Donate a Pint

Fresh from celebrating our second place into New York, we left the Empire State building, Central Park, Ground Zero and the Big Apple’s sights behind after yet another stopover counted in hours rather than days. Clouded in thick fog, we were somewhat disappointed not to see the Statue of Liberty in daylight having been welcomed in under the cover of darkness. Once more we had to motor out to the start line due to light winds and a tight Clipper timetable. While I fully understand the need to arrive at ports within a given time frame, the amount of motoring we’ve done recently is becoming very frustrating and tedious (although it’s very useful to catch up on sleep, diaries and blogs!!). Skipper had pulled out 2^nd for the Le Mans startline which offered us the opportunity to get off to a great start and we duly took him up on his offer! Winds were variable, sails went up and down and there was certainly no rest for the wicked. However, we were up there in the leading pack as sail plan decisions went our way. It’s always useful when other boats nearby hoist sails just before you and you can see that they won’t work!! For some reason I didn’t have a great feeling going into this race. Maybe I thought that we were going to suffer from a second-place hangover and be too confident. It didn’t help when the predicted strong winds didn’t materialise only to discover that we’d been looking at outdated weather reports! By the end of the first evening, the boat felt sluggish and we were sat towards the back of the pack. Did the Big Blue Boat have time to make the usual comeback – somehow I didn’t think so in such a short race. 

It was make or break. The pack stayed East to avoid some shallow water shoals and we decided to go for it, stay West, make a break and see what happened. Now we’ve done this many times before, with limited success. The weather was pretty atrocious; 5m waves were pounding over the foredeck and going up to the bow meant risking a thorough soaking. While the refreshing waters of the Caribbean hadn’t been an issue, these waters were definitely not part of the warm Gulf Stream. Red and black foul weather gear was to be seen on deck under which was worn an array of thermals, fleecy mid layers and thick socks, which had been dragged out from the bottom of our drybags. Hats, scarves and gloves were definitely required on deck and many kept them on in their sleeping bags. Some thought it was as painful as the conditions going into China but personally I think that’s memories playing tricks, afterall I wasn’t anywhere near tears as my hands thawed this time!  

As we headed across the shallows, the waters turned into a bizarre and surreal but calm array of swirl pools, bubbles and currents. To add to the mystical atmosphere, a thick, cold, damp fog descended upon us. At the start of the race we lost our radar and here we were with less than 200ft of visibility sailing over fishing grounds. Hardly an ideal situation and we had people on permanent lookout for fishing boats, tankers and fishing pots that may appear from within the veil of fog. Thankfully we only had one close call! During our trip over the shoals, the wind varied considerably and we were constantly changing sails. With the rest of the fleet so far away we had no idea what winds they had. If the weather files were correct, we weren’t too badly off, even though the 6-hourly results had us in 8^th position.   Over 12 hours we managed to climb up to 2^nd position. Suddenly there was a new impetus, a new enthusiasm and there was always somebody changing something desperate to make the boat go faster and hang on for a second consecutive podium place. We had the wind…sometimes.  I was woken for my shift with the great news that we were in the lead and had 12 hours until the race finish. Once more, the race had been shortened and we were all now racing for a ‘gate’. This was it, more intense, nerve wracking sailing. The stuff I loved! The pressure was on, could we maintain our success? As we all converged on a 2 mile wide gate, the wind conditions we all faced were going to be pretty similar. Could we hold our lead? On the helm, I felt good, managing to hold a steady course at a good speed. The pressure of being in the lead is something I haven’t felt much on this race and it was an unfamiliar feeling to know that our success was completely in our own hands. After watch, I went to my bunk a nervous bundle of energy.  

I was woken with half an hour to go, and up on deck the mood was still jubilant. We’d done it – Glasgow, who had been in second place, were miles behind on the horizon. As we crossed the line we all celebrated. Our first first. So this is what success tasted like. A second consecutive podium, we were all exhausted but ecstatic. We’d done it. Since our dismasting, this is what we’ve been fighting for – the full set of flags. There was a huge sense of achievement but as results have gone our way, so we’re now in search of some success in the overall race…maybe, just maybe….

