It wasn’t long after the first circumnavigation that he came up with a scheme to attempt the record as Oldest Solo Circumnavigator. The oldest person on record at the time had been 68 at the completion of the voyage. At that time dad was 68 and he would have been 70 upon his return. In 1993 he left Fort Lauderdale again, this time with the help of a good number of sponsors and a deal with USA Today to write a periodic column describing the adventure.

He made his way south through the Bahamas and then southwest through the Caribbean to the Panama Canal. While in the Panama, a very dangerous place, he was mugged for his watch and wallet and his pants were stolen. Across nearly three complete circumnavigations of the globe this was the only time that he was directly threatened by criminal activity.

The route of this first attempt at the "Oldest Solo" record continued through the South Pacific to Tahiti, the Tuomoto Islands, New Zealand, Australia, Christmas Island and then on to the Indian Ocean. While in Tahiti he was in an elevator when he noticed that the old guy next to him was wearing a pair of running shorts emblazoned with USA Today. Dad proudly announced that he wrote a column for the newspaper and the gentleman responded that he founded USA Today. It turned out to be Al Neuharth, who was kind enough to nominate Dad for the prestigious Free Spirit Award.

In July of 1995, this attempt to secure the world record ended in a tragic and nearly fatal catastrophe in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Gale force winds within a huge deep-sea storm blew seas to 30 feet in height and the backstay of the Sea Me Now parted. This caused the mast to come crashing down and before long the wayward spar was trying to hole the boat as the tumultuous seas turned it into a battering ram attached to the hull by the remaining shrouds. The backstay had served as the antenna for the long range Ham Radio and without the antenna the radio was completely out of commission. Dad had only the short range VHF radio to communicate in the middle of this dark and stormy night far from nowhere. The outlook was bleak indeed. Having no other option, he sent a MayDay out on the short range set, knowing that in those conditions the signal would only reach 15 to 20 miles. At this point his frequently called upon guardian angel came to the rescue because the Captain of a sheep transport ship had just finished his evening prayers and he happened to hear the call for help come across the airwaves. Dad had reported a good position and the Captain steered directly for Sea Me Now’s location where he was able to launch a successful rescue despite the horrific weather conditions.

After he was warmed and comforted by the crew of the ship, Dad called me in the middle of the night to give me the devastating news. I was of course horrified, but thankful beyond words that he was safe and healthy. Though his goal to attain the record was not successful, I was glad that this nerve-wracking adventure was finally behind us. Or so I thought.

Dad returned to the Bay area where he joined Lynda to settle down to what the family figured would be a normal retirement. It wasn’t long before the old man was scratching around the waterfront for another boat. A good candidate was found in a marina in Alameda and the boat was available at a fire sale price. It had been abandoned in dry storage and the shipyard was willing to sell it for $7000 in back storage bills. I went down to survey it with Dad and we agreed that the condition was good for the money. The design was fair and seaworthy and the welded steel hull was of high quality. Though the vessel systems were incomplete the purchase included excellent components ready to be installed. Dad moved the boat to Pittsburgh, CA, named her the Mollie Millar after my grandmother, and over the next couple of years made the boat seaworthy with the help of many Bay Area sponsors.

Resolved to try again for the record, in 1998 he sailed the Mollie Millar from San Francisco to Ft. Lauderdale to shakedown the boat and position for the Solo attempt. On December 5th of 1999, Dad left Fort Lauderdale in an unassuming, low-key ceremony consisting of a few family and friends. We waved goodbye as he sailed under the 17th Street Causeway Bridge. There was a tear in my eye because there was a good chance I might never see him again. Despite my worries, Dad made it safely back to Ft. Lauderdale exactly two years and two days later, arriving on December 7th, 2001, Pearl Harbor Day. He’d done it

More on the voyage and arrival can be found on my web site at www.captainclark.com.