Fatal Storm (7 page)

In the nineties the media’s thirst for Hobart race news has not abated. It starts weeks before the event every year. The official television network treats viewers to a one-hour special on preparations some 10 days before Boxing Day.

In 1998 the Christmas Eve pre-race briefing was big news. Roger Badham had been quoted in
The Australian
as saying there was plenty of wind brewing for the fleet.

“A high casualty rate is the likely scenario when a forecast southerly buster hits the fleet within 24 hours of the start of the Telstra Sydney to Hobart yacht race on Boxing Day.” He went on to say the approaching front that was originally expected on Christmas Day had slowed dramatically. It now appeared it would pummel the fleet during the first night at sea or early the next morning.

“I’m beginning to wonder how God knows it’s time for a Hobart race,” Badham said. “The pattern looks like it will be very similar to what we have seen in most of the recent Hobart races. That means a nor’easterly wind for the start and a fast spinnaker run down the coast before the fleet hits a brick wall in the form of a southerly buster. It’s still a little early to make an accurate prediction on whether or not the conditions will give the frontrunners a shot at the race record, but if I had to stick my neck out now I’d say it won’t happen. The indications from all the computer models we have available say that it looks like the wind will be quite soft off the Tasmanian coast. That will slow the leaders for some time.”

Badham said the southerly buster was likely to deliver winds of between 25 and 30 knots for between 12 and 24 hours. The wind was then likely to change direction towards the east and abate.

The forecast conditions for the first 24 hours of the 1998 event were uncannily similar to those experienced in the 1996 event. George Snow’s maxi
Brindabella
led Hasso Plattner’s
Morning Glory
for the first three hours of the race before losing its mast soon after the southerly hit. The
Morning Glory
crew reacted to the change in a
remarkably conservative fashion – fearing dismasting or structural problems they lowered the mainsail completely and set a headsail. It was a wise move and they survived under that configuration until the wind began to ease then went on to set the record.

At the 1998 pre-race briefing the official weatherman, Ken Batt, injected some Christmas spirit when he appeared in front of his eager audience wearing a Santa Claus hat. He was short on weather “gifts” however and admitted the pattern was becoming a little difficult to predict. It appeared the southerly buster would certainly hit the first night out, but there was also a low lurking off the east coast and it was showing signs that it might move south. The competitors and the media left the briefing room faced with a lot of “ifs and maybes”.

“It was really the first Hobart race that I’d done in a number of years where I felt there was an unresolved, an absolutely unresolved, weather pattern,” recalls Steve Kulmar. “There was a divergence of opinion. Ken had started by saying the three models disagreed. The only thing they could agree upon was that we’d run into the change in the first 24 hours. The computer models were saying, ‘We think there’s a low pressure system somewhere up off Coffs Harbour, which is going to have an influence over here but we can’t agree on the direction it will travel.’ I think the European model was saying there’s a low pressure in the [Great Australian] Bight and it’s the major influence. So I guess I left that weather briefing thinking we’ll just have to catch up and look at it in detail on Boxing Day morning.”

Unknown to everyone, Mother Nature was setting a trap.

A
magnificent summer day dawned over Sydney Harbour on December 26, 1998. Steve and Libby Kulmar awoke around 6.30am to the first silver shafts of sunlight dancing on the glassy waters of the harbour off Forty Baskets Beach. Steve noticed that a heavy dew had settled on the lawn during the night. In Sydney that could only mean that a strong nor’easterly sea breeze would develop in the afternoon, a breeze that would make for great racing under spinnaker.

As always Steve’s mother had made a boiled fruit cake for the crew. While breakfast was being prepared Libby cut this moist and dark homemade treat into sections so everyone on board could enjoy two slices each. She was tempted to taste it but resisted out of superstition and tradition. Meanwhile Steve methodically packed his gear, and went to great lengths to ensure everything would stay dry.

