Back at the helm - sailing the Yaghan to Antarctica, Patagonia and the South Pacific

by Martensson, Helene

To me, sailing to Antarctica is the most exciting and appealing dream you could have. If we were to circumnavigate the world, it had to be via the Antarctic. I am not an adventurer who is looking for danger and hardship; I am probably both cowardly and lazy. But I wanted to go to Antarctica. The decision was made, although, for many years, I felt a nervous ache in my stomach each time I thought of the notorious Drake Passage, the risk of encountering icebergs, unsafe anchorages, snow and cold weather, everything that might happen and no one to help. Despite this anxiety, fear even, the decision was deeply rooted inside both me and Arne. Our circumnavigation would take us to Antarctica. This was simply not negotiable. Many other places were, but never Antarctica. It was something we always agreed on.

  The time we have spent sailing over the years has made us realise that it is at sea that we are at our most harmonious and happy. We do not really need to experience more in life than sailing in the Yaghan and exploring the world together. But “the world” should not automatically be taken to mean far away destinations. It can be about sailing to places near home, around the Stockholm archipelago. Setting out from Bullandö Marina on a Friday evening in November after a normal working week, spending the entire weekend on board the Yaghan with some nice food, interesting books and each other, and then sail back home again on Sunday afternoon – that is our idea of a perfect weekend. It simply cannot get any better.

  It is odd that when we sail together we always arrive at our destination according to plan. We really like to have a worked out plan. In 2001, when we sailed to the Mediterranean and had an appointment with the Karlins at Antibes, we decided that we would arrive at the marina at three in the afternoon on July 10. We arrived on the dot, and the Karlins were not surprised. It gives you a good idea of the kind of people we are, at least when it comes to punctuality. We always arrive on time and we always follow our plotted course.

  To see land slowly come into view on the horizon, the happiness we feel after we have moored or dropped anchor, the joy of eating a nice dinner together on board, and later retiring to the aft cabin of a boat that is completely still – all that is part of the joy of sailing together.

  One psychological safety aspect that I bring on board, which means a lot to me during our cruises, is that I know and feel that I have plenty of energy and that I can do more, often much more, than I think I can. This is something that I have learned over the years. I think it has to do with the eighteen marathons I have run. They have definitely contributed to my faith in my own stamina. Naturally, you need to be reasonably fit and your knees and legs cannot be too weak if you are going to run a marathon, but what you need most of all, I think, is willpower; to keep running and not give up even if it hurts, not stopping until you reach the finishing line; to learn to deal with your weaker self, which definitely makes itself known during the monotonous jogging on the black tarmac. The ultimate goal always seems to be so infinitely and unattainably remote, even when there are only two kilometres or a hundred metres left to run. This is a valuable experience when you are sailing too; it can feel both strenuous and tough at times.

  When I started running I did it slowly and tentatively, just like I did when I started sailing. I started by jogging in the mornings on an illuminated track in Saltsjöbaden. To begin with, I only ran two kilometres twice a week. After a few weeks I was running five kilometres, and a little later I ran that distance every weekday morning. The fact that I in the end ran every morning had nothing to do with good character, on the contrary. In order to avoid having to lie in bed every morning and argue with myself whether it was today or, even better, tomorrow I should go for my run, I decided to do it every morning from then on. The arguing for and against was tedious, and I did not manage very many, since I had a tendency to put it off – until tomorrow.

  In spring 1994, I ran my first and only Tjejmilen, a ten kilometre race for women. I was very keen to do well, so I did not stop to drink even though it was over 30°C and I was perspiring a lot. When I finished after fifty-five minutes I was cold and covered in goose pimples. At the finishing line one of the stewards gave me water to drink and told me that I was suffering the first signs of dehydration. When I stepped into the dressing room I caught sight of an advert for the Stockholmsloppet half marathon at the beginning of September the same year. It was twice the distance I had just run. I signed up the next day – if you can run ten kilometres there should be no problem running another ten, I reasoned. I did it, and I felt enormously pleased with myself – for a while.

  One day in the middle of November the same year I was sitting in my office at Handelsbanken, looking out towards the NK department store, which was covered in Christmas decorations, and even though it was only mid-day, it was already getting dark. I could feel in my bones that I would be running the Stockholm Marathon in the spring. It was a decision that had formed in my mind during the course of the autumn. I felt happy just thinking about running my first marathon in June. I signed up a few moments later.

  This euphoria continued for several weeks. But one morning I woke up, feeling anxious about the race. I had begun to realise how far you have to run. I was almost paralysed with fear, wondering whether I would be able to run that far. I would have to start running further during training, and how much time would I have to spend? Just thinking about it and about whether I would even be able to run a whole marathon was exhausting, it was not fun and stimulating anymore. I became tired just thinking about it.

  I spent the whole spring training. My longest distance was twenty-four kilometres in hilly terrain, but I kept feeling uncertain about whether such short distances would be enough. Would I be able to run a whole forty-kilometre marathon even though I only ran half the distance during training?

  I did it, though. I ran my first marathon ever in four hours and twenty-three minutes. Afterwards, I was incredibly pleased with my result; I was in seventh heaven for weeks. I felt enormously strong – nothing seemed impossible, I could do anything I wanted to do, everything was possible.

