Landfall: A Global Epic
The Owner of Alithia
02/01/2006

The dream of sailing around the world with our children was born more than 10 years ago. Finally, in the spring of 1999, my wife and I surveyed the yacht market in earnest. After working with Bill Tripp Design on the general arrangement plans, specifications were written, bids analyzed and negotiated until, at the end of the year, a construction contract was signed with Abeking & Rasmussen. Jens Cornelsen was our project manager, and Andrew Winch Designs did a superb job with the interior design. The challenge was marrying sailing performance with safety while still accommodating our lifestyle.

Alithia proved to be fantastic. The in-boom furling rig was easy to use, safe and reliable. The under-deck running rigging controls accommodated the flush deck and lots of outdoor living space. The yacht’s myriad spaces provided enough room for everybody to learn, work, relax and live. We were even able to maximize stowage space despite the yacht’s low profile.

The family and crew aboard Alithia take time out from from their two-year adventure for a "formal" portrait. (Click image to enlarge)

Interior accommodations comprised living quarters and working, educational and medical facilities. The vessel included an advanced audiovisual and multimedia infrastructure, broadband satellite connection, diving equipment, two Laser sailboats, two tenders, fishing gear and water toys.

The most unexpected problem at the onset was recruiting crew. While we anticipated that seamen and teachers would outbid one another to join the circumnavigation on such a magnificent yacht, this was not the case. Experienced captains were simply not interested in a two-year project with live-aboard owners; for them, a circumnavigation meant work and discomfort rather than a compelling adventure. Teachers were difficult to find. The fascination of a long-term, once-in-a-lifetime educational experience paled against safe positions and close proximity to loved ones. After unimaginable efforts, we finally had teachers and a crew hired and ready to go.

Our team was diverse. Our family spoke English, French, German and Greek. We engaged teachers from France, Germany and Switzerland to homeschool our children. Our crew of five was from Britain, New Zealand and the Philippines.

Local girls in Myanmar, formerly Burma, wear their makeup a bit differently than do Western women. (Click image to enlarge)

During weekday mornings, the children followed their school curriculum with the French Distance Learning System (CNED), enriched by German teaching modules. During the afternoons and weekends, they visited local villages, schools, churches and homes to gain and exchange insights, experience common values, learn to respect diversity, feel spiritual life and, finally, to build unforgettable ties. They discovered amazing nature and wildlife and learned about different ecosystems, their equilibrium, their potential peril by human exploitation and their protection by human ingenuity. We documented our experiences in daily logbook entries, and with thousands of photos, reports, poems, songs and mementos.

During the circumnavigation, the five children ranged in age from seven to 15 years old. For the two oldest, the second year was hard because they were dearly missing their peers. They made many new friends but had to separate from them again and again as our voyage continued. They also had less in common with their new friends than with those at home. At one point, our oldest daughter sat crying at the bow as we glided over the crystal blue Indian Ocean. With all the anger of an adolescent, she told me that this was my dream, not hers, and that dreams were there to be dreamt, not lived.

The Seychelles, islands located nearly 1,000 miles off East Africa, are home to bow-running dolphins. (Click image to enlarge)

Life in the closed quarters of a yacht—even one of Alithia’s size—became our biggest challenge. We had imagined an inclusive atmosphere driven by a common vision, informal communication and lots of involvement. However, we found that captains used to running "professional" ships are accustomed to providing excellent service and otherwise staying apart with their crew. This was normally 10 sailors: a captain, his wife as chef, an engineer, a mate, two deckhands, a steward and three teachers. Our onboard teachers had to conduct lessons with flexibility and imagination, often at 20 percent heel, rolling and pitching!On a trip such as ours, the delineation of authority and responsibility between the master of the vessel and the owner is a fine line. No doubt, some captains find an involved owner to be a bit of an intrusion. Similarly, my wife viewed Alithia as her home, and not as a five-star hotel. Much of the fun of the trip for her was to stray through markets, occasionally take over the galley and be involved in shipboard life. The project churned through three full-time captains, three relief captains and an exchange of teachers and crew. As many as 20 sailors, teachers and backups were on the payroll!

Alithia’s broad and uncluttered decks provide plenty of room to spread out. (Click image to enlarge)

As do all new yachts, ours went through a teething period. We never performed extended sea trials because of construction delays. Thus, our shakedown cruise was the immediate circumnavigation. On her first passage to Antigua, technicians and contractors from the shipyard were still aboard to calibrate, test and fine-tune her systems. Altogether, the vessel had three major and three smaller maintenance layovers. Spare parts and engineers traveled to the planet’s remotest spots to keep the boat working. That the yacht supported her demanding program—and kept going and going—is witness to her excellent design, experienced project management and builder’s workmanship.

The remote Galápagos archipelago is known for its rare species, but it is also home to more common ones, such as sea lions. (Click image to enlarge)

Alithia is an awesome sailing machine. Despite being equipped and loaded as a world cruiser, she thrives in light winds, delivers 320 nautical miles a day on long passages and reaches top speeds beyond 20 knots. At the Millennium Cup in New Zealand, she competed against the world’s best yachts, crossing the line fourth after three pure racers. We were all delighted.