Libby’s parents, John and Nerolie – “Noo” to everyone – were also up for breakfast. John planned to go to the club with them to enjoy the sights and farewell Steve. After that he and Noo would head north to the central coast where they would holiday at picturesque Avoca Beach.

“Why don’t you come up for a few days while Steve’s away?” Noo asked Libby over breakfast.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll come up. I think I’m going to have to pick up Steve.” Libby’s response shocked her after she’d said it. In recalling those comments Libby did not know what had prompted her. “I’ve never ever said anything like that before Steve had gone to do any other ocean race. We’ve always expected him to finish in Hobart and he has. I just can’t explain why I said it.”

The latest weather forecasts confirmed nothing much had changed. There would be a nice nor’easterly for the start, then a south to sou’westerly change during the night – a typical southerly buster for what was shaping up as a typical Hobart race. There was, however, still an element of uncertainty about the intentions of a low that was lingering off the NSW coast and what impact an upper air disturbance might have on conditions in Bass Strait. Roger Badham was already well on his way to the CYC from his home at Coledale, south of Sydney. He had been up almost the entire night analysing the very latest local and international computer models of the developing weather patterns.

Badham had outlined what he expected to happen, what to look out for and what the many potential scenarios might be. Most of the race’s high profile competitors were relying on him to provide them with the answers to the mysteries of meteorology – answers that would give them the best possible chance of winning. Badham’s briefcase carried satchels with the name of each yacht he was servicing written on the outside:
Sayonara
,
Brindabella
,
Wild Thing
,
ABN AMRO Challenge
,
B-52
, and many others.

“This is a typical Hobart race – with the southerly change – but this is one of the most
difficult in recent years to accurately pinpoint the wind changes due to an intense low that looks set to develop near Tasmania,” he said.

“The low is associated with an upper cold air trough [and fast moving fronts] that will produce heaps of breeze south of Tasmania and things look pretty reasonable on the Tassie coast. Over Bass Strait – well it depends exactly where the low develops – how close to Tasmania…but best guess is not too far south and the forecast at the time of writing this [early hours of December 26] is for quite strong winds across Bass Strait on the 27th and slowly moderating winds on the 28th.

“This afternoon/tonight, 26 December: nor’easterly sea breeze in the afternoon ahead of a southerly front expected around midnight. This is a sou’westerly change through Bass Strait and a southerly (180°) change along the NSW coast. This is really a trough system and thunderstorms are likely with and ahead of the trough. Late yesterday, storms gave short wind squalls of 50 to 60 knots across Victoria – this will be the case again this afternoon, so be prepared. A low in the Tasman looks like being absorbed into the trough/front and sliding down the front to be off Tasmania tomorrow.

“Sunday 27 December: high pressure must wait over the Great Australian Bight while a low pressure system spins up south east of Tasmania. The high will ridge along the Victorian coast and north Bass Strait around the NSW corner, but if the low really spins up, then it will be the cyclonic circulation around this that will dominate Bass Strait.”

The one word that stood out was “cyclonic”. Americans call it a hurricane.

There was plenty already happening when Badham and his wife Margaret arrived at the CYC to deliver the eagerly-awaited forecasts. The weather predictions would determine the planned sail inventory for the race, the yacht’s course and tactics for the first 12 hours, and how the yacht might be configured for maximum performance. The docks were jammed with sailors, supporters, spectators and media. Wheelbarrows laden with supplies, ice, crew bags and yacht equipment were being deftly guided through the crush to their respective destinations. High in the forest of masts and what seemed to be the tangle of rigging supporting them, crewmembers were swinging around like monkeys on strings, scanning for potential problems. Television crews with bulky cameras on their shoulders panned, tilted and zoomed in and out to capture the pre-race atmosphere. Reporters were busy interviewing the race identities.

