America’s Challenge

To compete in one of the most grueling yacht races of modern times, you need drive, stamina, courage. . .and a boatload of cash.

By Terence Loose

Leg One: The Race for Money

J

ust getting started to the start line of the 1997/1998 Whitbread Round the World Race separates the salty mariners from the cowering cabin boys. . .or at least the investment bankers from the piggy bankers. Though many of the challenges of the Whitbread are as raw and pure as an Everest summit—it’s been said that the only thing harder than finishing the Whitbread is getting to the starter’s gun. Why? Because it’s a yacht race. And if there’s one rule in yachting competition, it’s that, if it makes a boat go faster, it costs big money. Competitive Whitbread 60 racers (the 64-foot sloop which is the official Whitbread class design) cost in the $2 million range, electronic equipment another $500,000 and professional crew members pull in six-figure salaries each. And don’t forget expenses for the eight months the race takes to complete. The starting gun is at least $5 million away; the finish, even more.

But the pricey dream is there for America’s Challenge, the Newport Beach-based syndicate made up of, among others, 43-year-old Hoag Hospital oncologist Neil Barth (who will be one of the skippers for the race); syndicate manager David DeLo, a 60-year old investment banker with Southport Financial and accomplished sailor; world-renowned racing yacht designer and CDM resident Alan Andrews; and winning America’s Cup skipper and yacht racing innovator Bill Ficker. But what exactly is their challenge? “We’ve got to raise $12 million,” says DeLo, the man assigned the daunting task. But in reality, the challenge is even more pressing; the first monthly payment on the boat—$150,000—is now due and most big-time sponsors are fully focused on the Olympics at the moment. “They don’t like to commit millions to something that’s over a year away,” he says. DeLo remains confident, but does not underestimate the challenge. Which means all the more coming from a man who did three tours on a mine sweep in Vietnam, sailed from L.A. to Tahiti in a record 14 days and single-handedly got Laguna’s flood-ravaged Bluebird Canyon declared a disaster area on Columbus Day—when all government agencies were closed. This man sails, and commands respect, in elite circles. “This is my business,” he says; “I’m used to having to come up with huge results on a short deadline.”

That attitude was not born with the challenge, however. When last year, Barth, a longtime sailing foe of DeLo’s, first approached him to help raise money for the campaign, DeLo’s enthusiasm wasn’t exactly stoked: “I told him I knew of no rich people who wanted to put up money to see another rich guy race around the world.” He felt the only viable plan was one of greater risk: to establish a sports marketing company which would be involved in more that just the Whitbread. So with Barth kicking in the seed money (DeLo won’t say more than he and Barth together have well over a million dollars at stake), America’s Challenge was born. The group now has three boats in its flotilla for training, including the 1993/1994 Whitbread winner, Yamaha, now christened America’s Challenge) and a state-of-the-art $2 million dollar Whitbread 60 under construction.

When completed, the new boat will be trucked to the East Coast for the W60 East Coast Tour, followed by the Trans-Atlantic race to Europe, and finally spend 1997’s summer competing in the Round Europe and Fastnet races. Then, on September 21, the Duke of York will start the Whitbread with a fire of the royal cannon.

But why would a company drop millions on a race that, at last count, has only a 40% viewer recognition rating in America? Because in Europe, viewer recognition is a whopping 90% and, DeLo at least, believes that Americans will catch the Whitbread fever soon. For global companies, the Whitbread provides a dynamic billboard—in the form of a 64-foot yacht bashing through 40-foot seas—cruising around the world and stopping at eight key ports over a nine month period. Exposure is global, dramatic and extensive. The ‘93/94 race world television coverage logged in a 540 hours in 175 countries and an estimated 2.6 billion viewers—a billion more than Wimbledon. Mega-companies such as Yamaha, Stienlager, Winston and Heineken dropped up to $10 million apiece to be part of a hysteria that at times resembled English soccer matches. When the yacht Endeavor sailed into Auckland, New Zealand, for instance, to win leg three of the last Whitbread, 100,000 fans were there to greet her. . .it was 3 a.m.

This kind of worldwide enthusiasm, and therefore high buy in, makes the race alluring to only the richest of companies, and makes DeLo’s job that much harder. “These are companies which receive 250 sponsorship requests a week. I’ve got to convince them that ours is the one to read,” says DeLo, who gets up at 5 a.m. to start calls to Europe from his Balboa Bay Club apartment. By noon, he works his way to the U.S.’s East Coast and by afternoon, the West.

