Dreams of offshore

Cape Horn Birthday: Record-Breaking Solo Non-Stop Circumnavigation
by Peter Freeman

Melbourne, FL: Seaworthy Publications, 2018
$26.95  /  9781948494045

Reviewed by Marianne Scott

*

On October 14, 1984, Peter Freeman left Victoria in his self-built Hartley, a 32-foot, ferrocement (reinforced concrete) sailboat, Laivina, with the goal of circumnavigating the world solo, non-stop, without a radio or other electronics, and without accepting help or goods from anyone, not even fresh fish from a passing fishboat.

Peter had long experience sailing and racing from the Otago Yacht Club in Dunedin, New Zealand, a southern hemisphere island country that lies at about 45°S, roughly the same distance from the South Pole as most British Columbians are from the North Pole. He’d gained offshore experience sailing from Dunedin to Brisbane, Australia in 1981. The next year, he and his wife Arvita sailed non-stop to Victoria, British Columbia. It was “a gentle voyage” that took 65 days. Sadly, Peter’s marriage didn’t survive. Needing to cope with the loss and wishing to have an adventure while pondering the meaning of life, Peter dreamed up his global voyage and began preparing.

When he returned to a cheering crowd in Victoria just 236 days, 10 hours, and 45 minutes later on July 14, 1985, he’d set a new world record—for the fastest singlehanded non-stop circumnavigation for a medium-sized yacht—although it took until December 1986 until the Book of Guinness Records formally recognized the feat.

When he returned to a cheering crowd in Victoria just 236 days, 10 hours, and 45 minutes later on July 14, 1985, he’d set a new world record—for the fastest singlehanded non-stop circumnavigation for a medium-sized yacht—although it took until December 1986 until the Book of Guinness Records formally recognized the feat.

How he survived these nine months alone at sea is the content of Cape Horn Birthday, so named because Peter celebrated his 33^rd birthday on the day he rounded Cape Horn, passing the famous/infamous island in fabulous weather conditions. He’d climbed the mast to the topmost step and later wrote, “My body quivered with passion…the power of that place, and above all the sense of age, history and permanence, struck me…I felt as Odysseus would have felt with the Gods controlling the winds to bring me to this place, and then allowing the wind to fade to a faint zephyr, leaving me gliding gently past its bold visage.”

Of course, it wasn’t all zephyrs as Peter sailed his 27,000+ nautical miles. His log/journal, on which this book is based, revealed his latitude and longitude and the number of nautical miles he’d covered the previous day but also described the routines he followed. As he voyaged before the Global Positioning System (GPS) became available for civilian use, he used his sextant to shoot the sun to determine his latitude. But the sun wasn’t always available at noon, the best time to measure the sun’s altitude locally. Sometimes clouds prevented his taking the shot and he’d be chagrined later that he’d gone off course.

In case one wonders what an offshore sailor does all day, it’s a full-time job to survive and prevent accidents. Making sure he had enough to eat for the entire voyage was a serious matter. He’d stored cases of canned tuna and ham, sacks of oats, jam, peanut butter, flour and other non-perishables, supplementing them with vitamin C pills to ward off scurvy. Making meals on the kerosene pressure stove in a constantly moving boat can be trying, but consuming enough protein and carbohydrates was essential. Baking bread and quickly devouring it was one of his treats. When he consumed his stores in the galley, he’d replenish them from his under-berth lockers while keeping careful records of how much was left. He also collected rainwater in buckets and stored as much as he could for future use.

He continually changed sails to maximize his motion forward, substituting a genoa one for a genoa two, setting the spinnaker, reefing the mainsail, or hoisting the storm jib, often in anticipation of a storm when the constantly watched barometer was dropping. Sometimes the winds increased while he slept and he’d have to quickly don his foul weather gear and wrestle a too-large sail down while raising a smaller one on the heaving deck with spray—sometimes freezing spray—drenching him. He always wore a harness hooked to a lifeline to prevent being washed overboard. When a falling barometer predicted heavy winds, he’d get out the toolbox and screw down floorboards and fasten cabinet doors to secure items that might fly out, break, or injure him in case of knockdown. Managing his mechanical self-steering device after an early breakdown was essential as it’s improbable, if not impossible, for a solo sailor to survive continuous steering by hand.

The roaring forties lived up to their reputation and Laivina encountered series of gales interspersed with fine sailing days. That was until February 18, at 50°05’S, 68°27’E while lashed to the pushpit, Peter “heard a loud hissing sound, followed a second later by a huge explosion of noise and water… I held my breath as I felt solid water enclose me in its icy grip…’Don’t go over,’ my mind screamed…[Laivina] rolled until her mast pierced the water like a spear and was now deep underwater…”

Eventually the yacht righted herself.

Peter was a disciplined sailor, climbing the mast to inspect the rigging, continually scrutinizing the sails, the lines for chafe, and the various buckles and fasteners that wore and frayed during the boat’s relentless movement. I was surprised how many of his sails tore and parted during the voyage. Peter had wisely placed a sewing machine aboard but had underestimated the amount of strong thread he’d need for repairs. When he ran out, he tried dental floss but the wax gummed up the sewing machine. Eventually he found a ball of twine he separated into strands and the adaptation worked.

His friends had provided him with boxes of books which became his companions and kept him from being lonely most of the time. After finishing a book he’d record it in the log, offer a one-line review, then move on to the next volume. He’d also received a series of gifts to be opened on special days, like Christmas or passing the equator. He actually waited for those dates, not indulging in early peeks. Thus he’d waited to open his small birthday fruitcake until reaching the exact day at Cape Horn.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book as it brought back memories. With my husband, David, I’d sailed from Victoria to San Francisco stopping for repairs, then to French Polynesia, hence to Hawaii, and then returning home. Only one storm was encountered but no knockdowns. And lots of stops getting to know local culture.

If you have dreams of going offshore for an extended voyage, this is the book for you. It’s a well-written, at times poetic, true account of what it takes to traverse the mighty oceans. The appendices provide much information on planning a voyage, using a sextant, self-steering equipment, reading a barometer, sails, and rigging. It’ll enlighten you even if you go with a partner to share the voyage. Peter shows the importance of having seafaring knowledge, of being resilient, of being handy—even ingenious—to repair the inevitable damage and breakdowns, of being disciplined to take care of the boat and yourself. From Peter’s reminiscences, you can learn much about handling a boat, the ocean’s relentless power, and yourself. And even if you don’t aspire to cross oceans by yourself, the book is a great tale of adventure you will relish.

*

Marianne Scott is an award-winning Victoria-based writer who has specialized in marine topics since she and her husband, David, sailed from Victoria to French Polynesia in a 35-foot sailboat. Marianne has written for many marine and other publications in Canada, the U.S., and Australia and is a long time volunteer at the Maritime Museum of British Columbia. She authored Distilleries of Vancouver Island: A Guided Tour of West Coast Craft and Artisan Spirits (Touchwood Editions, 2021), co-authored Vancouver boat-builder Ben Vermeulen’s memoir, Before I Forget (2015), authored Ocean Alexander — The First 25 Years (2006), and wrote Naturally Salty — Coastal Characters of the Pacific Northwest (Touchwood Editions, 2003). [Editor’s Note: Marianne Scott has reviewed books by Anne and Laurence Yeadon-Jones, M. Wylie Blanchet, John Dowd & Bea Dowd, and Ron Holland for The British Columbia Review.]

*

The British Columbia Review

Interim Editors, 2023-26: Trevor Marc Hughes (non-fiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction)
Publisher: Richard Mackie

Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an on-line book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.

“Only connect.” – E.M. Forster