Swashbuckling sea dog seeks world’s most tolerant woman
Endless adventures sank his last marriage. (He once forgot to say he was off to the North Pole!) Now, Sir David HemplemanAdams faces his maddest voyage yet – in search of love. Faint hearts need not apply
AT The end of this month, the explorer Sir David hempleman-Adams will set sail in a borrowed 48 ft, 11-ton yacht named Chione on a solo trip from Plymouth to New York. Storms, squalls and other disasters aside, the
5,000-mile journey (because of tides, he has to sail in a big loop south rather than as the crow flies) should take him just over a month.
For the first 72 hours he won’t sleep at all — ‘I’ve got to stay awake until I’m out of the bloody Channel!’ he says.
After that, he’ll sleep in 45-minute (and, occasionally, ten-minute) snatches. God only knows how awful you must feel if you can only sleep for 45 minutes after you’ve been up for three days on the trot.
‘The sleep deprivation will be the worst bit,’ he says cheerily. ‘I’ll feel s*** and I’ll start making terrible decisions.’
All of which would be worrying for even the most seasoned solo sailor, but Sir David — who is making the trip to raise awareness for St John Ambulance — is a nautical novice.
he may have scaled everest twice, broken endless hot air ballooning records and reached the highest peak on all seven continents, and he seems forever to have been trekking to the North and South Poles, but he’s never actually been in charge of a boat before, let alone sailed solo. When in 2017 he circumnavigated the Arctic polar region, it was with a full and very experienced crew.
he can’t even swim properly, for goodness’ sake. ‘I can just about manage a very dodgy breaststroke,’ he says sheepishly.
So it’s not entirely surprising when he insists — as we bob about on the silky-smooth Solent drinking sugary tea and eating Scotch eggs — that he’s absolutely terrified.
‘This is the most apprehensivemaking trip I’ve ever done,’ his eyes gleam. ‘I think I’d be OK apart from the waves. And the weather. And the sea! God knows what’s going to happen. I’m properly f*****g scared!’
Which, I suspect, is exactly how David, 62, likes it. An amateur adventurer — always in it more for the personal thrills than any sense of pioneering spirit — he’s never troubled himself with too much preparation.
Not for him endless dreary gym sessions to build up muscle. Partly because, well, he just can’t be bothered. But more to keep the excitement levels up.
‘I think you can overkill it,’ he says. ‘I’ll do a bit, but for me it’s all about the unknown. So I’ll do a bit on the rowing machine and practise a bit of sleep deprivation, and I’m having sailing lessons, and that’s it really — other than a lot of drinking!’
The same goes for any psychological limbering up. ‘Nah,’ he says. ‘I never ever read a book on climbing everest — if I had, I’d never have done it. Same with the North Pole. I read them when I got back and thought, they’re all talking out of their a***s!’
he did ask Sir Ben Ainslie and Dame ellen MacArthur for advice. ‘They both said “don’t do it!” but I never listen to that sort of thing.’
even his great friend the Duke of edinburgh sent him a cautionary note. ‘he wrote: “If the weather’s good it’ll be a doddle, and if the weather’s bad it’ll be a f*****g nightmare!” I just love him. he’s been a huge influence on my life, like a father.’
Not that he’s likely to heed even Prince Philip’s advice. David has never really listened to anyone. he certainly didn’t give two hoots when climbers criticised him in the eighties for cutting the occasional corner on his expeditions.
‘however you try to pretend you’re not selfish, of course you are,’ he says. ‘But as I see it, when your number’s up, it’s up. You could be on a train, or driving.’
Or stuck on your tod in the middle of the Atlantic in a gale. Or nose-tonose with a polar bear when it pokes its head in your tent (solo trip to the North Pole in 1984). Or stuck up at 40,000 ft and minus 70c in a hot air balloon and thinking, ‘Oh my God!’ (2004). Or having to sleep in a tent without a sleeping bag on the north side of everest at 27,000 ft after a logistical cock-up (2017).
‘I did think, oh s***, I’ve really messed up this time,’ he grins.
If there’s too long a gap between adventures, he gets twitchy and grumpy. his last — the Arctic sailing
‘I’m sailing off to New York to find a new girlfriend!’ ‘I can’t climb any more — I’m too creaky’
trip — was two years ago. ‘I’ve got to do something to get it out of my system,’ he says. ‘But I’m getting to that age where I can’t climb any longer. I’m too creaky. I’ll do it, but it takes me two days to recover from a hard climb.’
Friends are forever asking him to join them for rowing challenges, but he loathes rowing. he likes the idea of horse riding, or doing the intercontinental Mongol Rally — maybe next time — but in the meantime he’s being given a crash course in Atlantic sailing by expert skipper Nick Davey.
‘I was expecting a jumped-up, egotistical climber,’ says Nick. ‘But he’s lovely and he learns very quickly.’
Sir David is certainly very bouncy. And big, broad, extremely sweary, refreshingly unfiltered in his talk and much less posh than his name suggests. he grew up on a council estate in Swindon and later Somerset. hempleman- Adams is an amalgamation of his father and stepfather’s surnames. ‘I was not trying to “posh up”,’ he says firmly.
Also, after 28 years with his wife and with three grown-up daughters — all have joined him on adventures and the youngest, Amelia, is hoping to be an Olympic rower — he is newly divorced and very much back on the market.
