The original Golden Globe Race is being commemorated fifty four years after the first legendary one man on a boat around the world race. The first was won by the now legendary Robin Knox Johnston. Since then Ocean Racing has become super high tech. GPS, cameras, routing systems, hydrofoiling boats, etc.
But the GGR is a throwback: The race is explained this way:
23 SAILORS… 30,000 MILES… NON-STOP… ALONE… NO OUTSIDE ASSISTANCE
Like the original Sunday Times event, the 2022 Golden Globe Race is very simple: Depart from Les Sables-d’Olonne, France on September 4th, 2022 and sail solo, non-stop around the world, via the five Great Capes and return to Les Sables-d’Olonne.
Entrants are limited to sailing similar yachts and equipment to what was available to Sir Robin in that first race. That means sailing without modern technology or the benefit of satellite-based navigation aids.
Competitors must sail in production boats between 32ft and 36ft overall (9.75 – 10.97m) designed prior to 1988 that have a full-length keel with rudder attached to their trailing edge. These yachts are heavily built, strong and sturdy, similar in concept to Sir Robin’s 32ft vessel Suhaili.
In contrast to the current professional world of elite ocean racing, this edition travels back to a time known as the ‘Golden Age’ of solo sailing.
THE RESCUE - Southern Atlantic - Day 219
10 minutes later Ian called again. He could not launch his drogue to keep Puffin stern to the waves. Conditions were extreme and he had been washed out of the cockpit twice. He had activated his EPIRB. Don McIntyre advised Ian that the extreme weather would last for at least another 5 hours, and that he should launch his drogue if possible, to assist down wind control on Puffin. Keeping the stern facing the wave is critical to avoid being rolled.
There was only 8 inches of water over the cabin sole and Ian said it was probably leakage through the cockpit, the manual bilge pump was working and Puffin was not sinking. The mast was secure and all safety equipment onboard was secure, although his electrical system was low on power.
Because he was unable to make contact with his Satphone, Ian decided to activate his EPIRB so that the Search And Rescue chain would be aware of his position and situation.
The Crisis Management Team (CMT) made initial contact with the MRCC Argentina on the phone, to confirm the EPIRB signal reception. MRCC confirmed receiving signal from Puffin’s EPIRB and that they had opened a case with the information contained in the GGR Safety Book provided by the organiser prior to the start of the race. CMT provided SITREPS as information came available.
At 1725 UTC, Ian had missed a planned safety call to GGR CMT. 25 minutes later they received a message from PUFFIN YELLOW-BRICK YB3 satellite tracking and texting unit advising ” Button ALERT…. 46., 57.250S 037, 12.382W “
This meant that Ian had gone to the YB3 satellite texting and tracking unit, manually lifted the safety cover and pressed the distress alert button. This is recognised as a distress protocol for all GGR entrants, suggesting he was in trouble and could not text or use the sat phone. A SITREP was immediately forwarded to MRCC Argentina, followed by a call to explain the importance of this development.
Search and Rescue Puerto Belgrano are coordinating the rescue. Puffin was still in extreme weather. There are several ships in his vicinity, including a tanker 120 miles North of his position, and several fishing boats. MRCC Argentina is attempting to make contact with them and seek their support.
The low pressure system is moving quickly through Puffin’s position, currently SW 55 knots, gusting 88 knots. Puffin’s tracker position is updated every 15 minutes. At 1810 UTC, Ian’s second satphone and second YB3 tracking and texting device (normally on standby) were activated. Ready for use.
In the riprap,
in the cool caves,
in the dim and salt-refreshed
recesses, they cling
in dark clusters,
in barnacled
fistfuls,
in the dampness that never leaves, in the deeps
of high tide, in the slow
washing away or the water
in which they
feed,
in which the blue shells
open a little, and
the orange bodies
make a sound, not loud,
not unmusical. as
they take nourishment,
as the ocean
enters their bodies. At low tide I am on the riprap, clattering
with boots and a pail. rock over rock; I choose
the crevice, I reach
forward into
the dampness.
my hands reeling
everywhere for the
best, the biggest. Even before
I decide which
to take,
which to twist from the wet rocks, which to devour,
they. who have no eyes to sec with,
sec me, like
a shadow,
bending forward. Together they make a sound,
not
loud,
not unmusical. as they
lean into the rocks. away
from my grasping fingers.
