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By 1998 I had completed my promised one term as Commodore and it was
time to invite nominations for a successor. Again there was no competition and
Mike Pocock, the son-in-law of Humphrey Barton, was installed by acclamation
having been proposed by John Maddox, Rear Commodore Australia, and
seconded by Clive King, Rear Commodore USA West. Mike and Pat (see
photograph page 234), had recently returned from their seven year
circumnavigation and, it was hoped, would be ashore for a while. It was a vain
hope – within weeks of taking over Mike announced his intention to lead a
round-Atlantic series of Millennium rallies.
On my departure I presented a silver cup which, unable to resist the alliteration,
I suggested should be known as ‘The Vasey Vase’. It perhaps indicated a degree
of unfulfilled ambition on my part as it was to be awarded for voyages of an
‘unusual or exploratory nature’ – the Club already had ample trophies, but there
was a gap where, if a most meritorious voyage did not win the Barton Cup, it
often did not fit the definition of any other award. A good example was
Paddy Barry’s outstanding adventure in the wake of Shackleton, which
Paddy Barry – first winner of the Vasey Vase
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could not stand comparison with the Engwirdas’ round the world marathon
for the premier award. Not surprisingly, therefore, Paddy was the first recipient
of the Vasey Vase.
There is no doubt that Hum had a valid point in avoiding competitive awards,
and the Committee have always been at pains to judge cruises on their merits.
Inevitably there have been some years when there are so many cruises of great
merit that it is difficult to adjudicate except by comparison – on other occasions
the Committee have rightly resisted the temptation to reward the ‘most
meritorious’ when it is a year of little merit, resulting in several occasions on
which particular trophies have not been awarded.
The Club’s hardworking General Secretary, Jeremy Knox, had also decided
that it was time for a change, and after interviewing two candidates Anthea
Cornell (see photograph page 256), was appointed. After a career with Shell
she had retired early to do more cruising so that now, after several ocean
crossings, she was well qualified to understand the jargon, and took over from
Jeremy in 1998. Jeremy had worked tirelessly to help put the Club back on its
feet ten years earlier, and had gone on to establish a thoroughly systematic
office, so it was a well-oiled machine that Anthea inherited. On departing as
Secretary he agreed to become a Trustee, was made an Honorary Life Member,
and received the OCC Award.
Following the 1998 trend Vice Commodore Peter Aitchison decided to retire
from his city job and sail away, so he too tendered his resignation. Since he had
not finished his allotted span the Committee were placed in the same position as
they had been with the premature retirement of John Foot ten years previously.
They therefore appointed Erik Vischer (see photograph page 258), one of the
Rear Commodores, to take his place pending confirmation at the AGM. Mike
Grubb, Port Officer Falmouth, was proposed and subsequently elected to the
Rear Commodore vacancy. This time there was no revolution! Indeed, everything
in the state of the Club was going swimmingly with solid finances, a stable
subscription which had not risen for five years, and a new and dedicated team
from the Secretary through to the Commodore.
One of the new Commodore’s early problems was inadvertently handed him by
his predecessor, and could have developed into a running sore had he not dealt
with it so deftly. Brian Dalton, Rear Commodore USA North East, had noted
that in 1988 the UK AGM and dinner had been subsidised from the general fund
to cover the cost of room hire for the meeting and the burden of Club guests.
Brian considered that regions should similarly enjoy a subsidy, despite an
assurance that there was always a net annual surplus from UK social functions.
To create absolute transparency, a separate ‘Social Fund’ was established with
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its own bank account so that there could be no confusion with the ‘General
Fund’ and any subsidies to social events would become immediately apparent
in the accounts. Additionally, a one-off grant of £150 was made to all regions
out of the profits from the recent Cruising Symposium to help with their
millennium celebrations. The principle was then reiterated that all social functions
must be self supporting, wherever they are.
On a much less contentious note, the Pardeys were awarded the 1998 Geoff
Pack Memorial Award for their writings over the years about their adventurous
life aboard a small, engineless boat. They had hoped to attend the awards
ceremony but were, as usual, at the opposite end of the earth, so most generously
offered the air fare saved by not travelling to offset entry fees for impecunious
youngsters. They noted that the number of members under 25 years was perhaps
less than 1% and they felt that the joining fee was a deterrent to the young. It
was eventually agreed that the £500 would be applied to subsidise those under
25 years who joined during Millennium year, somewhat reflecting Toby Baker’s
suggestion made five years earlier.
There was further turnover the following year when Graham and Avril Johnson
gave notice of their intention to retire and sail away (see photograph page 258),
so they too required a replacement. The desire to move on seemed to become
infectious, as Hon Treasurer Neil Wilkie also decided that he could no longer
give the time required. It was testimony to their foresight that the new website,
which all three had helped to create, was up and running before they left their
posts. Neil’s backing to do the sums combined with Graham’s strict discipline
had seen the Club over a difficult period from near insolvency to a most healthy
financial state, while Avril’s tenacity in chasing recalcitrant members had ensured
a reliable cash flow – the Club’s Achilles Heel since its inception. In the event
the Membership Secretary’s post was filled by long-standing member Colin
Jarman and the appointment of Hon Treasurer by accountant David Caukill.
