by Jesse Martin
The most interesting lesson of those three weeks was celestial navigation. Since the moment I fell for sailing I have been enchanted by the notion of sailing under the raw power of nature, and navigating my away around the world using a sextant and the stars. To my delight, and surprise, Dave turned off the satellite navigation—the global positioning system—and navigated from Galapagos to the Marquesas Islands solely through celestial navigation. I was able to learn everything about it, and helped him plot our course daily. This reinforced my view that it was possible to rely on nature to achieve my goal of sailing around the world. I thought it was fantastic because I felt it was getting back to what sailing was all about. Each day of that stage reinforced my desire to sail around the world. I told Dave of my plans, and would run my ideas by him. For some time the idea that I should challenge David Dicks’ age record had been swimming in my mind. But I really had very little sailing experience. Before I left for Belize I decided that before I set foot back in Australia I would have made up my mind whether to tackle a solo circumnavigation. That stage of the trip was pivotal to my final decision.
Dave and I really got into a different groove on that section of the trip. We'd fish and read and daydream as we sailed through mainly calm weather. Dave and I hit it off as we had similar ideals. Plus, he had sailed around the world and had so much to talk to me about, which I wanted to hear.
Meal times were my favourite part of the day. On a trip like that, you cling to anything that draws you together. For us, that was meals. They became the central part of our day. We could spend the entire day on our own, not uttering a word to each other, except to say, ‘Good morning.’ But when lunch rolled around, we chatted and laughed as if we hadn't seen each other for weeks. It was a real occasion. We'd set the table, put on some music and prepare the food. And it was only something that could happen with two people. When the four of us were on the boat before Galapagos, meal times didn't have the same sense of occasion, as there were always three other people to talk to. And when I was on my own I never had that sense of occasion as I actually didn't have meal times, and only ate whenever I was hungry.
But it wasn't all fun. I still had schoolwork to do as we sailed along. The curriculum was divided into weekly units. As I completed units, I'd send them back to Melbourne. I sent stuff at each stop—Panama, Galapagos and Marquesas. The final units I brought home with me from Tahiti. The work I sent in Galapagos actually failed to arrive. (I did do it, I swear I did.) It made me think that the Distance Education Centre must hear some fantastic excuses of why students’ work doesn't turn up.
I was doing enough to pass the subjects, but I really hated the studying. I was sitting on a yacht on a beautiful sunny day in the middle of the Pacific reading stuff that just didn't interest me. I don't think it would have made much difference if I was in the classroom, as I would probably have been dreaming of being on a yacht on a beautiful day in the Pacific anyway.
We finally got to the magnificent Marquesas, which were extremely high, dramatic volcanic islands jutting out of the water. The islands marked the start of French Polynesia. The islands were the stuff of dreams, and finally brought meaning to the term ‘heaven on earth’. Here, you can ride a horse along the bush tracks through the rainforest to huge waterfalls, with tropical fruit growing on the side of the road that you can pick and eat. The other thing I noticed was the number of tattoos on the locals. It's claimed the art of tattooing had its origins in the Pacific islands. Most people have at least one arm done with beautiful traditional designs. A few have their entire body tattooed, until they look like a moving picture. I'm afraid I fell under their spell.
Dave and I met some locals on Nuku Hiva, the main island of the Marquesas. We became friends and had dinner at their house. The woman had a tattoo that looked pretty cool. I asked where I could get one done, and the next thing I knew I had an appointment to get a tattoo. In a few days, I was sitting in the front yard of a young bloke looking through his designs in an exercise book. They looked pretty good, so I chose a turtle, which cost me $40.
There are always two parts to a story about getting a tattoo. The first is getting it done. The second is telling your mum. I didn't dare tell her while I was away. I waited until I was in the car on the way home from the airport in Melbourne, when she was still happy to see me. She didn't believe me until I actually showed her. I think she was a bit shocked. I remember her saying, ‘Oh, my good little boy has a tattoo.’ But she really didn't mind. I think the shock of the tattoo is wearing off because so many people have them.
We spent two-and-a-half weeks in the Marquesas, which was just magic. It was such a social time, meeting people we'd seen in ports halfway around the world. (I'm not setting a convincing argument to then decide to sail alone and non-stop around the world, am I?) We picked up a new crewman, John, a bloke in his fifties from the Blue Mountains on the outskirts of Sydney, before pulling up anchor and heading south to the Tuamoto Islands.
The Tuamotos consist of hundreds of coral atolls that create lagoons several miles wide, which make fantastic anchorages. One of the most famous atolls in this group was Mururoa Atoll, well known as the site of nuclear weapon testing carried out by the French government. When I saw the beauty of this area, it made me angry to think that the French would do anything to harm such an environment. When I got sick from eating some of the fish we caught in this area, the locals said I had ciguatera, a form of food poisoning that had become more common since testing began.
It took us four days to reach the first atoll, Makemo, at the northern end of the islands. It was exciting to arrive at a port and see some familiar boats.
Some of my favourite memories are of the days we rowed ashore and spent the time spearing coral cod, cooking them over an open fire and eating them with damper. After lunch we'd spear some more fish for dinner, scrape the cream from some coconuts and cook it with onions and potatoes in the yacht's oven. It was a fantastic feeling, catching fish and cooking it almost immediately.
