YACHT
· 18.05.2026
Twenty years ago to the day, Dee Caffari crossed the finish line in Southampton and earned a place in the sailing history books. With her 72-foot yacht "Aviva", the then 33-year-old had achieved something that only six men had dared to do before her: she sailed around the world single-handed, non-stop and against the prevailing winds - the so-called "impossible route" from east to west across the dreaded waters of the Southern Ocean.
She was alone at sea for 178 days, 3 hours, 6 minutes and 15 seconds. She survived twelve storms with wind forces of over 10 Beaufort, witnessed her boat capsize, navigated through icebergs for three days and battled with a faulty autopilot. But she never gave up. With the emotions of her arrival, the salt of the sea on her skin and the images of the storms in her head, Dee Caffari sat down for a remarkable conversation: Her counterpart was Wilfried Erdmann, the only German to have mastered this extreme challenge, and the then YACHT editor Mathias Müller. What followed was more than just an interview - it was also a dialogue between two people who know what it means to fight the elements alone.
To mark the 20th anniversary, we are republishing this historic document - an authentic testimony to an extraordinary achievement and a fascinating insight into the thoughts of a pioneer in the immediate aftermath of her triumph.
Dee Caffari: It was an incredibly exciting moment, a kind of liberation. We, the "Aviva" and I, had actually made it. I was able to relax completely for the first time in 178 days. And I was very, very proud.
Yes, that's the greatest thing I've ever experienced.
In the harbour entrance with the burning torches in my hands, I had the impression that I could fly, I felt so light and relaxed. You have to remember: I'd never been alone for long before. The moment when a blizzard of white and yellow strips of confetti rained down on me was overwhelming.
I shivered during the first storm. But you get used to it. After all, it was routine"
Yes, I did. At first I thought it was going to be really cool. I was totally relaxed. But when I saw the people, the tears came. I then said to myself, "pull yourself together, you have to look good", but after a few moments I just couldn't hold it in any longer and really cried.
A British Navy frigate accompanied me across the finish line. Here in the marina, it was my mum. She was the first to be escorted to the ship. Then came Princess Anne and Sir Chay Blyth. So I received Her Royal Highness after my mum - very unusual here in the UK.
It was really touching to meet my mum. Because she sees me as a winner, she had a medal made especially for me. She has had some bad moments over the last few months. Watching the relief spread across her face, knowing that she would be able to sleep peacefully again from now on, was a great thing for me.
That is incredible. My family were also very surprised. They had wondered whether they would even find the marina. When they reached the town and saw the signs everywhere, they got out of the car and photographed them.
What I longed for most was a bath in a whirlpool. I treated myself to one the day I arrived.
I was so busy greeting family, friends, press and sponsors on the day of arrival that I didn't get round to eating at all. I only drank champagne. The first meal was breakfast the next morning.
Regenerate? No. I kept jumping up at night, assuming I had to go on deck. Only when I realised that I was lying in a hotel bed did I sink back into my pillow.
When I left the Southern Ocean and rounded the Cape of Good Hope. Coming round this corner was a decisive turning point for me. Especially psychologically. I was heading north again for the first time. From then on, it was clear: everything I do brings me closer to home. What's more, the temperatures were finally rising again and the weather was getting better. The country was closer. There was more traffic. I no longer felt so alone. It all made me feel safer. Passing the Canary Islands, I felt at home again. The North Atlantic is my territory. There I thought: "Yes, I'm actually going to make it."
A lot. Especially with the two autopilots. The worst was around Christmas in the South Atlantic. The electrics went crazy. We really had to think about whether it was safe to sail into the Southern Ocean.
No, not at all. Of course I prepared myself. But I had to rely on my team for the difficult repairs. They had the same technical equipment here in Southampton as I had on board. They looked for solutions based on my fault descriptions. They guided me through some of the repairs according to the motto "Put the red and blue wires together".
Of course, the boat was not necessarily designed for solo sailing. But it was definitely built for these conditions. Since I sailed the Global Challenge last year with exactly this boat and a crew of 17 and knew what she could withstand, I had complete confidence in the Aviva. I knew that in the worst storm I would be able to reduce the sail area, close the companionway and wait below deck. She is so sturdily built that she would not easily lose her mast or anything else. Of course, we had to make some changes so that I could sail her more easily on my own. We installed a central grinder with foot switching for the individual winches and furling systems for the headsails. However, the sail area remained the same.
No, we discussed it beforehand, but I probably wouldn't have been physically able to change it. I only had to lower the main completely once. That was in a storm with 75 knots of wind in the Atlantic out of the Bay of Biscay.
Only in this one situation, but not in the Southern Ocean.
It's funny. The Southern Ocean can be horrible, but the next moment it can be magically beautiful. I think I'll sail there again. But then following the other direction. It's just quicker.
No, I haven't seen a single soul. Did you?
No, I didn't have the time in the short preparation time. And I found the first four weeks alone at sea really difficult. But then I had a nice phone call with my mum at New Year. And she was very confident. So I thought, if she's that positive, then I can be positive too. From then on, I coped better with being alone.
