He wanted to go one better. At the age of 60, Wilfried Erdmann set off on his greatest adventure: Having already circumnavigated the world non-stop in 1984/85, he now wanted to sail around it again "the wrong way round", against the prevailing wind directions. A cross-short through the entire Southern Ocean.
After Erdmann cast off the lines in Cuxhaven on 14 August 2000, his course initially took him south through the Atlantic and down along the South American coast to Cape Horn, which he rounded on 5 November. On Christmas Eve, he and his "Kathena Nui" were almost exactly centred between Cape Horn and New Zealand. An entry from his book "Alone against the wind" (Delius Klasing Verlag, 16.90 euros).
133rd day - Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve on the open sea. All alone as a mother. Silent night, holy night. My "Christmas tree" consists of white and even more green spinnaker cloth torn into strips. I have the tinsel outside. The lakes have white stripes. Against the light, they look silvery and shiny with a little imagination. The barometer is falling. And it howls in the rig. I already know this sound, it hints at an encore.
Before it gets to that point, especially more location, I set up my phone: Cable connections clamped directly onto the 12-volt battery. Antenna aligned on deck and off I go. Good connection. Very good. What does a family tell each other when they are so extremely separated? First, as usual, the facts and that the BT racers want to get in touch with me. They are about 1,000 miles south-east of me. How nice. Then it's about the food: fish there, goulash here. There the tree has 17 candles, here two. I have 8 o'clock, there it's already 3 o'clock. Towards the end it gets pretty sad again. Kym gives me a surprise. He wants to fly to New Zealand and take a photo of me from a charter plane in front of the snares. "That's ultra-strong, isn't it?" He's not convinced that I agree, but I should think it over carefully.
There is still time. For now, the pressure continues to drop, one millibar per hour. I get restless and bring Christmas Eve forward to the morning. I dress up: white shirt, Irish wool jumper, light-coloured corduroy trousers.
First of all, the pressure continues to drop, one millibar per hour. I get restless and move Christmas Eve to the morning.
Kym also made me curious about the big Christmas parcel - packed in August. On the floor, legs spread to brace myself, I hastily tear open the parcel, thinking all these days, hopefully there's something real to eat inside. There isn't. At least I find it wrapped up nicely: Cigarettes, a jar of olives, a photo album, two lighters (very welcome), a flannel shirt (for the arrival?), an audio cassette with music by Reinhard Mey ("Einhandsegler auf dem Ozean", aptly titled). The other gift packs contain: From Marlene, a Kracht "The Yellow Pencil". Wolfgang has wrapped up Mankell's "Midsummer Murder". The photo on the inside of the book is hilarious. Wolfgang is posing with an apron in the kitchen of his log cabin - in one hand a filled beer mug, in the other he is balancing a plate of roast chicken. I treat myself to a sip from the 0.2-litre bottle of Jubi-Akvavit from Marion and Jürgen from Gütersloh. Cheers to Christmas. One more Marlboro. How does Kym know that this used to be my flavour? Intoxicated by my existence - in connection with the noise on the side of the boat. 7 knots. Yes, that's too much. Two reefs in the main follow. The speed decreases imperceptibly.
2.00 pm. The Christmas table has been cleared. My two are now safely seated at the festively laid table in front of filled plates, and I now have four appearances on deck here. Each time I'm topped up with salt water. It's also getting down to business below deck. Not just sloping and bumpy, but noisy. The big Christmas dinner is postponed. I make do with pasta, goulash and chocolate.
Had the lightness in the morning that you produce on public holidays. Now I'm thinking about storm sails
4pm. Had the lightness in the morning that you produce on public holidays. Now I'm thinking of storm sails. The orange jib goes marvellously with the tinsel between the combs. Sounds funny, but at the moment of writing it down I'm very disappointed. I realise that the weather here capsizes terribly quickly. There's nothing left of the distance, even if the horizon is narrow, and the feeling you get on a day like this. Nothing. Instead, into the oil, out ... Concerns, restlessness, tension.
6 pm: No "Deutsche Welle" with bells ringing. No glass of red wine. No wandering thoughts about my two. No light changes in the sky. Instead, north-north-west 9. Sky and water hardly differ. You can't make out a chimney. Just a uniform light grey for the sky and a dark grey with white streaks for the heavy element: the sea. A gloomy looking nature.
You can read the entire journey in Wilfried Erdmann's book "Alone against the wind" (Delius Klasing Verlag, 16.90 euros). Erdmann's latest work is also highly recommended "Ingeborg and the sea" (Delius Klasing Verlag, 29.90 euros).