Safety was a constant concern. Our heavy investments did pay off: We always had information on weather and, for longer passages, our own advising meteorologist. Once, we were hit by a late-season cyclone in the Solomon Islands, which we weathered by three days’ sailing in the safe quadrant with vast sea room. More severe was the passage around Socotra, through the Horn of Africa, with winds exceeding 50 knots and a huge following sea. The light-displacement Alithia withstood the drama beautifully, surfing the rolling waves. The pirates, notorious in this area, were out of action.

Not once during the entire trip did we experience the slightest threat or act of violence. We had taken a lot of security precautions, choosing and updating our route with constant concern for personal safety. A security team in London followed our progress. We even had two security officers, who doubled as paramedics, on board. The Kevlar-reinforced engine room was equipped as citadel in case of an attack. Defense plans had been drawn up and practiced but, fortunately, nothing ever happened.

Local work boats in the coastal state of Sittwe in western Myanmar stand in stark contrast to Alithia’s sleek lines, and racing pedigree. (Click images to enlarge)

The threats were elsewhere. Often the charts covering remote routes were only approximate. Some of the soundings dated from nineteenth-century British Admiralty charts, measured with lead line by Her Majesty’s ships. In Fiji, we struck a reef while sailing at eight knots. Apart from shock, cuts, bruises and complete chaos, we suffered no structural damage. In the Mergui Archipelago, we ran the rudder up a coral slope, breaking off the lower third. After sealing it with underwater epoxy, we continued. The most damage we suffered was when a squall in Darwin—out of the blue—pushed the yacht mercilessly against the concrete wall of the commercial wharf during refueling.

Our biggest concern proved to be health care. We had equipped the guest cabin as an intensive care unit with a vital signs monitor, defibrillator, oxygen concentrator, suction unit, immobilizing stretcher, cameras and a real-time data link and video-conferencing system with an around-the-clock team of doctors in Johannesburg. This infrastructure was actually used. One crewmember was treated and evacuated for severe heart problems, a teacher for a broken leg and many locals for cuts, infections and other ailments. The most dramatic incident happened at a remote barren cay in the Andaman Islands. While free diving, a young teacher almost drowned, re-surfacing unconscious. Our first mate and I reacted quickly enough to resuscitate him. He was then given oxygen and evacuated via helicopter by the Indian Navy.We look back on our achievement with pride and a sense of fulfillment. Few would dare to take an entire family on such an epic voyage. Our oldest daughter made the thoughtful distinction between dreaming a dream and living a dream. The dream gives us the liberty to let the fantasy wonder; it allows us to imagine the unthinkable—can one create a family bonded together by the same values: a spirit of freedom, a sense of taking responsibility for one’s own life, a dedication to community? We discovered that, indeed, one can.

Many women in the Maldives wear libaas and head coverings. (Click image to enlarge)

Living the dream gave us a perspective of truth. It let us reach out for the opportunity and, at the same time, we recognized our limits. We saw poverty, ignorance and destruction; we were guests in worlds strange and foreign. Everywhere we were received with open arms. Often we separated with tears.

On Vanuatu’s Pentecoast Island, bungee jumping from a wooden tower is a ceremonial test of manhood. (Click image to enlarge)

We saw the most remote animal kingdoms—the Galápagos, Komodo, Cosmoledo and the Aldabra Group—places where humans are not yet the worst predator. We saw the volcanoes, atolls, pearl farms and coral paradises of the outer Polynesian Islands. We experienced the rites of initiation and land diving of Melanesia. The children lived with families in Tonga and the Maldives and organized a relief campaign for the cyclone-devastated island of Tikopia. We spent a lot of time in the Golden Land of Myanmar on the Bay of Bengal. Asia captivated us with its spirituality, its deep cultures and many contradictions; we visited temples, pagodas and mosques; we explored areas where, since World War II, no foreigners had set foot. We looked at oil exploration in the Cheduba Group, gem mining in Sri Lanka, tuna fishing in the Maldives. We saw young girls forced to build roads with their bare hands, young women forced to work as carriers and sex slaves for the army, men heavily guarded in work camps and young boys deaf from working in quarries. We witnessed the peacefulness of the monasteries and the brutality of a military dictatorship. We felt the hospitality of the island communities and their distance from our world.

A family with children is a good ambassador. We respected the local customs, always asked for permissions and were received with warmth, although often the communication was limited to hand gestures and smiles. We were showered with presents. Whatever an island had to offer was given to us. In return, Alithia’s hold was full with fishing and schooling gear, so that we could always appropriately reciprocate. The visits always ended in feasts, music, dance and ceremonies.

Fishing is the main economic activity. (Click image to enlarge)

The world we visited is disappearing. The younger generation is in increasing conflict with tradition. They are all striving for what seems to them a better life; a life with privacy, possessions, freedom and entertainment—things that their isolated island communities cannot offer.

Our children acquired the ability to understand and act in different cultural contexts—living, eating, behaving and dressing was so different from one place to the next. They saw a wealth of attitudes toward life and death, to happiness and spirituality, to individuality and community. Most importantly, they—and we—learned to see our own world from a new perspective.