  Since then I have run another seventeen marathons in Stockholm, Berlin and New York. But I have never again experienced the euphoria I experienced after my first marathon.

  This means that sailing is not the only thing we have in common, Arne and I, marathon running is another. Nearly all the races I have run we have run together, including my first. Arne, who had run seven marathons before me, offered to run with me. That was how our journey through life began!

  To me, running is an example of how you can push yourself to reach a goal – a goal that is forever changing. Ten kilometres may become twenty kilometres and then an entire marathon. It is a race that is often experienced as an inner journey into the unknown.

  Running a marathon is very much an inner struggle with, or perhaps against, yourself. I must continue to run even though it hurts. It is not only my legs and body that hurt, the pain is emotional. When I am running I usually divide the race into shorter distances and tick them off one after the other. It makes it easier to deal with the full distance. You need to find a good way of handling a situation that feels difficult, at times almost impossible: “I have run nineteen kilometres and there are twenty-three to go. My legs are aching, I have lost all motivation and I can feel that it is slowly getting hopeless.” That is when you need to bite the bullet by thinking good thoughts. When it starts to feel good again, and the desire to run returns, it makes you feel powerful, happy and safe.

  Having completed eighteen marathons gives me a sense of security that makes me feel good about my life every now and then, not only when I am running or when I am sitting in a sailing boat, bobbing up and down a long way out to sea, far from land.

  Even though I am happy about possessing this inner strength, this is not what has made me want to sail around the world with the man I love. It has to do with desire, longing and dreams.

  I wanted to live with Arne on board the Yaghan, not only over the summer or a weekend, but for years, making a good and enjoyable life togethe
r all the way around the world.

  I wanted to sail to faraway places and see other parts of the world – and I wanted to do it with Arne; I had a dream of us seeing Antarctica together – this continent of ice, which is both dangerous and beautiful.

  This, and a lot of love besides, made me want to circumnavigate the world with Arne on board the Yaghan – all the way down to Antarctica.

  ≈

  Planning Our Route

  (Arne)

  In the Wake of James Cook

  When I was appointed managing director of Handelsbanken I was asked by our in-house magazine to name the one person I admired most of all. I think they expected to hear the name of some famous banker or business man. I answered James Cook.

  James Cook has been a role model for many years, both Cook the man and Cook the navigator. Over the years, we have read innumerable books about him and his three expeditions around the world; everything from sycophantic British biographies to Bengt Danielsson's sober reflections.

  Cook was a brave man on the surface, but he was no gambler. He planned his voyages carefully and always made use of new knowledge and the latest technology to minimize the risks. He was the first long-distance navigator who knew where he was, because the ancient problem of determining longitude was solved during his first expedition. Navigators have been able to determine latitude by looking at the sun since the first millennium AD. Determining longitude, however, was a major problem for navigators for hundreds of years, and it caused many nasty shipwrecks.

  It was around this time that people learned to determine longitude by studying the moon and using an accurate chronometer. During his first expedition in 1768–1771, Cook measured longitude by making observations of the moon and on the other two he used a replica of the Harrison chronometer. Measuring longitude by the moon is hard to do on the deck of a rolling ship. In practice, you also needed to have an astronomer on board – which Cook did. This is why the method was abandoned in favour of the Harrison chronometer.

  Measuring longitude with the help of an accurate chronometer is based on the chronometer showing the time at a location where the longitude is known – Greenwich meantime, for example. Then you find out what time it is at the location you are at by measuring the height of the sun. It will tell you how far you are from the timeline at Greenwich. Each hour corresponds to fifteen longitudinal degrees since one revolution around the earth is 360 degrees and twenty-four hours. That is how you determine longitude.

  James Cook took good care of his crew. During his second expedition – it took three years – only one out of 118 men died. This was unique at a time when often less than half the crew came back alive. The first circumnavigation of the globe was achieved by Magellan in 1521. Only eighteen of the 265 man crew came back alive. Magellan was not among them.

  The respect that James Cook showed the indigenous peoples in the places he visited was also unique.

  Because of the reasons mentioned above, we wanted to choose a route that was closely similar to one of the routes Cook travelled during one of his expeditions. The first was made in a westerly direction around the earth, benefiting from the easterly trade winds around the equator up until he rounded Cape Horn and encountered westerly winds. There was of course no Panama Canal at the time. It was during this voyage that he “discovered” New Zealand and Australia.

  The second expedition was a chilly affair. He sailed east, in westerly winds through the Roaring Forties. You could say that he sailed round the Antarctic. The Volvo Ocean Race follows roughly the same route. Cook should never have embarked on his third expedition, during which he proved that he was afflicted by the same human failures as many people in the business world – he failed to stop in time. He was marked by illness even before he set out. Among other things, he suffered from rheumatism. He was not exactly fit for embarking on a new expedition, but he went through with it even though the Admiralty at first – quite correctly – had another captain in mind. Cook did not want anyone to take his place, and, because of his weak state, he did not perform well. The aim of the voyage was to find the North-West Passage that connects the Pacific with the Atlantic north of the American continent. He did not succeed. Instead, Cook discovered Hawaii where he was killed by the natives. It was not until a hundred years later, in 1906, that Roald Amundsen sailed through the North-West Passage.

