Man Returns From 265 Day Sailing Expedition Without GPS To Find The World Is A Different Place

Man returns from 265-day sailing expedition without GPS to find the world is a different place. Bert Terhaert made his later-in-life dream a reality. With his deep fascination for the early explorers of the world, Terhaert wished to have a taste of their adventures. In a boat all by himself, Terhaert set sail on a global voyage without any modern technology. When the isolation and fierce conditions strained him, Terhaert had to do his best to stay motivated, though he failed to plan for one immense challenge. When October 2019 arrived, Bert Terhaert had finalized all that he needed for a potentially history-making adventure. All that was left for him to do was begin his journey. The trip Terhaert had planned was going to be both physically and mentally taxing. With no help from GPS technology or any other electronic assistance, on purpose, Terhaert set sail from his home on British Columbia on his boat, the Sea Bourbon. In his early 60s, Terhaert had quite the background. He was an IT entrepreneur, public speaker, and former captain and platoon commander of the Canadian Army Special Service Force. He wanted to travel to the Five Great Capes, Cape Horn in Chile, Cape Agulhas in South Africa, Southeast Cape and Cape Leeuwin in Australia, and South Cape in New Zealand. Instead of modern technology, he would use a sextant, like the older explorers of history had. Terhaert knew there would be some differences between his voyage and those of famous explorers, but the use of a sextant would be his only connection to the past. Because the instrument required great concentration and precision, few other modern sailors would take on such a challenge. Terhaert was prepared, as much as he could be, to be isolated from his loved ones for months. He kept himself to a schedule in order to keep his mind from considering quitting when things got rough. Granted, Bert allowed himself one luxury. Terhaert wasn't going to be completely alone. He had taken a passenger along with him, in the form of a stuffed seal. Once given the name Sir Salty, the toy would be a small piece of comfort. He needed it. On certain days out at sea, Terhaert became aware of how entirely alone he was. The closest humans to him weren't even on land. They were 35 miles up in the International Space Station, less than the over 3,000 miles spanned between Bert and the closest landmass. In interviews and social media postings, Terhaert would explain the daily problems he faced. With a sextant, Terhaert was using a traditional method that hadn't changed much from the 1700s. He used a pencil to log his movements, but if he placed it down for even a moment, it surely rolled away, onto the floor, under a chair, anywhere else but where it should be. The rough water surrounding the seabourbon made every task a challenge. The ocean has always been unpredictable. Due to Terhaert's boat being so small, the waves appeared all that bigger. Some days, the waves could fluctuate between 12 to 15 feet high. The waves would rock the seabourbon wildly. On days Terhaert was even more unlucky, he would sail into hurricane winds. There were churning waves that almost swallowed up the whole boat, but Ter kept going on. Terhaert described these days with the perfect metaphor. Imagine driving down the highway at 80 miles an hour and sticking your entire body outside the car window, and you'll get a pretty good idea of what it's like to stand outside on the boat. Terhaert spotted fellow travelers several times along his journey. Some passed by and some were met when he had to stop quick at Rorotonga to pick up necessary supplies that had dwindled. The interactions made him miss his life on land even more. Despite the mental ordeal, Terhaert desired to accomplish his mission. He limited his food supply to 800 calories per day. He concentrated heavily on his navigational coordinates and email responses. Then Terhaert received a piece of news that upended his life completely. As late winter turned into early spring, Terhaert got word about the rapidly progressing coronavirus pandemic taking over the world. From his lack of human interaction, Terhaert had very much become the safest man on the planet. When he was only days away from his final destination, Terhaert became anxious on returning to a world that had changed so much. He had hoped to hug his family and friends once his feet touched land. COVID restrictions extinguished these hopes. By July, after months out at the sea, Terhaert arrived back in Canada. The Border Patrol allowed loved ones to welcome Terhaert as his unique position kept him safe from any coronavirus exposure. The journey had taken Terhaert 265 days. He succeeded