© 180 Degrees Pole to Pole
At 04:14 am on Thursday 24th April we sailed through the Magnetic South Pole, completing our pole to pole expedition 1 year and 16 days after we began.
We left the Kergeulen Islands on the 8th April, sailing out of a deep rocky fjord, through thick mist into a becalmed Southern Ocean beyond. It was strange to let go of land after such a brief stop, and the sensation of sailing again, much like the weather, was dull. However, very soon we were back in the routine, and enjoying some great westerly winds which were propelling us to the Pole at a steady 8 knots.
As we made a diagonal bee-line southwards we were assisted by a series of low pressure weather systems causing the winds to pick up and the Sea to build. This was all good news until the weather reports we receive showed an intense low with winds of consistently over 50 knots (55 – 60 mph). We watched it's track carefully and were buoyed when it seemed to be missing us and veering South, so it was a shock to learn just before it hit that the prediction had changed and put us right in the centre. Over the night of the 16 – 17 th April the winds steadily increased and we reduced the sail area further and further until finally at 6 am on the 17th with a consistent 55 mph blowing we took down the stay sail and were running on bare poles but still making 8 knots!
The swell was huge and messy, with 70 foot waves regularly lifting us up and accelerating us down their faces at frightening speed. A squall came through, the anemometer hit 70 mph, the air was thick with spray, reducing visibility to white-out conditions. At the helm we were being buffeted off our feet. A mountain of water came from behind and as we tried to adjust course against it, the pressure on the rudder was too great and the steering wires snapped. Blizzard careered down the wave turning her starboard side to the swell and we looked up to see another 70 foot beast, but this one was different. The face was sheer, towering above us and the crest, like a frothy avalanche, was crumbling down onto us. I grabbed a pole and wrapped my arms round it with all my strength. The wave made a deafening thud as it raged into the side of the hull and toppled us sideways. I was dangling in mid-air, and then further so that I could look up and notice the Southern Ocean where the sky should have been. It seemed like an eternity before the yacht finally bobbed back up like a cork. Water filled everything that would hold it, ropes lay strewn over the side and the storm jib was escaping through the guard wires.
Below deck things were scattered everywhere, dents in the ceiling from flying computers, sink plugs in bunks, and puddles of water as the sea showered out of the masts. Worse still John and Charlie, sleeping in the now windward bunks had fallen 12 feet across the cabin, bruised, and lying in a tangled mess of soggy bags. We shared a tense few moments, while we waited for the GPS which had been taken out to come back on and luckily it did. Relieved, we waited for the winds to subsided before sailing again, pulling a drogue (a tractor tyre, trailed on 120 metres of rope) behind us to reduce our speed. That night, we saw the startling incandescent quivering of the Aurora Australis, bright green curtains flowing from one horizon to the other. A remarkable day.
As we continued South, the temperature dropped rapidly. Snow and hail were regular watch companions, and the damp chill penetrated everything, leaving fingers and toes with a numb tingling sensation. We found ourselves racing against the weather again, and the winds heading into the Pole were unfavourably strong and on the nose. Worse still, they were forecast to evolve into South-Easterlies of over 50 knots – an unbearable prospect! We pushed hard through the night, through bitter blizzards which coated the deck and rigging with ice and reached the Pole under a dull, threatening sky. With the tempest building around us, we spun the yacht Northwards and began retreating. The waves amplified quickly into a menacing cauldron, and we fought to push on and avoid a repeat of our earlier accident. Just as we thought we were resigned to endure a beating, dropping sails in a wind which left hands resembling frozen leather, the winds abated. We had scraped into the eye of the storm and were able to position ourselves in the lull to receive favourable Westerlies which amazingly have driven us quickly and safely to within a couple of hundred miles of Australia.
We have some distance yet to cover until we reach the finish line in Sydney, but the temperature is steadily rising, even the Sun has redressed it's absence, and we plan to sail past the famous Opera house on the morning of May 9th. A reception has been organised at the Maritime museum, and we are glad to learn that the Australian press are keen to cover our arrival. You are all very welcome to join us there, and if you happen to be in Australia please let us know!
We are very happy to be so close to the conclusion, and continue to be immeasurably grateful to all of you who have made this possible. We have some big hurdles to jump now, making the most of any Press exposure and
not least being sure these last few days go safely.
For more information on the 180 Degrees voyage, please go to www.180degrees.co.uk.