John Maddox has long been the conduit for Australian activities, rarely failing
to keep us up to date on happenings in the Antipodes. On the other hand, the
members down there seem rather shy to tell us of their activities, so it as well
that we are served by John. Like fellow Australian Barton Cup winner Geoff
Payne, we heard through John of Roger Wallis’s sortie to the Horn in 1998,
also rewarded with that coveted trophy. Roger wanted a fast passage so he bought
the 47ft Parmelia which had been designed for the race of that name from England
to Australia. He modestly dismisses the 44 day passage from New Zealand to the
Horn in a paragraph, and was obviously pleased with his new boat:
‘During our long and lonely 44 day passage we enjoyed wonderful
sailing and became very aware of the vagaries of the weather.
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We quickly fell into the rhythm and routine of life at sea. We were
continually reminded that it is a big, big paddock out there – we
saw plenty of winged wildlife, including albatrosses and petrels,
but only the odd whale and one ship. We hove-to on four occasions
under triple-reefed main only, and she was very comfortable.’
He had the same reaction to the beauty of the Antarctic as had Willy Ker:
‘We crossed the Gerlache Strait to Dorian Cove in absolutely
perfect conditions, the mountains white, the glaciers with a tinge
of blue and the sky blue as blue.’
They forced their way south down the Peninsula, but only managed to beat
Willy by a mile and a half, turning back at 65º17'S. After a stormy sail north
across Drake Passage they had a run ashore on Cape Horn and even Roger
allowed himself a little exuberance:
‘After a day’s R&R the weather moderated and we went to the
anchorage at Cape Horn and landed! It was just great – the two
navy radio operators-come-lookouts made us welcome and we
visited their little wooden chapel, their lighthouse and the
monument to seamen. We soaked up all the mystique and aura
that goes with the Horn. It was an incredible day and very
important to all of us. We sailed up to it from Australia,
circumnavigated the whole island and finally landed on it!’
Roger doesn’t mention anything about his refrigeration system, but he had a
novel way of using nature by hanging two half sheep in the rigging. Judiciously
placed they could also act as baggy- wrinkle. In addition to that year’s Barton
Cup, Roger was deservedly awarded the Australian Trophy for 1998.
A glance at the marinas in New Zealand suggests that they have more boats per
head of population than almost anywhere in the world, and yet there were no
Founders from that country and we still have only 18 NZ members. However,
in 1956 Neill Arrow from Christchurch joined with the longest qualifying voyage
to that date, having crossed the Pacific to Peru in 1952, a distance of 5760
miles. Shades of the Engwirdas! There is no doubt that New Zealand is one of
the best cruising areas in the world, so perhaps the incentive to explore further
afield is not as strong as it is in Europe where the main aim is generally to get
somewhere warmer and less crowded. Yet it is perhaps the country where
more members get together casually than anywhere else.
As the first port of entry, and a delightful place to boot, The Bay of Islands
draws itinerants like a magnet and it is rare that George Bateman or Nina Kiff
fails to report the arrival of some Club members. Indeed, George reported 250
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visitors in 1991, many of them from the Club. He has been there for years and
even very old Journal correspondents talk of how he looked after them – and
more recently of how they enjoyed George and Dorothy’s golden wedding
party at the OCC (Opua Cruising Club). Nina, Hum’s niece, entertained us back
in 1993 with articles about their slow family cruise to New Zealand with four
young children, illustrated by delightful photographs of school at sea. They
too were greeted by George and Dorothy, and it wasn’t long before Nina
began to share Port Officer duties with them. Just recently we read in the
Newsletter of a most novel OCC gathering which could easily develop into
an annual affair, when Nina dragooned a not unwilling bunch of members
and others to turn out at 0700 to help pick her friends’ Chardonnay grape
crop. There’s no knowing the flexibility of a good sailor, especially when it
is followed by a free lunch!
The only formal NZ gathering of members on record is that organised by ex-
Vice Commodore, Peter Aitchison, who has adopted New Zealand as his semi-
retirement home. Some years ago he gave a dinner at the Royal New Zealand
Yacht Squadron for local OCC members, but the idea did not catch on as there
is no record of any further entertainment ashore. However, up north they seem
to be falling into a pattern. In April 2003 twelve boats and 20 members gathered
at the ‘OCC’ and they are anticipating a crowd for the party planned in November
’04, but that is outside the scope of this history.
Further south, Tim Thompson can rival Neill Arrow for qualifying date with
a passage from Sydney to New Caledonia in 1943, but unfortunately he didn’t
join until 1988. One is tempted to conjecture what he was doing ocean cruising
in the middle of the war – perhaps it was so clandestine that he could not
declare it for 45 years, depriving us of a faithful Port Officer Christchurch for
all that time. Although Tim regularly reports on passing members, Christchurch
does not enjoy the popularity of harbours further north.
Back in the northern hemisphere, during the summer of 1998 John and Sally
Melling had what they described as a ‘shakedown’ aboard Taraki, their new
(to them) Saltram 40, with 5000 miles in four months to Spitsbergen and back.
They were blessed with warm weather but a lack of wind that at least enhanced
the scenery:
‘The thought of more motoring did not appeal to us. We explored
the small fjords in Krossfjorden and then anchored in
Mollerhamna, where Tilman anchored in 1974. The scenery was
awe-inspiring, enhanced by the mirror-flat water and the reflection
of the mountains – unlike our London anchorage there was a
feeling of great space and solemnity. We rowed ashore to pay
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Admiral Mary with Club Secretary Anthea Cornell
at the Maine Millennium Rally
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homage to the boulder painted with ‘Baroque 1974’, and again
were delighted by the beautiful flowers growing out of the stony,
barren-looking ground.’
