One of BP Explorer's mottos is 'control the controllables'. It has served us well, but for much of the time over recent days it has been more a case of reacting to the hand we are dealt. We had day after day of glassy, carribbean-blue waters, negligible - or even negative - speeds towards Boston and ripples of restless boredom amongst those torturing their weary bottoms on the rail. Then, the night before last, we went from swimming-pool-flat waters to reaching along under the flanker. Somebody had switched the wind on. Then they changed their minds and turned it off again. The spinnaker was out of its bag, flying, down the companionway and back in its bag in less time than it takes to nip out for as pint of milk.
And, as the scheds have shown all too clearly, if the wind can change so radically over a couple of hundred yards, it is not surprising that the yachts fighting it out behind BG SPIRIT and VAIO are playing musical chairs.
If I had a bit more self-discipline I would avoid looking at the figures until the situation regains some semblance of normality, especially when they read as they did half an hour ago, putting us back from fourth to eighth. But for now it is in some ways meaningless; less than seven miles separate us from third and we have at least made gains on Imagine it. Done. in third. The wind that we are currently enjoying will help us knock a few more miles off before daylight. Then, after tomorrow's return to light winds, a gale is predicted to serve as the introduction to the final few days of the voyage.
Sunday saw the last of the alcohol come and go with Christian's birthday, so it was with some relief that we passed on to the right side of '1,000 miles to the waypoint' yesterday afternoon - Boston is now 946 miles distant.
Right on cue to rouse Chris from his worries about ageing, we were also treated to yet more wildlife; every time that he talked about wanting to go for a birthday swim another shark would appear. Several sperm whales also kept us company, spouting in the sunshine, and yesterday we saw our first turtle - swimming in an ungainly, flapping kind of way past the hull, one leathery 'arm' in the air, waving us on. 'Hurry up,' he seemed to be saying. 'They're waiting for you!'
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Monday, May 30, 2005
32' 45N 50' 27W
I need to choose my words carefully if I am to describe the last 48 hours or so. Light Winds Lottery is a phrase racing sailors sometimes use to describe such conditions and perhaps I will leave it at that.
Working in the hot sun, with sails slatting overhead, boat speeds close to zero and schedules that show others nearby in differing wind speeds - in many ways these conditions have been the most trying we have encountered in the circumnavigation. We have laboured away stoically, trying to stay cheerful, each crewmember hoping for wind and some equal conditions to fight in.
Last night the random nature of yacht movements continued apace. We gained 10 miles on Team Stelmar, meanwhile SAIC La Jolla overtook us and from even further behind
Imagine It. Done. overtook all of us.
All of us are capable of being a little tetchy and in an effort to make light of this I asked Naomi to create two 30cm diameter medals. Made of Dacron and proudly worn around the recipient's neck, they declare:
With smiling face ''I am a happy bugger''
And
With unhappy face ''I am a miserable git''
Both watches were made aware that these medals were to be issued at the daily 1200 meeting, one of each type, for each watch. A kangaroo court was hastily organised and a 'happy bugger' and 'miserable git' for each watch were duly presented with their medals. To be frank the sins of the miserable were rather mild and in some cases frankly misquoted. They did allow us to once again focus on the issues of morale and team spirit. If you are laughing and stitching each other up over 'miserable git' medals your team
is invariably ok. They also allowed us to humorously make the point that negative behaviour would be highlighted by the awarding of a large medal in a group environment. There's only one way to avoid getting the 'mis' medal and that's to be cheerful.
There is photographic evidence of the first recipients - but as for names I am sworn to silence. There will be more presentations with each medal being proudly inscribed with the name of past winners. Seven more days to Boston and seven more winners!
It feels very much like we have escaped the prolonged calms and for the next 36 hours we should have moderate westerlies. We have a challenging task ahead and some varied conditions over the next seven days - including another
period of calm. We are determined to win the battle of the becalmed boats, but part of it appears to be in the lap of the wind gods.
Working in the hot sun, with sails slatting overhead, boat speeds close to zero and schedules that show others nearby in differing wind speeds - in many ways these conditions have been the most trying we have encountered in the circumnavigation. We have laboured away stoically, trying to stay cheerful, each crewmember hoping for wind and some equal conditions to fight in.
Last night the random nature of yacht movements continued apace. We gained 10 miles on Team Stelmar, meanwhile SAIC La Jolla overtook us and from even further behind
Imagine It. Done. overtook all of us.
All of us are capable of being a little tetchy and in an effort to make light of this I asked Naomi to create two 30cm diameter medals. Made of Dacron and proudly worn around the recipient's neck, they declare:
With smiling face ''I am a happy bugger''
And
With unhappy face ''I am a miserable git''
Both watches were made aware that these medals were to be issued at the daily 1200 meeting, one of each type, for each watch. A kangaroo court was hastily organised and a 'happy bugger' and 'miserable git' for each watch were duly presented with their medals. To be frank the sins of the miserable were rather mild and in some cases frankly misquoted. They did allow us to once again focus on the issues of morale and team spirit. If you are laughing and stitching each other up over 'miserable git' medals your team
is invariably ok. They also allowed us to humorously make the point that negative behaviour would be highlighted by the awarding of a large medal in a group environment. There's only one way to avoid getting the 'mis' medal and that's to be cheerful.
There is photographic evidence of the first recipients - but as for names I am sworn to silence. There will be more presentations with each medal being proudly inscribed with the name of past winners. Seven more days to Boston and seven more winners!
It feels very much like we have escaped the prolonged calms and for the next 36 hours we should have moderate westerlies. We have a challenging task ahead and some varied conditions over the next seven days - including another
period of calm. We are determined to win the battle of the becalmed boats, but part of it appears to be in the lap of the wind gods.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
31o37N 49o03W
We're still here! Just in case you were thinking the Challenge website was on the blink and the display of our position has frozen - believe it or not we are still racing. One could, not surprisingly, think that we'd had enough of all that rushing about and decided to take life at a more leisurely pace.
We've done over 27,000 miles through the world's toughest oceans, we've smashed through huge waves, fought to put up sails in howling winds and stood trimming at the shrouds in freezing temperatures. Even in port it's a mad rush to get the boat ready for the next leg and the stress of packing
your bag three days before you leave and trying to get it to 30 kilos even thought you've just brought ten kilos of stuff in port should not be underestimated. You could be forgiven for thinking - I recon they're taking advantage of the sun and having a bit of a rest. Even now as you sit at our desks with a full day ahead, deadlines to meet, bosses to please you may
wonder - I bet they are sunning themselves on deck and drinking some of that Gin & tonic that we know they've got on board. They don't seem to be moving very fast that's for sure. Well you would be nearly right actually, we are
catching up on our tans and there's not much to do so, but for the helm, nav and trimmers we are sat on the rail chatting amongst ourselves. However it's like being stuck in a traffic jam, stuck on the tube or delayed at the airport - it's a gap in the hectic schedule but you can't rest. Your brain
knows you've got to be somewhere and it won't relax until you're there. You are constantly looking at your watch counting how much time has been wasted, feverishly looking at alternative routes and wondering what the rest of the
world is doing while you are stuck in that same spot for what seems like an age. It's not free time it's time not doing something when you should be doing something and that's worse than no free time. We are eating the same food we would be if we were working hard so we're getting fatter. We're not as tired (physically) so it is actually more difficult to sleep during the off watches. The tendency is to stay awake and read or catch up on the e-mails, the problem then is that you disrupt your sleep patterns and you'll
be tired on watch and awake off watch again. Believe us when we say we are wishing and praying for wind. It's not good for the soul all this floating about.
BG SPIRIT's bold move to the North looks to be paying off. They are over 100 miles in front. It's by no means over yet but you have to tip your hat at the move they made going out on their own as they did. Such a move could have spelt disaster and they deserve their moment of glory. The next four positions are being traded almost by the hour and there is less than a mile between second, third and forth place and thereafter 15 and 18 miles for fifth and sixth place - nothing at all in these conditions. So, we wait, and wait, and wait.
Such is the nature of this game that I doubt if, even with their lead, BG SPIRIT is able to relax and until we cross the finish line neither can we - even if we do, deserve a bit of a rest.