Tom Sobey, a 17 year old from Albury on the NSW–Victorian border, was attracting a lot of attention. His efforts the previous day to hitch a ride aboard a race yacht had failed. Undaunted, he decided to give it one more shot on Boxing Day. From 7am he had walked the docks at the CYC with signs pinned to the front and back of his shirt. The scrawled red writing read “Crew available”. Sobey had just finished his final year of high school and had come to Sydney on the off chance that he might be able to snaffle a ride to Hobart. Like so many young sailors raised in a world of dinghy racing, Sobey regarded the Hobart as the ultimate event. But 1998 was not to be his year, and as the fleet set sail, Tom Sobey watched from the shore.

As Steve Kulmar was leaving for the CYC on Boxing Day morning, he stopped by his daughter Pip’s room, gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered goodbye. A muffled grunt from a head firmly buried in a pillow was the only response he received. Later, as Steve and the other family members drove towards the Sydney Harbour Bridge, a personal concern unrelated to the race or the weather conditions niggled him. He hated the fact that the yacht was at the crowded club on race day and much preferred it when the preparations were done elsewhere. He didn’t enjoy having to struggle with his bags through a crowd just to get to the yacht. But just like the weather conditions, this was something that was out of his control.

Sailors, wannabes, socialites, media types and countless curious spectators had been gathering at the club since the early hours of the morning. For some, but not everyone, navigating through the throng had indeed become a tricky business. Paul Borg, from Mooloolaba in Queensland, confidently made his way along the dock with a white cane in one hand and a friendly arm to hang onto. He was heading for
Aspect Computing
– the yacht manned by the group competing under the banner “Sailors with DisAbilities”. Borg had lost his sight two years earlier yet was determined to continue sailing. Also in the
Aspect Computing
crew was 12-year-old Travis Foley, a dyslexic from Mudgee and the race’s youngest competitor.

The smell of breakfast – bacon and eggs cooking on the club’s outdoor barbecue, toast and freshly brewed coffee – filled the air as sailors clad in their colourful T-shirts and shorts mingled with the punters wearing their best summer attire. In the small carpark at the side of the club, crewmembers waited anxiously for representatives from the Bureau of Meteorology to arrive with the official race forecast. Out on the street others were paying
$10 and throwing their excess baggage, cruising sails for the trip home, inflatable dinghies and spare equipment into the back of the large truck that was heading to Hobart. Excess weight would slow a yacht down and only the bare essentials could be taken on board.

George Snow, property developer and owner of Australia’s glamour maxi,
Brindabella
, was having his hand shaken and his back slapped as he struggled through the crowd to get to his 75-foot racer at the end of the marina.

“Good luck, mate. Make sure you beat those Americans,” came a call from the crowd. It was a nice thought, but deep down Snow and his enthusiastic supporter both knew that the odds were against his “old girl” beating the triple world champion
Sayonara.
A few hundred metres to the north, at d’Albora Marinas,
Sayonara
’s owner, the trim, fit and energetic Larry Ellison, had arrived and was attracting a fair amount of attention. But one of his crewmembers was stealing the show. Lachlan Murdoch, the 27-year-old CEO and Chairman of News Corporation in Australia, stood with his fiancée Sarah O’Hare. Needless to say, the photographers were having a field day.

Sayonara
was both an impressive piece of yacht building and a beautiful boat to look at. From its sleek white hull and aerodynamic carbon fibre mast through to the crew’s crisp white T-shirts – complete with the bold red and black
Sayonara
logo – it was arguably one of the finest yachts in the world and was wholly justified in being the odds-on favourite. Larry Ellison was a spare-no-expense campaigner and had assembled an experienced and highly accomplished crew. It was headed by New Zealand ace and principal helmsman Chris Dickson, an America’s Cup, match racing and around-the-world racer who had come straight from taking his marriage vows in Auckland. Californian Mark Rudiger
was navigator and had guided Paul Cayard’s
EF Language
to a crushing victory in the Whitbread round-the-world race earlier in the year.

Steve Kulmar and family arrived at the club, squeezed their car into the already packed temporary carpark, unloaded the gear, then prepared themselves for the annual dock dance – the ducking, weaving and dodging necessary to reach the yacht.