It is amazing how many people were now following in Tilman’s wake, but it is
even more amazing that he did it at all. We may criticise him for losing so many
boats, but by comparison with today his were heavy wooden, gaff-rigged vessels
with unreliable engines, yet he showed the way and beyond. The Mellings
follow Tilman in other ways, in that they use their boat to take them to remote
places where they can explore, be it the pampas of South America or ashore in
the Arctic. By Club standards this sortie counted as a ‘short voyage’ and it
certainly was ‘meritorious’, earning them the Rambler Medal.
John and Sally Melling trekking in Patagonia
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A tranquil Chilean anchorage
for John and Sally Melling’s sturdy Saltram 40, Tariki
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The Club’s Millennium Rally got off to a good start with a record attendance of
23 boats at the annual Falmouth gathering in August 1999. It was never meant
to be a cruise in company, but the Commodore left in Blackjack together with
Alan Taylor in Bellamanda and Erik and Jocelyn Hellstom in Havsvind at
the beginning of an Atlantic circuit intended to take one year and to include as
many members as possible. Regrettably someone had to mind the shop, so Vice
Commodore Eric Vischer waited until Grenada before joining the fleet in a chartered
boat. Mike wrote his thoughts after getting back to Falmouth a year later:
‘The Millennium Cruise was an ambitious project and we were
extremely lucky that, thanks to a high degree of reliability both
from the boat and our own health, we were able to maintain our
schedule and complete the cruise on programme. For the record
we sailed from Falmouth after the August Bank Holiday party at
the Royal Cornwall. We followed the traditional route to the
Caribbean arriving in time to see in the New Year in Prickly Bay,
Grenada along with 70 other members and friends. Our next
major date was a week of celebrations, in April, in the British
Virgin Islands which included an opening party at the Bitter End
and a closing party at the Last Resort.
From the Virgins we sailed for the US East Coast, partly using
the ICW despite our 7ft draft. We particularly enjoyed joining the
Chesapeake Bay Cruise, lead so ably by Bill and Alice Caldwell.
Numbers continued to rise and at the final major party in Smith’s
Cove, Maine, organised by Marji Bancroft and her team, there
were 130 members and 38 boats. We sailed for home from St
John’s Newfoundland, taking in one more party, this time with
the Irish at Kinsale, and finally made it to the annual OCC party
in Falmouth, twelve months after leaving that same party. I have
mentioned only the major parties. There were many smaller,
sometimes impromptu occasions. In the course of the cruise 316
members became involved at one time or another, (one fifth of
the club) of whom 28 were OCC Port Officers, not necessarily on
their home patch, and 233 members came aboard Blackjack.’
It was a most fitting way for the Ocean Cruising Club to celebrate. As Mike
said, it brought members together from all round the Atlantic littoral, at both the
formal rallies and the many informal gatherings, and was a graphic demonstration
of the Club’s cohesion as an active international association. There were, of
course, many other Club millennium functions around the world which were
equally successful in cementing the bonds of membership.
Not far behind the Commodore, but on a far more ambitious Atlantic circuit,
was Ben Pester in Marelle, his 36ft teak McGruer sloop. Ben had qualified in
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time to be a Founder, but was not credited as such as his application was too
late for the deadline (which gives an indication of his age – he was in fact 75).
With a crew of one he was intending to make a leisurely four-stop cruise to
Cape Horn for the Millennium, there to join the anticipated crowd of revellers.
It didn’t quite work out as planned as they were driven back to Mar del Plata
under bare poles before a pampero having left three days earlier. And Ben does
admit that the flesh was sufficiently weak for them to spend a couple of nights
quietly at anchor on the Argentinean coast, but otherwise they had a brisk
passage to the Magellan Straits. They didn’t quite meet the horrors that greeted
Denise Evans, but had a fair dusting penetrating through to Punta Arenas:
‘The pilotage hurdles now facing us were the two angosturas
(narrows) separating us from Punta Arenas. Each of these,
Primera and Segunda, are up to 10 miles long and funnel the
westerly winds, frequently of gale force, coupled with tidal streams
running at 7 knots. A daunting prospect.
We had to anchor short of the Primera Angostura before we
could get through, and then anchor for a further three days at
the entrance to the Segunda to wait for a break. This was a
period of considerable anxiety. We were anchored in 8–9m close
inshore, but the land was low-lying and gave little shelter. Our
wind speed indicator went off the clock at 48 knots. Marelle was
dipping her bows into the chop, with solid water pouring down
the decks and spray driving over us as though we were at sea.
She did not drag – a remarkable tribute to the CQR design – but
it was a nail-biting time. A French yacht in the vicinity at the time
told us later they were recording 70 knots of wind. Thus it was
that we saw in the Millennium.’
After Punta Arenas they worked their way south to Puerto Williams where:
‘We topped up our fuel, water and stores whilst waiting for a
window in the weather pattern to make our dash for the Horn a
hundred miles away. When it came we headed out into the Beagle
Channel for an overnight sail through the island groups to position
ourselves to the west of Isla Homos, at the southern tip of which
is the ‘dreaded rock’, the Horn itself.
