The Atlantic 1000 – an extreme catamaran race

by Duncan Ross on 29 Jul 2004 Duncan Ross (RSA) and Roberto Pandiani (BRA) teamed up and secured second overall in this grueling race – Duncan Ross tells their story.

Iron men plastic boats …. Sounds good doesn’t it. Good race marketing or fact? As with most things the only way to dispel the myth and cut through the doggy doo is to get out there, get wet and see for your-self.

For many years Catamaran sailors have challenged themselves by racing up the east coast of the USA on small catamarans. In previous years the event was called the Worrel 1000. This year is it was called the ATLANTIC 1000.

The ATLANTIC 1000 is a 1000 mile race which runs from Islamorada, an island in the Florida Keys, to Kill Devil Hills Beach in North Carolina. The event is divided into two 500 mile races with a rest day in between.

The first half is called the Tybee Island 500 and the second half is called the Outerbanks 500. The event is open to production sport catamarans with a maximum length of 20 feet and is billed as one of the toughest around.

It is has always been a race that I have wanted to do and my sailing partner Roberto Pandiani - with whom I crossed to Antarctica on a beach catamaran in 2003 – shared that desire too. The race requires intensive logistics as it moves northwards and is therefore an expensive operation. A good partner was needed and we were appreciative of the continued support of SEMP TOSHIBA - a company that manufactures audio visual goods in Brazil.

The final month was frenetic with activity as we pulled together a shore team, bought a boat and prepared it for what lay ahead. Our team comprised of Fernando Bocciarelli – technical support/pusher, Thomas Scheidt – photographer and brother of Robert (seven times world champ in lasers) and Patricia Kirschner – shore manager, press liaison and logistics.

We chose to sail an Inter 20 manufactured by Performance Catamarans in the USA. This was the choice of most of the top teams so we figured there was no point in doing anything different. The Inter 20 is a boat that has its weak points and so our boat preparation was focused on avoiding breakages. The race is judged on cumulative time over each leg.

Tybee 500 – The start is on Islamorada which lies about 75 miles south of Miami in the Florida Keys. Our rental car resembles that of an African bus - bar the chickens and goats – but we are brimming with people, gear and spares none theless.

Our arrival in the boat park shows that we are poorly equipped compared to our competitors who in true American fashion have big mobile homes, massive walk in box trailers and sizable shore teams complete with babes in bikinis. We spend 2 days gleaning as much as we can from the boats around us and even get to go for a practice sail the day before the start.

As Islamorada does not have a beach we are given our only ‘on the water’ start of the 1000 miles. Tactically the first leg is not very taxing – sheet in, get out on the wire and 6 hours later – get of trapeze when you hit the beach in Hollywood! Sounds simple until you try it – My logbook entry on Day 1 sums it up.

‘Nobody was designed to hang in a harness for hours on end pulling on sheets until they had holes in their fingers. Equally it was not designed to do stomach crunches for 6 hours a day while a salt water fire hose blasts into your face. Yes any romantic notions you may have about this race turf them to one side – is about pain and endurance.'

It was a shock to the system to say the least – 90 miles on a close reach - we were exhausted – frankly we wondered what the hell we had let ourselves in for - another 900 miles of this was difficult to imagine.

As always we had lots to learn and some glaring issues needed to be resolved – our harnesses were completely inappropriate – fine for round the buoy racing – but this was long distance racing at another level. Another was our eyewear – wrap around sunglasses just weren’t good enough and lastly our mast set up needed some attention. Some directed questions and a snoop around the boat park revealed our errors.

Le Mans starts off the beach provide a great spectacle and are fun for the sailors. Each team is allowed one ‘Pusher’ that is permitted to push you though the surf until the last line of breaking waves – a good pusher is worth his weight in gold and Fernando, who was close to 2m tall and fit as a fiddle soon became the envy of the other teams, as we consistently got away to excellent starts.

Our glory, however, was generally short lived as the more practiced teams would inevitably grind us down. It was a little frustrating to be honest – and the solutions to the problem were not immediately obvious.

After some adjustments to the rig and our gear, our general speed, comfort and control of the boat improved but time on the boat was the essential ingredient to improving our teamwork.

It was hard work for everyone. The ground crews were tireless. Check in, check out, load, unload, fetch and carry - drive. Boat work was another monster that would raise its head inconveniently at the end of long and tiring days.

At the skippers briefing of leg 4 we are informed about the ‘no sail’’ zone around Cape Canaveral. ‘It’s a national asset and we will protect it as such’, I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and look at the Major in his camouflage uniform. ‘Don’t think that last year’s gun shot was a welcoming signal – be warned!’

We nervously lead the fleet for the first 15 miles around the Cape – expecting a projectile to come whizzing through the main at any moment – we escape unscathed - our victory for the day.

Going into leg 6 (the final leg of the Tybee 500) we are 5 seconds off ‘Team Oz’ in 3rd position - hard to believe after 400 miles of racing ! We have been making steady progress each day and so far have scored a 6th, 4th, 3rd, 3rd , 3rd. Team Tybee Island and Team Castrol are locked into a battle for first and are well ahead. Our challenge for the day is to make the podium for the first half.

Now in the state of Georgia we are faced with sandbanks, mangroves and shrimp fishing boats as obstacles – quite different from the endless beaches and high rise buildings of Florida.

So far we have had good steady breeze at 15 knots from the east. Today is hot and humid and the breeze is light and fluky. We enter into a massive battle with ‘Team Oz’ as we sail upwind in the fickle conditions. The lead changes several times as a large thunderstorm slowly approaches. My logbook entry captures the excitement of the finish as it was still written with adrenalin in my veins….

Team Oz leads the pack, us in second – Howard’s Pub in third. Team Tybee and Castrol are a way back. Eventually the wind gets to us. The breeze goes from 10 knots to 25 knot in a few minutes. The sea is still flat and we take off on a huge double trapeze reach – probably the fastest I have ever been on a small catamaran.

Roberto and I are both on trapeze and the boat is just flying. We start to drive in underneath Team Oz. I am nervous as there are shallows closer to the coast. I shudder to think what would happen to us (and the boat) if we were to hit a sand bank at 25 knots.

The first few miles are adrenalin pumped – after that – all we want to do is finish. My hands are killing me. Sometimes the waves wash my feet off the boat and I am upside down with my head dragging in the water. We are on the absolute limit – it’s all or nothing. Any mistake and we would be upside down and the race would be over for us. Drama behind us as team Howard’s Pub capsizes in a big gust!

As we approach Tybee Island it’s difficult to see where the finish is. We are committed to a lower course than the others and heading up would just loose us ground. Ahead of us lie shallows and breaking waves. We decide to just go for it – we need those five seconds. We dodge the beakers weaving our way between them – one nearly capsizes us.

I see the finish just a