Rich Interviewed Dee Smith as the Volvo 60s were getting ready to round the Horn
February 2002

By Rich Roberts
For YachtRacing.com

The worst is over and he missed it.

While 97 of his comrades and comradettes endured the worst the Southern Ocean can throw at a sailor, Dee Smith could only hover over his computer at home in Novato, Calif. and fret that he wasn't there with them, sharing the fear, the freezing, the pitch-black broaches, the soggy sleeping bags, the 24/7 four-hour watches and the crummy food.

Really? Yes, because there was something else he missed terribly.

"Yeah," he said at the height of the adventures, when boats were dodging icebergs at 30 knots. "Yes and no. Yeah, I'm glad I'm not there but, yeah, I wish I were there. That is the best sailing you can do. It is a survival situation. It is difficult and scary--scarier than you could ever believe, and you can't believe you're out there. But it's so incredibly intense that it's good."

Smith-tactician, helmsman and co-navigator on Grant Dalton's Amer Sports One--gave up his ride to Paul Cayard on Leg 4 of the Volvo Ocean Race because he needed surgery. After grappling with the Frers' wheels and moving spare sails, food and other movable stores around like a stevedore every time the boat tacked or jibed for the first three legs, Smith's shoulder was killing him. Bone spurs were tearing muscle, tendons and cartilage to shreds.

"No doubt the race caused a lot of that," he said. "To sail the boat quickly in breeze you have to be forceful [on the helm]."

Oh, sure, he could have sailed Leg 4. "Yeah, and I probably would have ripped it to hell and not been able to do any other legs."

As it is, he plans to rejoin the boat in Rio de Janeiro.

America's Cup sailors go home to a warm, dry bed and loved ones every night while a shore crew fixes whatever they've broken on the boat. A Volvo boat's crew is the family, day after night after day, and they fix whatever they break themselves.

"It's physically hard," Smith said. "It's mentally hard-and it's a yacht race. So you keep going and hope you can get to the Horn. Everybody's had problems.

"It is fatigue that causes the crew errors that cause the breakdowns. I can't even remember all the stuff that broke for us on Chessie last time. As soon as you break one thing, then something else goes down because people get tired. When you overload the people in the boat, that one more strand of hay breaks the camel's back."

It seems awfully dangerous.

"The race is supposed to be dangerous," Smith said.
"Has anybody died? No. Have people gotten hurt? Yes.
Do people get hurt in football games? Yes. Do people still play football? Yes."

But if football players or America's Cup sailors get hurt, they go to the infirmary. Only one Volvo boat-Amer Sports One-has a real doctor on board, and the nearest ER may be a thousand miles away.

"You are on your own, absolutely," Smith said. "There's nothing anybody can do for you. You rely on the other [race] boats."

The Volvo 60s-they're actually 64 feet long-may be the fastest ocean racers ever designed but they're also the most punishing.

Cayard e-mailed his opinion: "Guess I finally got so tired I could sleep in these bunks. They are the worst I have ever seen. I sleep overlapped with [Grant] Dalton or Bouwe Bekking, feet to feet, in a fixed angle bunk with water dripping down the sidewalls of the tanks."

On the other hand, Smith said, "The boats are pretty safe. Ross [Field of News Corp] hits [a growler] and carries on. SEB breaks the mast and sails in [with a jury rig]. You get injured and there's somebody on board to take care of you."

Boats have always taken a beating in what used to be called the Whitbread Round the World Race, but the crews seem to be breaking down physically more than ever in this one.

Is it time for reforms to make the race more humane?

If anyone tried that, the sailors would be first to complain.

It's the old cliché: If it were easy, anyone could do it.

"It is the test," Smith said. "The whole thing on this leg is endurance. Then it becomes a yacht race again. You have to survive the adventure."

The difference this time, Smith said, has been the extraordinary amount of ice. Field attributed it to "global warming" that causes growlers as big as buses to break off 'bergs and lurk in wait for boats.

"Everything's normal other than the ice," Smith said. "If you look at sailing down there without the ice, it's hard enough. Throwing the ice on top, it just throws you over the edge.

"The ice is a lot farther north than it's ever been, and they all knew they were going into it. The boats that went farthest south knew they were putting themselves in harm's way. They just got into a place where they had no options. They should have got out when it got pretty bad but they couldn't because the wind shifts weren't right.

"Something [bad] usually happens down there. You just have to be lucky and careful and strong enough to survive."

Smith is anxious to get back. His problem may be getting Cayard off the boat. Despite an occasional complaint, Cayard has rejoiced in the adventure.

"I gave him a big break to get in there," Smith said. "The a------."