We rounded this, the centrepiece of the whole trip, at 1150 on
5 February before a light nor’ westerly breeze, accompanied by
a long Southern Ocean swell and lowering skies (but alas no
other revellers). We were close in to the headland, sheer and
craggy, with its brooding menacing presence all-pervading, but
it was in an uncharacteristically benign mood and even bathed in
intermittent sunshine. It is possible to land at the eastern
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Above: The fleet at the Millennium Rally in Prickly Bay, Grenada
Below: Marelle leaves Falmouth to start her epic voyage to Cape Horn
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(leeward) end of the island, but we did not want to press our
luck, particularly as the wind was working around to the east
which would have made the anchorage insecure. We carried on;
after all, we were now homeward bound!’
They refuelled in the Falklands and planned to call at the Azores, but they were
forced too far to the west so carried on. After 90 days they entered Falmouth
harbour under sail as they only had enough fuel left to motor up to the mooring.
18,000 miles in nine months – an epic voyage and a well earned Barton Cup.
The Millennium was a good opportunity to take the next logical step in the
development of our journal by including colour photographs. It had been resisted
on the grounds of cost for several years, but by 2000 the magazine was beginning
to look distinctly dated. Appropriately, the first front cover to have both a picture
and colour showed the raft-up at the Prickly Bay rally and the first picture
inside the covers was an excellent photograph of Pat and Mike aboard Blackjack.
If she wanted to persuade readers to support colour in the forthcoming
questionnaire Anne certainly succeeded, printing some excellent colour
photographs of Willy Ker in Assent messing about in the ice alongside similar
black-and-white pictures that looked positively drab by comparison.
Not to be outdone, the next year Anthea included colour in her Newsletter so
that the Club’s two publications were then properly dressed for the new
Millennium. It was perhaps a measure of both the increasing activity of members
and their increased interest in the Club, as the Newsletter had steadily developed
from a few monochrome pages to a sixteen-page leaflet packed with news of
members and Club activity. Latterly it even included commercial advertisements,
which must surely confirm its popularity.
It is hardly surprising that the vast majority of articles in both Flying Fish and
the Newsletter are from English-speaking members, so it was very refreshing
to find contributions in three successive issues from two of our five German
friends. In 2001 Claus Jaeckel wrote on a largely technical topic with hardly
a trace of an accent, so to speak. Claus qualified in 1999 in his beautiful 41ft
varnished cutter Gullveig, on an eventful Atlantic crossing dogged by electronic
problems including the loss of both GPSs. One began to wonder when he
triumphantly announced that his celestial navigation had improved to the point
where, ‘somewhere between Africa and America I had perfected my technique’.
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Vice Commodore Erik Vischer, wearing the
Club’s 50th anniversary T-shirt, with the Admiral
A liberated Membership Secretary –
Graham Johnson relaxes on the Gambia River
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Our worst fears were ill-founded however – he was sufficiently confident on
arrival in the West Indies to be saved the embarrassment of having to ask
which island it was. Our most hospitable Port Officers, Garry and Greta
Naigle in Norfolk, Virginia proposed Claus for the Club so that his return crossing
was under our colours.
The following year saw a contribution from Wolfgang Quix, no stranger in
our magazines. He joined back in 1978 after an Atlantic crossing in a 21-footer,
and in 1997 we read of his exciting new boat, Wolfie’s Toy, a BOC 50 in which
he had just raced his third OSTAR. While it is interesting to hear of members’
racing exploits, it is with relief that we read of them acting normally on
occasions, if you can call poking around in Hudson Bay normal. Wolfgang also
has only a slight ‘accent’ in his writing, but one wonders when he says that
‘Wolfie’s Toy was conquered by the kids of the Inuit settlement and we had
Wolfgang Quix prepares to defend his ‘Toy’ from marauding bears
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Sea Bear in warmer climes
great difficulty in getting her back’. Presumably the little blighters hijacked her!
They had picked a good year and got to Churchill before the summer buoys
were out, being only the fourth yacht ever to visit that port. From there they
penetrated north to Repulse Bay, of which Wolfgang writes:
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‘Repulse Bay, on the Arctic Circle, is another typical Inuit
settlement with extraordinarily friendly people. We watched them
hunting narwhals, of which they are allowed to kill up to 100 a
year. That day they got three of them. The Inuit only like the skin
and blubber – the meat is dog food. (When we were invited to
taste some skin we behaved in a cowardly way!) They receive
high prices for the tusks, especially in the Far East where it is
supposed to strengthen men. Blessed are they who trust in this!
We were told that only a French yacht had been up there
previously.’
They had light winds and little ice – indeed, they hadn’t had a blow since
leaving Labrador – and thereafter it continued light throughout their northern
cruise. Although they did not know it, at that very time Paddy Barry and Jarlath
Cunnane were enjoying similar conditions just to the north of them on their
way through the North West Passage. Wolfgang returned to Cuxhaven via
Greenland and the Faeroes to be awarded the Vasey Vase for this outstanding
and original cruise.
We had been unaware of his voyaging until he joined in 2001, but in Peter
Passano the Club obviously recruited a member of very considerable experience,
despite awarding him the Qualifier’s Mug for his 1995 entry passage. After
spending some time in the South Pacific in Sea Bear, his home-built 39ft steel
cutter, he left Auckland heading east, undecided on Panama or the Horn. He
clearly spent a lot of time thinking of home waters as he marked his progress
across the southern ocean by their equivalent positions in the northern
hemisphere. Ten days out he noted that he had arrived at the longitude of Honolulu,
and by 19 December he had made Tahiti. On Christmas Day he calculated that
in that desolate Southern Ocean he was as far from land as it is possible to get
anywhere in the world – halfway between New Zealand and the Horn, and the
same distance from Antarctica as from Pitcairn Island, the nearest land to the
north.