in becoming the eighth person in the world and the first North American to accomplish the sailing expedition. But the world was a much different place than when he left it. Although Terhaert became isolated again due to the COVID restrictions, he had plenty to focus on. Among other things, he contemplated writing a book on his experience. He hoped to inspire others in enjoying their own solo adventure, especially because the bond between modern explorers is so special. Although he lacked Terhaert's nautical expertise, Colin O'Brady shared the same spirit for adventure and willingness to put it all on the line. Colin's occupation was pushing the human body to, and sometimes past, its limits. To say Colin was an adrenaline junkie would be a major understatement. He dedicated his life to becoming one of history's greatest endurance athletes. His first triumphs came in the triathlon circuit, though what Colin really wanted to do was conquer the deadliest place on the planet. He dreamed of crossing Antarctica. With temperatures plummeting below negative 120 degrees Fahrenheit and barely any drinkable water available, the continent posed an unimaginable challenge to even this experienced climber and adventurer. But Colin added in a twist to his scheme. Colin planned on doing it alone. That feat had never been successfully pulled off, but this daredevil was eager to make the history books. Even so, plenty of Colin's loved ones were queasy about the idea. It could have lethal consequences. British explorer Henry Worsley attempted the solo trek in 2016, but Antarctica proved too much for him. He died 30 miles from the finish line. What made that loss even more troubling was the fact that Henry was one of Colin's most influential mentors. Could the 33-year-old succeed where his teacher had fallen short? Colin believed the answer to that depended on all his preparation. To cross nearly 1,000 treacherous miles, he would need to be in the best shape of his life. Aside from packing on more muscle, Colin needed to figure out the perfect balance of gear. On a team expedition, certain members could share the load of common equipment. But Colin, carrying everything on his own, had to make some serious sacrifices. He collected the bare essentials and strapped all his supplies to a sled, which weighed in at 375 pounds. By 2018, Colin was ready for the challenge of a lifetime, for better or worse. However, so was another man. Colin wouldn't be the only adventurer attempting the Antarctic trek in 2018. Louis Rudd, a British Army veteran who'd previously traversed the icy continent with a group, was also gunning for the record. The two competitors shared a ride down south. Even so, Colin was filled with optimism at the start. He was glad to have a competitor pushing him, though the unforgiving landscape would separate them almost immediately. But the harsh realities of hiking through Antarctica soon set in. The athlete had weeks, if not months, of slow trudging ahead. His focus had to stay razor sharp every second. If Colin lost grip of his poles, he could suffer a fall that would send him rolling down a hillside or plunging into a frigid pool. When he settled down to rest, there were no real creature comforts either. Colin quenched his thirst with bland water melted down from snow. Every morning, he had to quickly relieve himself in a hole before frostbite took over his more delicate regions. Sleep didn't come easy either. After a 12-hour day of walking, Colin wrestled with the wind to set up his tent, which nearly blew away on more than one occasion. His single luxury was a satellite phone, his single lifeline to Jenna. She listened to Colin recount his struggles each night, often through tears. Jenna was taken aback by how miserable her confident, risk-taking husband sounded. Part of him wanted to quit and go home before Rudd or the elements got the best of him. What was also troubling was that Colin was shedding pounds at an alarming weight. Despite a diet of custom protein bars and nutrient-packed dinners, he was getting skinnier and weaker. All that fiber also brought him to rock bottom. In the Arctic wilderness, Colin felt the need to pass gas one day. He was mortified to discover that something very solid came out. The real kicker was that Colin's ultralight pack didn't contain a single spare pair of underwear. Demoralized, Colin hiked onward in his soiled skivvies. The unrelenting landscape was starting to wear him down. As he felt like a cork floating in the middle of the ocean, or a speck of sand on the beach, he contemplated calling for help. His iron will wouldn't let him quit, however. Colin went out there to show what one determined individual could accomplish. And his mantra of, you're strong, you're