Original subtitles

"I thought it was an adventure but in reality it was life"

What draws us so strongly to the sea?

Is it perhaps the freedom that seems to be promised by its endless horizon?

What passion does it arouse so that sailors risk their lives

on that dangerous vastness?

Who is the ocean?

Where is its heart?

Nothing said I would be a seafarer.

Writer and sailor San Sebastian

I was a climber and lived in Chamonix because the mountains were there.

I had an accident on the Peutery Integral,

a long ridge that runs up Mont Blanc,

and I broke my leg.

Two years later, I set out to go round the world.

I was lent a 23 ft. boat

and I set out knowing nothing about the sea,

nothing about anything.

Today the world is learning a bit more

about the world of sea and sailors.

But much more is known about people who've climbed Everest.

There must have been about 15,000. Loads of people.

It's an incredible feat

Yachtswoman and sailor

but little is known about the hardship of spending

four months alone on a boat, sailing around the world.

Only about 200 people have done it, not many more.

And I think that gives us an idea

of just how hard this extreme sport is.

In 1979 I started building a boat,

which I finished in 1983,

using my own hands.

When it was finished, I embarked with my wife and two small children

Sailor

and we went off to travel the world on a voyage that lasted 17 years.

I left because I was sick of routine.

I wanted to investigate the world, I wanted to learn,

and above all get out of the system.

That system of consumerism, that system of...

doing things because everyone does them,

made no sense to me.

There are sea people and landlubbers, as we say,

land dwellers who have lived one tenth of what sailors have.

Writer

Sailing is totally necessary to form a person.

Someone who stays on land loses three quarters of life.

It isn't the oceans that have changed, it's the people who use that ocean.

They sail on that ocean for pleasure or for survival.

Greed is the only thing that is unlimited,

and the ocean, unfortunately,

Writer

hasn't been free and never will be free

of human greed.

I built the "Ulysses", I got on board and I went sailing.

Four years later,

I decided to return home for a while,

to Argentina.

I set up a sailing school and that is where we decided,

Navigators

my partner Claudia and I,

to go sailing again on the "Ulysses".

I never went near the water before I met Rodolfo.

I didn't have the slightest idea

about navigation or about sailboats.

I gradually learned

because it's a totally different life.

I was completely amazed by everything.

In 2001, I rowed across the Atlantic

from Tenerife to Barbados.

The crossing took 73 days.

I did it with my late companion, Urko Mendiburu.

We had all kinds of experiences,

Sailor and boat builder

with weather, waves, sharks...

There was time for meditation.

I realized that in situations where, logically, you had to be afraid,

we replaced that fear with rage,

and I, at least, felt that with each stroke

we were leaving a lot behind.

We were leaving the people we loved,

and then the time came when we were completely alone.

The Last Adventure of the "Gandul"

Diary of a Shipwreck

A group of friends with barely any experience at sea

are going to cross the Atlantic on a sailboat.

"Life or Death At Sea"

It's our first big sea crossing

and we're not sure what's ahead.

November 3, 2014

All we know is that we'll be spending a month in the middle of the sea.

The "Gandul" is an old handbuilt catamaran

awaiting us amidst big, modern luxury boats.

This will be our little home

until we reach the Caribbean island of Barbados.

The rest of the crew is already on board: Begoa and Gustavo.

A few years ago, Begoa gave up her job and life in the city

to embark with Gustavo.

Gustavo is an experienced Argentinean sailor

who built the boat himself almost thirty years ago.

Since then, he has traveled and lived on board,

giving sailing classes or running cruises

for travelers who want to experience sailing at close hand.

He will be our captain.

Water is crucial,

because there is no chance of re-stocking on the voyage.

When it rains, we try to re-stock the showers, for example,

but it's hard to store it for drinking.

You let the first rains run down the sails

so that they wash away the salt and the grime.

The other thing that I was saying is crucial

is the electricity which, unlike water,

we can generate on board,

but our generating capacity is limited.

It isn't like at home where you put in the plug

and get all that you need.

You pay at the end of the month, but the electricity is there.

Charging mobiles uses very little. That's right.

But we must get used to charging them in the morning,

the opposite of at home. Why?

Because we can charge batteries all day with the panels

and, also, for reasons to do with electronics,

with electricity... technical reason,

when the batteries are receiving energy,

that's the best time to charge the electronic devices.

I mean, when there's bad weather, cooking something

with pulses... Boiling water...

It's a whole process. At times we can, at others we can't.

So it's best... With pre-cooked pulses...

we can do combinations.

Four of rice.

We'll make it easy tomorrow. It's the first day?

Is that Ok?

We don't need a crew. I stowed away on various boats.

With very small crews.

The boat owner obviously sails close to the coast.

In the end you say: "It's great to choose your crew",

because you get on very well with some people,

people who enrich your life.

But, in the end, the crew almost always chooses itself.

for almost all voyages,

because it decides itself.