We've done over 27,000 miles through the world's toughest oceans, we've smashed through huge waves, fought to put up sails in howling winds and stood trimming at the shrouds in freezing temperatures. Even in port it's a mad rush to get the boat ready for the next leg and the stress of packing
your bag three days before you leave and trying to get it to 30 kilos even thought you've just brought ten kilos of stuff in port should not be underestimated. You could be forgiven for thinking - I recon they're taking advantage of the sun and having a bit of a rest. Even now as you sit at our desks with a full day ahead, deadlines to meet, bosses to please you may
wonder - I bet they are sunning themselves on deck and drinking some of that Gin & tonic that we know they've got on board. They don't seem to be moving very fast that's for sure. Well you would be nearly right actually, we are
catching up on our tans and there's not much to do so, but for the helm, nav and trimmers we are sat on the rail chatting amongst ourselves. However it's like being stuck in a traffic jam, stuck on the tube or delayed at the airport - it's a gap in the hectic schedule but you can't rest. Your brain
knows you've got to be somewhere and it won't relax until you're there. You are constantly looking at your watch counting how much time has been wasted, feverishly looking at alternative routes and wondering what the rest of the
world is doing while you are stuck in that same spot for what seems like an age. It's not free time it's time not doing something when you should be doing something and that's worse than no free time. We are eating the same food we would be if we were working hard so we're getting fatter. We're not as tired (physically) so it is actually more difficult to sleep during the off watches. The tendency is to stay awake and read or catch up on the e-mails, the problem then is that you disrupt your sleep patterns and you'll
be tired on watch and awake off watch again. Believe us when we say we are wishing and praying for wind. It's not good for the soul all this floating about.
BG SPIRIT's bold move to the North looks to be paying off. They are over 100 miles in front. It's by no means over yet but you have to tip your hat at the move they made going out on their own as they did. Such a move could have spelt disaster and they deserve their moment of glory. The next four positions are being traded almost by the hour and there is less than a mile between second, third and forth place and thereafter 15 and 18 miles for fifth and sixth place - nothing at all in these conditions. So, we wait, and wait, and wait.
Such is the nature of this game that I doubt if, even with their lead, BG SPIRIT is able to relax and until we cross the finish line neither can we - even if we do, deserve a bit of a rest.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
31o08N 48o04W
Tonight BP Explorer is becalmed in a slight swell. She is making that particular noise - a gentle thudding slap of hull against the gloopy-sounding water - 'thwump. pause. thwump. pause. thwump'. This is not exactly music to the ears of the helms who wait patiently for enough wind to make it possible to sail course. Every few moments the navigator pops his head up like a meerkat through the companionway. Squinting into the gloom of the cockpit, he delivers a running commentary on our progress, which he has been watching
below on the MAXSea. In this case it is Stephen.
Up the steps he goes. 'That's course Holger. Keep steering 345 degrees.' Down he goes. Five minutes later, up he goes: 'You are 25 low, we need to start thinking about a gybe.'
And so we yo-yo back and forth, back and forth.
People are trying to contain their sighs and remain patient, but even a saint would struggle right now. Our probable arrival date is slipping back (it looks like Saturday at the moment), and the prognosis for the next 24 hours or so is not brilliant. The navigators order new weather forecasts
almost every day via email, and BG SPIRIT, around 150 miles to the north, can clearly see the same thing as us. They have continued their flyer but have been sacrificing miles to us as they sail due north. 'They are keeping an
eye on this lousy mess and are trying to avoid it,' I am told. This 'lousy mess' (a technical meteorological term) is, crudely speaking, caused by two highs, with north-flowing wind on one side, south-flowing wind on the other and very little - just light, flukey winds - between. This is where we are.
Those of us at 31oN or thereabouts are fighting a battle through similar conditions. Within our own horizon, we are engaged in an ungainly dance, with Spirit of Sark watching us watching them, and Team Stelmar watching us watching Spirit of Sark watching them. If you see what I mean. Meanwhile, some 20 or so miles to
the east, Barclays Adventurer and SAIC La Jolla are also experiencing much the same pattern of events and are now three miles and almost seven miles behind respectively - which at least puts us back in third.
Bob Dylan sings 'The times they are a-changing' on the stereo, Christian is baking bread in the warm fug of the galley, time seems to be slooowing down. The meerkat, sleepy by now, appears again, huffing and puffing, exhaling his
words with a tired groan. 'We are still 25 low. We just need some more wind!'
'Well, YOU ordered this sh*t!' jokes the helm. 'Why don't you go and order something different - like about 20 knots!'
below on the MAXSea. In this case it is Stephen.
Up the steps he goes. 'That's course Holger. Keep steering 345 degrees.' Down he goes. Five minutes later, up he goes: 'You are 25 low, we need to start thinking about a gybe.'
And so we yo-yo back and forth, back and forth.
People are trying to contain their sighs and remain patient, but even a saint would struggle right now. Our probable arrival date is slipping back (it looks like Saturday at the moment), and the prognosis for the next 24 hours or so is not brilliant. The navigators order new weather forecasts
almost every day via email, and BG SPIRIT, around 150 miles to the north, can clearly see the same thing as us. They have continued their flyer but have been sacrificing miles to us as they sail due north. 'They are keeping an
eye on this lousy mess and are trying to avoid it,' I am told. This 'lousy mess' (a technical meteorological term) is, crudely speaking, caused by two highs, with north-flowing wind on one side, south-flowing wind on the other and very little - just light, flukey winds - between. This is where we are.
Those of us at 31oN or thereabouts are fighting a battle through similar conditions. Within our own horizon, we are engaged in an ungainly dance, with Spirit of Sark watching us watching them, and Team Stelmar watching us watching Spirit of Sark watching them. If you see what I mean. Meanwhile, some 20 or so miles to
the east, Barclays Adventurer and SAIC La Jolla are also experiencing much the same pattern of events and are now three miles and almost seven miles behind respectively - which at least puts us back in third.
Bob Dylan sings 'The times they are a-changing' on the stereo, Christian is baking bread in the warm fug of the galley, time seems to be slooowing down. The meerkat, sleepy by now, appears again, huffing and puffing, exhaling his
words with a tired groan. 'We are still 25 low. We just need some more wind!'
'Well, YOU ordered this sh*t!' jokes the helm. 'Why don't you go and order something different - like about 20 knots!'
Friday, May 27, 2005
29' 12N 46' 50W
Well we have been here before this trip, have we not? I am not sure if it's easier to put up with because of its familiarity or more frustrating because of the ''Oh no, not again'' feel to it all.
Yesterday under a baking hot sun, we sat with no wind, watching yellow sails appear on the horizon astern. Ghosting closer on the dying breeze came first Spirit of Sark and then Team Stelmar and all the hard won miles began to run backwards. Out to the east, Barclays Adventurer were doing the same. Further indignity was to follow
as Spirit of Sark glided slowly around us and settled 2 miles in front slightly off the port bow. In the middle of all this I received an email from Kate my wife, telling me that she and baby Jasper would be unable to make the finish in Boston due to a booking error with the tickets...they will arrive later. For much of yesterday I had a kind of mental image of Edvard Munch's ''The Scream'' playing inside my head.
I suppose if I am honest, what I really begrudge the other yachts, is the feeling of relief and happiness such a reversal of fortune brings. Two days ago Spirit of Sark was 25 miles behind sailing with furrowed brow, agonising over sail
trim wondering how they were going to claw back the distance - marvellous! Now they are back in it.
BG SPIRIT has pulled a bold move relentlessly pushing out to the north to find new wind first. They are 124m out to our right. There is a downside to what they have done, they must find a way back to the line. Westerlies are forecast
for the end of the leg and this might prove difficult for them. Well it's something to watch for anyway.
As for us, we are the same as usual. People are frustrated, but not visibly so. We have a confidence in our sailing skills and don't feel the distance between 5th and 2nd is significant in the medium term. As for first, well we will just have to watch the westerlies at the end. But time is running short, 7 to 8 days to go and the pressure is on.
As for Jasper, he is just a few weeks over one year and I have missed him a great deal on this leg (the last of the 5 week odysseys). I receive regular reports of how he proudly pushes his brick trolley along, using the handle as a support, but have never seen it myself. He is still to take his first
steps unaided and I very much hope to see this take place in Boston. So if there is a little more progress on the sailing front - and temporarily, a little less progress on the walking front, I will be a happy man!
Yesterday under a baking hot sun, we sat with no wind, watching yellow sails appear on the horizon astern. Ghosting closer on the dying breeze came first Spirit of Sark and then Team Stelmar and all the hard won miles began to run backwards. Out to the east, Barclays Adventurer were doing the same. Further indignity was to follow
as Spirit of Sark glided slowly around us and settled 2 miles in front slightly off the port bow. In the middle of all this I received an email from Kate my wife, telling me that she and baby Jasper would be unable to make the finish in Boston due to a booking error with the tickets...they will arrive later. For much of yesterday I had a kind of mental image of Edvard Munch's ''The Scream'' playing inside my head.
I suppose if I am honest, what I really begrudge the other yachts, is the feeling of relief and happiness such a reversal of fortune brings. Two days ago Spirit of Sark was 25 miles behind sailing with furrowed brow, agonising over sail
trim wondering how they were going to claw back the distance - marvellous! Now they are back in it.
BG SPIRIT has pulled a bold move relentlessly pushing out to the north to find new wind first. They are 124m out to our right. There is a downside to what they have done, they must find a way back to the line. Westerlies are forecast
for the end of the leg and this might prove difficult for them. Well it's something to watch for anyway.
