The Snake

Our slithery correspondent reports on Ellen's epic arrival and examines the anthropology of British solo sailors

"Well….you've got to, haven't you." The non-negotiable words of 72 year-old Elsie from Yorkshire at 02:00 GMT on Monday, when asked why she was sleeping in her car on Falmouth's quayside, waiting from Ellen MacArthur. Elsie and three elderly friends were packed into a small red Ford with five - or possibly six - button-eyed Pekinese dogs; the entire party were covered in biscuit crumbs. The group had travelled across half the country while Elsie's granddaughter, Daniella ("She has a new computer, you see"), kept in constant contact with the pilgrims, giving hourly cellphone updates.

Propped-up with their backs to the events stage outside Falmouth's National Maritime Museum, Derek, an electrician from South London, and his girlfriend sheltered under a camping blanket in the light, freezing, pre-dawn drizzle. Yielding pole viewing position was inconceivable; "S'brilliant, innit. She's amazing that Ellen. That big boat 'n her...all that way." Derek's girlfriend was keen to explain - through chattering teeth - that they had been inspired to book a flotilla holiday in the Balearic Islands this June, although the couple have never set foot on a yacht or a ferry.

At sunrise, satellite trucks continued to roll into Falmouth and park alongside the Maritime Museum in a mass of cables and electromagnetic radiation while sharply dressed, non-yachting journalists prowled the press centre attempting adjustment to a threatening, alien, sporting environment. Media stress levels rose rapidly as the 11:00 arrival of B&Q loomed and the true magnitude of the event became clear; to paraphrase the famously un-scripted and totally spontaneous words of Tony Blair at a similarly important occasion; each journalist felt the hand of history upon his shoulder. As arrival time crept closer, the media frenzy magnified for both written and broadcast press; by the time MacArthur's 75ft trimaran swung round Pendennis Point towards the pontoons, the smell of fear and headline hunger was tangible (similar to the grubby smell encountered in inner city Blockbuster Video stores).

As this odour of premature copy-ejaculation permeated the press centre, down near the satellite trucks activity had become blurred by the sheer speed of events. A mainstream British news channel producer began attracting nervous glances from foreign TV crews after arriving on location with a barely discernible nervous tick in his neck, this minor twitch threatened to develop into full demonic head-spinning accompanied by 'speaking in tongues' as the press orchestra tuned up in preparation for the arrival overture. Finally, the carnival began and festivities took an uncontrolled momentum producing impressive results: unprecedented newspaper coverage for a yachting event, blanket-bombing international television coverage and a satisfying afterglow for spectators and sailing enthusiasts.

A very pleasurable, communal atmosphere surrounded the entire spectacle and while preparing to test the strength of his immune system at a drop-sided, burger wagon, The Snake fell into conversation with a local Policeman (a Cornish man-mountain dripping with law enforcement chandlery and squeezed into a flak jacket): "It's incredible….I've never seen the like," blustered the perplexed peeler,. "She's no bigger than, than….she's tiny. She's a mustard sandwich [sic]." This bewilderment and adulation prevailed in the large crowd as MacArthur bounced around on stage sucking the collective energy from a slack-jawed, overawed audience. It was at this moment that Sir Robin "The Knight of The Long Gybes" Knox-Johnson, the first man to circumnavigate the globe, non-stop, singlehanded in 1969, strode onstage and joined MacArthur.

Instantaneously, The Snake underwent a defining 'Eureka' moment; a split second of cranial overload. An instant of blinding intellectual clarity normally achieved moments before the sixth marguerita causes cerebral shutdown and a blackout. For, after years of pondering the evolution of British solo ocean racing, all the particles and components of this rich timeline fell swiftly and neatly into place. Having undergone emotions similar to a re-birthing experience, your correspondent has subsequently managed to complete his thesis and presents:

THE ORIGINS AND EVOLOUTION OF BRITISH, SOLO OCEAN RACING THROUGHOUT THE WHISKIFEROUS, CARBONIFEROUS AND MEDIA PERIODS(NB: It should be noted that French solo ocean racing evolved separately in a parallel sailing universe)

