Olonne.
Annoying to see how far Mich has got away … I have a cargo ship near me, but I haven’t been able to see it at all, so I have to keep a constant lookout for it. I know he’s there from the Active Echo radar detector, but I don’t know where exactly. Not very relaxing. Day 91
It’s February 7. Rough but Kingfisher is holding position. After one of the toughest 24 hours for Ellen, she is mentally exhausted. Sill is still trapped by lighter winds and is now at 400 miles from Kingfisher, and Activewear is even farther back at 900 from PRB. I’m on a new chart even better, I’m nearly a third of the way up the chart towards Les Sables. Got to go looks like my lashing on the radar, broken during the daggerboard removal exercise, has come loose … the radar is hanging down got to try to save it. Day 93
Near disaster on the final lap the genoa forestay main rigging holding the mast foreward fails. Ellen breaks a 36-hour silence on mishap. I didn’t want to give Mich a reason to ease off, he could equally suffer gear failure if he pushes … and I didn’t want to give Bilou a reason to attack harder. My heading and speed have dropped away compared with Mich, I decided it was time to share this bad news. I now have to focus on finishing in the top three it’s been a difficult 10 days. I’m ready to finish. Day 94
Patched Kingfisher second end in sight. The wind has switched more south-west so although I’m sailing at a good speed of 13 to 15 knots, I’m making only 11 towards the finish. I look at the repair of the gennaker and pray I’m surprised that it has lasted this long. Had the weirdest dream last night: we were all doing the Vende Globe on bicycles! Don’t ask me what I’m doing next after this race… congratulations to Mich.
February 11 2001
Ellen MacArthur became the fastest woman to single-handedly sail around the world on Sunday as she crossed the finish line for second place in the Vende Globe boat race. Sapa-AP
Adapted from material provided by Mark Turner of Offshore Challenges