Interview with Guillermo in Melbourne

20-01-2006 Ericsson Racing Team getting ready for a new start

01-01-2006 New photos

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NORTHERN ATLANTIC - Ericsson  29 42 North - 27 26 West

The departure of the Volvo Ocean Race from Vigo was really something. I recognised a few hours later, once we were in the solitude of the ocean. Before that I was too concentrated on getting the highest speed possible out of the Ericsson, a few good tactical decisions and a good speed at the stern made us pass the first mark in the first position. "Well. well" I thought to my self, this starts well. But, when at night the VOR 70 started to ride waves and winds of up to 40 knots, the reality became tough, wet and dramatic, just the way ocean races at this level are and that only those that are aboard a boat like this realise.  In only a few hours the well organised interior of our boat turned into a chaos of spare parts, candles, food and salted water united to make up a tremendous mess. Outside, the people on guard worked to get the first reef of the mainsail, we are tied to the security harnesses in order to avoid the waves from sweeping the deck and throw us literally off the boat. In a wave that submerges the boat it takes the rudder away from me and I'm left hanging from the harness. I can't breath and I believe I've broken something but I don't know exactly what. My head aches, my ribs and for a few minutes salted water pours out of my nose, They disconnect me from the harness while MacDonald holds the rudder so the boat will not bolt completely out of course. I hear that they ask me if I'm OK but I can't talk, nor breathe. Little by little I recover from the bruises and I believe the most hurt is a finger on my left hand. They check it out and it seems to be broken. They immobilise it and let's continue, nothing has happened. Another diver into a wave and this time it's the turn for another two members of the crew. One is literally swiped to the stern of the boat and the other hits his head really hard with a wave that hits his feet like a taekwondo fighter. I've never in my life seen boats so difficult to control and the saying that I so often repeat that to end up first, first you have to finish. After a few hours we get an email from Movistar, they've broken and retire. Well... On one hand it's sad, because we are all sportsmen and we like to win competing and because there are two Spaniards onboard, Xavi and Pepe, that are both great yachtsmen. On the other hand I think that this is the result of a series of bad decisions made by their technical director or whatever is the title. You can't keep saying that you are the best and the favourites and forgetting about the rest. Maybe, if you've thought about the other Spanish yachtsmen that are now on other boats or stayed on dry land, and if the boat had been constructed in Spain and on in some average Australian shipyard and many other details, they could be telling a completely different story and they wouldn't have been whistled at during the inshore race, in Sanxenxo, at home. Well, as the saying goes, you harvest what you sow.

A few hours, in the next communication from the organisation, the American Paul Cayard and the Pirates of the Caribbean also fall. We don't know why as the organisation doesn't tells us so and a few hours later the Australian boat stops in Madeira. Three days into the race only four boats are still competing. A sad start and probably the sponsor of the race, Volvo, is asking themselves what went wrong. Well, they've made decisions without asking us, the yachtsmen and they've created a complicated class and now the results is obvious and the balance is breakdowns and withdrawals. 

Today the sun has appeared and we are almost by the Canary Islands though far more west and we've been able to get out of the wet clothes that we've been wearing for the last four  three days and put it up to dry. We've been able to eat something hot and start a more or less normal life under these conditions and routine. We've also been able to straighten out the mess inside and to bail the boat. Magnus has also been able to create a immobiliser for me with the medical kit that we get from the organisation and I've started to take anti-inflammatories. Physically we are very tired and we start to take vitamins and tonics in order to be able to continue to fight with strength with the rest of the boats. At the moment being Brasil 1 leads the fleet, or what's left of it. It seems as if they've had a little more wind from the east and we would have preferred to continue with the changes of wind between the ABN and Brasil 1. We've made up to 16 gybes during the day, and in each one of them the whole crew is on guard which means that, for four days, for one reason or another, I've only slept a few hours, but at least we are still in the race...

