2023. Aboard a sailing dinghy a dream 4,000 miles long

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Welcome to the special section “GdV 5th Years.” We are introducing you, day by day, An article from the archives of the Journal of Sailing, starting in 1975. A word of advice, get in the habit of starting your day with the most exciting sailing stories-it will be like being on a boat even if you are ashore.


Aboard a sailing dinghy a dream 4,000 miles long

Taken from the 2023 Journal of Sailing, Year 49, No. 10, November, pp. 88-93.

With a sailing dinghy just six meters long in 1969 three Italians cross the Pacific Ocean. Chronicle of a 4,000-mile venture from Peru to Polynesia in pursuit of an adventurous dream with a hippy flavor.


The Céleusta was a “sailing dinghy,” a Pirelli Laros 80 (6.00 x 2.30 meters) modified with a mast of about 6 meters and rigged with mainsail, genoa and spinnaker. This shot was taken from the service/rescue boat that was being used by Sergio Croci to take remote shots and photographs.

 

Céleusta: The forgotten story of an Italian folly

Aboard a sailing dinghy just six meters long in 1969 three Italians crossed the Pacific, totaling more than 4,000 miles. Chronicle of a hippy enterprise to be rediscovered.

In the summer that will forever be remembered for the American landing on the moon there was another landing, historically less relevant perhaps, but epic nonetheless. It was the one made by three Italians who left the Peruvian coast in June 1969 aboard a sailing dinghy to reach French Polynesia after seventy days at sea and more than four thousand miles traveled. Here is the account of the Céleusta, a 6 x 2.40-meter dinghy, which we can give back to you thanks to the thoughts of two crew members: during the crossing, one kept a diary in English, the other recorded his thoughts on audio-cassette. There would also be more than 12,000 meters of footage, which has never been published.

How a business is born

Fall 1967, at his home in Narni, Umbria, Mario Valli, 50 and a former naval commander now running a sailing center, met Sergio Croci, a 37-year-old assistant director who had also worked with Fellini and was planning to organize a round-the-world sailing trip to be documented and turned into a film. Also discussed in the evening were Croci’s other film and documentary projects, who brought up the idea of a Pacific crossing by dinghy. Valli, retired, with a family and unconvinced by the idea of being away from home for about two years and completing the round-the-world voyage, was, however, immediately convinced by the Pacific idea. The adventure of the Céleusta had begun, the name Croci decided on for the dinghy, derived from the name of the man who set the pace for rowers on ancient Greek and Roman frigates. Recruitment of the third crew member was dead simple. At Bar Canova in Rome’s Piazza del Popolo, Croci meets with screenwriter Vittorio Macioci, 32, and tells him about the upcoming venture. Macioci, who was unoccupied at the time, asked if he could participate, despite having no experience at sea. Thus began the search for sponsors and backing, as the budget of the three was very tight-Mario Valli was a pensioner, Croci and Macioci lived on gimmicks and help from family and friends. In addition to the documentary film, the “official motivation” of the undertaking was “to carry out research and documentation on the psychophysical behavior of men under exceptional conditions,” with the help of doctors and psychologists. Even the three of them brought on board a series of tests designed by the Navy medical team, and kits to analyze blood and urine temperature every day. The three managed to get Pirelli to supply the dinghy, a Laros 80, modified with wood and stainless steel for mast installation. Fiat provided the film equipment to film the feat, Star (the nut company) provided a large quantity of precooked food instead. Céleusta was unveiled on November 7, 1968, at the Naval League headquarters on Ostia beach. About a year and a half after genesis, the adventure was about to get underway, with virtually no knowledge of each other and no common nautical experience, Céleusta was ready to take the three of them across the Pacific. The dinghy was transported to Peru by merchant ship, while the three traveled to South America separately. Macioci was the first to leave, also by ship, for Peru, Mario joined him two months later by plane while Sergio arrived in Peru only a week before departure.

 

The route followed by the Céleusta along the 4,119 miles from Callao (in Peru) to Raroia, an atoll
in the Tuamotu archipelago in French Polynesia.

 

The disastrous departure from Peru

On Sunday, June 2, 1969, the Laros 80 Céleusta was taken from Callao off the Peruvian coast, towed by a tugboat. From there the Céleusta would follow the Humboldt Current along the coast of Peru and then catch the trade winds about 5 degrees off the Equator, toward Polynesia. Arriving about 90 miles from Peru, it took more than two hours of time and four teams of sailors to put the dinghy, which weighed about two tons, and the cargo of about another two tons, placed on a tugboat dinghy, into the water, not without difficulty. It is now night, and the line that ties the tugboat to the dinghy carrying the cargo and two Peruvian sailors breaks. In the darkness of the night, the tug drifts away and the three fall asleep, among the waves of the Pacific and what little they managed to salvage of the cargo. In fact, on June 2, 1969, they found themselves in the middle of the Pacific without ever having spent a day together at sea. The second day is spent trying to get the now-soaked cargo to safety and fix the sails, with the atmosphere bordering on tragic, according to the diary of Macioci, the last recruited of the three, who despite his nautical experience is seasick. As soon as the mainsail swells, the boat sets off fast, and once the fixed rudder is set, the three of them try to arrange the gear, or what’s left of it. All fishing equipment, for example, was lost, but so were hygiene supplies: soap was “mysteriously” all left on the tug, as was toothpaste (but there are toothbrushes!).