On 30 December he decided to go south, but soon began to doubt the wisdom
of his choice:
After dropping another 5mbs to 995 the barometer appeared to
have bottomed out, but it was an illusion. Sometime in the late
afternoon I felt we were carrying too much canvas and handed
the trysail. I went below and looked at the barograph. I had
changed the weekly chart at noon and my immediate reaction
was that I must have broken something; the pen was hanging
down so low. I checked the other barometer and it confirmed
my fears. The pressure had dropped another 15mbs and stood
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The indomitable nonagenarian Helen Tew
shares the spotlight with the youthful Ellen MacArthur
Bill Caldwell, retiring Rear Commodore USA South East,
receives the OCC Award from the Admiral
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Alan Taylor, who was
elected Commodore in
2002, aboard Bellamanda,
with Blackjack in the
background
The well-travelled
Blackjack in close-up
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at 980! I immediately went on deck and installed the storm
shutters on the port lights in the trunk cabin. I also put double
lashings on the furled main and tied the boom securely in the
boom gallows.
An hour after getting the storm shutters in there was a
tremendous BANG. I was sitting below on the leeward bench
seat and was appalled to see the hardwood lining on the weather
side of the trunk cabin coaming burst into the cabin. There was a
framed photograph of Sea Bear in the ice off Tracy Arm in Alaska
– it was blown right off the bulkhead. I expected to see the ocean
come in next. There was no warning – no sound like an
approaching train, that you read about when people talk about
getting hit by a rogue wave. I went on deck to survey the damage.
There was none! Apparently whatever hit us deflected the steel
plate in sufficiently to break the interior lining, but the steel just
popped back as if nothing had happened. The storm shutter nearest
to where the wave hit was wedged into the frame of the porthole
so tightly that I had to break it to get it out a few days later.
Despite the glass beginning to rise the blow hadn’t finished with Sea Bear:
‘The barometer had dropped 26mbs in 21 hours. Meteorologists
say that a drop of this magnitude creates what they call a ‘bomb’.
It blew force 11–12 (‘The air is filled with foam and spray; sea
completely white with driving spray; visibility seriously affected’)
for the next 16 hours. Movement on deck was very difficult. I
had to move about on all fours holding on with both hands. The
flesh on my face was pulled and distorted by the wind, and I
found it difficult to see as the wind seemed to get between my
eyeball and eyelid – I had to squint until my eyes were tiny slits.
Finally I put on a diving mask and snorkel when looking out or
going on deck. This solved the problem although I found I had to
hold the mask with one hand to keep it from blowing off.’
But then Peter had the chagrin of having to beat round the Horn against light
easterlies before an easy reach to the Falklands arriving, singlehanded, on his
66th birthday.
At 72 Peter felt that he still had some gaps in his sailing experiences, so in
2001–2 he made an Atlantic circuit out of Maine via South Georgia, again mostly
singlehanded. In ‘iceberg alley’ he usually hove-to at night but, having thought
he had put the last berg behind him, after only ten minutes below in daylight and
good visibility he restyled Sea Bear’s front end on the only growler in that part
of the ocean. The chance must have been millions to one, but happily the only
real damage was a ‘pretzel’ shaped pulpit and dented pride.
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John Maddox with an all-OCC crew aboard Holger Danske – past Rear
Commodore John, Erich Brosell, Peter Neaves and current Rear
Commodore Charles Davis (see page 279)
Hawk in the Chilean Channels (see page 275)
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It is gratifying to note that there are still very experienced ocean cruising
yachtsmen joining the Club, which must mean that it has attractions not only to
the debutantes but those who have come to recognise it later in their sailing
career. Like Peter, Joe Cannon qualified much earlier but it was not until 2000
that he saw the light, writing a rattling good yarn about his southern ocean
circumnavigation the following year. Joe’s boat is a tough Martzcraft 35 named
Avalon of Tasman in which the ages of the crew of three averaged 70, so it
seems that deep south cruising is becoming a middle-aged pastime. After reading
of several Five Capes circuits one realises the blindingly obvious – that it is
much shorter if you start from Australia without having the Atlantic to negotiate
both ways. The disadvantage is that you do not get the breaking-in period that
northerners enjoy, but instead are blooded by the Tasman and then thrown into the
roaring forties with very little time to settle down. In Joe’s case they were lucky:
‘The Roaring Forties did not live up to their name during the 5000
mile leg to Chile, giving more wind from the east than we expected
and mainly 12 to 15 knot breezes from the western sectors. We
took 60 days to make our landfall at Bahia Corral at the mouth
of the Río Valdivia. The most memorable part of this passage
was a 48 hour calm, two days and nights without a breath of
wind, and the albatrosses grounded (or rather surfaced) by lack
of take-off wind speed.’
Despite the popularity of the Chilean Channels it is pleasing to note that the
wildlife still retains its innocence:
‘The first day we took a short cut through the colourful Canal
Acwalisnan where we were visited by our first confident little
black cinclodes, which perched on the dodger some inches from
the helmsman’s face and greedily accepted pieces of biscuit.’
