Braving the Pacific on a Bamboo Raft
The first emperor of China, Qin Shihuang, wanted to live forever. When he heard of a magic land far to the east where life-extending plants grew, he commanded a great sailor named Hsu Fu to cross the Pacific Ocean to gather the plants for him. Ancient Chinese records say Hsu Fu took the challenge in 218 B.C.
He returned empty-handed after his first trip, but the emperor allowed him to try again—this time with a huge flotilla of ships. Not a single member of the group returned. Some scholars are convinced that these ancient voyagers landed on the western shores of Central America.
Preparation
Did Hsu Fu really cross the Pacific? In 1994, Tim Severin,
an Irish explorer, decided to put it to the test. Working
with scholars of Chinese history and a naval architect,
Tim developed a plan to build the most likely vessel used
in the time of the first emperor. The resulting design was
quite elegant. The 60-by-18-foot vessel had traditional
red sails and gentle curves. It had three layers of stout
bamboo lashed together with rattan fibers, similar to ancient
Asian designs still used by Vietnamese fishermen.
Tim’s journey began in Vietnam, where craftsmen in the fishing village of Sam Son turned the blueprints into an ocean-going vessel. To select bamboo that was right for the job, Tim found village women who were experts in harvesting bamboo. They went deep into the jungles to find the plants.
While the shipwrights built the raft, Tim assembled a crew that included a photographer, a doctor, artists, a true seaman, and a carpenter. They planned their trip, 6,500 miles across the North Pacific to California. Tim named the raft the Hsu Fu after the legendary sailor.
Finally,
everything was ready. Villagers celebrated by banging temple
drums and playing traditional instruments as the raft entered
the sea for the first time.
Living on the Waves
The ship’s sturdiness was tested early, when the crew
ran into their first full gale. They prepared for the worst,
as winds shrieked and 20-foot waves rolled toward the boat.
To their surprise, the bamboos flexed with the waves instead
of fighting against them. The crew stood their ground, and
according to Tim, “a coffee cup didn’t even spill!”
Sailing this ship was like living on a floating island. Waves washed right through, often leaving little fish to wriggle off the deck and back into the sea! Instead of the metallic hum of modern ships, the only sounds were the swirl and gurgle of water flowing through the bamboos. An exhausted little shorebird, called Fred by the crew, joined them for several weeks, enjoying the oats that crew members sprinkled on the deck.
The crew fished regularly. One night, Tim heard a loud thud on deck and found Trondur, a crewman, “calmly hauling in a five-and-a-half-foot shark!” Soon after, a passing Japanese ship offered the crew a small fish. Trondur shook his shark in the air. “The Japanese just doubled up with laughter,” Tim said.
Trouble
at Sea
About 2,500 miles into the voyage, disaster struck: the
mainsail caught a breeze and hit Tim. “I was slapped
over by the sail, fell over backward, and broke two ribs,”
he said. The ship’s doctor gave him prompt medical
care, but with every wave Tim’s body bent painfully
as he tried to lie still in his cabin.
This constant flexing of the deck caused trouble far beyond Tim’s own discomfort. After 4,500 miles of successfully threading their way across the vastness of the Pacific, the rattan ropes that held the bamboo poles together started to dissolve.
Crewmates Trondur and Loi spent much of their time tying the boat back together! One day a gigantic visitor got too close for comfort. “It’s a little bit distracting,” Tim explained, “trying to mend a raft when you have a big killer whale come round to see you.” Luckily, the whale decided the raft was too large to tip over.
After six months at sea, the damage was too great. Tim realized that the rattan lashings were the weakest part of the vessel. With the boat settling even deeper into the water and bamboos slipping off more often, he reluctantly called the crew together. Everyone agreed that the risks had become too great. They had lived as the ancients must have, but their experience had to end now or end in disaster. With tears in his eyes, Tim called for help—only 1,000 miles off the American coast.
Their “rescue” was almost deadlier than the destruction of the raft. A huge modern ship answered their call. It nearly crushed the fragile raft as it dragged the Hsu Fu too close to its steel hull. Worse yet, the crew had to dodge between the raft and the mountainous side of the ship. As they struggled to grasp flimsy rope ladders, the ship slammed its immense stern beside them with a huge boom!
When they were safely aboard the ship, Tim watched the raft sail off into the darkness, alone. As the three sails merged with the black of night, the crew wondered what would become of their bamboo raft. Would it break into pieces? Or would the Hsu Fu sail on, perhaps washing ashore one day on some distant coast?
