Kijana Read online

  Kijana

  Also by Jesse Martin

  Lionheart: A journey of the human spirit

  Kijana

  THE REAL STORY

  JESSE MARTIN

  WITH ED GANNON

  The authors have made every attempt to locate and contact the holders of copyright to material in this book. Any further information should be sent to the publisher.

  First published in 2005

  Copyright © Jesse Martin and Ed Gannon 2005

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10% of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

  A Sue Hines Book

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Fax: (61 2) 9906 2218

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  National Library of Australia

  Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:

  Martin, Jesse, 1981– .

  Kijana: the real story.

  ISBN 1 74114 429 9.

  1. Martin, Jesse, 1981– — Journeys. 2. Kijana (Sailboats).

  3. Voyages and travels. I. Gannon, Ed. II. Title.

  910.41

  Edited by Margaret Trudgeon

  Text design by Phil Campbell

  Typeset by Pauline Haas

  Printed in Australia by Griffin Press

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To anyone who has ever wanted to be someone or somewhere better. And, to my crew, who each went on their own journey during Kijana.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Throughout the book kilometres and miles are used to record distance. Distances on land are recorded in kilometres, while distances at sea are in miles. In this case ‘mile’ refers to the metric measurement of a nautical mile (1.852 kilometres), which is longer than the land mile of 1.6 kilometres.

  CONTENTS

  Map of Kijana’s voyage

  Chapter One Still dreaming

  Chapter Two Coming together

  Chapter Three Finding our sea legs

  Chapter Four Miracle

  Chapter Five Hunting

  Chapter Six Celebration

  Chapter Seven Dragons

  Chapter Eight Talking to the dead

  Chapter Nine Goodbyes

  Chapter Ten Lost tribe

  Chapter Eleven The Beach

  Chapter Twelve Trouble in paradise

  Chapter Thirteen No regrets

  Acknowledgements

  Photograph and illustration credits

  About the author

  CHAPTER ONE

  STILL DREAMING

  ADVENTURE. HAVE YOU EVER STOPPED TO consider what that word means? Tropical jungles, exotic ports, sparse deserts and wild natives – they’d all surely figure in anyone’s definition. They certainly did for me. In fact, these were the things I planned to see and experience on my ultimate adventure – sailing the seven seas with a group of friends. It was the stuff I’d been doing since I was a kid. For instance, the two-month 450 nautical mile journey on an open catamaran along the tropical Queensland coast when I was just 14. Or the five-week kayak odyssey with my younger brother, Beau, along the beautiful coast and villages of Papua New Guinea when I was 15. Then there was the time I flew alone as a wide-eyed 16-year-old to the crime-riddled South American country of Belize on the strength of a phone invitation to join a crew, which was a hell of an adventure, and the 11 months I spent at sea to become the youngest person to sail solo, nonstop and unassisted around the world. My visits to the boardrooms of Australia’s most powerful companies were also nerve-wracking adventures, as was plunging into the bright lights of America’s most popular television talk show.

  But I now know that adventure means so much more than conquests and excitement. Adventure is actually another word for life. Think about it. Think of all the hurdles and obstacles thrown in your path as you do this simple thing called living – schoolyard fights, falling in love, losing your job, getting married, having kids, sickness, drugs, loneliness, death. These are all adventures.

  It took a crazy experience called Kijana to make me realise that all the things that I thought of as adventures were really just a sideshow to the ultimate adventure – growing up.

  But enough of the philosophy – let’s get into the story – the story of Kijana.

  I first became fascinated with the adventure of sailing in September 1995, a few weeks after my fourteenth birthday. That was when Dad, my brother Beau and I began a two-month journey, sailing a tiny 14-foot open catamaran along the north Queensland coast to Cape York. We were doing it pretty hard on that trip, camping out in the open and living off burnt fish. Yet I loved the thrill of the adventure and didn’t want it to be my last.

  We arrived at Lizard Island, a resort island, to find ourselves surrounded by luxury boats. I loved their nice comfortable cabins, with fresh water on tap, and the fact that they’d been sailed to this beautiful tropical place. I thought, hey, I’d love to get my own little boat and sail around the world doing all the stuff we’re currently doing, except in a bit more comfort. My imagination sprang to life with images of exotic ports, meeting people, swimming in crystal-clear water, diving and catching fish. It’d be bloody sensational.

  However, my plans weren’t exactly greeted with the same enthusiasm by the others. When I told Dad I wanted to sail around the world, he said ‘OK’ as if I’d announced I was going to the shop to buy an ice-cream. I spent the rest of that trip making lists of what food and equipment I would need and reading boating magazines to find the boat I’d need.

  By the time I returned to school in 1996 I had one thing clear in my mind – I was going to sail around the world. The notion of doing it nonstop hadn’t been considered at that point. It was only when I heard about 17-year-old David Dicks leaving Fremantle in February 1996 aboard his 34-foot yacht, Seaflight, in an attempt to become the youngest person to sail solo, nonstop and unassisted around the world, that the thought of doing a similar thing entered my mind.

