From Sir Robin Knox-Johnston's final blog entry and summarizing collection of memories one day before arriving in Getxo, Spain, finishing in 4th place in the Velux 5 Oceans solo circumnavigating race:One of my happiest recollections is from the team supporting me for this venture and the camaraderie that has built up and those friendships will, I am sure, endure.
This was a common theme that seem to run through everyone's minds over these last ten months, ever since I joined Robin's effort in July and became the first of what was to become the growing group that evolved into the blue-shirted Team Saga Insurance. This great sense of friendship would often surface as a toast over several of our many dinners together as a team.
Of course, this has always been the underlying theme of everything I do: it's not about whatever I'm experiencing, be it on the land, in the air, or at sea. It's about the people I'm sharing the moment with and what their states of mind contribute to the content of my life.
On the surface, then, this last week in Spain was about taking my well-earned part as a team member in the conclusion of Robin's round-the-world race. We went out to sea to meet him at the finish line, rushed back in to catch his lines as he pulled up to the dock, and stood by him while he sprayed champagne on the admiring crowd (including hordes of sailing reporters and photographers).
In truth, however, the best part of this last week in Spain was about my Spanish friends, some old and some new. My greatest feeling of honor and privilege of the week was not standing next to Robin as the champagne flew but being part of the massive flotilla of boats that escorted in local hero Unai Basurko after he crossed the finish line six miles from the port.
Unai's boat is the one carrying a sliver of orange foresail. In the photo, the marina where the race started and finished is just out of sight to the left. Unai's home is just out of sight to the right.
Unai, then, is not only the local boy done well. He has become a source of great national pride, both as a Spaniard and, more importantly, as a Basque. In all my time in the region in and around Bilbao over this last year, I've yet to see the red and yellow Spanish flag. Clear and even vague representations of the orange, white, and green flag of the Basque region, however, are everywhere.
In the overall standings at Norfolk last month, after 30,000 miles of sailing completed and 3000 miles to go, Unai was in third place, with only 40 hours over Robin in fourth. First and second were so far ahead as to be assured, so the only question left in the race was whether or not Unai could hold off Robin and hang onto third.
During the two weeks of the relative sprint of a race across the Atlantic, Robin gained and held a consistently improving lead over Unai that from time to time gave some the optimism that he just might take back the third overall position. In the final days however, it was evident that he would not and so Unai's position of third, a podium position, was secure.
Even before the final race, I was obvious in my favoritism for Unai. In Norfolk, Virginia, standing with Unai and his girlfriend Marissa, I told them how much I wanted him to come in third, and not Robin. Marissa pinched a piece of my blue jacket that clearly identified me as a member of Robin's team, pulled it up closer to my face and said in a sweet mocking tone, "How can you say that?"
I shrugged and laid my hand on Unai's shoulder. "It's the way I feel. Robin's had honor enough. It's Unai's turn." Unai grabbed both my shoulders in his typically physical way and nodded. "Yes!"
In Spain on the morning of Unai's anticipated arrival, I joined my friend and host German on his sailboat. With us were his father José and another friend Inma. In the hours we waited just outside the harbor, I endured what has certainly been the worst short-term weather I've ever experienced on the water. A squall passed over the flotilla, beginning as a heavy rainfall that eventually turned into a thunderstorm with lighting striking the water only a kilometer in the distance and hailstones pelting our backs as we turned away from the wind. I had waterproof camera with me that I'd finally purchased to be able to photograph such events but every time I lifted my camera to try to capture any image of the maelstrom around me, the impact of pea-size
d and even larger hailstones on my bare hands was too painful to endure. I contented myself with photographing the hailstones gathering around Inma's feet. German, at the helm, had to take these hailstones directly on his face while he kept a lookout for all the other boats he knew were around us and within a boatlength or two, but could no longer see through the heavy veil of precipitation.The water (from what I could see of it peering out of squinting eyes shielded by my stinging hand) took on a marvelous and almost mystical image, as the impact of the hailstones smoothed out any larger sprays of foam and left only a bluish and lumpy undulating surface with a whitish tinge. It was beautiful and breathtaking. Knowing how rare an opportunity it was to witness this made it even more attractive. Though I did manage to capture a rough image of it (below), it of course does not truly record the starkly beautiful image we all savored.
As the hail subsided, a small water spout (the equivalent of a dust devil on land) formed and moved within 50 meters of us, laying one sailboat in front of us completely on its side just as it came into our view out of the mist. We all grabbed ahold of anything we could, as it seemed we were destined to be next. Thankfully the waterspout passed 50 meters to our side and then over the nearby land and dissipated without having struck another boat.
Finally, as visibility opened up from 50 meters to a kilometer, Unai's immense orange, green, and white boat was dramatically unveiled before us just as he crossed the finish line at the end of a jetty in the harbor. Instantly small RIBs (rubber inflatable boats) zoomed up and offloaded his shore crew, a camera crew, and Unai's girlfriend. The shore crew took over the boat, the camera crew mounted cameras to their faces and shoulders, and Unai began to dance and dance and dance.
Even now as I write this six days later, the emotions of that moment rise within me. All around us, drenched and yet utterly happy, scores of sailors, friends, strangers, and other locals screamed, whistled, sounded horns and lit flares. Unai took a flare himself and held it out to the celebrating crowd, shown below in a photo taken from the press boat by my friend Rafa Aspiunza .
Robin came in on Friday morning, May 4th. Unai came in on Saturday, May 5th. Among the throngs on the dock were Robin's girlfriend Julia and Robin's press agent Sophy. They told me later that as Unai and his massive flotilla rounded the corner to the marina and came into view, they both burst into tears.
"Why are you crying," one asked the other.
"I don't know," she answered. "Why are you crying?"
"I don't know, either," she said. "It's just so emotional."
As Unai passed me in the pressing crowd while making his way from his docked boat up to the awards podium, he saw me, grabbed me, hugged me, and kissed my cheek, giving me my first insight into what it's like for a woman to be kissed by a man who hasn't shaved.I next saw him that afternoon while he was signing autographs. It was our first chance to truly greet each other. When he saw me, he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around in a dance while we both laughed. A photographer started shooting pictures (above) which German graciously tracked down for me unasked.
Unai has become such a great friend, like the handful of others I've made in my times in the Basque region this last year. It was a very happy time for me. I can only imagine what it must feel like for Unai. Few thought he would last long in this demanding race. That he not only did but rose to third is an unbelieveable achievement.
That night German and I were joined by his friends Imna (center) and Arantza (right) as we wandered about the harbour, looking for the celebration we were certain we would find. Unai, however, had apparently gone to bed, having been up the previous 36 hours without sleep. Who could blame him, of course.
The following afternoon, my last in Spain, I had one last gathering with the great friends who have come to define my perception of this region of the world, Saioa and Rafa, Hugo and German. On Saioa and Rafa's balcony we drank coffee and sipped pacharan, a drink unique to the Basque region that I have come to savor and enjoy. It represents to so much to me; these friends and others of the region such as Unai and Marissa, the beauty of the land, and the adventure on the sea of a few elite racers of which I've been lucky enough to be a part.
There's one more party to attend on the 19th here in England, where all members of Robin's shore team and support crew will have one last closing event to bring an end to Robin's latest grand adventure and our parts in it. In my mind, however, the task is done. Robin's circumnavigation is complete.
Next up: my own. One hundred and twenty-eight days to go.
