This Is No Winter Wonderland

Far from the TV cameras and the revelry--far from anywhere, in fact--97 men and women from several nations are experiencing their own version of the Winter Olympics.

The calendar says it’s summer in the Southern Hemisphere, but they would never know it with the freezing and perilous conditions they have been facing every day.

They are the fatigued and frequently fearful crew members of the eight 64-foot boats in the Volvo Ocean Race, currently on the fourth leg through the Southern Ocean from Auckland, N.Z., around Cape Horn, graveyard of ancient mariners, to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Excerpts from this week’s log:

Tuesday: “Amer Sports One came close to disaster as they lost control of their overpowered yacht when charging toward two large icebergs right in front of them. When the yacht wiped out, they shredded the storm spinnaker.”

And sailed on.

Wednesday: “News Corp hit a growler while sailing at 21 knots of boat speed. Fortunately, the boat appeared to be sound and the crew were all safe. Ross Field, navigator and helmsman, reported: ‘I am bloody worried. This is dangerous. There are icebergs everywhere.’” (A “growler” is a broken-off hunk of iceberg, often larger than a bus, lurking little higher than the surface, undetectable by radar and virtually invisible at night.)

News Corp too sailed on.

Then, on Thursday, worse news: “The Swedish entry SEB in the Volvo Ocean Race this morning lost her [mast]. The boat and crew are not in danger.”

How reassuring. The 1979 Fastnet Race off Great Britain, when 15 sailors died, and the 1998 Sydney-Hobart Race off Australia, where six lost their lives, were relatively close to land within range of reasonable, if difficult, air rescue efforts. SEB was 1,250 nautical miles (1,439 statute miles) from the nearest land.

“You are on your own, absolutely,” said Dee Smith, the Amer Sports One navigator/helmsman who is sitting out this leg in Novato, Calif., after shoulder surgery. “There’s nothing anybody can do for you.

“You rely on the other [race] boats.”

If they happen to be nearby. But Amer Sports Too, the all-woman team led by American skipper Lisa McDonald, was nearly 500 miles behind the leader--Germany’s Illbruck--and 400 from the nearest boat, the Rupert Murdoch-sponsored News Corp, running sixth--not counting SEB, which had its own problems.

Turning around to go back should Amer Sports Too need help would mean heavy pounding upwind in winds to 30 and 35 knots, a seemingly impossible scenario.

Meanwhile, SEB’s struggling crew, which actually includes only two Swedes--skipper Gurra Krantz and trimmer/helmsman Magnus Woxen--cut away the carbon fiber mast, which had snapped a few feet above the deck. They arranged a jury rig from the boom and other parts so they could continue on at a slow six knots to the southern tip of Argentina where they would get a new rig installed.

Even when the sailing is under control, the crew labors through four-hour watches, not only hoisting, trimming and lowering sails but shifting everything that will move, such as unused sails and food stores, to the windward side of the boat every time they tack or jibe. “It is fatigue that causes the crew errors that cause the breakdowns,” Smith said. “As soon as you break one thing, then something else goes down.

“It’s physically hard, it’s mentally hard--and it’s a yacht race.”

For these efforts in miserable conditions, they are paid salaries upwards from $60,000. But they will receive no medals and no prize money.

Sailors call regions below Latitude 40 the “Roaring Forties” and below Latitude 50 the “Furious Fifties.” Some of these boats, seeking stronger winds, invaded the Insane Sixties.

“If you look at sailing down there without the ice, it’s hard enough,” said Smith, who was there with Chessie Racing in ’98. “Throwing the ice on top, it just throws you over the edge.”

Did he wish he were back there?

“Yes and no. Yeah, I’m glad I’m not there but, yeah, I wish I was there. That is the best sailing you can do.

“It is a survival situation. It is difficult and scary--scarier than you could ever believe. But it’s so incredibly intense that it’s good.”

For this breed of adventurer, it’s irresistibly intoxicating. Excitement, danger, fear--the world’s ultimate thrill ride.

Steve Hayles, navigator on Tyco: “Wives and girlfriends please take note that when we start talking about coming back down here in four years’ time we should be locked away until we come to our senses.”

They couldn’t keep Paul Cayard away. With Rudiger at his side, he was skipper for EF Language’s victory in ‘97-98 but was committed to Larry Ellison’s Oracle America’s Cup campaign this time. Then Ellison inexplicably demoted him from sailing director to administrative work, so Cayard was restless in limbo when a replacement was needed for Smith. Ellison gave him leave, and there he was, reveling in the Southern Ocean experience again.

A few days into the leg he wrote: “The guys have the ‘tomahawk chop’ going on deck, trying to shake the blood into their fingertips. Below you have the steam of your breath visible at all times. We are living in a wet refrigerator.”

And loving it.

One day after complaining that he had been gripping the wheel so tightly to control the boat that tendinitis had claimed 25% of the strength in his left hand, Cayard, 42, was his old self.

“Now the wind has died off, the situation is tame,” he said. “No more beautiful icebergs to look at. I am sad. I am afraid the ride is over.

“I have not written a lot about the cold and the dampness and [lack of] comforts because honestly, I am hardly aware of them. Of course, when I pay attention to it, I realize that I stink incredibly.... But so what? That is nothing when compared to the unbelievable ride.”