Hi All,

First of all, Donald just received an official email from the Route Du Rhum.  Turns out he did 4,688 nautical miles, which is almost 1,200 miles more than the 3,500 nm route of the race, much of which was the detour to La Coruna, Spain for repairs.  The email also says something about “21st ieme” and we’re not sure what that means, but it could be that he actually came in 21st.  We’ll let you know when this is clarified.

As I mentioned in the previous post, I’ve been out of communication for the past few days because my U.S. phone won’t work in Guadeloupe and once I got to Wifi, I realized I needed a French power adapter for my computer (which for the life of me, I couldn’t track down…such is life on the islands), but Donald’s now here with the right technology, so we’re back in business!

Donald had a chance to regroup after being extremely tired yesterday (to the point where he was nodding off and dropping his phone over and over again when he was trying to text.)  He had a really good sleep and after he recalibrates, will post something to the blog.  In the meantime, I thought I’d share my perspective of the past few days as I caught the plane to Guadeloupe to my first few hours with Donald as he arrived at the finish.

First of all, I’m finding that sailing works on its own time schedule.  I’d lost communication with Donald the day I left for Guadeloupe.  It turns out Donald’s main satellite phone (Iridium Go) stopped working  (not a good thing!), but he was able to contact me on his U.K. cell phone once he approached the island.  He told me that it looked like he’d be in at 1:30 pm yesterday afternoon, but it turns out his cell phone was on the wrong time zone and 1:30 actually meant 9:30 and by the time I figured it out, I arrived too late to be able to join the race directors on the pontoon.  I did manage to arrive 5 minutes after he got to the landing area and was bracing myself for the worst, but he looked amazingly well considering what he’d been through, and much better than his first solo crossing four years ago.  (Although I have to admit, he looked 10 years younger after an arduous shave later that day!)  After we got the boat properly docked, Donald headed for his first non-freeze dried meal in weeks, polishing off a plate of grilled fish, mashed potatoes and vegetables, and then ordering a second round of exactly the same!…, followed by cake with coconut ice cream, and all chased down by a liter of Evian water and two Caribbean beers.  It was fun to simply watch his immense pleasure as he laughed and savored every bite!

Donald will share his own experiences (which will no doubt be good), but here are two reflections from me on this final leg of his journey:

The first was on my flight to Guadeloupe.  We were flying over the Atlantic and occasionally, I’d look down at all that water, realizing that, when it was all said and done, Donald, in his little boat has crossed over three times the distance of my flight, completely on his own.  I was reading a magazine article about Anthony Bordain and, having a window seat, I looked down again at the ocean thinking that Donald’s boat was bobbing around somewhere out there.  I glanced back at the article and my eyes fell to a quote of Bordain’s boxed separately on the page with a caption in bold:

A Wandering Spirit

“If I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move.  As far as you can, as much as you can.  Across the ocean or simply across a river.”  

Knowing that Donald’s a big fan of Anthony Bordain, I loved coming across that quote on my way to see him finish his huge adventure.  And if Anthony is somehow able to look down from a place we mortals can’t even begin to understand, he’d be seeing Donald’s tiny little boat moving across that great, vast ocean and giving him the biggest round of applause knowing that his advice was being heeded (maybe to an extreme!)

The second was during the time when Donald went back to the boat to tidy up his lines.  It was hot and I knew it might take awhile, so I propped myself in a patch of shade to wait.  Normally, I’ve gotten so addicted to news on my cell phone that I would have occupied myself in that manner, but here, without U.S. data, I found myself a bit bored and started to watch the display of flags going on around me.  A boat with a Swedish flag was right next to Donald’s.  Donald’s boat, in turn, had a French flag on the starboard side and a South African flag on the port.  When Donald arrived earlier that morning, we were all commenting about how tattered and mangled the South African flag was.  The threads had been shorn by the wind to where there was a three inch fringe and the colors had faded to a patina.  While I was sitting there on the dock,  the wind started picking up and that tired, tattered South African flag was putting on a display that would have made Mandela proud!  The French flag had a proper little horizontal tear right at the bottom, but had otherwise, arrived unscathed.  When the wind would pick up, it behaved as if it were French, doing a few rather stiff, but proper flaps similar to a beauty queen waving at an audience.  And the Swedish flag barely even responded to the wind.  On the other hand, the South African flag put on a show!  Its threads had been beaten to a rich softness and the slightest wind would cause it to lift and gyrate in a wild, unpredictable dance.   One moment, it would twist and wrap in on itself and the next second, it would stretch and pulse to its own rhythm.  It was a perfect testament to the country itself.  Despite the struggles and personal tragedies experienced by far too many, South Africa still has its own special beauty.  Donald’s friend, Don, once told me that there’s no other place he’d ever want to be, saying something to the effect that every day is challenging, never boring, that you have to always be on your toes….”something raw and wild, wild west about it.”  Sitting there watching the South African flag putting on its own special show reminded me of Don’s words and the hardy souls who make up that country, Donald being one of those Voortrekkers in his own, unique way.  And yesterday, he became the first of his country to complete this grueling, international race.

As for me, I’m very proud of him and all that he’s accomplished…, but more than anything, just happy and grateful he’s back!

 

Arrived! Pointe-à-Pitre pontoon Route du Rhum 2018