As for us, we are the same as usual. People are frustrated, but not visibly so. We have a confidence in our sailing skills and don't feel the distance between 5th and 2nd is significant in the medium term. As for first, well we will just have to watch the westerlies at the end. But time is running short, 7 to 8 days to go and the pressure is on.
As for Jasper, he is just a few weeks over one year and I have missed him a great deal on this leg (the last of the 5 week odysseys). I receive regular reports of how he proudly pushes his brick trolley along, using the handle as a support, but have never seen it myself. He is still to take his first
steps unaided and I very much hope to see this take place in Boston. So if there is a little more progress on the sailing front - and temporarily, a little less progress on the walking front, I will be a happy man!
Thursday, May 26, 2005
27o49N 45o36W
We kind of knew it was going to happen, it always does! The once perfect position of us in first place, BG SPIRIT behind and Spirit of Sark way back in seventh place was bound to change - it has. For days we've been predicting light airs and they have been better than we expected. In the first leg from Portsmouth to Buenos Aires it seemed like we were sitting in the middle of a glassy sea, not going anywhere, loads of times. This leg we have been luckier. There have been light winds but they have not lasted long and after a short period of just going slow, we've been off again. It's now gone light in fact it's just gone! We woke this morning to the sullen faces of the on-watch who, during the night, had been zigzagging across the chart in search of some forward motion. A new set of position reports were in that although were not bad - we had actually gained a place (we were first), they were not good either. Our constant foe, Spirit of Sark has crept up into second place just 5 miles behind. It is a sign of how much we want to win this leg, indeed win the race, when even when we are in first place we are disappointed that the others are not further behind. We can now see Spirit of Sark over to our left, two yachts bobbing on a still pond, small puffy clouds littering the sky, the sun blazing a fiery trail across the water. It could be an idyllic scene, it is idyllic but for the fact that on both yachts there is a harnessed energy wanting, waiting for the wind to rise, standing poised to shuttle the crew into action steering, trimming and changing sails. Instead we are creeping about not wanting to affect the little boat speed we have.
We are nervously looking over at our nemesis and hoping that they don't move in front, don't catch some wind and don't sail off leaving us behind to wallow. There's not much we can do actually. All those speedy sail changes, perfect gybes mean nothing when there is no wind. We can send someone up the mast to look for wind; David is up there now. The helms and navigators can watch the numbers for anything that might help us get going and the rest of us can be alert, ready for the next tack to capture the little puff of available breeze. It is actually more stressful than when we've got 40 knots. It's another reason to send David up the mast!
Hopefully this will not last and we'll be on our way again soon. Hopefully the gods have not saved all the light stuff and are going to give it to us all at once. It's cruel really that a on a perfectly beautiful day in a spectacular environment where all worries should melt away like the ice in our imaginary gin & tonics we are instead fretting and fussing about racing. Still that's what we are doing - that's ocean racing I guess.
John Bass
All the crew would just like to wish our BP Explorer Project Manager, Claire Blakeway a very, very happy birthday today. We are so lucky to have you on our team and our thoughts will be with you. Our recommendation, take the day off from looking after us and leave answering any e-mails until tomorrow afternoon!
We are nervously looking over at our nemesis and hoping that they don't move in front, don't catch some wind and don't sail off leaving us behind to wallow. There's not much we can do actually. All those speedy sail changes, perfect gybes mean nothing when there is no wind. We can send someone up the mast to look for wind; David is up there now. The helms and navigators can watch the numbers for anything that might help us get going and the rest of us can be alert, ready for the next tack to capture the little puff of available breeze. It is actually more stressful than when we've got 40 knots. It's another reason to send David up the mast!
Hopefully this will not last and we'll be on our way again soon. Hopefully the gods have not saved all the light stuff and are going to give it to us all at once. It's cruel really that a on a perfectly beautiful day in a spectacular environment where all worries should melt away like the ice in our imaginary gin & tonics we are instead fretting and fussing about racing. Still that's what we are doing - that's ocean racing I guess.
John Bass
All the crew would just like to wish our BP Explorer Project Manager, Claire Blakeway a very, very happy birthday today. We are so lucky to have you on our team and our thoughts will be with you. Our recommendation, take the day off from looking after us and leave answering any e-mails until tomorrow afternoon!
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
25o12N 44o07W
As the wind shifted forwards at 6pm watch changeover yesterday, we dropped the flanker and those left on deck took a well-needed bath as the heavens opened. Below decks it is the same temperature as a steel-works, so fireman Rob tells us, so the wash was a refreshing treat. Not that this was how everyone saw it. Holger, on the helm, was determined to stay dry and had somehow managed to reach for his foulie jacket just in time, whilst those at the shrouds and on the winches got as soaked as they would have done on any Southern Ocean watch, albeit in considerably warmer water this time. But it just didn't seem fair, so before coming off deck Chris and Rich poured two bottles of water down Holger's neck. Herr Doktor was not impressed!
Now, we are slipping through the early hours with the genoa up after a brief spell with the yankee and staysail, and the breeze is fading. Rain gave way to a wash of watercolour sunset before the full moon lit our path towards Boston. A net of bright stars emerging between fleeting white clouds promises a lovely dawn when we hope to discover that this dying wind has not lost us any ground to those following in our wake. Very light winds are expected over the next couple of days and it seems likely that we will lose some miles to those boats out to the east - fingers crossed that any reshuffling in their favour leaves plenty of scope for us to recover the lead in the final week.
The distance seems to have been eaten up so quickly - yesterday we again reached for the cocktail umbrellas and a couple of fresh limes to put the finishing touches to our G&Ts - poured in celebration of crossing the Tropic of Cancer in second place. So that's another of our objectives for the leg marked with a tick and something to feel very proud of. The only one left now unmarked on the wall is 'Win the Leg'. We have 1,600 miles left in which to achieve this and work continues around the clock to seize every opportunity to maximise boat speed. One of the most important objectives in the short term must be to keep our thoughts in the here and now. With emails coming thick and fast requesting decisions and information for the finish at Portsmouth, this can sometimes be harder than you might think. The conversation on deck is now less about the trading currency of a cereal bar versus sour jelly worms (priceless by the way), and more about what we will all do when we get back, what it is going to feel like racing up the Solent and what a party it is going to be!
But we do, after all, have around 5,000 miles of racing before us, valuable points for three of the seven legs left up for grabs and several weeks of sailing during which anything could happen. So it is a case of fixing our eye firmly on the ball. It's all about that feeling once you reach the end of a race; the beer tastes so much sweeter if you feel that you have done everything possible, given every ounce of your concentration and effort to get the best possible result. Do that and I am sure that Boston, La Rochelle and Portsmouth will be days that are hard to beat!
Now, we are slipping through the early hours with the genoa up after a brief spell with the yankee and staysail, and the breeze is fading. Rain gave way to a wash of watercolour sunset before the full moon lit our path towards Boston. A net of bright stars emerging between fleeting white clouds promises a lovely dawn when we hope to discover that this dying wind has not lost us any ground to those following in our wake. Very light winds are expected over the next couple of days and it seems likely that we will lose some miles to those boats out to the east - fingers crossed that any reshuffling in their favour leaves plenty of scope for us to recover the lead in the final week.
The distance seems to have been eaten up so quickly - yesterday we again reached for the cocktail umbrellas and a couple of fresh limes to put the finishing touches to our G&Ts - poured in celebration of crossing the Tropic of Cancer in second place. So that's another of our objectives for the leg marked with a tick and something to feel very proud of. The only one left now unmarked on the wall is 'Win the Leg'. We have 1,600 miles left in which to achieve this and work continues around the clock to seize every opportunity to maximise boat speed. One of the most important objectives in the short term must be to keep our thoughts in the here and now. With emails coming thick and fast requesting decisions and information for the finish at Portsmouth, this can sometimes be harder than you might think. The conversation on deck is now less about the trading currency of a cereal bar versus sour jelly worms (priceless by the way), and more about what we will all do when we get back, what it is going to feel like racing up the Solent and what a party it is going to be!
But we do, after all, have around 5,000 miles of racing before us, valuable points for three of the seven legs left up for grabs and several weeks of sailing during which anything could happen. So it is a case of fixing our eye firmly on the ball. It's all about that feeling once you reach the end of a race; the beer tastes so much sweeter if you feel that you have done everything possible, given every ounce of your concentration and effort to get the best possible result. Do that and I am sure that Boston, La Rochelle and Portsmouth will be days that are hard to beat!
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
22' 27N 42' 10W
Tactics, tactics. Imagine having to think about the same problem, every 6 hours every day for 35 days - that's tactics (that's looking after a baby I hear Kate, my wife, cry). There is the predicted wind and the frustrating nature of the wind that materialises. Your analysis of what the competitors will get up to and their actual track on the ground. All of us, to some degree or another, are playing a cat and mouse game with each other.
We know exactly what time we are 'pinged' by satellite and you can time your manoeuvres around this - hiding for six hours any changes in course that you might wish to make. There are even rumours that 'some yachts' have resorted to placing a saucepan over the satellite receiver to deflect the incoming 'ping' signal and thus prevent their position from being revealed - however, I have never liked conspiracy theories and prefer to put it down to atmospherics.