capable, kept him going until he could go no further. And that was only because he reached the opposite Antarctic coast. The solo trek was finally complete after 54 days. Though Colin could barely believe it, he frantically dialed Jenna to tell her that he made it. Plus another piece of good news. He beat Louis Rudd by two days. Following their extraction, the rivals celebrated their journey with beers and burgers, plus stories of their respective struggles. They both knew they were fortunate, given the history of disasters that struck polar expeditions. The Terror was a British naval ship constructed in 1813 that specialized in destruction. Armed with two heavy mortars and ten cannons, the bombing vessel was jam-packed with the kind of firepower that truly gave meaning to its name. The Terror played a key role in the War of 1812, taking part in the bombardment of Stonington, Connecticut in 1814. A year later, the ship provided support during the Battle of Fort Peter, as well as the attack on St. Mary's, Georgia. After the war, the Terror was decommissioned until 1828, when it was called to serve in the Mediterranean. The vessel suffered damage near Lisbon, Portugal, shortly after beginning its patrol, and was removed from service thereafter. But the Terror found new life in the mid-1830s, when it was recommissioned as a polar exploration vessel. With its sturdy frame and powerful engine, the Terror seemed capable of traversing even the most treacherous of Arctic terrains. This confidence was put to the test in 1836 when Captain George Back helmed the Terror on an expedition to Hudson Bay. Despite being well-equipped for the journey, the vessel wound up trapped on sea ice for ten months before returning to port. The Terror's second expedition in 1840 under James Clark Ross proved more fruitful, as the ship and its companion vessel, the HMS Erebus, completed a three-year journey to Antarctica. Mount Terror, a dormant volcano on Ross Island, was even named in the ship's honor. In May 1845, Sir John Franklin led the Terror and the Erebus on an expedition across the Northwest Passage, a feat that had never been accomplished before. The journey looked promising at the start, though after being spotted in Baffin Bay in August, the ships vanished without a trace. A series of search efforts were launched to locate the missing ships, though neither the vessels nor Franklin and his crew were ever found. Then, in 1859, a note was discovered in a stack of rocks on King William Island that revealed the startling fate of the expedition. Dated April 1848, the note explained that both the Terror and the Erebus had become trapped in ice in the Victoria Strait, forcing the crews to abandon ship. The survivors attempted to trek to a fur trading post some 600 miles away, though quickly perished from starvation and exposure. More than 100 years after the note's discovery, the remains of a number of crewmen were located on King William Island. Autopsies of the bodies showed that, in addition to hypothermia and lack of food, the men also suffered from lead poisoning and botulism, likely a result of tainted rations. In the late 20th century, intuit researchers discovered that cannibalism may have played a role in the demise of the Terror and Erebus crews. Cut marks on the skeletal remains of several crewmembers suggest that the men may have resorted to eating one another to survive. Yet one question remained, where were the ships, and for that matter, could they even be salvaged? After spending more than a century beneath the frigid waters of the Arctic, there was no telling what condition they'd be found in. The answer to that question came two decades later, when the wreck of the Erebus was discovered off the coast of King William Island in 2014. Then in 2016, the Terror was located 45 miles away in a body of water aptly called Terror Bay. Archaeologists were eager to explore the lost wrecks, though it wasn't until 2019 that they acquired the technology to do so. Using a remotely operated vehicle, Rove, the researchers began a systematic exploration of the ships. Searching the various cabins and compartments of the vessels, the archaeologists were blown away by how well preserved everything was. Cabinets were closed and filled with liquor, furniture sat in place, and even paper maps remained taut and readable. The impression we witnessed when exploring the HMS Terror is of a ship only recently deserted by its crew, seemingly forgotten by the passage of time, said Rove pilot Ryan Harris. The captain's cabin proved to be the biggest treasure trove, containing maps, a tripod, and several thermometers. Cabinets filled with plates and cutlery were also discovered, their contents still polished and colorful, despite spending decades