You'd like to go with such and such but you can't.

He's got work, obligations, family...

Things get complicated when it's time to travel.

You leave because you don't want to work in a bank, a repair shop.

You expect a lot from life and you say: "Well,

I'll find the things I need when I'm traveling".

And an easy way to travel is on a sailboat.

Gonzalo and Jordi are here.

Ok? And here on the prow are Antonio and...

What's that? It looks like the ship's log.

This is a formal document.

If we sink and they find this, it's the black box.

I'll put my name on the other side. When they rescue me

they can take me mummified to Lola.

When you want, we can leave.

You're signing your downfall when you get on this boat.

Great. Don't say that.

By night, we'll already be out of the return zone.

practically, tomorrow at midday.

What's the return zone? Where it isn't worth going back.

It's better to keep going. Why would we go back?

When it's nighttime,

we put on this contraption,

to be safer, especially the ones sleeping,

so no one falls in the water.

If the person keeping watch falls in, who gives the alarm?

Those of us who are outside

are attached to the boat,

so we won't be separated from it.

There's no mystery to it, each person can adjust it.

but we should use it all day. You have to adjust the ring.

We can all hook on.

This is a safety carabiner, so it won't open on its own.

It will only open if you remove this,

so if it catches on something it won't open.

If you're on night watch, you hook it on anything metal,

on the bridge there, more or less solid.

This route says that first we set out

for 155, 13 miles.

And at this height, more or less here,

we jibe and we go on almost with a tailwind,

but we won't go with a tailwind.

We have to cross close to Africa to get the southeaster.

If you go there, it comes against you.

But as we're going to Barbados, it doesn't suit us.

To cross the Atlantic, the voyage is done, in principle,

with good weather and a constant wind.

We have the trade winds which normally push us

Doctor

from the Canaries to the Caribbean.

Columbus used them on his first voyage,

and generally conditions are very mild.

My experience as a doctor began when I finished my studies.

I embarked on the boat "Licor 43".

Now I'm a substitute doctor

on the ship "Esperanza del mar".

It's a hospital ship or a healthcare ship

that provides support for the Spanish fishing fleet

in the Atlantic.

November 5.

It's out.

Free on the stern.

Tie these knots, Jordi.

Do we gather it up? Yes, and bring it to the stern.

There's no going back.

No.

Are we doing well?

Fenomenal, incredible.

"You never go so far

as when you do not know where you are headed."

Christopher Columbus

A personal spectacle,

Impeccable.

You've set the table.

You think it's nice?

I'm amazed by the stability.

We're eating, with glasses. It a wave comes...

On a single hull.

Each one has to look after their drink.

This is the potential of these boats. In head-stern...

The stability, right? It's amazing.

Let's drink to the voyage. Cheers. Gustavo, thank you.

Cheers. To a good crossing.

Captain, my captain.

Yes, I think so.

We're thinking about starting to return in March.

Over.

I can't hear what you're saying.

We are thinking

about starting to return in March, more or less,

so we'll be around the Antilles until then. Over.

That's great, maybe we'll meet up there

and we can have dinner together. Over.

It'll be a pleasure.

I really hope we can meet up.

Coc'a and his boat, the "Archibald", were sailing at the same time,

heading for the Caribbean, coming from the Southern Cone.

Our voyages were parallel, we often spoke on the radio

to know each boat's situation.

I crossed the Atlantic alone

Sailor

to reach South America:

Brazil, Argentina, to tackle the Southern Cone

along with friends who came to join the crew of the "Archibald".

We travelled all the coast of Patagonia

to the Lemaire Strait.

We visited some islands in the southern zone

and then traveled the Beagle channels,

all that part of the world that is so different and little known,

until the season ended.

We had to go back to Buenos Aires

where that stage of the voyage ended.

Cocoa is what we call a sea rover.

I don't know if he has blood or salt water in his veins.

Since he's had the use of reason he's been a great yachtsman,

but his life is really somewhere in the middle of the seas.

A few months later, I set sail again to travel up the coast of Brazil,

the Guianas, and on to the Caribbean,

and from there start my return to Spain.

I leave, I cast off.

It's my life, I take it by the hand and we go off.

I leave behind all the things that I don't like:

the absurd things,

the men who promise with paternal gestures,

the systems that envelop and restrain

the joys of life.

And I take the road I have to take to know the land,

this land that is mine.

While I was sailing, I'd write from time to time.

I have some notebooks that I filled up.

I filled them with waves, with stars, with flying fish,

with whales...

I never thought that it would turn into a book,

but when I got back a lot of friends encouraged me:

"With all things you've written,

you should publish something".

And that led to "El epetrel" which is what I shout to the petrels

to keep me company.

The "Gandul" sails on happily and we have fun with the fishing rod.

It's all new and we get in a bit of mess

until we drop the hook in our wake.

Our attention is focused on the slightest tug on the rod,

nothing else concerns us today.

