Anniversary: 25 years ago, Wilfried Erdmann completed his single-handed, non-stop, upwind circumnavigation of the globe
Original text from YACHT 16/01.
Where did it all begin? Where will it all end? In Goltoft on the Schlei, where Wilfried Erdmann lives when he’s not at sea? In Missunde, by the ferry house, where he prepared ‘Kathena nui’ for this final great voyage? In Cuxhaven, the official starting point of his journey against the wind? Or out here, in the south-west of England, where a picturesquely situated lighthouse at Start Point marks the end of the English Channel and the beginning of the Atlantic – that vast, seemingly endless expanse in which Wilfried Erdmann feels so at home?
More about Wilfried Erdmann:
He has passed this rock many times before and has always felt a special connection to the rugged coastline, most recently at the end of August a year ago. It is a “magical place” for him, says Wilfried Erdmann. This is where the ocean opens up. This is where the circle closes. And although it is still 580 nautical miles to Cuxhaven from there, Start Point symbolises his return. The beginning of the end. The rest is just coasting.
After the storm, a dot appears on the horizon
But where is Germany’s most famous round-the-world sailor? Last night, gales of 60 knots raged at the entrance to the canal. Further out to sea, the wind was still blowing at 40 knots – a good 8 on the Beaufort scale. Off the continental shelf, treacherous swells up to six metres high have formed. Even now, ten hours later, unusually high waves are still rolling in from the south-west. They keep causing smaller boats to vanish from view. But after a two-day search, a tiny speck finally appears on the horizon – exactly where Wilfried Erdmann should be coming from. The speck becomes a sail, then a boat, and finally a certainty. It’s him.
Like a sailor on shore leave, the ‘Kathena nui’ staggers down the swell with the wind behind her. The westerly wind, which has now died down to a breeze, is not strong enough to stabilise her course. The sails, greyed by more than 30,000 miles, are flapping. “Kathena” looks small compared to the waves; she seems weary. And yet the aluminium yacht exudes strength. The yacht, just 10.60 metres long, built by Dübbel & Jesse and already tested once, 15 years ago, on a non-stop round-the-world voyage, looks as if it has just come fresh from the shipyard. Not a scratch on the hull, not a dent in the aluminium; the underwater paint is as bright red as it was at the start of the voyage, an unimaginable eleven months ago.
A fist raised to the sky
As we get closer, there is no sign of Wilfried Erdmann. The ‘Kathena nui’ is sailing on autopilot, with the mainsail lashed down and the jib furled. On the foredeck, the orange-red jib is still lashed down – the one he must have used to weather last night’s storm. The hatch cover is open. A ghost ship. The eerie suspicion that the skipper might have been swept overboard in those ferocious winds springs to mind. But then Erdmann pops his head out of the companionway, glances over and suddenly raises his fist to the sky.
It is an unusual gesture for this modest man, who has never made a fuss about himself and has always remained a master of subtlety. Yet at this moment, his joy bursts forth too. A radiance spreads across his weather-beaten face. No cheering, no cries of joy. Just this silent gesture of triumph.
He’s done it! He’s pulled it off! The impossible voyage that only four men before him had ever completed – he’s made it through. And here, 30 miles south-west of ‘his’ starting point, he allows himself to savour the feeling for the first time.
Still going strong after eleven months at sea
He looks well. Quite unlike when he last met with *YACHT* off Cape Town, where he was on the verge of giving up. And quite unlike after his first, far less gruelling non-stop round-the-world voyage downwind, which he completed in June 1986 after ‘only’ 271 days. Back then, he found it hard to express himself; he looked exhausted. Now, aged 61, he has sailed against the wind – the oldest man on this toughest of routes, and in the smallest boat to boot. And yet he’s fully present.
His charisma, his strength and his vitality are beyond belief. The way he moves about the deck, leaning casually against the safety rail by the companionway and swaying with the immense movements of the old swell – all of this makes one forget the hardships of the past night and, even more so, of the past months. A man who is palpably at one with his ship. Every tiny movement in perfect harmony with the sea.