This has always been a tricky race for us tactically. We started with Spirit of Sark 2 points behind us and BG SPIRIT 4 points. We want to beat them both, but the need to beat Spirit of Sark is greater than that of BG SPIRIT. Ideally our two competitors would sail in the same area of ocean, we would seek to place ourselves in an advantaged position relative to the wind and hope to profit by it. However, BG SPIRIT and Spirit of Sark sail tactically different races. Spirit of Sark always tend to sail the line, i.e. the shortest distance between two points. BG SPIRIT prefer to sail right out to the margins of the course, where the opportunity for gain (and loss) are highest. The two boats are rarely in the same place at the same time and as a result present a continual headache to us. Where best to place yourself to cover two boats 80 miles apart?
Looking at positions now shows the dilemma. Out to the right BG SPIRIT, over to the left Spirit of Sark - somewhere in the middle us. This afternoon we went on a losing gybe for a number of hours in an effort to move closer to BG SPIRIT. We fretted for 3 hours, convinced that the others in the fleet must be making ground on us as they took the making gybe (the course that most closest matches the bearing to Boston). By the end of it we were 40 degrees off course and we could stand it no longer. We gybed and immediately began to sail down the bearing to Boston. When the schedules came I was sure that we would see movement towards BG SPIRIT and away from Spirit of Sark. We got the latter, but as for movement towards BG SPIRIT, not a drop. During that time they had sailed an even more extreme course than ours and had moved further north. The gap had widened not reduced.
Obviously BG SPIRIT feel there is an advantage to being out to the right of the course and I tend to share their opinion. For the next four days we are going through variable wind conditions and they may well overtake us. After that period the advantage shifts to the boats on the left and certainly in the last week in the run up to Boston boats to the left of the course should do a bit better. As to who will prosper over the entire route - well that depends upon the wind - and the wind is nobody's master. Or as I have been misquoted in the past 'the wind will make a monkey out of you.'
What I would really like is a fast-forward button. Let's skip all the waiting and agonising and find out what happens at the end. That way we could all just sit back and relax. In the absence of that I must wait six hours at a time to see who is a winner and who the loser. The positions and potentials can endlessly play on my mind in the hours in between. If I'm not careful I can be consumed by fruitless worrying, endlessly obsessing about boats I cannot affect. The answer lies in constructively sailing BP Explorer and between the covers of a good book. My entire personal weight allowance is made up of novels and disappearing into a wonderful fiction is my greatest pleasure. In the last two weeks I have travelled in Vichy France courtesy of Sebastian Faulks and Charlotte Grey and to the outer reaches of the Universe via Iain M. Banks and Look to Windward.
We know exactly what time we are 'pinged' by satellite and you can time your manoeuvres around this - hiding for six hours any changes in course that you might wish to make. There are even rumours that 'some yachts' have resorted to placing a saucepan over the satellite receiver to deflect the incoming 'ping' signal and thus prevent their position from being revealed - however, I have never liked conspiracy theories and prefer to put it down to atmospherics.
This has always been a tricky race for us tactically. We started with Spirit of Sark 2 points behind us and BG SPIRIT 4 points. We want to beat them both, but the need to beat Spirit of Sark is greater than that of BG SPIRIT. Ideally our two competitors would sail in the same area of ocean, we would seek to place ourselves in an advantaged position relative to the wind and hope to profit by it. However, BG SPIRIT and Spirit of Sark sail tactically different races. Spirit of Sark always tend to sail the line, i.e. the shortest distance between two points. BG SPIRIT prefer to sail right out to the margins of the course, where the opportunity for gain (and loss) are highest. The two boats are rarely in the same place at the same time and as a result present a continual headache to us. Where best to place yourself to cover two boats 80 miles apart?
Looking at positions now shows the dilemma. Out to the right BG SPIRIT, over to the left Spirit of Sark - somewhere in the middle us. This afternoon we went on a losing gybe for a number of hours in an effort to move closer to BG SPIRIT. We fretted for 3 hours, convinced that the others in the fleet must be making ground on us as they took the making gybe (the course that most closest matches the bearing to Boston). By the end of it we were 40 degrees off course and we could stand it no longer. We gybed and immediately began to sail down the bearing to Boston. When the schedules came I was sure that we would see movement towards BG SPIRIT and away from Spirit of Sark. We got the latter, but as for movement towards BG SPIRIT, not a drop. During that time they had sailed an even more extreme course than ours and had moved further north. The gap had widened not reduced.
Obviously BG SPIRIT feel there is an advantage to being out to the right of the course and I tend to share their opinion. For the next four days we are going through variable wind conditions and they may well overtake us. After that period the advantage shifts to the boats on the left and certainly in the last week in the run up to Boston boats to the left of the course should do a bit better. As to who will prosper over the entire route - well that depends upon the wind - and the wind is nobody's master. Or as I have been misquoted in the past 'the wind will make a monkey out of you.'
What I would really like is a fast-forward button. Let's skip all the waiting and agonising and find out what happens at the end. That way we could all just sit back and relax. In the absence of that I must wait six hours at a time to see who is a winner and who the loser. The positions and potentials can endlessly play on my mind in the hours in between. If I'm not careful I can be consumed by fruitless worrying, endlessly obsessing about boats I cannot affect. The answer lies in constructively sailing BP Explorer and between the covers of a good book. My entire personal weight allowance is made up of novels and disappearing into a wonderful fiction is my greatest pleasure. In the last two weeks I have travelled in Vichy France courtesy of Sebastian Faulks and Charlotte Grey and to the outer reaches of the Universe via Iain M. Banks and Look to Windward.
Monday, May 23, 2005
19 39N 40 26W
The other day Christian came up to me and said how would I like to change watches? As bowmen we share the same role on each watch and he suggested that he would like to see how Olly's watch did things - he has been on Cop's watch since the start in October. It would also give us both a chance to work with the rest of the crew which, although we'd worked together plenty of times in training and on start and finishes, had not spent day-to-day watches with before.
I was a little uneasy at first. Although we are all one team we are divided into two smaller mini teams for each watch and moving from the group I'd been with from the start would be strange. It did make me analyse just how much I thought I knew Cop, Major, Andrew, John Stewart, Giles and Goldie - though Giles and Goldie have been on Olly's watch before
now. Anyway, we agreed and last night I went to bed early from Olly's watch and was woken half way through Cop's watch. It's not very surprising that everything works pretty much the same. Both watches talk through how they perform procedures and pass tips and suggestions on to each other. At our daily crew de-brief, ways of doing things are agreed and issues such as safety, crew happiness and performance are discussed as one crew. The fundamental difference is the day-to-day personalities. Over time we get to know who, on our watch, is grumpy when first woken, who naturally migrates to certain jobs such as main trimming, running the spinnaker lines etc. or just what food they prefer at meal times for example. These are all things that I didn't, and still don't, know about my new watch. Nearly eight months into the race having circumnavigated the world under sail with this
crew I only intimately knew 'my watch'. So over the next ten to fourteen days or so, until the end of this leg, I'm going to get to know how they tick and they are going to get to know me a little better too - certainly something I hadn't thought about at the start of the leg. Already our swap has become something of a talking point and both watch leaders have reported a renewed vigour from us both, perhaps as a result of us trying to impress our new 'mini' team-mates.
The swap certainly hasn't affected our performance. As of this afternoon's position reports we have moved from third to be in first place again. Our constant attention to trimming and helming is paying off and we have crept up on and overtaken SAIC La Jolla and BG SPIRIT who are now four miles and seven miles behind us respectfully.
David reports that he has never sailed so fast and consistently in a straight line before and we have covered an amazing 4700 miles in three weeks with just under 2000 still to go. It's fingers crossed for continued good winds and an early entry into Boston. We currently have our 1.5 race kite up which has not been out for nearly a week so it's looking good.
I was a little uneasy at first. Although we are all one team we are divided into two smaller mini teams for each watch and moving from the group I'd been with from the start would be strange. It did make me analyse just how much I thought I knew Cop, Major, Andrew, John Stewart, Giles and Goldie - though Giles and Goldie have been on Olly's watch before
now. Anyway, we agreed and last night I went to bed early from Olly's watch and was woken half way through Cop's watch. It's not very surprising that everything works pretty much the same. Both watches talk through how they perform procedures and pass tips and suggestions on to each other. At our daily crew de-brief, ways of doing things are agreed and issues such as safety, crew happiness and performance are discussed as one crew. The fundamental difference is the day-to-day personalities. Over time we get to know who, on our watch, is grumpy when first woken, who naturally migrates to certain jobs such as main trimming, running the spinnaker lines etc. or just what food they prefer at meal times for example. These are all things that I didn't, and still don't, know about my new watch. Nearly eight months into the race having circumnavigated the world under sail with this
crew I only intimately knew 'my watch'. So over the next ten to fourteen days or so, until the end of this leg, I'm going to get to know how they tick and they are going to get to know me a little better too - certainly something I hadn't thought about at the start of the leg. Already our swap has become something of a talking point and both watch leaders have reported a renewed vigour from us both, perhaps as a result of us trying to impress our new 'mini' team-mates.