In the end, our patience is rewarded.

We pull on board a beautiful, enormous dorado.

It's a strange cycle of life

in which we have to kill to survive,

but the poor animal will feed us over the next days.

Living at sea means that you spend much less

on all kinds of things, particularly food,

clothes, and so on,

because in the tropics, where we have traveled,

you hardly even have to dress.

I worked in ports, I lived like "Robinson Crusoe",

I fished a lot...

I've never lived in such abundance as when I was poor.

Any day, everything in abundance,

waves, wind, tropical fruits

and fish.

I could breakfast on lobster.

Right now we're here.

We're passing in front of the coast of Western Sahara,

at more or less 100 miles,

and we are going at

a speed of 5.7 knots

and we're on a course of 222 degrees.

We've done maximum speeds of 10 knots.

Hello, hello. The Sailor's Wheel.

Good evening, I'm seeing who's out there. Over.

Yes, Rafael, good evening. This is "Gandul". Do you copy me?

Yes, wait a minute, I copy you.

I've got trouble with the antenna.

Tell me how you are. Over.

We're doing very well. We missed you yesterday.

We're sailing without any great difficulties.

The Sailor's Wheel is an organization

that I created forty years ago

because I saw that a lot of sailors passed through here

and that, after the Canaries,

their families knew nothing about them.

We agree on a daily time for communication

and I give them weather information for the journey,

to reassure them,

and so they know there is no storm lying ahead;

or, if there is, how they should change course

so that the storm won't affect them too much.

The Sailor's Wheel is useful for many things,

because Rafael is someone who has lots of contacts

and he'll help you with any problem.

If it's a health problem: he'll link you with a doctor.

If you're having difficulties in a country,

he'll link you with the Navy or the embassy there.

Mechanical problems.

My previous life has got nothing to do with what I do now,

at least professionally.

I worked in an office in Madrid,

but at the weekend I needed to get out into nature,

and I went sailing too, of course.

But I didn't live off that.

I met Gustavo and he offered me another kind of life:

living and working on the boat.

I thought a lot about the plan to sail around the world.

It wasn't an easy decision.

It meant leaving my family, breaking with security,

But, after thinking about it, I said: "Go for it!"

When I crossed the Atlantic, I had some difficult moments.

I never felt panic because, really, if I die

and I'm doing something I really like, what could be better?

It's worse to be run down and killed by a car.

Esperanza Perez is a great sailor

and, in fact, I suggested that

she get on board the "Archibald" and cross the Atlantic alone,

which she did impeccably.

I've met an awful lot of women

but only one, a woman of 67,

she was Swiss, sailed on her own.

The others

fulfilled the dream that their husbands or boyfriends had.

They went on board

and turned the men's dreams into theirs.

It was Rodolfo who slowly introduced me into this life and taught me.

Now I think we share more things.

I share more things than just navigation

after so many years with him. I'm the other sailor.

She's the best crew I've ever known,

without any doubt.

It's still a world of men

and it's still a goal that women have to have,

just to be there, because it isn't necessary to achieve much more.

It's the dorado that our dear hunters caught yesterday.

The clan is divided into hunters and gatherers

and those of us who do the domestic work.

As you see, I'm with the latter.

And here is the result of our fishing yesterday.

Bravo! Bravo!

The sea is also very uncomfortable.

As there are two hulls at least it doesn't roll

and there isn't much rocking, but it's still uncomfortable.

How many miles away are you? Over.

I'm at about 70, I think, or a bit less.

Over.

OK, Ezequiel, like I said, all is normal here.

The forecast is that the wind will continue,

but it will gradually ease off. Over.

Because of... what we know, the pilot is gone.

When we make the adjustments, the wind pilot

will control the miles

Where did that pilot go?

What happened?

It stopped pushing, it stopped pushing.

You must pull, and when there's a bit of force, pull three or four times again.

The last time on the deck, so it's very little force.

I think a seal or something has broken. I'll check it out.

The automatic pilot has gone on strike

and it's up to me to try

to move this crock.

It isn't easy to keep it sternwards.

It's like sailing a ship from the 19th century.

The dangers at sea are recklessness and ignorance.

The sea has its own personality.

You have to respect it and know how far you can go.

You can't blame the sea if anything happens to you.

The sea always claims lives and at times you pay a high price

to be allowed to sail on it with your boat.

The first danger at sea is the sea itself,

when the sea turns and eats you.

That's the moment when the seaman grows.

Even before we got engaged my wife knew how we'd end up.

The children saw the whole process of building the boat,

so they drank it all in from the beginning.

The ones who took it worst were the parents. They said:

That boy is crazy. It's OK for them, but what about the children?

Referring to the grandchildren, of course.

It was more problematic to persuade them

that there are as many dangers on land as on the sea.

It's strange:

so much water all around and so little for washing ourselves.

On shower days, there is general delight on board.