“Goodness me, goodness me, goodness me!” he says, shaking his head as he speaks, still barely able to believe what he has achieved. For a long time, he simply stands there in the cockpit, at a loss for words. Only his face and his gestures reveal just how deeply happy he feels after everything that lies in his wake: loneliness, storms, hunger, wetness, cold and thousands of miles of gruelling cross-wind courses. Again and again, he throws both arms up into the sky – even though he’d actually intended to save that for Cuxhaven. “Goodness me, goodness me, goodness me!”
Rationing of supplies
It is almost impossible to imagine the discipline, the toughness and the willpower required to complete this journey. During the encounter in the English Channel, Wilfried Erdmann speaks only in vague terms of the hardships he subjected himself to for almost a year. And even that is beyond imagination.
When he realised that his supplies wouldn’t last, he began rationing them early on. He marked his supplies with a personal ‘use-by date’. A jar of jam, for example, had to last ‘from day 264 to day 299’ – for more than a month. If it had run out before then, there would have been no replacement before the 300th day. In his logbook, his final entries spoke of symptoms of low blood sugar and a longing to storm a supermarket. In creeping despair, he stared at the 1,000-mark notes he’d brought on board just in case: “How much chocolate could I have bought with that?” His lunch had recently consisted of: “Two prunes, two dried apple rings, and a cup of tea.”
When we offered him some provisions for the final few miles, he politely declined: “I don’t want anything, thank you. I’ll manage for the few days it takes to get to Cuxhaven.”
Erdmann defies hardship, fears and injuries
The voyage was gruelling from start to finish. His reports from on board bear this out in striking fashion. Time and again, Wilfried Erdmann has to cope with storms, exhaustion and injuries. After barely two months, he writes: “I’d imagined I’d be a little more even-tempered, but no – it’s a constant up and down, even emotionally.” On his 61st birthday, whilst in the Indian Ocean, he asks himself: “Will I still be able to manage all this?” Shortly afterwards, he found himself in the worst storm he had ever experienced. A severe storm raged for two days; the situation was so critical that the 61-year-old mentally prepared himself to die. But he made it through.
North of the Azores, a week before our meeting, he feels it once again: “It’s time for this voyage to finally come to an end.” And as if he hadn’t already been pushed to his limits, the final bout of heavy weather strikes shortly afterwards at the entrance to the Channel. “We’ve never been that fast before, ‘Kathena’ and I,” says Erdmann. “Surfing at 15 to 18 knots – unimaginable!” Once again, he is pushed to his limits. “I was scared; I was shaking.”
As he speaks to us, a look of joy keeps flashing across his face. The certainty that he has succeeded makes Wilfried Erdmann proud and happy. But there is no exuberance, no arrogance, no delusions of grandeur. In his isolation, he had more than enough time to become aware of his limitations.
He seems pensive, self-critical and serene as he nears his destination. And after an hour, he says, “It’s better if you turn off now.” He wants to spend even these final moments alone. Will is focused on navigating the busy canal and finding some peace once more.
The Quiet Hero
Meanwhile, back home in Germany, his wife Astrid and son Kym are making preparations for his arrival in Cuxhaven. The German Press Agency (dpa) has issued a brief report on his imminent return. Dozens of fans have been contacting YACHT to ask when they can cheer on their idol. Sailors are even travelling from the south of Germany to watch him sail into the marina at the Seebäderbrücke. Without realising it or meaning to, Wilfried Erdmann has become a maritime hero over the past eleven months. A quiet hero.
It’s going to be a difficult homecoming for the skipper of the ‘Kathena nui’. The commotion, the interviews, the barrage of questions, the envious onlookers and the critics – he’s not prepared for any of it. But he’ll get through it, just as he has weathered every storm in his life.
As we wrap up, we ask him what he plans to do once the worst is over. “I want to sail to Denmark with Astrid,” says Wilfried Erdmann. There’s a small island not far from her home town. That’s where they want to go, for a week. Drop anchor. Talk. Spend time together.
In terms of sailing, the trip is bound to be a bit of a bore for Wilfried. But on a personal level, it will be a completely new experience.
Jochen Rieker
Herausgeber YACHT