  Around that time a family friend gave me some books about others who had successfully sailed around the world. There was one by Tania Aebi, an 18-year-old from the United States who, in November 1987, returned from a two-and-a-half-year solo journey around the world on a 26-foot yacht. Another was First Lady by Australia’s most famous female sailor, Kay Cottee, who became the first woman to sail solo, nonstop and unassisted around the world, completing her journey in 1988. They made for pretty inspiring reading. So inspiring, that as I read each book, the idea that I should attempt a solo voyage began to build in my mind.

  By the time I’d finished reading, my decision was made – I wanted to become the youngest person to sail solo, nonstop and unassisted around the world.

  I learnt that American Robin Lee Graham was the youngest to commence an around-the-world trip, at just 16 years of age, so I decided to up the ante and leave when I was 15. I set a departure goal of early 1997, by which stage I would be 1512 years old.

  I was as flush with cash as your normal 14-year-old, so I set about raising some dough. I wrote to about 50 major companies seeking sponsorship. I got 24 replies – all of them rejections.

  Undeterred, I decided to seek a crew position on an around-the-world trip to
gain some experience. I did a two-week trial down the east coast of Australia with the skipper of one planned trip, but that voyage fell over financially for him, much to his and my disappointment.

  At the same time I continued to seek sponsorship, until I realised that my dream of still being 15 when I left was becoming a very long shot. I then hit upon the idea of making documentaries to fund my endeavours. To do that I’d have to film something.

  Of course, that could only mean embarking on another adventure. Flicking through Australian Geographic magazine I came across an account of a sea kayak expedition in Papua New Guinea. I was mesmerised by one photograph in particular, of a man in a kayak in beautiful crystal-clear water. I knew instantly that was where my filming adventure lay.

  After making heaps of calls and letters, I managed to get $3000 in sponsorship from Australian Geographic, as well as cheap flights, some insurance and equipment. The bulk of the finance came from Mum, via a $4000 loan.

  I needed a travel companion, so Beau, who is two years younger than me, stepped in after a mate pulled out. We left in September 1997, one month after my sixteenth birthday, paddling 150 miles over five weeks and seeing some amazing sights. It wasn’t easy, and there were times I was terrified, but it was an adventure – and I loved it!

  After we arrived home in late October I had a five-minute teaser tape of the trip professionally produced, which I was going to tout to television stations. Unfortunately, this took a bit longer than I expected and, as things began to move so quickly, the tape got a bit lost in my wake.

  I continued my search for a position on an around-the-world crew, which led me to an Australian boat that had spent the previous three years meandering around the globe. In a few weeks it would be in Florida, in the United States, where it wanted fresh crew to sail the final six-month stretch to Australia. I was keen – very keen.

  By this stage it was the end of 1997, which was crunch time for my education. I was due to start Year 11 the following year, the first year of the crucial Victorian Certificate of Education. If I was to embark on my final years of school I had to make a decision – school or adventure.

  No matter how hard I tried to see the sense of doing my VCE, I ached to go on another adventure. It was an opportunity too good to miss, so I applied for the crew position.

  It took a few weeks for them to reply. I remember how nervous I felt as I opened the letter. I also remember the disappointment when I read the rejection. They’d filled the spot and no longer required crew.

  I was devastated. This had been my best chance, I told myself, and now it had gone.

  That letter sealed my fate. I entered Year 11 in February 1998, determined to do the best I could. But about two weeks into the school year I received a phone call. It was the skipper of the boat in Florida – the new crewman had failed to arrive. Did I want to join them? They’d be in Belize, a small country bordering Mexico and Guatemala on the Caribbean Sea’s Gulf of Honduras, in a fortnight. If I was coming I had to meet them there, he said.

  I was beside myself when I got off the phone, having mumbled something about getting back to him. Then the reality of the situation sank in. I had already started school. If I were to embark on the trip it would probably put me too far behind in my schoolwork to catch up and allow me to make a proper go of VCE. Luckily, Mum knew how much I desperately wanted to go, and said she would support me in whatever I decided, so I went for it.

  I only had a bit over a week to organise my schooling and equipment for half a year at sea. I scraped together some money, as it was going to cost $150 a week to crew on the yacht to cover food and overheads. Once again, I had to borrow the money from Mum.

  I flew to Belize on my own and somehow found the skipper in a dusty street. We set off for an amazing trip through the Panama Canal across the Pacific Ocean to the Galapagos Islands and Tahiti.

  Dave, the skipper, was a lot more easygoing than most other sailors I’d ever met. He didn’t care if I drank as much beer as I could hold and Dave never once told me to do my homework. But the best thing about sailing with Dave was that I learnt so much simply by watching him. He was far from the snobby sailor who relied on a plethora of electronic equipment to get anywhere. Dave ran a simple but effective ship, sailing as nature intended it. As I observed his methods, I realised I could do everything he did. It was commonsense. I just had to know which rope to pull. The idea of sailing around the world no longer seemed such a big deal.