We wash every three or four days,

using what at first seemed to us to be small bags of water

that are heated by the sun.

Total luxury.

If the fresh water runs out, we use salt water.

Dusk and night are, by far, the best moments of the day.

Those sunsets, so gentle at times,

so heartrending at others,

that come a little later every day,

are a gift,

a prize I get from heaven.

Fish again.

Yes, with tomato and fries.

...since long ago.

Yes. Yes, I tell you.

Being on watch is one of the best moments of the day

and even though it breaks up our sleep,

scanning the horizon in search of lights

in the midst of a starry night, is a real wonder.

The watches are important to ensure that the course is correct

and to change sails, if necessary,

but above all they are essential to avoid

the main danger at sea: that a merchant ship runs over you,

and you end up without a boat and having a moonlight swim.

After a tough 8-day crossing

and 900 miles with strong winds and high waves,

we feel as if we've been living in a washing machine.

Physical exhaustion and daily contact

cause minor tense situations,

but also teach us to respect others

and enjoy each one's personality.

I've seen lots of rows between people

who couldn't live together in such a reduced space

as the cabin of a boat.

If you adopt the attitude of a passenger,

then you can have that sensation of confinement,

but if you look at the voyage as a crew member

and you feel that the boat is an appendix of you,

an extension of you,

then, obviously, the sensation of freedom

is extreme.

It's very different when people are forced to embark,

to seek a new life,

and at the present we are witnessing

dramas, enormous tragedies.

I think it's frivolous

to talk about adventurers, about adventures and...

the epic.

We were lucky enough to have been born in a country where we could choose.

We were born at the right time in the right place,

but others can't choose,

so going around the world is nothing.

Those who deserve credit are the poor people who come in boats,

the Syrians who escape, who cross from Syria to Turkey;

but we can't boast of anything because in the lottery of life

we hit the jackpot.

Finally we can see the coast of Cabo Verde.

All eyes turn to the horizon

wanting to see the silhouette of the islands

where we will rest before crossing.

"Land", never did a word mean so much to us.

It certainly meant something!

Marina Mindelo, Marina Mindelo, Marina Mindelo.

Sailboat "Gandul, "Gandul". Over.

6,5 miles. About an hour. We have to be...

Is that the lighthouse?

The islands are all over there.

We're looking for the red of wing 3. These say every 3 seconds.

The course says every 4.

But, even so, it's the red, right?

There's another red there that isn't even marked.

The port entrance seems very clear,

with an island to go round between it and the continent.

To get in, there's a mile of water, it's very wide.

Yet all the sailors' forums and the course

say it's very dangerous

and advise against entering at night.

November 11

Some twenty meters. Heading for the dark hull, OK?

OK.

How are you?

Listen...

Fish market

Thank you.

Once again, preparations are necessary.

Also, we have bought a new automatic pilot,

which offers us more security about the crossing?

We're losing two traveling companions:

Jordi and Paco are going home.

We'll miss them on the crossing to America.

Miti has embarked like the old seafarers,

without clean clothes, without sleep and without a cent.

Shall we embark?

Dusk in Mindelo bay.

They have been wonderful days of music, taverns and walks.

We could drop anchor for good in this paradise,

but, on the other hand, we also want to embark again

in search of the unknown.

It must be our subconscious, I'm not sure.

We cast off for America.

November 16.

"I marvel that men should dare to venture the sea

on a contrivance so small and fragile." Jack London, "The Sea Wolf"

We'll keep the satellite telephone in a plastic bag so it won't get damp

and we'll only use it in case of necessity.

You may want to call your girlfriend.

Strict necessity.

The telephone is turned on like a normal one.

We have to put in the code and directly, as it's via satellite,

it gets in touch with any telephone.

We'll only use this if, for example, someone gets sick on the crossing

and we have to talk to a doctor

so that he tells us what kind of medication to use

or we can tell him the symptoms to get a diagnosis.

To cross the ocean, first, the boat

must be well prepared with all kinds of spare parts.

A very thorough medical check-up,

especially of the appendix,

in case an operation may be required.

There are two fundamental things for tackling the sea.

For me, it's very important to know the boat.

The other thing, to avoid mishaps, is anticipation.

The skipper has to be continuously imagining

the worst circumstances.

This boat is the result of a life project,

the idea of living on board, traveling, getting to know this world.

I had a smaller boat, when I lived with my then wife,

Ofelia, and with the kids,

and I decided to build a bigger one because we didn't fit.

That's how I designed this catamaran, much bigger and habitable.

A boat to live on.

We did it in a year of intense work,

with a group of collaborators who, basically, were my students

at the sailing school in Patagonia.

A lot of people helped us.

There wasn't a lot of money

but there was a lot of determination and inventiveness.

Finally we got the boat to float, little more than float,

but we sailed in it for a year, improving it all the time,

and we got to Spain, which was the project,

to participate in Expo 92 in Seville

and leave a message of fraternity between both shores

in the port at Palos.

