Geronimo sets new record

Fossett's San Francisco to Yokohama time falls

Geronimo, the Capgemini and Schneider Electric-sponsored maxi trimaran, established her world record last night, crossing the Yokohama, Japan finish line at 13:21:23 UTC with a passage time of 14 days, 22 hours 40 minutes & 41 seconds. While needing official ratification by WSSRC, timekeeper Shu Nakajima reported the following details:

Date: April 27th, 2006
Finish Time: 22:21' 23"JST (13:21'23" GMT) 14d 22h 40m 41s from SF to Yokohama
Finish Line: 110 degree magnetic line drawn from the lighthouse outside of Yokohama Bayside Marina
Conditions: Cloudy, northerly wind, visibility good.

In an email, Steve Fossett, holder of the record since 1996, sent the following congratulations to Geronimo skipper, Olivier de Kersauson:

Dear Olivier,

As you cross the Yokohama finish line. I have mixed feelings about losing the Pacific Ocean East to West Record which we set in Lakota nearly 10 years ago. I confess to a twinge of jealousy of your success, but on the other hand you have honored us with the recognition of our prior record by seeking to break it.

Please accept warm congratulations from myself and my original crew of Ben Wright, Brian Thompson, and Peter Hogg. You and your crew have sailed well and set a fine record.

Steve Fossett

Fossett's original record set in his 60ft trimaran was of 19 days, 15 hours, 18 minutes and 9 seconds.

Read Larry Rosenfeld's final email from the boat:

Time 1500z 26 April Position 31-59N / 144-05E 300nm from Yokohama

We are getting closer to Yokohama. But patience is required. I can now see why Japan was a closed country for centuries. Its hard to get here by sailing ship! This has been a painful couple days. Fast, then slow, then fast, then slow... The waves are coming from everywhere tossing the boat in the air and making big holes for it to drop into next. The French call it Mer Merdique - which I won't translate:). The 300nm to the finish is something on a normal day would take us 13 or 14 hours, but now it will take at least twice that long it seems.

Because the wind angle is coming from the ESE and is expected to shift clockwise, we decided we have to probe the current and see if the US Navy or the Japanese Oceanographic is right. They differ only in one major meander in the Kuroshio current, but depending on the wind and our boat speed, a mistake here could cost us 10 to 20 hours. The Japanese said there is a big loop to the south and the Navy believes the current goes more straight west to east but that a small cold eddy has broken off and might be causing some current anomalies. We are crossing the current now and we can tell by the wave patterns that it is running strong (about 3 knots taking us away from the finish). Because we are going 15 knots we think we can cross this loop or cold eddy in a matter of 3-4 hours while we wait for the wind to shift to the south and give us a more favorable jibe angle to the finish, some 300 miles away.

The strategy is getting interesting now. Olivier and I take turns monitoring the current and our progress. If we can find a way back without too much current against us, it will mean a lot of savings in time. About 10 minutes after I wrote the last paragraph, the water temperature dropped drastically from 20C to 17C in a matter of 10 minutes. This confirms that we are in the center of a cold core eddy and in this instance the US Navy was right. The wind shifted simultaneously and now we've jibed onto the new favored jibe to the finish. It feels like we are poking along, but we're actually doing 16 knots most of the time now. Fast enough to cross the current and not get hurt more than 6 miles total. Should be out of the cold eddy in 3 hours, one of which will have fast moving water again. I made a little spreadsheet calculator to adjust for the speedo being slow and average the readings we get from second to second. This way we can really tell how fast and in which direction the current is taking us. Its like being on a giant conveyor belt but not sure which way or how fast its taking you and where the edge is. We found one of the edges and now we're looking for the other.

After we punch through the side of the cold eddy, we will have some moderate reaching towards the finish with a building wind. The low coming out of the Yellow Sea is on schedule to go right over top of us in 24 hours we want to hurry and finish before that happens, otherwise we will have strong headwinds for our finish which will be no fun and not help our record times.

As interesting and mentally challenging as these exercises with the currents and wind shifts are, last night was the real visceral reason we come out here again and again: Here is my journal entry from last night:

It a really black on black night. We're flying along. 20-25 knots. The moon is gone now and the stars are covered by clouds. It's a black sea and black sky. No horizon. Nearly blind from the lights on the instruments. Driving requires the instruments in order to steer a constant true wind angle for the sails. But the true wind angle is a calculated value that is a six second running average, so its like trying to play a video game with a six second lag to the joy stick. The only thing you can do is reference it to the compass as an artificial horizon and get a feel for the micro trend. The speedo is up on the front beam and is hard to read sometimes in the spray. The only other light is an occasional white cap or bioluminescence that flares from the wake. Haunting but beautiful. Lots of noise from the boat crashing through the waves, Screaming into blackness. Checking the radar every 5 minutes or so. Cargo ship up ahead 12 miles and closing at 12 knots, means we're doing 25 and he's doing 13. Probably an older bulk carrier. In an hour we pass him about a mile to windward and keep on screaming into the blackness. Time to change watches now. I go to my bunk, getting bounced around as we hit wave after wave, I put my head on my pillow which is also my neoprene survival suit and fall asleep to the sound of water slamming the hull and rushing by literally 3 inches from my right ear through the hull It's nights like these that keep me coming back out here.

On to Yokohama!