Issue 135: Nov/Dec 2020
Marvin Creamer, a New Jersey geography professor who became the only known person to circumnavigate the globe without any instruments whatsoever—not even a timepiece—died in August. He was 104 years old. His accomplishments, remarkable in any era, earned him the Cruising Club of America’s Blue Water Medal.
I first learned about Marvin in an October 1980 Cruising World story about a predecessor to his epic journey, in which he sailed his 1980 Southern Cross 39, Navstar, from Atlantic City, New Jersey, to Dakar, Senegal, and back without any navigation equipment—no clock, no compass, no radio, no sextant. He relied solely on his knowledge of the wind, waves, sun, moon, and stars.
Already a diehard Southern Cross admirer, I became a Marvin admirer, too.
Then, in December 1982, at 66 years old, Marvin and a small crew set sail from Cape May, New Jersey, aboard Globe Star, a 36-foot steel cutter he’d outfitted to circumnavigate the planet, navigating the entire route only by his knowledge and senses. (His crew would change over the course of five stops along the route.)
Few believed it was possible. Yet 513 days later, when he returned to New Jersey on May 17, 1984, everyone knew it was possible, and that it had been done. To date, Marvin Creamer remains the only person recorded to have circumnavigated without the use of navigation instruments.
Think about that for a moment. Think about how different the stars appear in different hemispheres. Think about the time Marvin and his crew spent sailing in the Southern Ocean, where the night sky might be visible one day a month, where the sun might spend all day hanging just above the horizon. Forget using the sun to determine east and west; how would he differentiate dusk from dawn? (While heading south in the Atlantic, Marvin took special notice of the hull reflections on the water at dawn and dusk, hoping to use that information to determine time of day.)
In addition to using his hands and arms to measure distances of specific stars at the time of their meridian transits, Marvin called on his knowledge of currents and wind patterns, the composition and color of the sea, cloud formations, drifting objects, and birds and insects, to inform his navigation calculus.
Marvin once wrote of a time he and his crew lost their direction in a prolonged dead calm. There were no stars visible and no currents to guide him. When the wind finally began to blow, a crew member moved the hatch cover, which made a squeak. Marvin decided that dry air coming off the Antarctic had caused the squeak; moist air would have lubricated the track. Following the direction of the dry air, he was able to get back on course.
In 2010, I stumbled upon a Southern Cross 39 on Yachtworld.com; it was Navstar! For three years I checked on the listing, surprised nobody was buying her. In 2013, I could stand it no more; I purchased Navstar and began her restoration.
A few years later, I learned that Navstar’s inspirational former owner was alive and still sailing, at 101! I sent him a letter.
Marvin called me right away, curious about Navstar. He asked me questions about her condition and my plans for her. He recounted tales of adventures and misadventures he’d enjoyed aboard. As Navstar’s current custodian, I couldn’t help but feel a unique bond with her original owner and the remarkable voyages they’d completed.
In subsequent conversations, I found Marv to be unbelievably sharp and always generous with his time and insights. As pleased as he was that I was caring for Navstar, he was sad that Globe Star had long ago turned into a pile of rust.
We talked and emailed only a few more times in the years that passed. After he died on August 12, I received an email from his family letting me know they’d found some of our correspondence in his papers. They told me that if his passwords are any indication, Navstar was his favorite boat name.
Marvin has been recognized the world over for his sailing accomplishments. Along with his CCA award—which put him in company with circumnavigating luminaries such as Bernard Moitessier, Sir Robin Knox-Johnston, and Sir Francis Chichester—in 1989 he was inducted into the Cruising World Hall of Fame. Marvin Creamer was the right stuff, brimming with the true grit from which sailing legends and heroes are made.
Ed Mustra lives in Bridgewater, New Jersey, with his wife, Angie. The couple sails from the Keyport Yacht Club on the Raritan Bay. Ed was introduced to sailing in the early 1970s and holds a USCG 100-ton masters license (with sailing endorsement) and several American Sailing Association instructor certifications.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