beneath the sea. But how was this possible? According to the researchers, the Arctic conditions created the perfect environment for preservation. Between the zero-degree water temperature, lack of natural light, and sedimentation, the artifacts had very little chance to decompose. This exploration marks the first of many in an effort to recover all artifacts from the wreckages. By analyzing these objects, researchers hope to learn more about how and why Franklin's expedition met its tragic end. The excellent condition of the ship will, I hope, mean that there will soon be answers to so many questions about the fate of the Franklin Expedition. Shrouded in mystery since 1845, said British High Commissioner to Canada Susan Lejeune de Aligier-Chicou, since the fateful sinking of the Terror and the Erebus, more than a handful of other ships have also met a watery grave. The SS America, for instance, was originally sold to become a hotel off Phuket, Thailand, though it never made it there. While its base was still in excellent condition, the ship could no longer run properly and was set to be towed across the ocean for 100 days. But the tow lines broke, and despite the crew's best efforts, the ship was left adrift. On January 18, 1992, it ran aground off the west coast of Fuerteventura in the Canary Islands, where it slowly disintegrated over time. Only a relatively small section of the bow, as well as the keel of the vessel, were still visible at low tide. DESERT SHIPS IN MOINAK, UZBEKISTAN The last place you'd expect to find a shipwreck is the desert, but there are plenty to be found outside of Moinak, Uzbekistan. It was once a busy Soviet fishing port on the Aral Sea, once one of the four largest lakes in the world, but today nothing but desert remains. What once was a 26,300-square-mile body of water has dried up when the rivers feeding it were diverted for irrigation purposes. It has since shrunk to less than 10% of its original size and is considered one of the most catastrophic environmental disasters of all time. The ships are located 100 miles from the current shore, creating a surreal sight for anyone who finds them. While the ships themselves don't seem to be haunted, Moinak has become a ghost town of abandoned fish industries. Pretty eerie. SS Antia in Aruba, the Caribbean This German cargo ship was launched in 1939, but didn't live a long life. It was built for trade between Germany and the Caribbean and thus named after the Dutch Islands, which are referred to as the Antien. On May 10, 1940, Germany invaded the Netherlands, so the Dutch government immediately ordered the seizure of all German ships. However, before the Dutch Marines could execute their attack, the Germans began to scuttle, or purposely sink, the Antia. One crewman locked himself in the engine room, opened her seacocks, and climbed out through the funnel, while others set fire to several parts of the ship. Sixty years later, she became a popular scuba diving spot. HMS E-5 in the North Sea, the Netherlands The Antia was not the only ship that led a short life during the warfare. The English E-class submarine was on its way to rescue survivors of a wrecked trawler in the North Sea when it met its fate. It was 1916 in the middle of World War I, and Germany had planted underwater mines all throughout their coast as well as those of the Dutch Wadden Islands. Even submarines had a tough time navigating around this threat. In 2016, divers found the wreck of E-5 off the Dutch island of Schiermonnikoog. Her hatches were open, which suggests the crews tried to escape. The disappearance of its 29 sailors was finally solved. MP Emilie in Baye-Saint-Paul, Canada Captain Eloy Perron built what at first felt like the love of his life in 1956, and piloted it along the St. Lawrence River until 1975. It was eventually sold and resold several times until it was stranded 90 kilometers north of Quebec Island. There she lay for decades, rotting away, until finally in 2015, a fire accidentally set off by a thief trying to cut through the copper in the boat's hull destroyed what was left of it, leaving only the frame. It pained Perron to see it whenever he visited Baye-Saint-Paul. On February 15, 2018, Perron passed away from old age. A week later, his son was informed that the wreckage had completely disappeared. The ship left the world with its true owner. Ghost Fleek in Chuuk Lagoon, Micronesia Formerly Truk Lagoon, this area is littered with planes, ships, cars, tanks, and bodies, victims of World War II. For two days in 1944, Allied bombers rained destruction on the beaches of the Caroline Islands in the South Pacific. Often referred to as Japan's Pearl Harbor, Operation Hailstone was so successful that the lagoon became a kind of cemetery. Approximately 