You feel an imperative need to build this boat.

You say to yourself: "I don't want to go through life

without having done this".

Not the ship, but what the ship represents.

It's an idea of living in nature, of freedom, basically.

An unconventional life, if you like, but it's your life.

A project that comes from your gut

and one that you're going to do, whatever happens.

"La ola" came about almost twenty years ago

because we were aware that

Basque maritime history isn't very well known.

Mainly we are dedicated to rebuilding old ships,

with an historical value, taking great care in the construction,

building the boat as it was, after a lot of research.

And then, afterwards, we go sailing in those boats.

It's an archeo-navigation process, we experiment with that way of sailing.

We go into distant, exotic seas

and try to get close to the experiences of those ancestors.

We want to promote awareness of that past,

that was so interesting, that took us so far

and that made the sea and exceptional source of wealth.

What a night we had, eh?

He was seasick. I went to the room, I lay down

and...

a gush of water, I was asleep.

I said: "Shit! Are we sinking?" and I went running out.

"You're making me deaf!"

Some coexistence!

We can wash today.

How often do we wash? Every three days.

Every three days?

Every three days, being very optimistic.

And with salt water.

So far, five men living together

with just one woman

has been absolutely easy.

We all share the work, we share the watches,

cooking the meals, washing the dishes.

The boat is quite tidy, even though there are five men,

and you might think it would be a disaster, but not at all.

There have been no complaints so far, at least not from me.

Lentils. Clear sky, smoke on your skin.

Lentils.

I first set out on adventures like this one some years ago,

when I gave up my career as a yachtsman

and began my life as a sea wanderer.

It's something that drives you and you can't give it up.

In history, there has never been a tyrant

no Hitler, no Stalin,

who had been a sailor.

A sailor

doesn't think that dominating people, screwing people, is important.

Two crews: one Basque and the other Irish.

We went around Ireland in six weeks, sailing and rowing,

in very difficult conditions

and it was a lovely journey because it was called

Navigating Peace.

They knew that at the time they were in the middle of the peace process,

that, without intending to be, they were a model for society,

because they were a group of Irish Catholics

and Irish Protestants who, unintentionally,

had embarked on the same ship

and were capable of "rowing together",

using that simile that politicians use so often,

and were capable of getting to port

with everyone's efforts.

A priest in France built the "Belle…toile"

it was an old period boat that they renovated.

He set out on it with boys who were in recovery,

boys who'd had a bad time because of drugs or violence.

He took them on the boat and he had fabulous results.

He said that it was the reeducating force of the sea and nature.

We're sailing.

We've already done almost 900 miles, more or less

and we're almost in the middle. Over.

Understood, Gustavo. A pleasure to hear from you.

I'm arriving in Rio de Janeiro. I've got a very good wind

and I'll be here for a few days,

time enough to buy some things,

and then I'll continue to head south, now that I've come this far.

Go ahead, Gustavo.

Wonderful, Coc'a.

We'll remain on this frequency and at this time.

I hope all goes well. Take care, Coc'a. We'll talk soon.

Roger. Roger. We'll remain on this frequency

and at this time.

Good wind, good sailing, until tomorrow.

Ciao, ciao, Gustavo.

Sailing is life, the excuse for staying in this world.

If I didn't sail, I wouldn't know what to do.

I've been in boats since I was six years old,

and always with the dream of having my own

and sailing round the world.

There's a difference between

sailing for pleasure and permanent enjoyment

and sailing for work,

because work, in the end, debases everything.

But there is also a difference between sailing

in boats with engines, with turbines and all,

and sailing with sails, in silence,

when you meet with the sea as it really is,

capable of carrying you if you let it.

I think that you find yourself a bit when you're at sea,

and when you make a crossing

it's like melding totally with nature

because in the end it's the boat, you,

and all the rest, which is only blue, only sea.

You are totally one and that sensation is intimate, profound, tremendous.

If your job is sailing and you have a few days off

and you go sailing, and your sport is sailing

and you never get tired of this,

it means you'll feel happy, fulfilled.

For me, sailing is a sail full of wind.

I like the belly of a well-trimmed sail,

with the air flowing through,

that carries you the best way possible.

That is a unique feeling

Perhaps beyond the horizon are all the islands of the world

and all men need to believe that there is an island for us.

At time we carry the island within us,

but the mar is a symbol

and we know that on the other side of the horizon

is the Caribbean, the Galapagos,

the South Seas.

Hello, good evening, greetings.

How are things on board?

Yes, Rafael,

Good evening. Can you hear me there? Over.

Today I hear you a bit better.

It seems that when you move away I hear you better.

Give me your position.

19 degrees,

55 minutes north.

5-5,

like fifth fifth of a minute, Rafael.

Your voice sounds like a robot.

You'll never make a living as a commentator.

"People who do not know that a sailboat is a living creature

will never understand anything about boats and the sea."