  By the time we arrived in Tahiti after three and a half months on board I decided that if I was going to have a serious go at the age record I had better get home and do it. I left Dave, flew home, and set about making my dream come true.

  The preparation for the solo trip was a blur. I set a departure date of December, which meant I only had four months to get a boat, secure sponsorship, convince a yacht club to allow me to use their facilities and organise some publicity that, in turn, would hopefully attract some sponsors. I had set a tight departure schedule to give me time to return before I was 18 years and 41 days of age, which would break David Dicks’s age record.

  Somehow we did it. I bought Lionheart, an S&S 34, with money Mum lent me after re-mortgaging her house. Miraculously, Matthew Gerard, the head of electrical company Mistral, joined the effort as the major sponsor, providing $160,000 for equipment and labour to get the boat ready in time (it was a deal that would see Matthew eventually outlay $350,000 all up); Sandringham Yacht Club broke the shackles of yacht club stiffness to provide me with a launching pad; and the Herald Sun newspaper came on board with an offer for me to write a weekly diary for school kids so that they could follow my progress. All this happened in the space of a few months.

  While that was going on, I was learning everything about solo sailing, navigation, weather and generally how to survive anything the sea would throw at me.

  I set sail on Sunday 6 December 1998, from Sandringham, farewelled by about 350 people. I was 17 years and 100 days of age. Over the next 11 months I sailed around the bottom of New Zealand, around Cape Horn, up to the Azores, which was the antipodal point of my journey (the exact opposite point of the earth from my starting point), down to the Cape of Good Hope and across the Southern Ocean to home.

  It seems odd describing my trip in one sentence, but that was basically it.

  During the trip I suffered the boredom of becalming, the terror of Lionheart being knocked over, and the pure elation of rounding Cape Horn. I also suffered the agony of loneliness and the joy of nature at its finest. And I discovered exactly what I was capable of and what I wanted out of life, to the point where I could do anything I imagined.

  The 27,000-mile journey was meant to take only eight months to complete, but calm weather blew it out considerably, to nearly 11 months. At 6.28 a.m. on 31 October 1999, at the Port Phillip Heads – 327 days, 12 hours and 52 minutes since I had last passed that point – I became the youngest person to sail solo, nonstop and unassisted around the world. I was older than Dicks, at 18 years and 66 days, but was able to claim the record for, unlike David, I hadn’t received any assistance during the trip.

  As I returned I knew deep down that my life was about to change dramatically. My suspicion was confirmed as I sat in my yacht off Sandringham Yacht Club and marvelled at the sight before me. The media reports said there were 25,000 people waiting for me that day. I don’t doubt it.

  Along the breakwater were more faces than I’d ever seen before – old people, young people, people I knew, but mainly people I’d never seen before. My first thought when I realised that all those tiny dots lining the shore were people was: ‘what the hell are they doing here?’ I knew there had been a lot of interest in my trip through the diaries I’d been writing in the newspaper, but to think that so many people would come to see me was beyond my comprehension.

  The cheer from the crowd as I stepped from Lionheart was deafening, a bit like you’d hear at a football match. I was really touched by the reception. It made me feel warm all over and
tingling inside. In those rare few seconds I felt like letting out my own roar. I wanted to step outside myself and feel in awe of what I had achieved. I wanted to hug someone. No, I wanted to hug everyone. I wanted to be like them, watching a kid who had left Melbourne on a blustery day with little experience but with a plan to sail on his own, nonstop and unassisted around the world.

  People wanted me to sign flags that had been handed out for my arrival and some hardy souls even wanted photos of me holding their babies. I felt like I was up for re-election.

  I was shown to a room packed with cameras and reporters. Everyone I knew looked so different, kind of grown up. I sat at a table with a microphone and a glass of water and answered questions.

  ‘How does it feel to be back?’ was the first question.

  How could I explain that?

  ‘It feels great,’ I said.

  ‘What was the hardest time?’

  ‘The storm I had off South Africa.’

  That was an easier question, for I’d had five knockdowns that night and didn’t know if my mast would still be up by the morning.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘You mean after drinking beer with my friends?’

  I was being flippant, but I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going back onto the waves, to sail the world again. But this time it would be different. I would take my mates and stop off at the most remote and unexplored places in the world. We would experience all types of adventures in the far-off lands I’d sailed past. We’d see cultures I’d read about in National Geographic. We’d ride across barren Easter Island on horseback and swat mosquitoes in Borneo.

  As I sat there, being grilled by the media, I was raring to go. I’d spent the previous three months typing away on my laptop computer, putting down my vision for the trip. So I answered the question again.

  ‘I want to go around again on a Polynesian catamaran with friends, navigating by the stars and living as they did a century ago.’