If the Southern Ocean had been kind, the Indian Ocean made up for it. After
several days of heavy headwinds with a very high glass it turned to blow from
the southwest and really brewed up:
By sunset there was 35 knots, and by midnight 55 knots from
southwest with the glass down to 991. The main had been furled
but we were still carrying the storm jib. At 0410 on 12 June I had
just come on watch, the wind was blowing 50–60 knots, the seas
had obviously grown larger, and I was contemplating heaving-
to. The next moment a giant sea destroyed the dodger about me
and threw me violently forward onto the steering pedestal,
breaking two of my ribs as it capsized the boat. As the leeward
side hit the water, bending a stanchion in like putty, I was thrown
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back onto a winch cracking some more ribs. Then suddenly I
was dropping down out of the cockpit beneath the boat, everything
was quiet and fairly still, and there was absolute darkness. My
Stormy Seas safety harness checked my fall and the next moment
the jacket inflated itself and floated me back up into the capsized
cockpit. Just as I was nearing the end of my breath-holding capacity
Avalon of Tasman began to right herself. She paused only
momentarily with the mast at water level, then suddenly flicked
upright, leaving me virtually standing on my head in the cockpit!
We were about midway between Cape Town and Fremantle.
The complex intense stationary low that had taken us in its
grip played with us like a cat with a mouse. Two days after the
capsize the wind was 70 knots or more and the seas enormous,
over 15m in our opinion, so we set the NZ parachute sea-anchor.
It certainly seemed to help us during the 19 hours before the line
chafed through. But the storm continued. The glass would rise a
few points and the wind would ease, but only temporarily. Then it
would fall again and the wind would be screaming at 70 knots
and more. This process of raising our hopes and then dashing
them repeated itself again and again. Sometimes the renewal
was from the southwest, but at other times it came from the
west-southwest, west, or northwest, howling for hours through
the rigging. Through all this, and worsening as the days dragged
by, we had enormous seas breaking near the boat with the noise
of thunder. Some would break right over the boat, but worst of
all they would sometimes crash into the hull like a motor car or a
charging bull. The whole boat would shudder and ring like a large
bell and be thrown sideways. The Martzcraft 35 is certainly built
like a little fortress!’
Like several others, Joe waxes lyrical on the beauties of the high southern
latitudes, admonishing us, ‘if you have ever thought of sailing in Chile, stop
thinking and go. If you have never thought of it, do so!’ He rounds off his
article most appropriately with a quotation from The Confessions of St Augustine:
‘They went forth to behold the high mountains and the mighty
surge of the sea, and the broad stretches of the rivers and the
inexhaustible ocean, and the paths of the stars ... and in so doing
lost themselves in wonderment.’
Back in home waters the Commodore used the momentum generated by the
successful Millennium Rally to revive the Azores meet in 2001, though no longer
as a pursuit race, and it turned out to be the most successful ever. Some 30
boats attended from both sides of the Atlantic and a number of mini-meets
were organised at various island venues. In Horta Peter Azevedo and João
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Fraga were their usual helpful selves, the marina offered free berthing to
members, and both the Harbour Authorities and the Chamber of Commerce
entertained the entire gathering of over a hundred sailors. The Club reciprocated
with a dinner for the great and the good of Horta, and it was clear from the
speeches that we still hold a special place amongst the many sailors who pass
through that welcoming island. There is little doubt that this popular venue will
continue to feature in future calendars. To relax from their considerable efforts
in organising the meet, Mike and Pat sailed on to Newfoundland to enjoy a
longer visit after their brief taste during the Atlantic circuit the previous year.
It is the story of Mike Butterfield’s life that his new boat is never ready in time
for a Club meet. We read how he missed the first Azores rally in 1977, and
again in 2001 his radical new 48ft catamaran Dazzler was not ready in time.
Mike is addicted to catamarans, having owned a series, and when he gets there
he does so in a hurry. He sold one of his cats to a Frenchmen, who came over
to England to clinch a deal which included a delivery cross-Channel by Mike. It
was blowing a bit so the new owner took the ferry home – Mike beat him there
in the cat. He did arrive at the Azores rally, a little late, having made a fast
maiden passage, but that was to be her last landfall. On the way home, some
400 miles out, she flipped, leaving the crew with an agonising ten hour wait for
rescue. All were saved, including our busy Club Secretary Anthea Cornell, but
the boat had to be abandoned.
2001 was a year to be remembered by all sailors when Ellen MacArthur came
second in the Vendee Globe. One did not have to be a racer to appreciate the
tremendous feat by one so young and comparatively inexperienced. She had us
all on the edge of our seats as she sailed north up the Atlantic, swapping the lead
with Michel Desjoyeaux. The French press gave her as rapturous a welcome
as did the British, as they had when Peter Goss rescued a French competitor in
a previous Around Alone race. Also like Peter Goss, the Club honoured Ellen
with the OCC Award of Merit.
While Ellen was averaging speeds in double figures Helen Tew, aged 89, was
slogging across the Atlantic with her son in her 27ft gaff cutter Mary Helen,
determined to make a crossing before she was too old. In Europe she was
already well-known as one of ‘Les Trois Grannies’, the trio of British ladies
who regularly crossed the English Channel in a 24ft vessel by the name of La
Snook, and whose exploits also had earned the adulation of the French press.
The Club gave the Award of Merit to that indomitable lady.
