Bug in the Blood

No whittling of empire or sag in sterling seems able to weaken the national virus that makes Britons crave distant and sometimes eccentric adventure. Following a long line from Captain Bligh to Sir Francis Chichester, countless modern Englishmen still seek out high mountains or arctic wastes, race over deserts, relentlessly push through tropical jungles. The latest of that intrepid breed--and Britain's new nautical hero --tottered ashore at Portsmouth last week from the tubby 36-ft. yawl in which he had circled the globe alone. Seagoing Greengrocer Alec Rose, 59, declared: "This bug gets into one's blood." Praising his "tenacity, skill and courage, "Queen Elizabeth knighted Rose and invited him and his wife Dorothy to lunch at Buckingham Palace.

Sir Francis' -famous landing at Plymouth last year made grappling with the elements a major British sport, followed intensely by the public and pushed hard by the press. The Observer, quickest to capitalize on "Chichysteria," announced a transatlantic sailboat solo race for this summer and attracted 35 oddly assorted entries. The winner of that tough grind was a young Cornish schoolteacher, Geoffrey Williams, who slipped into Newport, R.I., a fortnight ago after 26 days, 20 hours, and 32 minutes en route; others are still at sea. The competing Sunday Times sent four record-seeking Britons floundering by dogsled across mushy Arctic Ocean ice from Point Barrow, Alaska, to the Spitsbergen archipelago, some 2,100 crevasse-ridden miles distant; last week the quartet was a third of the way along and having radio trouble. More lately, the Times has sponsored a nonstop, round-the-world solo sail, which Chichester calls "the Everest of the sea." Three yachtsmen, including two Britons who once rowed across the Atlantic together, have already set out; seven others are expected to cast off before the Oct. 31 deadline.

Gained Riches. With a London-to-Sydney auto race planned for this fall, Britain has already begun to look forward to next year's top event. To mark the 50th anniversary of the first transatlantic airplane crossing (made by two Britons in a Vickers Vimy bomber), the London Daily Mail has put up $12,000 for the person who makes the fastest trip between the top of London's General Post Office tower and the top of the Empire State Building.

All the contest winners will gain niches in British folklore, but few will rate the special affection that went to diffident Alec Rose, as he quietly accepted the tributes of 200,000 horn-honking fans who overran Portsmouth, his home town, to greet him. Unlike Chichester, Rose had no commercial sponsor. From the moment, five years ago, when he hauled the dilapidated Lively Lady off a mudbank and started to fit her out for the rough 50-week sail, determination counted far more heavily than cash in his achievement. "It makes you feel rather humble," said Alec, "that everybody wants to congratulate you, and makes you feel that you have achieved something, when actually you know in your own heart that you have really achieved nothing, except that which you have set your mind on a long time ago."

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