November 20, 2005

Five days after the departure from Vigo, life onboard of the Ericsson is settling to normal. The first days did catch the fleet sort of unprepared and the break downs left two of our main rivals in this battle. The heat and the flying fish have appeared and we are navigating in the Tropics and the wetsuits are left hanging in the interior. Only a shower or two from the black clouds wet us with fresh water at which we are very grateful, as these will be our only showers until Cape Town. These black clouds bewilder us with the sudden changes of sense and intensity of the wind. The interior of the boat is a pigsty though we try to straighten it daily, but there is no more time than the one needed to drive the boat as fast as possible. We've recovered miles compared to the two ABN and Brasil 1, after, on the second day, we broke a halyard and a spy fell, broken, into the water. We needed an hour to recover what was left of is and continue. The first days, as well, were bad, physically, for some of the members of the crew, among those the one that signs these lines. The result, in this case, was a broken little finger. And I believed it was only useful to pick your nose but now I've discovered it's more difficult to put on my boot and to open my zip while I try to stay onboard so I will not fall overboard.
Others, like Tom have their bodies filled with blacks, as if they were caught by Mike Thyson in his best moment. Then, when the boat dives its nose into a wave at 25 knots and tons of water sweeps the deck  nobody can stop it and it throws away anything it finds and, thus, we get started and, if it nothing but our bodies, well, this is the result... In the doldrums, the equatorial calm zones, part of the race might be decided.

November, 20th, 2005
Today, as the guard dawns, when I managed the helm, I've remembered the gift from my friend Carlos, a few slices of ham from Jabugo. I've taken it as if it was a huge treasure and I intended to eat it alone, put a few pats on the back has let me know that this would not be the case. In a real display off friendship, I knew this would not be the case and all these drivers, apart from a good doses of bad milk in order to enjoy of part of it and not of all of it. But now we'll eaten most of while the tropical sun dawned by the horizon. And it was so good that even the most primitive of us, meaning even the Australian, sent you a few lickings of the tray to carry away. "Very good, mate, this bacon, mate". I thought of telling him, "that is no bacon, brute, it's ham from Jabugo, a piece of art", but I never did.

And now I have to say goodbye as I need to go to sleep, if I can as the heat is increasing.

November 20th, 2005

The droldrums, the transition zone between the trade winds of the Northern Atlantic and the Southern, is one of the most technical and
tactical parts of this first leg. The result depends a lot on how you negotiate the black clouds that come by in the form of small storms.
One of these clouds has allowed us to overhaul Brasil 1 and ABN 2. We passed the Brazilians when a cloud loaded with water and wind was over the two boats.

It's amazing how much energy these clouds can have. They are able to leave hundreds of liters of water in a moment. When it was over us, we took the chance to sweeten our bodies and clothes.

The heat at these latitudes and the glueling humidity makes life inside not at all easy, not even to sleep. You don't know how to lay
in order to breath some fresh air. The heat that is absorbed by the black carbon that the boat is built off makes the situation worse, making the black interior become like a mix between oven and steam sauna.

There will be no offerings to Neptuno, as is the tradition upon crossing the Ecuador. It's only done for the newcomers and onboard the
Ericsson the one that has crossed it less has done so six times.

The humidity and the transpiration makes small infections appear on our skin that we have to control before they become a more serious
infection that can be more difficult to cure, but it's not easy when you are wet with salty water all day long.

We hope to pass the Isle of Fernando de Noronha tomorrow, from there on we'll have more or less halfway to go to Capetown.

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South Atlantic - 10 degrees 47 south - 32 degrees 59 West
0330 gmt 23/11/05

When you look upon a map of the South Atlantic you'll see that the direction we are taking seems to bring us, instead of to South Africa, to the other side, to Argentina. You get the impression that you are making a false turn for no reason at all and it is because that the big band of high pressure that covers a big part of this Ocean has cut the path since ancient times for all sailing boats that make this route. The Santa Helena High Pressure, named after the island where Napoleon was held prisoner, sends the storms further South or further North and in a radio of almost 1500 miles the light winds and the doldrums dominate the sea.

We passed the Equator without any kind of ceremony to honor the Neptune, as is the tradition, because everybody onboard the Ericsson already did so several times, or many. I believe this is my thirteenth time. The equatorial calms, the doldrums, kept us playing cat and dog with their black clouds, charged with water and winds that constantly varied in direction and intensity, then leaving us without for some hours. A kind of psychological game between Mother Nature and ourselves, in which we always end up losing. Finally we see an opening at the horizon, that is the end of the trade winds of the Southern Atlantic, where we'll find more constant winds.

After we passed the archipelago, that seems like paradise, of Fernando de Noronha,

islands that are ecologically protected by the Brazilian Government, we've summed more points to our ranking as this is one of the points that are mandatory by the Volvo Ocean Race's organization, kind of flying goal that scores. The boat ABN Amro has done so in the first position and we did so as the second, followed closely by the Brasil 1. We've been seeing that boat and the other ABN 2 for the last three days, since crossing the Equator.

After 11 days living in this kind of cave, half primitives and half science fiction, it seems like as if you were born here. The body gets used to the fractured schedule of sleeping, to the physical effort, the dehydrated food, and so forth. It's difficult to explain to people that don't know about ocean races and the rhythm of daily life during this kind of competitions, but, to give an example: you go from sleeping in a hanging mattress to turn a winch that produces a force of about 10 tons, in a question of minutes.