Starting out on the last leg of our epic journey, there was an air of nostalgia among the fleet as we left Jamaica but for me I had unfinished business. It’s been a while since we’ve had success in the race and to be honest, I wasn’t even sure if we were still capable of it. However, with the new contingent of crew, including plenty of ‘umph’ and some good friends, I held onto some hope. However, what materialised over the following week took me completely by surprise.

We had a very exciting race start off the coast of Port Antonio but one poor tack left us in last place. Due to light winds and a tight race schedule we then had to motor for 24 hours to get to a rolling ‘Le Mans’ start, where we were punished for our earlier mistake with the worst position in the fleet.

It contributed to a pretty poor first 24 hours but at least the winds were strong, we were sailing in warm waters and the leader’s mast lights were still visible on the horizon! We were desperate to hang on and at least stay in touch with the pack. Every time I stepped on deck we reviewed which boat was where, which sails they had up and had we progressed in the last 4 hours.

There was a real buzz onboard and plenty of excitement and enthusiasm from the new crew. We were working hard and working well. We were constantly looking at the trim of our sails and I really felt as though all these months of trying to learn, learn, learn were coming to fruition. It may seem a little petty but when racing hard has been the main focus of life for the last 9 months, playing with a rope to get some extra speed can provide a real thrill!

The sailing was great; lots of wind, the boat was heeled over hard, we were going fast and the fleet was around us. If ever it was true that life is about the journey, not the destination this was it. I couldn’t wait to be on deck trying to make the boat go faster. I was just loving our very simple life out on the waves. As thoughts and conversations on the boat turn towards life after the race, I’ve often referred to life on land as ‘normal life’ but as my crewmates remind me, this out here on the ocean is ‘normal life’ now and it makes me feel extremely privileged.

Suddenly we ran into a wind hole. Fortunately for us, the leading 4 hit it first which gave us the chance to claw back those 6 miles that had eluded us for the previous few days. It never ceases to astound me how quickly conditions can change. The ocean’s waves disappeared and we were left with a glassy ocean surface without enough wind to propel us. We were making 0.0 boat knots for hours at a time. We weren’t even making enough noise to disturb a pod of sleeping whales until the very last second! Most of the fleet was visible as we bobbed, drifted and prayed for wind. However, unlike other light wind occasions, we maintained our focus and composure. We looked for each and every 0.1 of a knot. Focus was everything. We made ground, we lost ground but most importantly I was thriving off the challenge. Our results were immediate as we could see our progress against the other boats – probably much less frustrating for us than for those watching the race viewer on the internet! Many regard light wind sailing as the most difficult of all conditions and I can see why. We’ve not done well in it in the past and I feared for our chances but we were holding our own.

When we got the all too familiar news that Clipper were calling the race off early, we had 12 hours to go all out. We were sat on the rail most of the way, but not before moving every ounce of transferable weight onto the favourable side of the boat. There was only a matter of a few miles between first and last place. It was so exciting. My nails were bitten to the core! As I resumed my place on the rail with a cup of tea (best way to get rid of the weight of tea bags and our fresh water supplies!!) Skipper called me up to the helm and just told me our course. Now this was pressure and I loved it. Never before have I concentrated so hard for so long. So much effort had gone into this race, there was so much expectation and enthusiasm onboard and I was determined not to let anyone down. I’d been through that disappointment going into Qingdao and I was going to do everything in my power not to let it happen again.

The wind started to build and we were going faster and faster. I felt good and I just hoped that the other boats didn’t have similar winds. Eventually, the wind turned and we had to change sails. It couldn’t have gone better. Maybe, just maybe this was our turn.

As we crossed the line, the sense of relief was amazing. All we could do was wait for the email. We could do no more. There was a nervous tension visible in everyone onboard. As the air cooled with the setting of the deep red sun over the horizon, interrupted only by the small triangular-shaped sail of another Clipper boat, the skipper gathered us on deck. He told us the results in fleet order and we didn’t feature until 5^th. While I’d thought earlier in the day that I didn’t mind where we came because I’d enjoyed the race so much, suddenly I was struggling to hold onto that idea. Then he told us that he was joking and hadn’t heard yet…the relief was overwhelming, not to mention the desire for revenge!

While nervous banter echoed around the saloon after dinner, suddenly the Nav Station erupted. Jumps of joy, hugs all around and massive smiles as we’d clinched second place. Another podium, another success. This time the news was for real. Agh…the sweet smell of success and now we’re hungry for more…!!!