There was a lot of marine life around the atolls, and with them would come the sharks. If we didn't see more than four sharks each time we dived underwater, we'd consider ourselves unlucky. The problem with the white tip reef sharks was that when you speared a fish, you had to swim to the surface quickly and hold the struggling fish out of the water. The sharks were so aggressive they could steal from our hands, perhaps taking an arm with them.
We had a bit of fun with the sharks. Dave and I would spear a fish and then tie it with rope to a fair-sized branch broken from a tree. We'd then toss the fish back into the water, dangling it from the floating branch. A shark would swim around the fish then take it in its mouth and swim off, dragging the branch behind it. That would scare the hell out of the poor old shark, making him go faster. But no matter how fast he went, that branch kept chasing him. We'd watch from underwater and keep ourselves amused for ages. I'm sure I'll look back on this when I'm older and be horrified that I was tormenting those poor sharks.
After a week of cruising the atolls, we headed for Tahiti, perhaps the most famous of the South Pacific islands. The trip only took three days, which was way too short, as Tahiti was the end of the line for me. It was strange to be back in a city again. We pigged out on junk food and bought McDonald's sundaes. We even let our hair down and went nightclubbing. On the spur of the moment, I decided to accept a dance with one of the best-looking girls at the bar. Later that night I was told by a local that my dancing partner was actually a he. I'm glad all we did was dance!
I had decided that I had to leave Dave and his wonderful trip in Tahiti. By now I'd decided to tackle David Dicks’ solo record. I'd spent many of those nights sitting on watch, staring at the stars, tossing up what to do. I think I always knew, but I needed to make it final. I called Mum from Tahiti and told her. I was going to attempt to become the youngest person to sail solo, non-stop and unassisted around the world.
The three months with Dave was a defining time in my life, as it con
firmed that sailing around the world was what I wanted to do. I hope to one day do it the same way he had, visiting fantastic places. But I had in front of me an opportunity to set out for a record. It was now or never. I organised my flight back to Australia and a week later, on 28 June, I said goodbye to Dave, thanking him for giving me the opportunity to decide what I wanted to do. I would have loved to continue to Australia, but I had to get home to prepare to leave in early December, less than six months away. The days of lazing on the boat eating fresh fish were about to become distant memories. Life was about to get pretty hectic.
CHAPTER 3
Making the Dream Come True
Fight through ignorance, want, and care
Through the griefs that crush the spirit;
Push your way to a fortune fair,
And the smiles of the world, you'll merit.
Long, as a boy, for the chance to learn
For the chance that Fate denies you;
Win degrees where the Life-lights burn,
And the scores will teach and advise you.
— ‘To My Cultured Critics’, Henry Lawson
The history of round-the-world sailing is nearly as old as the art of sailing itself. The first around-the-world sailors were those led by Magellan, who in 1519 led an expedition of five ships in an attempt to sail around the globe. Although he died en route, one of those ships made it back to Spain to claim the honour.
Nearly 500 years later, sailing around the world has become one of the frontiers thousands have wanted to conquer, whether on a pleasure boat, like Dave's 40-footer, or the sleek racers that glide across the outer boundaries of sailing territory in an effort to get around the globe in the quickest way possible.
Solo circumnavigation is considered the ultimate challenge. The first recorded single-handed circumnavigation was completed by Joshua Slocum, who set out from America in 1895 aboard the 34-foot Spray, to prove it could be done.
The most celebrated solo sailor was Sir Francis Chichester. In 1960 he won the first transatlantic sailing race in only 40 days, which was to be the precursor to his major achievement in 1966—67, when he became the first person to sail single-handedly around the world, only stopping once. He did so on the famous Gipsy Moth IV, which he sailed from Plymouth, in Britain, for Sydney, arriving 107 days later. It was another 119 days before he returned to Plymouth. He was knighted with Sir Francis Drake's sword upon his return. I'm not sure how many miles he did, but even though it took him 226 days, compared to my 328 days, and he pulled into port along the way, I still marvel at his achievement. He set sail without the communication gear I had, with nowhere near the safety options of Lionheart, with no satellite navigation and probably a pretty limited diet. I can't fathom what it must have been like for him.
It was only natural that after the first person showed it could be done, more and more people would want to do it.
The World Sailing Speed Record Council's rules state that to sail the globe, a sailor must round the five great southern Capes: Cape Horn at the tip of South America, Cape of Good Hope (South Africa), Cape Leeuwin (Western Australia), Southeast Cape (Tasmania) and Southwest Cape on New Zealand's Stewart Island. This route avoids the artificial canals of Panama and Suez. Of course, those rules would provide an unfair advantage for a sailor leaving from southern Australia. To sail the southern capes would require sailing along the 40 to 56 latitude south range and sailors would be home in no time. If the boat and sailor could handle the conditions, that is. So, to make it fair for our northern hemisphere friends, sailors from the southern hemisphere are required to enter the northern hemisphere at some stage of the journey to complete a minimum distance of 21,600 miles.