“We’d never been aboard
Sword of Orion
so we all hopped on and had a bit of a look around,” recalls Libby Kulmar. “I hadn’t met Glyn [Charles] and some of the crew so we chatted while they were getting ready.”

The family didn’t want to stay for the start, preferring instead to be at home in time to watch it live on television. They decided they would all go to the clubhouse with Steve, but not before Madeline took a photo of her father with the new waterproof camera he’d been given for Christmas. They met up with friends, Bob and Sue and Matt Fraser. Bob had an update on the weather – the southerly buster was definitely brewing and on current indications would greet the fleet off the south coast of NSW some time between 2am and dawn. He confirmed the anticipated wind strength in the change was around 35 knots and added that it might back to the west. The low that was looming was still an unknown quantity. Kulmar thought they would probably have a quick beam reach for the crossing of Bass Strait. But he was getting impatient. It was time to go. He walked Libby, Maddie and John back to the car.

“We wanted to get back home, cool off with a swim then watch the start on television,” said Libby. Steve was about to say goodbye to Maddie when she produced a surprise gift for him.

“Dad, I got this in the Christmas stocking. It’s a good luck charm for you. I’ve got one and this one’s yours.”

She handed him a loop of thin luminous yellow cord. Hanging on it like a pendant was a small plastic ball, one-third the size of a golf ball. It was a pink piglet’s head. When you squeezed it the piglet’s mouth opened and shut and made a clacking sound.

“You have to wear it,” Maddie said.

Steve bent down and Maddie put it over his head.

“Maddie, it’s beautiful. Thank you, darling,” he said as he kissed her goodbye. He waved as they drove off, and then, with the piglet pendant secured around his neck, battled his way back to
Sword of Orion.

The CYC was not the only hive of pre-race activity that Boxing Day morning. All around the harbour, other yacht clubs, marinas and private docks were buzzing with last minute preparations. In pretty Mosman Bay two well-known and well-respected yachting figures were busy getting their charges set for sea.

Ian Kiernan, better known as “Bik”, or “Captain Yucky Poo” to his mates (he earned the latter nickname through his prodigious environmental activities), had in recent years become an Australian household name. More than a decade earlier Kiernan’s love for Sydney Harbour had motivated him to organise the successful “Clean Up the Harbour” community campaign. It soon grew into “Clean Up Australia” and then the United Nations-backed “Clean Up the World” campaign.

“It started with 40,000 people cleaning up Sydney Harbour in 1989,” Kiernan recalls. “It has now grown to 40 million people in 120 countries cleaning up the world. I’m proud of every one of them.”

Kiernan’s yacht, the classic Alan Payne-designed 36-footer
Canon Maris
, had an historic link with the Hobart race. Its original owner Jack Earl – a man whom Kiernan
regarded as a father-figure and mentor – was one of the event’s founders. That link was strengthened with the inclusion of Earl’s grandson, Matthew Tomaszewski, in the
Canon Maris
crew. Also aboard was Jonathan “Gibbo” Gibson, son of John “Gibbo” Gibson, who was aboard
Winston Churchill
, and Richard “Sightie” Hammond, the most experienced competitor in the race, who was navigating. And to top it all off, 1998 was
Canon Maris
’ 40th birthday.

Canon Maris
was a tidy, low-wooded little timber yawl with clean white topsides, a teak deck and an immaculately varnished cabin. It was meticulously maintained and, according to Kiernan, “probably better than the day it was built”. A lot of water had passed under its keel since it came into Kiernan’s hands in 1970. “I’ve sailed her twice to the United States, done four Hobarts in her plus a single-handed Trans Pacific and a single-handed Trans Tasman.” If that wasn’t enough, Kiernan had also completed a single-handed around-the-world race, and had crewed for Australia in the Admiral’s Cup in England and Clipper Cup in Hawaii. His vast experience told him this was going to be a tough race.