The first period of British, solo ocean racing - the WHISKIFEROUS PERIOD (1960-79) - is relatively easy to date and commences with the original OSTAR, singlehanded, transatlantic race and peaks with the outstanding circumnavigation of Sir Robin Knox-Johnson in 1969. This period - so named after the dominant members of the species sporting beards and never setting out to sea with less than a case of scotch stowed in the bilges - is often regarded as the 'Golden Age' of solo sailing. Homo Whiskiferous (or to use his correct Latin classification; marinus oceanus sextantii tally-hopium) prevailed unchanged for the early years of the Whiskiferous Period displaying the classic evolutionary characteristics known as 'punctuated equilibrium'; i.e. long periods of little or no change interrupted by short intervals of rapid transformation.

Towards the end of the period, however, dramatic environmental change forced Whiskiferous to evolve and adapt rapidly. In the course of the earth's Permian Era, around 230 million years ago, the most catastrophic levels of extinction ever recorded swept across the planet, wiping out 95% of all marine species while 80% of the terrestrial species disappeared. Similar levels of extinction were not to be born by the resilient and resourceful Homo Whiskiferous; for when faced with the potentially cataclysmic arrival of corporate sponsorship (a life-giving ambrosia for subsequent genus of solo ocean racer) he responded by swiftly introducing alternative racing events, including the pay-as-you-go, fully crewed circumnavigation race and - effectively - retired from the competitive arena.

As the economic solo sailing climate spiralled towards supernova with the increasing costs of launching a successful ocean racing campaign, the CARBONIFEROUS PERIOD (1980-2000) began.

Carbon Man ( carbon-cuben microballoonium) was an entirely new breed, capable of extremes of physical endurance, possessing a precocious technological mastery and endowed with an ability to hunter-gather and nurture lucrative sponsorship deals. For 20 years, the advance of yacht design, communication methods, navigational aids and high-tech materials continued in a glorious sailing Renaissance; a quantum leap from the Dark Ages of Homo Whiskiferous when sailing practices and marine technology essentially remained imbedded in the 16th century. As the Carboniferous Period was settling and evolution appeared to be progressing in a deceptively gradual and consistent style, a further, profound environmental fluctuation shook the solo, ocean racing realm….

Fossil records indicate that natural selection does not favour piecemeal tinkering and the subtle alteration of a minor body part or non-vital, internal organ. As a result, some species will remain unchanged for several million years and then radically transform in a few thousand years; a heart beat, in geological terms. Thus, when the Carboniferous Period ended and the sun rose on the first day of the MEDIA ERA (2001-), two simultaneous evolutionary changes occurred: First was the appearance of Modern Media Man ( columninchus in extremis spinissimus dramatica) and, secondly, that most immediate and startling metamorphosis, the mutation.

It is without doubt that - as a species - Ellen MacArthur is perhaps perfectly adapted to the Media Era. As the evolutionary fruit of the earlier Whiskiferous and Carboniferous Periods, she is seemingly unique in her ability to create and attract media and sponsor interest with the apparent, natural ease of self-pollination. In addition, her legendary determination is capable of sustaining a huge and astonishingly varied fan-base. While MacArthur is possibly the tip of the solo ocean racing timeline, it is certain that Mike Golding has mutated from Carbon Man and entered the Media Era; as is proven by his wins in the 2002 Le Défi Atlantique, the Transat 2004 and the gripping leadership scrap and dramatic final stages of the 2004-05 Vendée Globe.

The conclusion of this thesis (finally) is that the evolution of British solo ocean racing directly echoes the evolution of mankind. That a species is not instantly rendered defunct by a subsequent, more evolved variety. Pre-history's Homer Simpson - Australopithecus Africanus - coexisted temporarily with his successor, Homo Habilis, the tool-making show off of 2.2 million years ago. It is also likely that the upright, swaggering pyromaniac, Homo Erectus, drank at the same watering holes as his intelligent descendent, the pub quiz primate, Homo Sapiens.

Happily, most observant British solo sailing anthropologists will confirm that it is still possible to witness the sight of species from the Whiskiferous, Carboniferous and Media epochs gathered on the same racing pontoon performing ritualised displays and attempting, with partial success, to communicate with each other.