To enter inside the boat means to rest or to eat, the rest is all done on the deck. Some don't even use the carbon WC that's inside but do it out in the air, putting their ass over the boat's side. This is the primitive part. On the other hand, when you are at the helm or the trimers (those that adjust the sails) of the Ericsson you visualize 8 multifunctional screens with digits that change 4 times per second, which means that 115.000 digits pass through your brain in an hour. That's the technical and scientific part of this world, half pirates (our appearance starts to become deplorable), half astronauts (we eat the same food, dress similar materials and use sophisticated navigation software and satellite communication).

The tensions of the sheets and the halyards are so big that each time a sail has to be trimmed, in the inside of the boat there is a burst similar to one of those fireworks that produces fear. This happens every 2 or 3 minutes and the carbon material of which the boat is built has the effect of a resonating chamber , multiplying its effect by 10. Delicious indeed. This is why, when somebody who doesn't know about this says that he or she would like to make a "trip" of these, I think to myself: how little they know and the face they would make in the middle of it all and when, falling exhausted on the mattress, being awakened believing it's the bombing of Pearl Harbour.

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Southern Atlantic, 27th of November 2005 - 30 degrees 57 South - 26 degrees 15 East

We keep navigating tacked to port. I believe that, of all the times I've circumnavigated, it was never such a long time with the same tack. Since we crossed the Equatorial line and for 1900 miles we live at the port side of the Ericsson. When we change side I'm sure we won't even know how to walk on deck, used to always link with a leg shorter than the other as we are. For me it's tougher, due to a recent knee surgery. After a few hours at the helm, the leg stiffens so much that it becomes difficult for me to co-ordinate the movements without falling. I'm like a duck, bumping into everything and everybody that crosses my path.

Today, the Swedish crewmember, Magnus, has connected live with Swedish TV in order to show how is life on board of the boat and respond to some of the interviewer's questions. This kind of competitions, where the public isn't physically present, like at the stadium, need the technology via satellite in order to enter homes that are thousands of kilometres away and from the most remote oceans.

Today, also for the first time in two weeks, I've been able to see my face reflected in a shutdown computer screen. We don't have any kind of mirror on board and, with a thick beard and an Australian canvas hat, I've got a flash as of a face of one of those actors that used to share cast with Clint Eastwood, who always walked around chewing tobacco and spitting. When I looked at the rest of the crewmembers I used to think to myself what a deplorable aspect they showed. Now, I realise that mine is even worse, because the blondes always look better even when slovenly, but the dark Latinos, once the beard grows, we look like on of those "WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE" flyers, capable of scaring even the bravest sheriff.

We've entered colder waters now, so we don't hear the flying fishes anymore. They have enlivened our nights flying into the hull in suicidal flights. The speed at which they fly added to ours assured for a mortal impact at 50 km per hour that, by the way, could be even dangerous if it hits you in the face. Fortunately, there was only one hit, in a shoulder, without no further consequences.

As we don't have any sort of information from the exterior world, we ask ourselves what has happened to our rivals, Movistar and Caribbean Pirates. We know that they are in port, repairing, but we do not know if they try to continue and finish the leg in order to achieve some points or, simply, send the boats, by freighter or by an Antonov airplane, to South Africa. For the moment being, our worry is to catch up on the Brasil 1 and hope that a calm upon arriving to Cape Town will allow us to catch up on the two ABN.

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Southern Atlantic, 35 degrees 35 minutes South - 1 degree 17 minutes East - 30 November 2005

Until now you told nobody about the breakdowns and the problems that you suffered, specially during the first two days of the race, when the extreme conditions caused our main competitors, Movistar and Caribbean Pirates, to abandon. The reason for this secrecy was not to show our rivals our weak points so they would feel more motivated and strong. We had lost one of our spys upon breaking a halyard and this provoked one of our sheets to cut part of the helm as if it was made of butter. Also, the stainless elastic strap, prepared to support several tons of torsion, totally bent over, plus an endless list of breakdowns. Last night, very dark by the way, a big noise similar to a metallic explosion, switched on all alarms onboard of the Ericsson. At that moment I was inside, preparing myself a hot drink after being at the helm for several hours with the waves unmercifully hitting my face, though I wore a jet helmet for protection.