Both attended the 2002 annual dinner (see photograph page 267), and Ellen
again had the Club enthralled as she read excerpts from her forthcoming
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autobiography, six months before it was published. And at that same dinner Bill
Caldwell, our man from Chesapeake, came over to receive the OCC Award on
the conclusion of his stint as Rear Commodore USA South East (see photograph
page 267). In ten years Bill, with a great deal of help from Alice, had turned the
Chesapeake from a Club backwater into a thriving centre of activities that has
been continued by his successor Fred Hallett.
By 2002 it was again time for a new man at the top, since Mike had said from
the outset that it would be time to find fresh blood after four years. In my final
speech as Commodore I had said that whilst the Club was now on very firm
ground, I felt that it was in need of innovation. My predecessor and I had
bound the old wounds worldwide, but the Club now needed to move forward.
Mike, very ably assisted by Pat, had certainly achieved that. They had led from
the front and, in their faithful Blackjack (see photograph page 268), had been
seen all round the north Atlantic and at virtually every sailing rally in European
waters during their four years. In fact, when they got back home from
Newfoundland Mike became the only Commodore to make four Atlantic
crossings during his four year tour.
The Commodore’s is not an easy slot to fill as it needs someone with sufficient
time to give to the job, while still being young and energetic enough to take an
active role. Alan Taylor (see photograph page 268) started his sailing rather late
in life but he quickly caught up. Both he and Martin Thomas qualified when
they sailed Alan’s Sadler 32, Jenny Wren, in the 1986 two-handed transatlantic,
racing alongside Mike and Pat in Blackjack. It was a good introduction to
ocean sailing which clearly did not put him off, as he went on to make a couple
more Atlantic circuits before taking over as Commodore only 16 years after
joining the Club. While Alan had not previously served on the Committee, he
was a businessman of considerable standing and was clearly capable of taking
charge. None of the previous three Commodores had experience of running
businesses and, although the Club was still an association, modern legislation
was daily impinging on its running and liabilities. Thus it needed someone with
Alan’s skills at the helm.
Within his first year Alan brought forward proposals to change the form of
association to company status which required, for the first time in almost half a
century, a complete overhaul of the Rules. The spirit has not changed but the
wording had, perforce, to be brought into line with modern business practice as
required by the Articles of Association of a Registered Company. This change has
not affected the running of the Club, but in this litigious age there was the danger
of action against the club impinging on officers or members – all are now protected.
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One of the final names to be added to the members list of the first 50 years that
of Beth Leonard, and she certainly proved her case to become a member. She
quotes Puerto Williams to Fremantle, 9000 miles, as her qualifying passage, a
distance only surpassed by Bill Tilman, who showed South America to starboard,
20,000 miles, but he did stop off to climb a few mountains on the way round.
Beth had done a little sailing before this voyage and gives us a breathtaking
summary at the beginning of her Flying Fish article:
‘In 1995 my partner, Evans Starzinger, and I completed a three
year, west-about tradewind circumnavigation aboard a 37ft
traditional ketch. Following this we built and fitted out a 47ft
aluminium Van de Stadt Samoa to cruise the Chilean channels
(see photograph page 270). But when we left the Chesapeake
Bay aboard Hawk in 1999 we weren’t even sure we would like
sailing in cold weather – nor did we feel we had the skills to
venture to the far south so we spent the next two years sailing
the northern high latitudes, wintering in Kinsale, Ireland, and
sailing within the Arctic Circle north of Iceland. By then we had
developed enough confidence in ourselves and our new boat to
do what we had dreamed of doing. We left the Vestmann Islands
in Iceland in July 2001 and sailed 8000 miles down the length of
the Atlantic, reaching the Beagle Channel 50 miles north of Cape
Horn on Christmas Day. After a double-traverse of the channels
(south to north and then north to south) and rounding Cape Horn,
the New Year’s Eve festivities this year saw us back in Puerto
Williams.’
Beth dismisses the Southern Ocean passage very lightly:
‘On our circumnavigation, one place we had really wanted to
spend more time was Australia. So we determined to head east
from the Beagle Channel on a 9000 mile Southern Ocean voyage
to Perth. In agreeing to this passage I had a secret agenda –
more than anything else I wanted to see the giant wandering
albatrosses swooping across the fronts of Southern Ocean
greybeards. Evans has always said that for him the perfect
passage is one so uneventful that I have nothing to write about,
and this one came close. We encountered the usual breezy
conditions often present in the Southern Ocean and we had the
normal amount of gear breakage for a long passage, but all in all
there were no dramas. None of the knock downs, wild broaches,
survival storms, collisions with icebergs, dismastings or lost
rudders that often spice up Southern Ocean sea stories.’
However she was not disappointed by the albatrosses:
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‘For me, the most lasting image from the passage will be the
majestic wandering albatrosses soaring over our wake, wingtips
just touching the crest of a wave as they arced up and over and
into the trough behind. After hatching, these magnificent birds
take to the sea, riding the westerly winds, often not returning to
land until they breed at seven or eight years of age. We saw
many first and second year birds, brown except for a white mask
on their faces, as we sailed near the islands where they were
born – South Georgia, Marion, Crozet and Kerguelen. Occasionally
we saw an aged veteran with a 10 to 12 foot wingspan, almost
entirely white except for a small amount of brown on the wingtips,
appearing slightly hunch-backed as it soared and glided without
moving a feather for as long as we would sit and watch. These
were probably as old or older than us, and would have spent the
vast majority of their lives at sea.’