November 26.

The silences between the crew are getting longer

and that means we spend a lot of time alone.

I think that, in the end, on this type of voyage

the hardest thing isn't enduring the others

but putting up with yourself,

which, at times, is tough.

In addition, it's been three weeks since we left

and there's a certain melancholy.

We remember more often those we left behind on land.

Our families, how are they...

4 words, 25 letters A whole life

Afraid of the sea? Yes, of course I am.

I always respect it

and you're afraid when, obviously,

the circumstances: a storm, a high wind, waves...

You're afraid and that's what puts you on alert,

in a situation that isn't that of the trade winds

that accompany you on the boat.

You feel afraid sometimes, that's totally normal.

And you must always have respect.

I lost my previous boat on some islands off Venezuela.

I lost it because of a tropical storm

that dragged me onto the reefs

and I had to leave the poor boat there, destroyed.

Why do boats sink at sea?

A leak, a heavy sea

in the middle of a heavy storm, a rough storm.

After a really bad storm,

when we overturned twice, we were adrift at sea for five days,

with waves of over 30 feet and hurricane winds.

After all that, I never got seasick.

The risk

is the price you pay for living a bit better,

for having lovely experiences,

for discovering the world.

As the days passed, those five days of the storm,

we saw that our strength was failing.

When the weather was calming down, when we should have been at our best,

we were weaker and we said: "How can this be?

Why don't I have the same strength as before?"

Then we realized. We'd spent four days without food or water.

I never thought something like that could happen.

I'd ask Rodolfo, when there was a storm I thought was tremendous:

"Are there worse storms than this?" "Yes, there are", he'd say.

And I'd say: "Well, just a little bit worse".

After that storm, I never asked again.

because if there are, I don't want to know.

The "Ya veremos" is in ships' heaven,

in an incomparable place.

and I'll always be happy to know that there are still remains

of my old boat there in Venezuela.

Some think it's crazy to expose yourself to those situations

but I think it's good to get out of the "greenhouse" of our society,

where we're always regulated at the same temperature,

and, of course, we live comfortably,

but we don't have experiences or live fully.

I think it's important to have tough experiences

so that you can then also enjoy the sweetness of life.

Red, orange, yellow, green,

blue, indigo and violet.

The rainbow is diffused between the clouds,

the rain and the sky.

The violet caresses the senses, I dream like in a Chagall painting.

An albatross flies over the "Gandul".

For days we've seen no sign of life except the glittering flying fish.

In this vastness, you start to think that you're alone on the planet.

The timid bird reestablishes our contact with living beings.

Yesterday, thousands of miles from the nearest coast,

we saw a plastic bottle that also seemed to be traveling to America.

As children, we dreamed of finding a bottle floating in the sea

and containing a wonderful secret.

Today this bottle only has a sad message:

"I am garbage,

I was thrown into the sea for no reason".

The devastation of our so-called "progress"

seems to reach the farthest corners of the planet,

and we do nothing but watch from the rail.

In the time since I went round the world,

the seas have got worse:

they're full of garbage,

the waters are dirty,

there are a lot fewer fish.

Where you really see the deterioration

is when you find an "island" in the middle of the sea,

and you say: "What's that?"

And you discover that it is all garbage

that has been floating and has joined together.

And oceans form there,

because it all moves to the rhythm of the sea,

but it's solid.

There is no sea, that is solid.

One thing is to go fishing,

and make a living for yourself and for your family,

it's another thing to go out to overexploit the ocean,

and make it a multi-million company

that then is dedicated to building apartments,

or that the yacht for the company's president

is 240 feet instead of 120.

One of the world's most important resources is the sea

and I don't know why it doesn't look after it.

It's in a completely lamentable state

and there are no signs that it's going to improve.

I don't know what cataclysm has to happen for us to realize,

but certainly the panorama is not at all hopeful.

December 4

When you arrive in America and see that you've overcome

the challenge that you voluntarily set yourself,

you feel such an overwhelming, enormous satisfaction

at seeing that you've beaten the sea, the elements,

that I really can't describe it.

You even lose respect for the sea and you say:

"I'm going to cross it again".

Now let out the sail. A bit.

You can let it out a bit.

A bit? No, no, no.

No?

That was a good maneuver. Yes.

We're finally looking like a boat.

In the end, look where...

We've succeeded,

we crossed the ocean entrusting ourselves to it

and it treated us well.

You almost want to jump in the water and swim to shore.

Waiting ahead for us is an ice-cold beer, fresh food

and Caribbean music.

We've arrived!

We're happy to have arrived, but are also a bit confused.

We want to carry on to the Pacific,

but we know that our voyage is about to end

and soon we'll leave the "Gandul, the ocean and life on the sea.

Now I recall the words of the hero of "The Sea Wolf":

"I leaned upon the rail and gazed longingly into the sea,

with the certainty that, sooner or later,

I should be sinking down through the warm green depths of its oblivion".

