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My second Atlantic crossing in as many months has so many stories. The smelling, showering and lack of washing; the sun, rain and storms; the stars, sunrises and sunsets; the whales breaching, dolphins surfing & seals sunbathing; living in the heat, cold and at a 35 degree angle; thermals and shorts, socks and sandals, stockings and pearls; the albatross resting, flying, soaring; the winds, tactics and currents, the shores of Brasil, South Africa and exotic Atlantic islands; the culinary delights, unleven bread disasters and yeast thrills; the friends, crew and competitors, swimming on the deck, off the bow and off the stern. Each and every one has a story behind it but for now, I will simply tell you about a day that will live long in my memory. November 12^th 2007. 

After having paid tribute the day before to those who gave their lives to enable us to enjoy our freedom, it seemed appropriate that it was such a special day. It began like any other with the daily struggle to rise from my bunk at 2:45am after only 2 hours sleep. Sporting the usual thermals, shorts and long white socks combination under my foulies, I headed upstairs along with the rest of the crew. Sitting next to the helm to avoid any further recurrence of booms coming at my head at high speed in a crash gybe, I was able to use the pitch black of night to disguise my slow awakening. The wind was blowing, the helm seemed heavy and the spray was lashing into our faces. I was quite content to sink into my foulies and let the time pass away. 

As the day began to dawn I was called to take the helm. An hour of concentration is enough for anyone and duty calls, whether or not you’re actually awake! Thankfully the weather had improved and daylight always improves the situation. It was a stunning morning as sunshine broke through the dispersing clouds. The waves were large but rolling and our big blue boat was happy surfing down them. The excitment as you’re sat, perched on the crest of a wave, looking down its face from 35 feet up is enough to wake even me up!    Five years of dreaming, five years of saving, the wind, rain and storms; suddenly, they were all worthwhile. The adrenalin and exhilaration as I stood at the helm surfing down the waves off the coast of Africa are hard to describe. That first hour on the helm was simply superb. I loved it. 

Brien, one of our ‘mothers’ for the day then appeared with our homemade bread toasted and layered in butter and honey. An everyday option I rarely enjoy whilst on land but it’s become a particular favourite and it tasted particularly good that morning, although one handed helming led to slight deviations in our intended navigational course! When I thought life couldn’t get better, off our starboard beam we spotted two whales. Despite seeing plenty of whales along the way, it remains a pretty special site – probably because it’s so hard to capture the moment on camera! Then came the “piece de resistance”. Out of the deep, blue sea rose a particularly large wave. I found myself responsible for steering our 68 foot racing machine with noone to assist in the split seconds available. The bow of the boat dug in and I was facing the start of the ride of my life. Down we went, faster and faster, the adrenalin pumping and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Spray was flying everywhere. The boat bounced along as it does when it reaches high speed. We all knew that this was going to be big. I could no longer see the wave as the spray splashed across my face. When the shouting and hollering began, I couldn’t help but be distracted by the speedo. There we were, I broke through the 16 knot barrier, up it went, 18, 19 knots. Ecstatic, I took my hands of the wheel and started jumping up and down. News came up from the Nav Station that I’d set a new boat record – 21.5 knots. I retired to my bunk a very happy young man. 

Despite more fun, speed and surfing in the following watch, none of us were able to push the record any further but that didn’t prevent us from enjoying every moment trying! We even had huge dolphins surfing alongside us, egging us on as they darted ahead and then patiently waited for us to catch up.  The evening and night watches couldn’t have been more different. After hearing that the Durban boat had gone East of the Agulhas Current, which flows around the Cape, we gambled that they had local knowledge and decided to follow. Sadly we later learnt that their position had been completely wrong and they were in fact hugging the coastline. As we crossed the current, its strength grew and we decided to turn back towards the coast. The winds, current and waves united to form a ferocious sea.

Our 1800 watch started with a sail change and in those stormy conditions everything takes so much longer and is so much more work. Just walking up and down the 68ft long boat takes a great deal of effort. Waves were crashing over the decks, filling the snakepit and the helmsman was stood knee high in water. We pulled, we dragged, we packed, we tied, we grinded. The only thing we didn’t do was rest. For three hours we were on deck doing everything in our power to get the boat through the storm before we handed over to the next watch. At one point I was stood holding a shroud next to the mast when my legs were taken from under me. I don’t know where they went. I was no longer in touch with the deck. There we were at the mercy of the wave. My heart missed a beat. I’m sure I didn’t go far and I’m sure it wasn’t for long but it’s a moment of my life I don’t think I’ll be forgetting in a while. Thankfully I came back down and landed still attached to the deck, the shroud and to my safety line. I looked at Skipper who was next to me and we both just laughed.    

In a completely different way to the morning, this was what it was all about. Sailing off the Cape in a storm…and loving it. To top it off, we finished the watch, came downstairs to dinner and a tot of “Norfolk nog”. The first time since the equator that we’d had any alcohol onboard – at least the skipper obviously agreed that it was a suitable moment as well. What a day, what a night! You’ll never walk alone…