250 Japanese aircrafts and over 50 ships were destroyed and sunken. An estimated 400 Japanese soldiers were killed in one ship alone, trapped in the cargo hold. The fleet was largely forgotten until the late 1960s when wreck drivers brought attention to the site. Japan then made recovery efforts and removed many bodies for burial. The SS Mohegan, Cornwall, England The sinking of SS Mohegan is one of the biggest tragedies and mysteries of the Atlantic Transport Line ever to occur. The ship hit another, the Manacles, on her second voyage on 14 October 1998. Some people on board noticed the ship sailed too close to the coast and the Eddystone Lighthouse was too far away. When the ship struck vase rocks, the engine room immediately flooded and the steam gauges broke. Everyone ran onto the deck. The crew managed to prepare two lifeboats, one of which was capsized. It took only 12 minutes for the sea to swallow the Mohegan. Lifeboat Charlotte launched right away, but only managed to save 44 passengers, no officers or crew. The recovered bodies were buried in a mass grave in St. Cavern. Empire strength, Romania An old, decrepit ship rests just off the coast and the Black Sea. One kayaker with a GoPro strapped to his head bravely explored it. On the side of the hull there is a small crack. You can't fit a boat inside of it, but this experienced adventurer was no stranger to navigating tight confines. The ship wore a coat of thick rust, but this fearless explorer continued his journey into the opening. With sharp edges and hidden pieces lurking below, this was no task for the casual kayaker. Furthermore, in an unstable structure like an old ship, you never know what might be ready to crumble. Anything he touched could nudge something out of place and bring down some wreckage. Using his hands instead of his paddle, the kayaker guided himself fully into the ship. The interior was dark, but luckily light poured through the cracks. The inside wasn't in any better condition than the outside. There was definitely an eerie vibe to the ship. That time had worn down into looking like an evil villain's vaulted lair. Girders ribbed the walls and ceiling, while enormous gears and pistons blocked certain pathways. Comments on the kayaker's original video relayed mixed feelings about his journey. One person posted, I noticed the Harlan and Wolf logo on the main engine. Possibly the whole ship was built by this British shipyard, the builders of the SS Titanic. Others compared the structure's interior to other familiar settings in shipwreck films and video game franchises. However, most comments seemed upset that the guy sometimes had his feet hanging outside the kayak. Perhaps more interesting than the interior of this dilapidated ship, however, was the history of the ship itself. It spent years navigating waters all around the world before it was finally abandoned. The vessel actually served within the UK's Ministry of War Transport as an Empire ship. It was used for giving the country's wartime fleet a little extra oomph. These ships were usually either built or captured from enemies. Before and during World War II, the United Kingdom boasted the largest fleet of merchant ships. But the war claimed 4,000 of them. German U-boats and the Luftwaffe patrolled the water, looking to sink enemy vessels. Built in 1942 in a shipyard in Belfast, Northern Ireland, the ship weighed 7,355 tons. And though you probably couldn't tell from its current state, this ship actually survived the fighting of World War II. Despite the glory of Empire Strength's appearance and apparent might, its role wasn't the most glamorous. It transported frozen meat from Argentina in 1944 and 1945, making stops at ports in North Africa, Algiers, Cuba, and Australia. Just 26 years after it was built, Empire Strength, whose name at one point had been changed to MVE Evangelia, ran aground just 16 miles south of the largest port in the Black Sea. Unable to move, it was abandoned and left floating in its current spot. At first, locals rated the ship for anything of value. But now the MVE Evangelia has been reduced to nothing more than a few good photos and exploratory opportunities. Still, the ship in its current state serves as a one-of-a-kind tourist attraction. Some people even brave the waters and swim out to the wreck. Though that seems like a good way to cut yourself on a ship fragment. Apparently, there's even a way to get onto the deck, but it involves navigating rusty pipes and climbing up a ladder to a dark windowless shaft. That seems, uh, safe? Yikes. Thanks to one courageous kayaker who documented his exploration, we were all able to experience a journey through a piece of history. We're thankful he didn't just take a trip to a nearby sandbar.