The Committee could not in all conscience award Beth the Qualifier’s Mug, but
she had no difficulty in gaining the Vasey Vase for this magnificent passage.
Perhaps a good way to round off this record of the first 50 years of the Club is
to glance through the last Journal of the half century, which illustrates far
better than any statistics just where we have arrived.
We read of Tony Gooch’s outstanding circumnavigation, of which more later,
and catch up with the world-girdling Pardeys who are in mid-Pacific, as are
Misty and Peter McIntosh who have been wandering around that part of the
globe for a decade. We find our erstwhile Membership Secretaries, Graham
and Avril Johnson miles up the Gambia River before popping across to Brazil,
and much farther south we read of the almost obligatory voyage to Antarctica
by Lawrence and Maxine Bailey who are able to repay a little local kindness in
the Falklands before going on to South Georgia. Neill Carslaw thinks that, at
80, he is too old for more crewing but nevertheless gives us some fun with his
reminiscences (he later proved himself quite wrong), while Bill Marden at the
same age is singlehanding for 3000 miles in his 52-footer and clearly doesn’t
think it is the end for him. He gives us sage advice in saying that he always
prepares for the worst that can happen, and to date it never has.
Ashore, David Baggaley regrets the loss of innocence in Prickly Bay, while
Ian Nicolson drools over his little bit of heaven at a delightfully old-fashioned
yard near Stockholm, which he convinces us is nearly as attractive as the
Clyde. Frequent contributors Tom and Vicky Jackson give us a taste of the
north with some stunning pictures of the unspoilt nature that still abounds on
the Alaskan shores – a fitting backdrop to their beautiful, varnished S&S 40
Sunstone (see photograph page 292) – and perhaps we can forgive the crowd
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You’re not too
old at 80 – Bill
Marden aboard
his 52ft ketch
Fancy Free
of members whocharter Northangerto do the tourist bit in Antarctica.The
sun lovers abound in the Pacific, with Steve and Julie Ferrerois land
hopping through the east archipelagos while Mary Whibley
unashamedly oozes through the Marquesas. After eight years on their way
around the world Rosemarie and Alfred Alecio feel sufficiently confiden
t to explore the Columbian coast and even help the locals do a bit of amateur
archaeology. Poor Tom Dujardin is put to the test when he loses his mast
while singlehanding to Bermuda, but it is good to hear again from Belgium,
where members were once so numerous. As we have just read, new member
Beth Leonard whets our appetite with a Southern Ocean passage, and to
round off the Journal John Maddox for once tells us of his own sailing instead
of his usual update on other members down-under when he recounts the tale of
several middle-aged Australian members sailing the much-travelled Holger
Danske to Tasmania (see photograph page 270).
Four Americans, one Australian, one Belgian, one Canadian, six English, four
Scots and one anonymous, all writing for our enjoyment, covering five continents,
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six oceans and seven seas. That is where the Club has arrived after 50 years.
The Jubilee party at the Royal Thames YC in March 2004 was a signal occasion
when seven nationalities attended including five venerable Founder Members –
Jack Clark, Colin Mudie, Ian Nicolson, Bill Wise and the not-so-venerable
Harvey Loomis, who is still younger than fellow countryman Sherman Hoyt
was when he joined as a Founder. Two near misses, Ben Pester and Derrick
Allen, who both joined in 1954, helped swell the numbers of those early
enthusiasts who set the Club on the road to success so that we who follow can
continue to enjoy this unique fraternity of the sea.
The awards presented that night also served to emphasise the Club’s
international nature, in this jubilee year reflecting the strength of North America
membership. Tony Gooch was over from Canada to receive the premier award
for his circumnavigation; also from Canada was Ian Grant to collect the
Rambler Medal for a passage from Canada to Scotland to explore the Western
Isles and, in absentia, Andy Copeland who won the Water Music Trophy for
his copious notes on the Black Sea. A little further south, and Bill Marden, now
aged 83, came from Texas to receive the Rose Medal.
For his writing the late Des Sleightholme, who entertained generations of
seafarers with his light touch as editor of Yachting Monthly and was himself a
member for several years, was posthumously honoured with the Geoff Pack
Memorial Award, while Martin Thomas won the David Wallis Trophy for his
contribution to Flying Fish on Medical Emergencies at Sea. Back to America
for the Vasey Vase, awarded to new member Beth Leonard of whom we shall
hear in the next chapter; and finally down to Australia where we salute another
new member, Joe Cannon, for his magnificent Five Cape circumnavigation for
which he received the Australian Trophy.
Finally, the whole Club were delighted to honour our Admiral with the OCC
Award. Mary has been active in the life of the Club throughout her 34 years as
a member, having had little option in joining when our founder, Humphrey
Barton, secured her as permanent crew. When she came ashore after Hum died
she became a committee member and served during the difficult ’80s. When
seeking a person of stature to take the Commodore’s Flag in an emergency, the
committee turned to Mary, and in six years she led the Club back onto firm ground
before hoisting her Admiral’s Flag in 1994. Throughout all this time she has put in
as much sailing as most members and has never been known to refuse the offer of
an ocean passage. It was but small recognition for Mary’s efforts, but her great
reward is in seeing the Club that her late husband founded grow in strength to
become respected as the premier international deep-sea fraternity.
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