‘I’m a bachelor now!’ he says. ‘You can write that I’m looking for love! I’m sailing off to New York to see if I can find a new girlfriend!’
While friends have started setting him up, he hasn’t branched into online dating even with a picture of him looking all windswept and rugged at the helm.
‘That would horrify me. But I’m on the look out, absolutely!’
he and Claire, who met when they were 24 and 18 respectively, split two years ago but, he says, had been living separate lives long before that.
‘We drifted apart. Whatever I did, I got it in the neck, but there was no one else involved. We waited for the girls to be grown up and never argued in front of them.’
So it was amicable? how grown up and mature. how reassuring.
‘No, no, NO!’ he insists. ‘This is
where you should write down “Poor b***** d”! We sold up everything [ including their Georgian manor house near Bath] and it was all equal. It was
not amicable.’ Which is why, he says, it has taken him so long to be ready to relaunch himself on to the dating scene. ‘ It was all too bitter. It was disappointing.’
What a shame. Though I suppose his ex-wife is due some sympathy. The endless expeditions must pall for those left behind, particularly on top of his full-time job running the family firm that made glue for electronics, Claire’s job as a lawyer and bringing up three girls.
His ideal holidays were spent exploring remote cities and climbing mountains — when Amelia was eight, the family climbed Mount Fuji in Japan, tempted up by unlimited chocolate.
Claire preferred the beach, where David dug holes to stop himself going mad. ‘I’d dig them big enough to fit a tank in!’ David insists Claire knew what she was letting herself in for, but it is testament to her that she never asked him to stop the adventuring, despite his missing birthdays and anniversaries.
Reading between the lines — and even aside from his brief extramarital affair back in 2005 — he does sound a bit hard to live with.
‘I would say no! I just get on with it,’ he says firmly. ‘Look, she’s a fantastic mother and a great person. But I am sure she’d have a lot to say on the subject.’
There was certainly a lot of storming off — by Claire and the girls — from dinner tables. ‘Once they all stormed off, so I sat t there and ate five steaks!’
And of course there was s the time in 2003 when he’d d told Claire he was off skiing g for a fortnight, only to let the cat out of the bag that he was at the North Pole during a live phone interview with the Today programme on Radio 4. Even John Humphrys — not the most obvious relationship coach — suggested that his planned bunch of flowers might not quite cut it with Claire.
‘I never saw the point in running them through all the risks,’ he says simply. ‘ They didn’t care if I got frostbite and I always brought them great presents back.’
His only adventuring regret came four years ago, when he was snowed in at the South Pole and phoned to say he wouldn’t be home for Christmas. ‘I asked where the girls were and Claire said, “They’re burying the dog.” And I thought, that is something a father should be doing.’
David’s adventuring epiphany came on a Duke of Edinburgh trip to the Brecon Beacons when he was 13, and he believes the Bronze Award should be compulsory for all children.
‘We should stop wrapping them up in cotton wool,’ he says. ‘They need to take risks, try new things.’
He’s always been a dedicated amateur — ‘I’d have hated to have had to make a living out of it, like Ranulph Fiennes and Chris Taking the helm: Sir David aboard the Chione with Jane. Inset, with ex-wife Claire and daughters (from left) Camilla, Alicia and Amelia Bonington’ — and is always keen to try something new.
This trip couldn’t be more different. Particularly when it comes to kit. Usually, he goes to extreme lengths to keep its weight down — sawing the end off a toothbrush, living on disgusting dehydrated food (‘It tastes fine — I have no interest in food) and never changing his clothes.
‘One pair of pants usually lasts me 60 days,’ he says. ‘Though after 30 days I might chisel them off and wear them back to front.’
On board there’ll be just him, but he’s got two loos, three berths (though he’ll nap on a beanbag), kitchen, fridge, even a shower — ‘not that I’ll have time for one.’
‘I’m going to bring tonnes of
‘One pair of pants usually lasts me 60 days’
ginger biscuits and some Thai dancers to keep me amused!’
There’ll be no booze other than a miniature of Highland Park, which he will drink to mark the halfway point, if he gets that far.
His main worry is the technology. ‘You need a f*****g physics degree to understand und sailing,’ he explains. ‘F ‘F*** me, it’s hard work. The more technical it is the more things can go wrong.’
If and when they do, he’ll r rely on a shore-based team tr tracking his every move, and Nick on the end of a satellite phone. ‘ We’ll know very quickly if something’s going wrong,’ says Nick. ‘ We just won’t be able to get to him.’
I In which case, out will come Si Sir David’s treasured Tibetan wo worry beads, which he is ne never without.
‘I ‘If I lost them between now an and the start, I wouldn’t go!’ he say says. ‘When things go to s***, I pu put the beads in my mouth and sh shout, “Oh Mum, help me!” ’
F For now, though, he’s only loo looking forward — to the trip an and, beyond, when he’s goi going to start looking in ear earnest for the next Lady Hem Hempleman-Adams. ‘What’s your number? Ha ha. You’re married?’ he laughs.
Being married to David sounds like a total nightmare. He is selfish, single-minded and would need a good run every day, like a big, bouncy dog.
But he is also charismatic, extremely funny, great company and bonkersly fearless.
So, ladies, form an orderly queue now. Or book yourselves a ticket to New York, welcome him ashore and usher him and his tired pants, fast, to the nearest shower.