At the voice of "Everybody on deck!" the crew members that were resting put on their wetsuits and their safety harnesses and we tried to discover where did that noise come from. Very soon we found out, when the boat started to list over and to turn over. Then we saw that the breakdown came from the security valve, designed to support up to 200 tons of pressure, had exploded and the keel rocked from one side to another, uncontrolled, while the sails and the waves made the boat list over until it touched the crosstrees in the water. We took down the sails as soon as possible and the situation became more controlled and less dangerous.

We needed two long hours to control the roll of the keel's 6 tons. Our problem had been to catch in on our closest rival, Brasil 1, save ourselves and, then, to make the boat arrive to the Cape Town and, at least, gain points. We are at least a 1000 miles away from South Africa that is, also, the closest land to where we are, and navigating at a speed of 16 knots with an emergency system that allows us to make the boat advance at 60 % of its speed. The uncertainty about whether any other part of the keel had been affected or not. Each hit of a wave or strange noise provoked us to make worried faces, the sensation of, on one hand need to go at maximum speed because we are still racing and, on the other, that the stand can breakdown, is really stressful. Personally, I overcome it by ignoring the problem and keep competing, forcing the boat as fast as possible, as if nothing is happening. To worry only produces an headache and I'm not into this sport to get one.

As an anecdote, I can mention that, while we tried to control the delicate situation, somebody decided that the priority was to find the safety wests and the emergency bags to bring to the safety boats. When I went downstairs, everything was ready to abandon the boat. What's funny is that I still don't know who did it, though I imagine who, as the suspect is the one that swims worse among us. Personally, I also had a moment when I visioned myself playing the harp from a cloud.

A few hours later, at sunrise, things seem different. As well, the sun has risen in spite of the cold and an albatross has followed us, flying over us, majestic, all day, with its almost three meters of wings. We've eaten well and relaxed a bit. Now, what's important is to arrive in one piece and prepare the boat for the next leg.

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Cape Town - South Africa - 4th of December

Until you haven't had the first shower after three weeks without touching the liquid element for hygienic reasons, you don't really realize that you have arrived to land. For a long while you are like fascinated with the sweet water that takes away all the salt that impregnates your body and that has been your travel companion all this time and, sometimes and in allied with it's inseparable friend, the humidity, provokes infections and sores on the skin.

After 21 days of racing, the Ericsson also rests just like us under the summer sun in Cape Town, South Africa. The last week has been the most intense, and tense, for us. A breakdown in the hydraulic system of the tilted keel has put not only the boat's but also our integrity pending from a thread or, more accurate, a valve. The end of the leg has been a mix of disillusion for the result but also to breath deeply and peace of mind as we crossed the line with the boat in one piece and accumulated some points that maintains us in the second place of the general, a point less than the Dutch ABN 1, that, for now, is leader.

To cross the line of arrival after a competition that lasts 21 days 24 hours daily is always a reason for pride and happiness. You don't only fight against your competitor but also against the unbeatable nature and where a breakdown of any of the thousands of pieces that compose a sophisticated racing boat like the Ericsson show all the tones from the catalogue of dangers. From the slightest to the one that risks the lives of the crewmembers. Now we have to recover physically while the team on land begins the tough job to work flat out and against the clock to tune the boat, repair what's broken and strengthen the parts where problems have been detected. In short, to improve what has been learnt during the first 6.500 miles of competition in this marathon of the oceans and have the boat ready for the second led, the toughest and most risky one, if possible.

The rest of the teams have different vicissitudes. Some, like the Movistar, will arrive from Portugal on a cargo ship after retiring too soon because of the early breakdown, too, of the structure of the tilted keel. Others, like Caribbean Pirates, from Hollywood, sent days ago the red boat on an Antonov cargo airplane. The anecdote was that the soviet airplane destroyed the airport in Cape Town upon landing and it had to remain closed several hours, in order to be repaired.

Meanwhile, the rumors continue in the corridors regarding the lack of security of these boats to meet the tough conditions in the Southern Ocean. The press, yachtmen and fans doubt about the new class VOR 70, created for this event and with a sponsor like Volvo that sells it's brand of vehicles associated to maximum security and fidelity, something limited on these boat that we compete on. The answer to these rumors will begin to elucidate by the end of the next leg, the toughest as for conditions through the loneliness of the Indian Ocean. For the moment being it's known that the boats will leave Cape Town on the second day of 2006, but not those that will arrive three weeks later in Melbourne, Australia.

Personally I also need to undergo an exhaustive tuning process before the next leg, with an outcome of a broken finger, some infections on the throat's and wrist's skin, provoked by the friction of the wetsuit during three weeks, the loss of 5 kilos of weight, a tendinitis in the shoulder and, also, to recover the mobility of the left leg, that underwent surgery shortly before the departure from Vigo.