The swap certainly hasn't affected our performance. As of this afternoon's position reports we have moved from third to be in first place again. Our constant attention to trimming and helming is paying off and we have crept up on and overtaken SAIC La Jolla and BG SPIRIT who are now four miles and seven miles behind us respectfully.
David reports that he has never sailed so fast and consistently in a straight line before and we have covered an amazing 4700 miles in three weeks with just under 2000 still to go. It's fingers crossed for continued good winds and an early entry into Boston. We currently have our 1.5 race kite up which has not been out for nearly a week so it's looking good.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
16o29N 38o23W
Can we, can't we? Can we, can't we? The wind is see-sawing forwards and backwards, taking us in and out of the parameters for flying the kite at a frustrating rate. Still carrying our yellow headsails and sailing fast enough to slowly improve upon our position sched by sched, we are itching to hoist the flanker which will give us even better boat speed.
"Wind has gone aft," calls the helm, and the headsail trimmer disappears up front to re-check trim.
"Wind has gone aft another five degrees." Now the flanker seems possible. David stands by the wheel, huffing and puffing, brow furrowed.
"We'll give it five minutes and see. If this holds we'll go for it." Bowman, foredeck guys and snakepit get everything ready for a hoist.
"Wind has come forwards again," notes the yankee winchman, and we all stand down - for the umpteenth time.
This is the cycle of events which has kept us on our toes for watch after watch and it seems to take place about once an hour. It makes it impossible for David to switch off and he is regularly telling the navigator, 'wake me in an hour'. It's very tiring.
Of course, we could bear away and put the kite up no problem, but heading west may not be such a good idea bearing in mind the high-pressure system building ahead of us. Whether this system will herald a return to a light-winds lottery remains to be seen, but seems likely. Inevitably if the wind dies in front the yachts in front will slow down first, giving those behind a chance to make up considerable ground. We must wait and see, trying in the meantime to build up as many miles as possible between ourselves and those who follow on a similar course.
Luckily this situation, which is enough to test anyone's patience, is no longer exacerbated by a dripping, jungle-like sauna down below - rain-soaked clothes hanging everywhere, the limbs of restless sleepers flung over the sides of bunks. Now the back bedroom is almost liveable-in.
Stephen continues his recovery from The Curious Incident of the Fish in the Nightime, although his eye is not a pretty sight. Hopefully he can still see enough to keep us on the right course and in the meantime it should certainly be considered a safety issue - perhaps some kind of fish siren could be rigged up, clear fish goggles donned and the helmet worn by anyone going forwards.
"Wind has gone aft," calls the helm, and the headsail trimmer disappears up front to re-check trim.
"Wind has gone aft another five degrees." Now the flanker seems possible. David stands by the wheel, huffing and puffing, brow furrowed.
"We'll give it five minutes and see. If this holds we'll go for it." Bowman, foredeck guys and snakepit get everything ready for a hoist.
"Wind has come forwards again," notes the yankee winchman, and we all stand down - for the umpteenth time.
This is the cycle of events which has kept us on our toes for watch after watch and it seems to take place about once an hour. It makes it impossible for David to switch off and he is regularly telling the navigator, 'wake me in an hour'. It's very tiring.
Of course, we could bear away and put the kite up no problem, but heading west may not be such a good idea bearing in mind the high-pressure system building ahead of us. Whether this system will herald a return to a light-winds lottery remains to be seen, but seems likely. Inevitably if the wind dies in front the yachts in front will slow down first, giving those behind a chance to make up considerable ground. We must wait and see, trying in the meantime to build up as many miles as possible between ourselves and those who follow on a similar course.
Luckily this situation, which is enough to test anyone's patience, is no longer exacerbated by a dripping, jungle-like sauna down below - rain-soaked clothes hanging everywhere, the limbs of restless sleepers flung over the sides of bunks. Now the back bedroom is almost liveable-in.
Stephen continues his recovery from The Curious Incident of the Fish in the Nightime, although his eye is not a pretty sight. Hopefully he can still see enough to keep us on the right course and in the meantime it should certainly be considered a safety issue - perhaps some kind of fish siren could be rigged up, clear fish goggles donned and the helmet worn by anyone going forwards.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
13' 38N 36' 26W
BP Explorer is reaching an arrow straight on a course across the North East trades. 322 True takes us straight to Boston and our average speed is around 9.8kts. The spinnakers are safely packed away and sturdy yellow sails power the boat. Some of the easiest miles across the ocean that we have ever had. It has been this way for 48 hours and looks set for another 48 hours. During these 4 days we hope to cover some 1000 miles towards the finish. Stress free miles they may be, but it takes some concentration.
On watch there is a constant flow of information:
''Are you on course?'' calls the headsail trimmer who stands midway up the yacht staring at the tell tales on the headsails.
''I am high'' replies the helmsman and then ''that is course'' as the yacht is nudged down 5 degrees onto the 335 compass.
''In on the headsail'' calls the trimmer again.
The headsail winchman responds with ''Coming in on the yankee'' and grinds in around 4cm of rope.
''Hold'' comes the call from the trimmer.
''How's the mainsail?'' questions the helm.
''Looks good' answers the main trimmer.
In front of the helm are six displays providing 7 different types of information and less they forget a large sign that proclaims ''HELM ARE YOU FOCUSED?''
We are trying to sail 1 percent faster than the opposition. Sailing at 10 knots, being 1 percent better than the others would see us gain 0.6 miles in six hours = 2.4 miles in 24 hours. In four days we would have gained 9.6 miles and regained the lead we lost in the doldrums. You wouldn't think it would be so difficult. I mean 1 percent, who's going to notice? But it is difficult and not always possible. Some watches we manage it, some we don't. But we can't expect to do it all the time; the others are trying just the same. This is how difficult and competitive this race has become. We are finding it hard to go 1 percent faster than the boats around us.
These gains and losses are calculated by the navigators and they periodically appear on deck to inform the helms to ''Come up 5'' depending upon how our overall course on the computer charts are showing. This constant flow of information around the deck is the sound of a successful racing boat. Silence is a sign that the crew have stopped working.
It's not particularly quiet down below either. For over 8 hours a day the generator clatters noisily away providing power to the battery chargers and watermaker. The watermaker high-pressure pump whines away and there is a persistent hiss of water through the filters which operate at 850psi. In the aft accommodation two budget fans (acquired in Cape Town) are permanently on and the sound of their cheap motors creates a noise not unlike sitting in the back of a 747 long haul. The combined effect is that of a floating factory, where the workforce struggle to be heard above the machinery. The good news is that this loud background noise down below is also kind of hypnotic and can send you off to sleep - which is where I'm going.
Footnote: The regular calls of the headsail trimmer were replaced last night by an surprised and distressed ''Jesus Christ, bloody hell, what the, oh my eye'' Like King Harold in 1066, Stephen Albury the headsail trimmer had been struck in the eye by a flying fish and had to be relieved of his task and sent down below. This morning he is nursing a very red and inflamed eye. This has provided the crew with much amusement and even Stephen is laughing about it today. Inevitably this has become known as ''The Curious Incident of the Fish in the Night time''
On watch there is a constant flow of information:
''Are you on course?'' calls the headsail trimmer who stands midway up the yacht staring at the tell tales on the headsails.
''I am high'' replies the helmsman and then ''that is course'' as the yacht is nudged down 5 degrees onto the 335 compass.
''In on the headsail'' calls the trimmer again.
The headsail winchman responds with ''Coming in on the yankee'' and grinds in around 4cm of rope.
''Hold'' comes the call from the trimmer.
''How's the mainsail?'' questions the helm.
''Looks good' answers the main trimmer.
In front of the helm are six displays providing 7 different types of information and less they forget a large sign that proclaims ''HELM ARE YOU FOCUSED?''
We are trying to sail 1 percent faster than the opposition. Sailing at 10 knots, being 1 percent better than the others would see us gain 0.6 miles in six hours = 2.4 miles in 24 hours. In four days we would have gained 9.6 miles and regained the lead we lost in the doldrums. You wouldn't think it would be so difficult. I mean 1 percent, who's going to notice? But it is difficult and not always possible. Some watches we manage it, some we don't. But we can't expect to do it all the time; the others are trying just the same. This is how difficult and competitive this race has become. We are finding it hard to go 1 percent faster than the boats around us.
These gains and losses are calculated by the navigators and they periodically appear on deck to inform the helms to ''Come up 5'' depending upon how our overall course on the computer charts are showing. This constant flow of information around the deck is the sound of a successful racing boat. Silence is a sign that the crew have stopped working.