 

Céleusta
THE ARRIVAL IN POLYNESIA
The Céleusta photographed upon arrival on the Raroia Atoll. The Laros 80 (6 x 2.40 meters) supplied by Pirelli and modified by installing a mast about 6 meters high. Given the distance traveled, the dinghy is not in such a dire condition, except for some fouling in the bow.

 

Céleusta. Radio contact: there is hope

What is left after the transfer from the dinghy to the raft is little, but actually the first, painful, decision is to get rid of some of the cargo: clothes, airtight containers, casseroles, 40 kilograms of provisions. From there the adventure begins, with eight sunless days, with the crew indolent and tired, sleeping as soon as they can do so, and managing to agree on one rule, the night watch shifts: from 8 p.m. to midnight Sergio, from midnight to 4 a.m. Mario, and from 4 a.m. to 8 a.m. Vittorio. The overcast weather does not allow for astronomical observations, so for more than two weeks the Céleusta sails only based on estimates. Finally after about 10 days they are able to make radio contact with Rome-the first connection between “Italia 1” and the prearranged service channel before departure. It is a moment of joy that restores hope to all the crew on board; several radio amateurs connect to listen to the conversation. Forced cohabitation and some boat failures, such as the breakage of one of the four stern flaps around the 40th day of sailing, and the increasing scarcity of food and drinking water on board, put a serious strain on the successful completion of the enterprise. The three manage to catch a few fish, such as a dorado and a gempylus, thanks to a fishing line and a twisted nail used as a hook. Keeping the trio’s hope alive are radio links, where Mario finds out his children’s school results after report cards, for example. But the climate on board is far from easy, amid stench, arguments, uncertainty about location and food rationing. “If I had a choice in normal life, I wouldn’t even go for coffee with one of them. And so they “”I am reading the Kon-Tiki. I realize that they were a much more cheerful band than ours. ” Vittorio Macioci notes in his diary.

 

Céleusta
LIFE ON A 6-METER DINGHY
1. The Céleusta embarked aboard a Peruvian Navy ship. It will be
put in the water about 90 miles off the coast of Callao. 2. Vittorio Macioci protects
a tattoo by slathering on sunscreen. 3. Commander Valli shows a
dorado caught with a harpoon made from wood and a sharp file. 4. Crosses
passes the camera for filming. 5. First radio contact with Rome. 6.
Observation with the sextant. 7. So much for reverse osmosis! Croci fills a
solar watermaker, a plastic flask that after prolonged exposure to the sun returns
filtered and “purified” water. 8. A motor boat escorts the Céleusta in the atoll of
Raroia, French Polynesia. 9. A small camping stove powered by
solid fuel allows the crew to eat a hot meal as well.

 

Céleusta. Finally, Polynesia

Then comes the unexpected first radio contact with Polynesia: this is a very good signal, meaning the course is right. They tell the Céleusta that two planes will bring packages to the raft the next day. The three crew members don’t miss a few requests, some for a packet of Gauloises, some for a cold beer, some for wine. The next day, the red spinnaker is opened and the service boat is put to sea, a flare is prepared to make oneself more visible. But no dice, the noise of the plane, though waited all day, is not to be heard. Over the radio at the end of the day came confirmation: the plane (eventually only one) would fly over the area for a long time, but would not find the boat. But then the next day again, they say, they will send a boat to look for them. And this time a boat can be seen on the horizon, the rockets go off, the Céleusta goes alongside the biscuit of theOnnis. Vittorio rushes aboard, grabs supplies, returns to the dinghy. Probably within two days the Céleusta will see land. Finally the arrival, after seventy days of sailing. On August 10, 1969 at 5:15 p.m., the dinghy passed into the reef in front of Polynesia, in Raroia Atoll. Entry into the bay is difficult because of the weather; it is not until the following day at 9:30 a.m. that the schooner Moana Rau tows the dinghy, and at 5:30 p.m. on August 11, 1969, the crew finally touches land, having crossed the Pacific Ocean from Peru to Polynesia covering 4,199 miles in a sailing dinghy of only 20 feet. An incredible story that was worth remembering.

Federico Rossi


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