  A Distance Equalling “Two Laps” Around the World

  It was an easy choice. We picked the route taken by his first expedition. Ever since Yaghan was delivered in 2003, an original 1780s chart showing this voyage has enjoyed pride of place in our saloon on board. The Handelsbanken UK managing director, Ulf Sylvan, found it in a London antique shop. Unlike Cook, we wanted to go all the way down to Antarctica. He never got to see the continent in any of his three voyages, although he made several attempts to go south towards the large continent that scientists believed could be found there. Ever since I rounded Cape Horn myself, I had longed to sail to Antarctica in my own boat. We also wanted to sail among the islands of Patagonia, inshore along the coast of Chile, and up to Puerto Montt. Cook did not take this route since he did not have a motor. Instead, he rounded the Horn and headed straight for Papeete in Tahiti.

  We planned on covering 44,000 nautical miles. If you choose to go the easiest way around the globe – via the Panama and the Suez canals – you only cover half that distance, and you can easily manage it in two years. Our longer route can hardly be completed in less than three years if you want to make a reasonable number of stops and avoid places during the hurricane season.

  Between sixty and eighty boats circumnavigate the world every year according to the famous route planner Jimmy Cornell. A handful of these sail via Antarctica, and only sixteen private sailing boats (if you include chartered boats the number was thirty-one) visited the continent in 2006, but not all en route around the world.

  Sailing via Antarctica and Drake Passage clearly increases the risk factor on account of the weather in the area. On the other hand, there are no pirates or bandits. Whether or not the sum total of risks is greater down there is hard to tell. We felt confident about going there because we knew we had access to the best weather information money could buy, otherwise we would not have attempted it. Like Cook, I am no gambler.

  Pirates

  One important condition was to make sure that we avoided those parts of the world that are most infamous in terms of piracy. Cook's first voyage was a good choice from this point of view too. We could follow it and still avoid the pirates’ hunting grounds.

  After a nasty attack of piracy in 1992 on the supertanker Valiant Carrier, the International Maritime Organisation (IMO) began to broadcast daily reports on acts of piracy in different parts of the world. Today, this information arrives via Inmarsat C, which is good. The Valiant Carrier was passing through the Straits of Malacca when she was boarded by pirates that took the captain's wife and their seven-months-old baby hostage. Before it was all over, the baby had suffered a cut to the head. Amazingly, the child survived.

  It is estimated that piracy costs international trade about twenty-five billion dollars a year, and between 1992 and 2002 over two thousand crew were taken hostage. Our strategy was to do everything possible to avoid countries that fail to deal with this type of criminal activity. In 2007, the four most dangerous countries, starting with the most dangerous, were:

  • Indonesia

  • Nigeria

  • Somalia

  • Bangladesh

  We would not go near any of these during our circumnavigation. We would stay well clear of Africa, except for South Africa, and as far from Indonesia as possible when we sailed north of Australia. As for South America, isolated attacks had been reported in Brazil, but the most dangerous country in South America is Venezuela. When we sailed to the West Indies during the second half of our voyage we would stay well clear of the coast of Venezuela. This kind of criminal activity does not exist in Argentina and Chile, however.

  In our vi
ew, you should never visit countries that are unable to control these activities. Even though Brazil is not one of the worst culprits, they are unable to keep their coast entirely clean. It is common for mysterious disappearances at sea not to be explained by encounters with whales or containers, the people who suffer them are the victims of attacks where everyone is silenced just to be on the safe side. It took a long time for us to make up our minds whether we would go to Brazil or not, but in the end we decided we would go.

  There is no light at the end of the tunnel when it comes to global piracy. On the contrary, 2008 was the worst year in recorded history. In one incident, Somali pirates hijacked a 300,000 ton supertanker.

  The Website Explodes!

  After these considerations had been made, our route around the world was basically set. We then needed to decide in more detail where to stop and for how long; we worked on this on and off for over five years. We outlined our route on an electronic chart, and then we timed it to fit in with the trade winds and hurricane seasons. It is possible to circumnavigate the world with the help of electronic charts, except when it comes to Antarctica and the islands off the coast of Chile where you need complementary printed charts. We then purchased all the thirty-four cruising guides that have been published globally and that describe locations along our plotted route in order to try and locate ports that would suit us. During these five years, we read every sailing description that was published in specialist magazines such as Yachting World and Yachting Monthly. Practically every issue included a description of a place we were planning to go to. That was how we worked out a route that was very detailed by the time our circumnavigation plans were made public on September 27, 2005.

  Up until that day we had clocked up 28,000 hits on our website. It is equivalent to five thousand a year or fourteen a day over a period of five and a half years. During the twenty-four hours that followed the publication of our press release we got nine thousand hits, which equalled the number of hits we had previously had over a period of two years. During the following three months and up until the end of 2006 we had more visitors to our website than over the previous five and a half years. At year end 2005, we measured sixty thousand hits. It felt good and efficient with a home page that could provide answers to people's questions.