Global solo sailing is split into two camps: those who stop and those who don't. The first group consists of those who sail solo, stopping at ports as they complete the journey. Those who fall into the first group include Chichester, Tania Aebi, Robin Lee Graham and Krystina Chojnowska Liskiewicsz, a Polish woman who completed her trip on 28 March 1976 after 31,166 nautical miles and 755 days.
The second group has Sir Robin Knox-Johnson at its head. The Englishman achieved the feat in 1969 on a 32-foot ketch, taking 312 days to cover 32,000 miles. The first woman to sail solo and non-stop was Australian yachtswoman Kay Cottee, who departed Sydney on 27 November 1987, and returned to a hero's welcome on 5 June 1988. The trip took her 189 days, covering 22,100 miles.
My interest was in the age record, to become the youngest to sail around the world solo, non-stop and unassisted.
The doyen of age sailing, if you like, was Robin Lee Graham. He left the United States to sail solo around the world in 1965. What made his effort incredible was that he was only sixteen, and his boat, The Dove, was only 24 feet long. That is, a whole three metres shorter than Lionheart. Graham's voyage was incredible: he suffered all manner of misfortune, including a broken mast, was swept overboard, and narrowly escaped a collision with a tanker. The trip took him five years. He returned when he was 21, after 1739 days and 30,600 miles.
The next youngest to complete the trip was Tania Aebi, who finished her journey on 6 November 1987, on the 26-foot Varuna. Her trip took two-and-a-half years; she was 21 when she returned. Hers was another incredible story. Evidently she was going nowhere fast at eighteen, so her father offered her a challenge—go to university or sail around the world. She was never able to claim the record because for 80 of the trip's 30,000 miles, she had a friend on board, which disqualified her trip as a solo voyage.
The rules, as set by the administrators of world sailing records, the World Sailing Speed Record Council, state:
To sail around the world, a vessel must start from and return to the same point, must cross all meridians of longitude and must cross the equator. It may cross some, but not all, meridians more than once. The orthodromic track of the vessel must be at least 21,600 nautical miles in length. In calculating this distance, it is to be assumed that the vessel will sail around Antarctica in latitude 64 degrees south. A vessel starting in the Southern Hemisphere has to round an island or other fixed point in the Northern Hemisphere that will satisfy the minimum distance requirement.
‘Singlehanded’ means there is only one person on board. If a singlehanded skipper accepts any kind of outside assistance then the voyage is no longer ‘singlehanded’.
‘Without assistance’ means that a vessel may not receive any kind of outside assistance whatever nor take on board any supplies, materials or equipment during a record attempt. A craft may be anchored or beached during the record attempt but any repairs must be made entirely by the crew without outside resources or materials.
It is never permitted to take on board stores or equipment or get any other kind of help from another vessel whilst under way.
American sailor Brian Caldwell actually claimed the youngest record when he completed his round-the-world voyage in June 1996, at the age of 20 years and six months. But before he returned, someone had already set out to break that record.
On Sunday, 25 February 1996, seventeen-year-old David Dicks left Fremantle to attempt to become the youngest person to sail solo, non-stop and unassisted around the world. He had already left on his S&S 34, Seaflight, a week earlier to the cheers of thousands, but had to turn back after a few days, when leaking water damaged his radio equipment. Older wiser heads praised Dicks’ decision. It would have taken a lot of guts to turn back. In his mind he probably imagined the doubters rubbing their hands together with glee as he re-entered port.
What made this trip unique to the other young sailors was that it was an attempt to do the trip non-stop. And he was taking an antipodal route/that is, sailing to the opposite point of departure on the globe and returning. Imagine that you stick a giant skewer through your home, until it came out the other side of the earth. That would be your antipodal point. For David, that was a point in the mid-north Atlantic, just below Bermuda. David decided, after talking with Jon Sanders, who had completed multiple circumnavigations, that h
e should go that extra distance to ensure there was no doubt over the record. It would also mean that his feat would equal the distance of 27,000 miles that a northern hemisphere sailor must travel to round the great five southern capes. That was considerably longer than the rules required, and longer than the trip completed by Kay Cottee. She entered the northern hemisphere for her attempt, rounded St Paul's Rocks, and completed a total of 22,100 miles.
When I decided to go for David Dicks’ record, there was no doubt I would take an antipodal route. The standard had been set, which I had to follow to claim his record. My antipodal point was at the Azores Islands, 1000 nautical miles off the coast of Portugal in the Atlantic Ocean.
Unfortunately for David, he was unable to claim the unassisted record, after breaking a bolt on his mast just before he rounded Cape Horn. On 24 May a Royal Navy helicopter from the Falkland Islands was summoned to drop him a replacement bolt, which was made by navy engineers. On Sunday, 17 November 1996, he sailed into Fremantle after more than 27,000 nautical miles and 264 days at sea. He was eighteen years and 41 days old.
The antipodal point for Jesse's voyage.
My original plan was—and still is—to cruise the world, meet interesting people and stop in exotic ports. But I needed to raise money to do so. When the news came through that David Dicks had become the youngest person to sail the world solo and non-stop, I realised a few things.