It's not particularly quiet down below either. For over 8 hours a day the generator clatters noisily away providing power to the battery chargers and watermaker. The watermaker high-pressure pump whines away and there is a persistent hiss of water through the filters which operate at 850psi. In the aft accommodation two budget fans (acquired in Cape Town) are permanently on and the sound of their cheap motors creates a noise not unlike sitting in the back of a 747 long haul. The combined effect is that of a floating factory, where the workforce struggle to be heard above the machinery. The good news is that this loud background noise down below is also kind of hypnotic and can send you off to sleep - which is where I'm going.
Footnote: The regular calls of the headsail trimmer were replaced last night by an surprised and distressed ''Jesus Christ, bloody hell, what the, oh my eye'' Like King Harold in 1066, Stephen Albury the headsail trimmer had been struck in the eye by a flying fish and had to be relieved of his task and sent down below. This morning he is nursing a very red and inflamed eye. This has provided the crew with much amusement and even Stephen is laughing about it today. Inevitably this has become known as ''The Curious Incident of the Fish in the Night time''
Friday, May 20, 2005
10o23N 33o48W
Well, we are out of the doldrums at least we hope so. I remember writing this in a log on the first leg and they moved up behind us to draw us back in again! We appear to have got through without too much lingering in light airs. Even when it was light we didn't do the bobbing at zero knots and spinning on the spot which is a relief. In fact we have made very good speed averaging about nine knots compared to previous races where the average has been seven knots to this point in the leg. We now have two or three days or so of steady north-easterlies. The yellow headsails are up and it's easy sailing. It leaves little opportunity to make great gains on SAIC La Jolla and BG SPIRIT in first and second place but we are creeping up on them. In the last 24 hours we have crept half a mile closer to SAIC La Jolla but it involved us losing then getting back five miles in that period and it's a similar story with BG SPIRIT. It is clearly frustrating for David who has taken to screaming into the skies - another familiar sight from leg one, though pounding the spinnaker bag is a new one on us. The skies have cleared from the confusion of clouds that blanketed us in the ITCZ a plethora of stars and a near full moon light the deck of BP Explorer and the surrounding sea. When we came on deck for the start of the six until ten watch we looked upward, as we often do, and noticed a bright spot close to the moon, if fact within it's circumference in the dark area. It obviously wasn't a star or planet and as we looked throughout the watch it appeared to orbit about half way round but then, as it reached the upper limb it started to move away. When we came off watch at ten it sat at about 2 o'clock about four times the distance from the moon it had been when it was orbiting. Somewhat perplexed I called my brother on the satellite phone. Unfortunately I'd not taken into consideration the time difference and he was in bed and I'm not sure I had his full attention, oops! When he wakes this morning I'm sure he'll wonder if he dreamt his big brother calling from the middle of the Atlantic Ocean to ask if he knew what was orbiting the moon. Our final conclusion was that is must have been a satellite but, if any friends and family reading this has any information then please let us know.
Today was 'everyone's mate' Major Malhi's birthday and it was chocolate cake and a rousing chorus of 'for he's a jolly good fellow' and not one, but two rounds of Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday Major.
Today was 'everyone's mate' Major Malhi's birthday and it was chocolate cake and a rousing chorus of 'for he's a jolly good fellow' and not one, but two rounds of Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday Major.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Atlantic Ocean
At the prize-giving in Cape Town, BP Explorer scored a hat-trick; not only did we pick up prizes for our second place on Leg 4 and the Cape-to-Cape trophy (fastest boat from Cape Horn to the Cape of Good Hope), but our favourite chef and general all-round good guy, Major Malhi, also collected an award for Best Mate in the Fleet. Our boat song is 'Right Here, Right Now' by Fatboy Slim, and, as the lyrics suggest, 'We've come a long way, through the hard times and the good.' Major was nominated for his unerring friendliness through those 20,000-plus miles of racing. His curries have lent flavour and colour to even the coldest, grey day, he is always funny and cheerful and selflessly agrees to sleep up front so that we do not have to suffer the sounds of his impressive snoring! What more can you ask? Today Major turns 21 again so it is a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to him from his mates on BP Explorer and no doubt the rest of the fleet too (Major is a household name amongst the other crews).
Giving him the bumps might prove problematic though. After a difficult 24 hours hoisting and dropping spinnakers in the changeable winds of the doldrums, we are now heeled over with the yellow sails up, almost for the first time since Cape Town, and a steadying north-easterly is carrying us towards Boston. After repeated drenchings in the heavy downpours, alternated with unbelievably sweaty kite packs below decks (five alone last night in the 37°C heat), we are hoping that we have finally clawed our way out of the doldrums; we should know if this is the case by the end of the day.
Meanwhile, the boats further east are sailing a little faster, with SAIC La Jolla and BG SPIRIT twelve and seven miles in front respectively. Spirit of Sark are six-and-a-half miles behind and Barclays Adventurer have closed up to just eight miles distant. So we are doing everything we can to regain our lead and hold off those behind.
It is going to be a boozy week - whisky for the Equator, Champagne from Challenge Business and a bottle of Highland Park from Holger's parents, Herr und Frau Bindel, for crossing our track - and (hopefully soon) more bubbly to celebrate our escape into the north-easterlies. This should be almost enough to tide us through to our arrival in the USA, 2,908 miles away. We certainly know that we are on the way; last night Polaris put in an appearance for the first time in seven months, greeted with ooohs and aaahs from the more romantically-minded amongst the crew. It is beginning to feel like we are headed for our home stomping ground once again.
Giving him the bumps might prove problematic though. After a difficult 24 hours hoisting and dropping spinnakers in the changeable winds of the doldrums, we are now heeled over with the yellow sails up, almost for the first time since Cape Town, and a steadying north-easterly is carrying us towards Boston. After repeated drenchings in the heavy downpours, alternated with unbelievably sweaty kite packs below decks (five alone last night in the 37°C heat), we are hoping that we have finally clawed our way out of the doldrums; we should know if this is the case by the end of the day.
Meanwhile, the boats further east are sailing a little faster, with SAIC La Jolla and BG SPIRIT twelve and seven miles in front respectively. Spirit of Sark are six-and-a-half miles behind and Barclays Adventurer have closed up to just eight miles distant. So we are doing everything we can to regain our lead and hold off those behind.
It is going to be a boozy week - whisky for the Equator, Champagne from Challenge Business and a bottle of Highland Park from Holger's parents, Herr und Frau Bindel, for crossing our track - and (hopefully soon) more bubbly to celebrate our escape into the north-easterlies. This should be almost enough to tide us through to our arrival in the USA, 2,908 miles away. We certainly know that we are on the way; last night Polaris put in an appearance for the first time in seven months, greeted with ooohs and aaahs from the more romantically-minded amongst the crew. It is beginning to feel like we are headed for our home stomping ground once again.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Atlantic Ocean
Well it's disappointing isn't it? You went to bed looking at us somewhere in first / second and you wake up and we're in 4th. More to the point Spirit of Sark safely vanquished to 30miles astern is now 4 miles in front.... How is that
possible? Answer: the doldrums.
It is to say the least very frustrating. Yesterday the wind went very fickle ranging from 090 to 180 to 270degrees. Giant grey cumulonimbus clouds towered all around with dark rain falling like arrows from underneath. The clouds often move far quicker than we can. In front of them is wind, underneath them all is still. Through this minefield we crept at modest speed. VAIO shadowed us and towards the middle of the night we met up with BG SPIRIT. They lodged port and starboard of us 1 mile astern. From 0200 until 0600 the night was filled with rain, then squall then calm. Headsails and spinnakers went up and down and the crew laboured in shorts and t-shirts, drenched to the skin.
At 0730 we looked to the schedules to see how we had faired. BG SPIRIT, Spirit of Sark and SAIC, all in front. BG SPIRIT by a stomach churning 7.5miles. Of course it wasn't all bad - VAIO had done worse and were 6 miles behind, but that didn't really take the sting out of it.
Things tend to go quiet when the schedules turn mean on us. We have been behind before and always bounce back., ''We'll soon get them'' is muttered encouragingly between crew, but there is a childish sense of ''its just not fair'' as well. The business of sailing makes it all go away, but the situation does not really lift until we feel that the winds have become constant across the fleet and sailing parity is achieved - making it possible for us to catch up again. This has not yet taken place. We are almost out of the doldrums, but not quite, there may still be a few surprises left. A slight air of anxiety hangs in the air.
It was during this busy night that BP Explorer passed a significant milestone. We crossed the outbound track made from Portsmouth to Buenos Aires and all became sailing circumnavigators. For some this means little, the return to Portsmouth being the conclusion. For others onboard this event really does have significance. For many of my crew initially knew nothing of sailing and the sea. They dreamt of sailing around the world in a yacht race and even when they left from Portsmouth, the deep ocean was such an unknown quantity that there was no guarantee that the adventure would end in success. My relationship with the circumnavigation is completely different. One bit of ocean is pretty much like the next and I knew that I would get
around. Not so all onboard, it was a bold and optimistic step into the unknown and even now not all can completely articulate, why they felt it necessary to take such drastic action. But you do not leave your home and family, spend over £28,000 and to be honest put your life at risk unless you feel compelled to do so. The crew have made significant sacrifices to make this trip and so have their families. It is a fantastic achievement for them all to have crossed the outbound track and completed a circumnavigation.