The noise from the whistling wind in the rig was sometimes frightening. And you can't tie up so many things that it gets quieter in the Southern Ocean.
Well, during the Global Challenge, Sir Chay Blyth in Cape Town asked me if I would like to do it. He said I could be the first woman to do it. I returned from the race in July, finalised the sponsorship in September and asked my people how quickly they could rebuild the boat. They did it in eight weeks. I had the necessary experience from the Global Challenge and I had the right boat. I wanted to take the opportunity to put my name in the record books. You know, at some point women will sail faster on this course, will keep improving the time. But I will remain the first.
Of course. Without Sir Chay Blyth, I wouldn't have my place in the sailing history books. He is a great man. He gave me the opportunity and I took it.
I had already sailed 35,000 nautical miles on the "Aviva" before this attempt. Before that, another 40,000 nautical miles on other ships.
I started as a child with my father. But only for fun. As a teenager, I sailed regattas and got my sailing instructor's licence. I gained qualifications in yacht sailing around the age of 20. Then I met Mike Golding (who had previously sailed the same route, editor's note), who took me into his team. I later sailed for Sir Chay's company as skipper of one of the BT Global Challenge yachts.
... yes, in the Southern Ocean. I was on deck shortly beforehand because I wanted to check something. And then I saw these enormous waves, their crests blown away horizontally as white foam by the strong wind. I knew then that it could happen in the next few hours.
That was the horror! It was good to see her and finally be able to share the responsibility. But after 24 hours there was such a mess downstairs in the parlour - terrible. Plus, I always had to tell them what to do and what not to do. I just had my own rhythm and was no longer used to sharing my space.
Many people talk about the possibility of becoming a "lady". But that's a long, long way off for me. Of course it would be great. But, really, I've never really thought about it.
My favourite part of the story was Sir Peter Blake. He was such a great personality. And his story inspired me during my journey.
The diary helped me to process my experiences. It was almost as if I could talk to someone. I will think about whether the material can be turned into a book.
I sailed through icebergs for three days. That was my hardest time. I actually always wanted to see icebergs and when they were there, I quickly took a photo. But when the first night came, I didn't find it funny at all. I wasn't sure whether the radar would register the mountains correctly. At the same time, I didn't want to slow down completely. I wanted to get out there. At times I had the feeling that I couldn't escape the ice, or indeed the entire Southern Ocean. But then came the day I call the day of revelation. For the first time, I saw no more ice and the sunrise had these incredible colours. I felt like the worst was behind me. From then on, my mood rose steadily.
I had actually packed a summer dress. However, there was no opportunity to put it on while travelling.
I spent most of my time at the chart table. I could keep an eye on the instruments there and could make decisions more quickly and safely than on deck. There was also a bench where I could sleep.
When I reached the North Atlantic, I knew I would make it"
No, not directly. But Mike Sanderson, the skipper of the "ABN Amro One", called me on the satellite phone two days before I crossed the finish line. He said that whenever he and his crew had had heavy weather or wind from the front or complained about the food, they had thought about what I was enduring. That would have made things more bearable for them.
Yes, between the many stormy days in the Southern Ocean there were also some nice ones. On those days, I loved watching the albatrosses flying. When I sailed in the Atlantic again, I spent hours marvelling at the dolphins that accompanied me and the Aviva.
Daily. Sometimes I was in contact with my meteorologist Mike Broughton several times a day. This was the only way I could avoid some heavy fronts and find the balance between safety and speedy progress.
Yes, of course. You can't avoid all the weather in time. I sailed through twelve storms over 50 knots, i.e. 10 Beaufort and more, in the south. But you get used to it over time. I was still shaking during my first storm. The second followed, then the third, and eventually it became routine.
Most of the time I sit down at the navigation table and watch the instruments. Sometimes it becomes an obsession. I often try to guess which number will appear next on the wind display.
I had freeze-dried food on board as well as lots of pasta and rice. Unfortunately, however, I couldn't prepare some dishes at all because I had to remove some parts from my gas circuit to repair my autopilot. This meant that the oven was unusable. I could forget about my cake and bread mixes.
No, but my figure has changed. My legs are a little thinner and my shoulders are broader. Overall, I've become more muscular.
At some point, other women will sail faster. But I will always be the first"
Safety is the order of the day on such an undertaking. You have to be very self-disciplined. I know my abilities on board a yacht and know exactly when the time is right to fasten my seatbelt.
It's more a question of the sea state.
Two and a half times. Once I wanted to go up and only had a small wind window to fix the instruments in the masthead after the lightning strike. However, the swell was still too strong, so I wanted to turn back halfway. But I couldn't switch the mechanism from up to down and was thrown wildly back and forth in the rig as I tried. It took me an hour and a half to get back on deck.
I always wanted to sail as fast as I could. But in the heavy storms you have to switch to survival mode. That was the case over long stretches in the Southern Ocean.
Not like that again! Not against the wind again. Maybe the other way round. With a fast boat like an Open 60, it would be a cool thing. The Vendée Globe is also an interesting race.