What is the sea's attraction?

I guess that it's

the infinity of the horizon,

that it never ends and there are always

new things to see, to find.

You keep looking inside and it keeps giving you answers.

It's so changing,

so rich and so alive,

that it's hard

to get tired of it.

It's a feeling of freedom, a feeling of peace,

a feeling of saying

that no one is going to bother you. If anything, it's nature against you.

When you go on a long voyage,

in the end, you have to be willing

to depend on yourself. I mean, that's vital.

There's something on land that we forget.

You go along the street and normally nothing will happen to you,

but when you're on a boat

it's your life,

your life that's at stake,

and any slip,

any little thing that you're careless about,

you're gone.

I've never regretted being in the middle of the sea.

Yes, I've been scared at times

when there was a storm, the waves were crashing,

I've overturned several times,

but I've never had any regrets.

I was where I had to be

and that was the price.

Once the kids had left, Bego and I were on our own

and soon we started getting clients

who wanted to go on a voyage round the islands.

Then we carried on again, in a more relaxed way,

bit by bit, until after Holy Week,

when we started what was to be

our return to Spain.

I sailed up the coast of Brazil

until I got to the Diablo islands,

in French Guiana.

I sailed through Granada, Bequia, Saint Vincent and Santa LucÌa

to the island of Martinique,

where, unfortunately, I didn't coincide with the "Gandul",

as a few days earlier it had set sail for the Bermudas.

We left the Bermudas with a forecast that wasn't very good

for the first week but then it was supposed to improve.

April 24, 2015

Then, from the second day, none of that.

It was a couple of weeks of sailing

when the ship continued on and we didn't have too much trouble

but it was very unpleasant

because the weather kept getting worse.

The return voyage is much more complicated

because its done at higher latitudes

and in those latitudes we have the storms

that come down from Newfoundland and Greenland to Europe,

and that makes the conditions much tougher.

We knew that a very profound low pressure was forming

around the Azores.

We were close to them.

They were 300 or 400 miles away.

We couldn't imagine

what might be happening

to those who were there, in that area of influence.

Yes, we're sailing...

I talked to Gustavo every day,

and I warned him well in advance

that a low pressure was coming

and that inside the cold front

the wind would grow stronger,

I mean, the low pressure was coming with 45-50 knots

and it went up to 70 knots

when the cold front passed.

Really, we were sailing, bumping along, holding our own,

with smaller and smaller sails, in tougher conditions,

and it wasn't because the boat...

We'd sailed in those conditions before,

but there was also the accumulated tiredness.

The radder broke

because there were big waves. Very big.

While we could steer the boat, it was just another storm.

Once we couldn't do that, the situation was out of control.

We were listening to Gustavo

over The Sailor's Wheel and could hear what was happening.

The poor man was really suffering

with those strong winds

which also were getting stronger.

The Portuguese Air Force sent a rescue plane

because there was a situation in the area

and other boats were involved, but we didn't know.

They insisted that we ask for rescue.

Beacons, radio beacons, started to appear

on all the satellites,

both here in Maspalomas and in the United States.

They positioned them in a certain area,

but they were closer to the Azores.

The Center for Maritime Rescue Coordination in Punta Delgada,

in the Azores, alerted all the boats sailing in the area.

One of them was ours, the hospital ship,

and we arrived first

to help a sailboat.

We told the Air Force people that we didn't want to ask for rescue,

but that we would try steering without the rudder.

We couldn't do it.

And I realized that,

if there was a time to ask for rescue, this was the time.

That meant

that in one moment, in one second,

I realized that by asking for rescue,

a rescue at sea and in those conditions

it was almost certain that we'd lose the boat.

We could try to get out and save our lives,

but it was practically impossible

to save our lives and the boat.

Then I sat down and I remember clearly

that I touched the door of the boat,

it was next to me, the door of the aft cabin, and...

It was a very, very strong emotion.

May 8

A Turkish ship answered us

and said they would be there in about three hours.

Meanwhile, during all that time,

we kept in contact,

but the moment of the rescue was even worse.

Never in my life have I seen the possibility of death so close.

The problem with a merchant ship is that the decks are very high.

They're not designed for rescuing a small boat.

And very often the only thing they can do,

if the conditions are bad, is get close,

throw nets over the side, get close to the boat

and let the people

climb up the ladders.

The boat's propeller was six feet from us,

and the stern of the boat fell on top of us

and flattened us like a box of matches.

A boat that had travelled half the world,

so gallantly, lasted barely one minute.

The merchant ship moved away, a good maneuver,

because it was a danger. Half the boat was still afloat,

but we didn't know how long it would last,

so we got into the water.

We didn't know there was a second, very dangerous part.

They threw us a Jacob's ladder, the kind made of rope

with rungs in the middle, like steps.

They're wooden rungs that float on the wave,

so you hold on to the ladder,

the wave comes, it lifts you up

and, when the wave goes, you drop down.