And the money that goes to support the challenge is only the start, he says. Name sponsors who spend $8 million to get their names on the stern and sails will likely spend twice that amount exploiting the fact. DeLo points to Coke as an example. The company spent $50 million to be the Olympics’ official drink and will spend a reported $200 million on the promotional campaign to get the word out. That’s a hard sell, especially since the Whitbread has sunk multi-million-dollar campaigns on the very first day. The stakes are high—but that’s the essence of the Whitbread.

Leg Two: The Race for the Horizon

A

ssuming that America’s Challenge makes it past the costly starting line, her crew may have second thoughts about why they came. As race courses go, there are none like the Whitbread. The course is the world, and the route is the most challenging yet: Starting in Southampton, England, the fleet of about 20 boats will race around both capes, diving 400 miles deeper into the torturous Southern Ocean than ever before to do it, up to North America and back across the Atlantic to Southampton. Total distance: 31,600 nautical miles. Time before the mast: Eight to nine months. Most sailors will risk their lives, and some boats will not make it; it’s that simple. In the 1989 race, one crew member drown, many were washed overboard and a skipper committed suicide. In the 94 race, five boats were dismasted and one boat nearly sunk.

Though the challenges come in many forms—from the frustrations of the doldrums, where boats are routinely becalmed for days in melting heat and humidity to the round-the-clock pressures of long-distance racing—the worst of them all is the Southern Ocean.

In order to both shorten the distance of the fifth leg, from Auckland, New Zealand, to Sao Sebastiano, Brazil, and catch the legendary westerlies, the sailors will drive into the freezing waters below the infamous 60 degrees south latitude line. There is an old sailor’s adage: “Beyond 40 degrees south there is no law; beyond 50 degrees south there is no God.” But even the saltiest don’t like to think about 60 degrees south. Down there, a crew is truly on its own. “Picture this,” says Richard Holmes, syndicate partner in charge of marketing and himself a longtime sailor, “the wind has been blowing f60 knots for five days straight, it’s 30 below zero, there’s a foot and a half of ice covering the deck and you’re surfing a 64-foot boat down 40-foot seas.” When he finishes, he waits for it to sink in, and then adds, “Oh, and its pitch black, so you can’t see the growlers (truck-size pieces of ice that can tear a boat’s hull apart on impact). That’s the Southern Ocean.”

That’s also the meat of the Whitbread. Boats must be able to make good time in the light air of the doldrums, but at the same time, if they break in the heavy stuff, it’s over. It’s this age-old challenge of the capes, particularly South America’s Cape Horn, off of which lie the deadliest waters in the world, which inspired the first Whitbread in 1973. In that year, 19 boats followed in the wakes of the 19^th century tall ships, which raced around the world for grain and trade, and established the course that would become the seaman’s race. Unlike yachting’s oldest and most prestigious race, the America’s Cup, the Whitbread is more of a physical challenge, a contest of journey over destination for the best sailors in the world. It’s an adventure that tests men and equipment wave after wave, month after month, with every condition the sea has to offer.

Companies dropping millions of dollars on a sailing billboard, however, don’t want it to be upstaged. In big business, one motto holds true: Either come in first or don’t come in in the morning. For them, just conquering the Whitbread is not enough, they expect to win. And with bigger money pumped into every race, the pressure to win has only increased. During the 1973 race, yachts averaged seven and a half knots and were lucky to log 200 miles in a 24-hour period. Today’s racers routinely double that, with most yacht designers going after the 500-mile day for the ‘97/98 race. Their boats will cut through the water at top speeds approaching 30 knots and carry spinnaker sails in gale force winds. To remain competitive now seems the greatest challenge.

For this reason, America’s Challenge spent about $350,000 on the research, design and engineering of their yacht. They’ve taken advantage of such cutting edge technologies as virtual hull design testing through computer simulation by Egan Tech, a New Zealand/U.S. firm whose technology helped New Zealand Challenge win the ’95 America’s Cup. For the same price of three or four tank tests, America’s Challenge was able to run thousands. The world famous Alan Andrews designed the yacht and 1993/94 Whitbread winning skipper, Ross Field, has signed on with half of his winning crew. A $75,000 Sat Com A communication system will transmit live video and audio to anywhere in the world and four cameras mounted around the boat will allow thousands of school children to interact with the sailors on a daily basis through the World Wide Web.

This is the Whitbread of the future: Technologically advanced, omnipresent, in-your-face, big-business driven and as a result, probably more perilous than ever. “It’s simple,” says DeLo. “Sponsors who put up millions of dollars don’t want you dead ass last. When you’re getting the big money, you keep the sails up and the hammer down. . .through anything.” þ

HOME TABLE OF CONTENTS