They cross the line seasoned ocean sailors and a fine professional crew that any skipper would be proud of - and this one particularly so. So ''tread softly for you tread on my dreams''. Anything is possible in this life if you want it enough, including passing a few yachts who got lucky in the doldrums.
possible? Answer: the doldrums.
It is to say the least very frustrating. Yesterday the wind went very fickle ranging from 090 to 180 to 270degrees. Giant grey cumulonimbus clouds towered all around with dark rain falling like arrows from underneath. The clouds often move far quicker than we can. In front of them is wind, underneath them all is still. Through this minefield we crept at modest speed. VAIO shadowed us and towards the middle of the night we met up with BG SPIRIT. They lodged port and starboard of us 1 mile astern. From 0200 until 0600 the night was filled with rain, then squall then calm. Headsails and spinnakers went up and down and the crew laboured in shorts and t-shirts, drenched to the skin.
At 0730 we looked to the schedules to see how we had faired. BG SPIRIT, Spirit of Sark and SAIC, all in front. BG SPIRIT by a stomach churning 7.5miles. Of course it wasn't all bad - VAIO had done worse and were 6 miles behind, but that didn't really take the sting out of it.
Things tend to go quiet when the schedules turn mean on us. We have been behind before and always bounce back., ''We'll soon get them'' is muttered encouragingly between crew, but there is a childish sense of ''its just not fair'' as well. The business of sailing makes it all go away, but the situation does not really lift until we feel that the winds have become constant across the fleet and sailing parity is achieved - making it possible for us to catch up again. This has not yet taken place. We are almost out of the doldrums, but not quite, there may still be a few surprises left. A slight air of anxiety hangs in the air.
It was during this busy night that BP Explorer passed a significant milestone. We crossed the outbound track made from Portsmouth to Buenos Aires and all became sailing circumnavigators. For some this means little, the return to Portsmouth being the conclusion. For others onboard this event really does have significance. For many of my crew initially knew nothing of sailing and the sea. They dreamt of sailing around the world in a yacht race and even when they left from Portsmouth, the deep ocean was such an unknown quantity that there was no guarantee that the adventure would end in success. My relationship with the circumnavigation is completely different. One bit of ocean is pretty much like the next and I knew that I would get
around. Not so all onboard, it was a bold and optimistic step into the unknown and even now not all can completely articulate, why they felt it necessary to take such drastic action. But you do not leave your home and family, spend over £28,000 and to be honest put your life at risk unless you feel compelled to do so. The crew have made significant sacrifices to make this trip and so have their families. It is a fantastic achievement for them all to have crossed the outbound track and completed a circumnavigation.
They cross the line seasoned ocean sailors and a fine professional crew that any skipper would be proud of - and this one particularly so. So ''tread softly for you tread on my dreams''. Anything is possible in this life if you want it enough, including passing a few yachts who got lucky in the doldrums.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
3o 25N 27o56W
I was woken at about eight thirty yesterday by some of the crew counting down on deck. 5 - 4 - 3- 2 -1 - Wooo Hooo! For a fraction of a second the Latitude on the GPS read 00o00'00 - we caught it on camera at 00o00'68. We had crossed the equator, the first in the fleet, and were back in the Northern Hemisphere after spending nearly seven months on the other side of the World. Gabi and Giles were on watch at the time and Matt had asked to be woken for the official moment we crossed. At noon Neptune was summoned and he duly appeared from below decks. He has obviously been trying to keep up with fashions as his outfit had changed from the one he wore at his last appearance on our way to Buenos Aires. However, I think the latest fashion journals are taking their time to reach the depths of the Ocean as he looked rather 70s with his yellow and green plastic top and man-made fibre under shorts. He was still the spitting image of our skipper, David Melville but he looked as if he'd aged somewhat, as if the last seven months had taken their toll. He wasted no time in summoning the first of the Pollywogs, Gabi. Looking very sheepish she knelt before him to hear her crimes and be dealt her punishment. Being Brazilian and therefore too exotic, breaking the cafetiere, never going to sleep, sending to many e-mails and wearing a bikini on a training sail. A baying crowd of shellbacks booed most of her crimes though the bikini crime met with some votes for it - scrubbed and actively encouraged. The ever-accommodating ship's boy (Olly) stirred the rancid mix of leftover slops, which had been left to ferment over three days and smelt, we have on good authority, like a mixture of fermented milk and vomit. Three scoops and Gabi had paid her dues. Next up was Giles. The crew had requested more paper when listing his crimes but they included; sucking up to the BP bosses at every opportunity, telling his own boss he'd be gone for eight weeks and then disappearing for six months, wearing polyester shirts and shorts obviously several sizes too small to try and emphasize his muscles, impersonating a member of a boy band, and speaking in a quiet voice to get girls to lean closer. Five scoops, one that was placed strategically down said tight shorts proved the crime when every grain of rice, sweetcorn and meat substitute could be clearly seen through the material. Matt, trying to outwit Neptune appeared for his sentencing wearing full foulies. They were hastily removed for fear of angering Neptune and he knelt to hear his crimes. 'Being suspiciously good and therefore clearly up to something, wearing dodgy purple shorts and ballet shoes on deck and having a porn star name (Matt Cannon) - two scoops. The stench was all too much for one member of the crew and they ended up shouting 'Europe' from the rail. All was not over though. Earlier we'd seen Neptune whisper to Olly to save some slop for a final sentencing. All was revealed when Neptune himself knelt before us and stated that he was indeed our skipper and furthermore had a confession. Although he'd crossed the equator many times before he had hidden in a crane on his first crossing for fear of his head being shaved and his block and tackle painted primer red thus, he'd never been judged himself. Though it seemed woefully inadequate for such a crime the rest of the slop was dumped on his head.
The off watch retired below to enjoy a tot of Whisky to celebrate our crossing in first place. The whisky was a generous gift from our BP safety guru, Paul Everest who incidentally also supplied the Harley Davidson shades so favoured by those wishing to buck the trend of Oakleys amongst the new look sailing community.
The off watch retired below to enjoy a tot of Whisky to celebrate our crossing in first place. The whisky was a generous gift from our BP safety guru, Paul Everest who incidentally also supplied the Harley Davidson shades so favoured by those wishing to buck the trend of Oakleys amongst the new look sailing community.
Monday, May 16, 2005
BP Explorer takes the lead of Global Challenge
Taken from News Report on 9:09 AM Mon 16 May 2005
BP Explorer has taken the lead in the Global Challenge, knocking the BG Spirit crew off the top spot.
BG Spirit had held for the past few days, and taken the accolade of being the first to cross the equator.
David Melville, skipper of the yacht, jubilantly called the Race Office saying, 'having crossed the Equator this morning, all on board are in good spirits.
'The skipper and navigator, however, are slightly anxious - being the most easterly boat looks OK on the current weather forecasts, but is historically a poor position to be in. So it's whisky for most on board to celebrate crossing the Equator, and fingers crossed for the skipper and navigator.'
Crossing the equator will be another huge milestone for all the 200+ strong crew across the whole fleet, and a sign they are ever closer to finishing their round the world adventure and an achievement that very few can boast of.
On this, the fifth and longest leg, questions are already being raised as to whether the fleet is actually going to encounter the doldrums.
'As of 0600 UTC morning,' says Challenge Business Sailing Manager Cal Tomlinson, 'the ITCZ (InterTropical Convergence Zone) which is usually situated at a latitude of around 5 degrees north seems to be very small.
'As the week progresses there will be a windless area extending from the African coast westward which could possibly impede the progress of the second half of the fleet.
'For the moment it seems as though the first five to seven yachts can look forward to a swift passage through this potentially frustrating area.
'The yachts that transit this area quickly can in turn look forward to a swift overall passage – once through they can look forward to 1500 miles of reaching across the north east trades.
'Traditionally, the western route through the ITCZ is generally favoured, however, with the St Peter and St Paul waypoint to be kept to port, yachts are having to play the middle ground.'
This next waypoint - the Penedos de Sao Pedro a Sao Paulo (St Peter and St Paul Rocks) are north of Ascension Island, relatively close to the coast of Brazil.
They are submarine mountains, which extend 3000 metres up from the ocean floor, but only 19.5m above sea level. However, the islands do not have to be passed close by.
Yachts have to report to the race office when passing that point to port, but the reporting point is determined to be when the boat crosses the latitude of the islands (0° 23’ N).
They are expected to reach this waypoint in the next 12-18 hours.