It was very difficult to hold on. After falling two or three times

I got hold of the ladder and signaled to them to pull me up

because I wasn't getting anywhere.

I was struggling, I couldn't do it, I was drifting away,

and I saw how the rope on the lifebuoy

was fraying... Fraying.

because it had been destroyed on the deck.

I thought I wouldn't make it up because it was breaking.

The rope was fraying more and more as they pulled me up.

Really, I thought I wouldn't get to the deck before the rope broke.

It was...

The sixty feet seemed never-ending

And when they finally got me onto the deck,

I completely went to bits.

It was...

Yes, I'm fine.

They gave us blankets, we put on dry clothes,

and it took us a long time to stop shaking.

We weren't able to write our names.

They asked us to write our names but we couldn't.

We'd like to think it was the cold water but I think it was everything else.

At first, they were intending to come in a helicopter

and take us to the Azores, but, obviously, they couldn't.

They were very busy with the other rescues.

I think there were four or five other boats.

The crew got into the lifeboats

some were in the water.

The work by the Portuguese rescue forces

was very good because they saved

practically all the crews of the boats.

It's even more remarkable that we're alive

because there was a French family with two children

and during the rescue the little girl, unfortunately,

died of hypothermia.

Reading later about how that rescue was done,

it was really very similar to ours.

That's when you realize that you could have...

We're alive, but it could have been otherwise.

These things affect me a lot,

because they're companions, I'm a sailor too.

I've crossed the Atlantic several times.

You feel tremendously sorry for your companions,

not just losing the boat but their lives as well.

One day we stopped hearing Gustavo and we started to fear the worst,

but then another radio ham told us what had happened.

I couldn't carry on talking, I had to hang up

so I could take in those words

because I knew how much Gustavo loved his boat

and I could imagine what he was going through.

Having been rescued, on his way to the United States,

it was terrible.

These have been three very hard, intense years.

I went to see my sunken boat on the coasts of Venezuela.

I needed to do that to bring an era to an end.

When I got there with my new boat,

it was like renewing everything and starting from zero.

I'm here with my family again, very happy to be back,

but I'm already thinking of another voyage further on.

As Plato said: "There are three kind of men:

the living, the dead and those who sail".

You take it now and I'll drop anchor. Is that Ok?

We're almost there. Look at the cove, it's lovely.

There are lots of boats,

there are some friends there with the launch...

We lost everything we had on board

but everything you lose is material

and you realize how little value material things have.

But you carry your feelings with you and you learn a lot.

It teaches you that real value is in sentiment.

Your scale of values changes completely.

You have to value what a friend is,

what a feeling is,

what a memory is.

The rest is worthless.

I may be a bit of dreamer,

but I think life is kind of meaningless if we don't have dreams.

Dreams can become reality only if you persist in fulfilling them.

and persisting like that means a lot of work and a lot of effort.

Would I repeat the experience? Well...

Circumstances are never the same.

If I were 35 again and in the same place, obviously yes.

The way I am now, of course not.

Everything is different.

If anyone is dreaming of leaving,

what he has to do is leave now.

He can go to the sea, he can go to the desert,

he can wander around for a few years,

and he can return or not.

If he does return he'll be richer than when he left.

This place will always be here.

I think the heart of the sea is very far from here.

For me it's the moon.

The moon is what pumps the water in the seas,

it's what creates the tides continuously

and I think it's the tides that give life to this planet.

Then there's the heart of each one of us,

of those who get emotional sailing the ocean and the seas,

and I think that those emotions are the heart of the sea too.

May 18 Adolfo Suarez Airport, Madrid

What is this? What is this?

Arriving and being applauded is the best!

We never thought we'd go to meet Gustavo and Begoa

at an airport and in these circumstances.

Our plans were to meet them again on the "Gandul"

in some port in the world.

Fate changed the cards.

But the joy that they had survived the storm

erased any trace of sadness

for the loss of that boat which we will never forget.

4 months later

Fortunately, the boat was insured.

We could claim that insurance

and that meant we could get our new boat quite quickly,

which allows us to live allows us to work

and will allow us to travel, we hope,

which is what we want to do, it's our project.

I carry the memory of the "Gandul" within me.

The life we had on board and all it represented

is unforgettable for me.

All of that remains, the "Gandul" will always be with us.

We've lost what is material.

The rest continues now aboard the new boat.

Also, the boat had a very worthy death.

It saved us, it sheltered us to the end

and now it's at the bottom of the ocean which is where it belongs.

My story with the "Gandul" reminds me in some way

of Bukowski's poem about how the dice are rolled,

and it says: "If you're going to try, go all the way

Otherwise, don't even start.

It could mean losing everything, maybe even your mind,

but there is no other feeling like that.

It will be better than anything else you can imagine.

You will be alone with the gods and the nights will flame with fire.

Do it, do it, all the way".