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25-02-2006 Pacific Ocean 51 degrees 10,529 South 171 degrees 3,519 East

Yesterday I went to sleep after a watch and it was 10 o'clock on a Monday and when I woke up it was midnight on a Sunday. This reverse movement in time is the direct effect of crossing the Meridian 180 and go from East to West. The result is that you repeat the day. This is what made Phileas Fogg win the bet in the London club in the "Around the World in 80 days". And this issue is always a reason for discussion and confusion on board, the comments are whether we carry one day less of food, if we'll arrive a day earlier, etceteras. While I write these lines, the sound of the radar's alarm goes off, the profile of the ABN 1 appears, it crosses our path about 4 miles ahead of the bow. Apparently, if there are no breaks in the fleet, this will be an interesting leg with the fleet navigating together and crossing each other frequently.

The temperature have decreased considerably since we left the capital of New Zealand, Wellington, and most of the crew members begin to wear Balaclava on their heads. At night you can only distinguish one from another by the height: the shorter, the short, the normal and the tall, the last one keeps it on even when he goes to sleep. The mandatory points imposed by the organisation in order to reduce the always dangerous meetings with icebergs make us navigate the parallel 51 and the water's temperature is not extremely cold. While I write these line, the 500 square meter spinnaker explodes. The complete crew appears on deck in order to get it down in as good shape as possible and hoist the other one fast, in order to lose as little time as possible. Adding one thing and another I don't believe I'll sleep much today. Now Dingo, the sailmaker onboard, will have to steel time from his sleep and start to sew the sail. Keeping in mind that the spinnaker is as big as one and a half tennis courts and the boat's interior, where it must be repaired, measures 4 square meters and that it has to be completely flat to sew. That shows how much fun there will be for the next 12 hours inside the boat.

It seems that since we won the inshore race in Sanxenxo we haven't made one thing right, including breakdowns and errors. In Wellington, watched by surprised passerbys I stepped on a dog's shit upon purpose, and that's difficult because it's a very clean city and there are few dogs. Let's hope it brings some results for this leg.

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7-03-2006 Southern Ocean. 48º S. 49º W

CAPE HORN, FROM ERICSSON RACING TEAM

Photos of Guillermo Altadill's 6th pass of the Cape Horn

When I saw the faces of the crew during my watch, looking back over my shoulder and a voice shouting to me: Don't look back, Guillermo!!, I realised that the big waves we'd had during the last hours and which made us sail at 30 knots in some almost uncontrollable surfings, had even become bigger and that they had exceeded the limits between fun and danger.

When I decided to look back to satisfy one's curiosity, I saw what only the Nature is able to create, millions of water tonnes moving at a considerable speed. Really, I won't forget this rounding of Cape Horn, and I'll remember a concrete wave in which there was an obituary with my name, my birth date and, in suspension points, the other date, the one I hope will take a long time to come.

Several times, I've been asked if I'd ever been scared during the around the world regattas I'd done until today... The answer wasn't really easy, because it's hard to be scared while competing; competition and fear are incompatible things, or at least, that's what I thought. From here on I'll have a more concrete answer: during my sixth rounding of Cape Horn, I was really scared. And I think that whoever was at my place some days ago with winds of 50 knots and some waves I'd never seen, would also have been scared. The old stories from sailors tell that the helmsman wasn't allowed to look back in hard swell conditions. The reason was evident: if he saw what was coming behind him, he would be so scared that he would become a real danger for the whole crew.

The reason for the formation of the enormous typical Cape Horn waves is that the sea bottom goes suddenly from a 4,000 m to a 70 m depth, creating an enormous step where Southern Ocean's big waves become huge holes that can simply gobble up a considerable sized yacht. Through the whole sailing history, this remote spot of Southern Patagonia has registered the highest number of yacht losings, and the Horn's storms and fame are well-known since ancient times.

For several hours, the crew on board Ericsson Racing Team gave up competing and tried just to survive and round the legendary Horn out of danger, while Movistar headed Ushuaia to carry out some repairs on its keel structure. Now, competition is back as nothing had really happened, and we're sailing towards Rio de Janeiro and thinking about the tropical temperatures that await us in Brazil, after having suffered two weeks of cold, tiredness and tension competing in one of the more inhospitable places of the world: the Southern Ocean. If I had to define what is hell like, I could describe it as a night sailing in these waters when the sea becomes rough.

Photos of Guillermo Altadill's 6th pass of the Cape Horn