Race positions:
BP Explorer 3,497 (distance to finish)
BG SPIRIT 2 (miles to leader)
VAIO 5
SAIC La Jolla 11
Spirit of Sark 32
Team Stelmar 48
Me To You 53
Barclays Adventurer 62
Imagine It. Done 111
Samsung 129
Pindar 149
Team Save the Children 200
by Rachel Anning
BP Explorer has taken the lead in the Global Challenge, knocking the BG Spirit crew off the top spot.
BG Spirit had held for the past few days, and taken the accolade of being the first to cross the equator.
David Melville, skipper of the yacht, jubilantly called the Race Office saying, 'having crossed the Equator this morning, all on board are in good spirits.
'The skipper and navigator, however, are slightly anxious - being the most easterly boat looks OK on the current weather forecasts, but is historically a poor position to be in. So it's whisky for most on board to celebrate crossing the Equator, and fingers crossed for the skipper and navigator.'
Crossing the equator will be another huge milestone for all the 200+ strong crew across the whole fleet, and a sign they are ever closer to finishing their round the world adventure and an achievement that very few can boast of.
On this, the fifth and longest leg, questions are already being raised as to whether the fleet is actually going to encounter the doldrums.
'As of 0600 UTC morning,' says Challenge Business Sailing Manager Cal Tomlinson, 'the ITCZ (InterTropical Convergence Zone) which is usually situated at a latitude of around 5 degrees north seems to be very small.
'As the week progresses there will be a windless area extending from the African coast westward which could possibly impede the progress of the second half of the fleet.
'For the moment it seems as though the first five to seven yachts can look forward to a swift passage through this potentially frustrating area.
'The yachts that transit this area quickly can in turn look forward to a swift overall passage – once through they can look forward to 1500 miles of reaching across the north east trades.
'Traditionally, the western route through the ITCZ is generally favoured, however, with the St Peter and St Paul waypoint to be kept to port, yachts are having to play the middle ground.'
This next waypoint - the Penedos de Sao Pedro a Sao Paulo (St Peter and St Paul Rocks) are north of Ascension Island, relatively close to the coast of Brazil.
They are submarine mountains, which extend 3000 metres up from the ocean floor, but only 19.5m above sea level. However, the islands do not have to be passed close by.
Yachts have to report to the race office when passing that point to port, but the reporting point is determined to be when the boat crosses the latitude of the islands (0° 23’ N).
They are expected to reach this waypoint in the next 12-18 hours.
Race positions:
BP Explorer 3,497 (distance to finish)
BG SPIRIT 2 (miles to leader)
VAIO 5
SAIC La Jolla 11
Spirit of Sark 32
Team Stelmar 48
Me To You 53
Barclays Adventurer 62
Imagine It. Done 111
Samsung 129
Pindar 149
Team Save the Children 200
by Rachel Anning
0o35S 24o51W
The countdown has begun and the slops bucket is filling rapidly - currently it is a gelatinous mountain of googah, cous cous, cheesecake and pasta, with the odd tea bag thrown in. If this breeze holds, we should cross the Equator later this morning. Somewhat more cosmopolitan than the Viking crews who supposedly began the 'Crossing the Line' ceremony, we are still bent on making sure that the occasion is marked properly, bearing in mind that it is one of the oldest nautical customs in the book.
As is traditional the night before 'Crossing the Line', our Captain has been duly informed of Neptune's imminent arrival by one of his messengers and has obediently filed his list of 'slimy pollywogs' (aka Matt, Gabi and Giles). Pollywogs are those who have never crossed the Equator before and who must therefore be subjected to a cruel litany of tortures at the hands of us Equatorial old-hands, the 'trusty shellbacks'. After their 'preparation', the pollywogs will be judged for their crimes by the most senior shellback of all, Neptune himself. Roman god of the sea, Neptune is said to be the evil spirit of the ocean, the name itself being corrupted from 'Duppy Jonah' ('duppy': the West Indian name for spirit or ghost; Jonah: the Old Testament prophet who was thrown into the sea). Neptune always appears with a trident, and usually with his queen, Amphitrite, and Davy Jones. Word has it that this retinue are otherwise engaged as messengers to the ten yachts behind us, and we have fashioned a trident and a crown out of weetabix packets and foil googah bags just in case Neptune forgets to bring his own in the rush - after all he has a busy day or so ahead.
We are reliably informed that as well as being bathed in Equator goo, it is custom for the slimy polliwogs to have to kiss the 'Royal Baby' (the fattest chief on board) on the belly. He has not yet been named! One thing we can guarantee though is that he will be very hot and sweaty indeed. Not a nice thought. Thank Neptune I'm a trusty shellback!
As is traditional the night before 'Crossing the Line', our Captain has been duly informed of Neptune's imminent arrival by one of his messengers and has obediently filed his list of 'slimy pollywogs' (aka Matt, Gabi and Giles). Pollywogs are those who have never crossed the Equator before and who must therefore be subjected to a cruel litany of tortures at the hands of us Equatorial old-hands, the 'trusty shellbacks'. After their 'preparation', the pollywogs will be judged for their crimes by the most senior shellback of all, Neptune himself. Roman god of the sea, Neptune is said to be the evil spirit of the ocean, the name itself being corrupted from 'Duppy Jonah' ('duppy': the West Indian name for spirit or ghost; Jonah: the Old Testament prophet who was thrown into the sea). Neptune always appears with a trident, and usually with his queen, Amphitrite, and Davy Jones. Word has it that this retinue are otherwise engaged as messengers to the ten yachts behind us, and we have fashioned a trident and a crown out of weetabix packets and foil googah bags just in case Neptune forgets to bring his own in the rush - after all he has a busy day or so ahead.
We are reliably informed that as well as being bathed in Equator goo, it is custom for the slimy polliwogs to have to kiss the 'Royal Baby' (the fattest chief on board) on the belly. He has not yet been named! One thing we can guarantee though is that he will be very hot and sweaty indeed. Not a nice thought. Thank Neptune I'm a trusty shellback!
Sunday, May 15, 2005
2' 55S 22' 36W
Last night I went on deck at around 0130, half an hour before watch change at 0200. I had been awake for a while, feeling the large rolls of the yacht and listening to the slight tension and questioning in the helm's voices. We were sailing downwind with the 2.2oz kite and a reef in the main. The reef having gone in earlier in an effort to damp down the rolling caused by the rising wind. Boat speeds were often to be found at 18kts as the boat came down the back of waves.
The question in Olly and Holger's minds was that the wind was often to be found at 30kts (F7). Challenge yachts are really built to go upwind, they are relatively narrow and do not have a flat back section. The lack of surface area at the back means that the boats roll downwind, become hard to control, and eventually broach. During the broach the spinnaker flogs madly in the wind and is often torn or damaged. It's also dangerous and puts the crew at risk.
Set against this, was the fact that we were going very fast, and so was BG SPIRIT out to our left - and we had just overtaken VAIO who were 4 miles behind. Having said all that, the reason we had overtaken VAIO was because they had a poled out headsail and were all sitting down below trying to sew their flanker back together!
So as the guys struggled with the helm I sat by their side pondering the numbers and agonising over whether to take the spinnaker down, lose 1kt per hour, or leave it up and power along with BG. Of course the skipper of BG SPIRIT was thinking the reciprocal. Well Olly and Holger only had 30mins before the end of the watch and were becoming exhausted with it - I began to realise that I would have to take the helm to give them a break. As soon as the boys encouraged me to get on the wheel I began to feel apprehensive. It's one thing to spend 4 hours in a rising wind steering a yacht, your skill levels and reactions match the boat. The helm is literally 'in tune'. However the poor sap that is presented with what appears to be a madly out of control yacht at 0200 is in an entirely different position. There is no easing into it, you stand by the existing helm for a minute, and then when the boat comes upright and is momentarily on course he stands aside and the yacht is yours.
''Well I'm the skipper damn it, if I can't drive it who the hell can?'' was the thought I steeled myself with as I grabbed the wheel. As soon as Holger moved out the way and I had control, I knew it was a bad idea. It was pitch black, and I could not resolve the amount of helm to put on to counteract the corkscrewing motion of the following sea. I felt afraid - and the next thing the boat roared down a wave rolled to windward and went into a broach.
''EASE THE SHEET, EASE THE SHEET, EASE THE SHEET'' is screamed around the boat and organised panicking breaks out. There is no way I can control this boat, and I yell out in my most urgent voice ''GET IT DOWN, GET IT DOWN, GET IT DOWN''. The boat comes upright, accelerates down the next wave, and broaches again. One more time and there is not going to be a 2.2oz kite left to play with. ''OLLY FOR GOODNESS SAKE GET THIS ***** KITE DOWN NOW!''
'BANG' the guy is tripped and the kite flies away from the yacht ''Oh thank God for that'' I think, ''It's still in one piece''. It takes the whole watch to haul down the streaming spinnaker. Christian roars encouragement and fights like a mad thing ''2 - 6 Heave, 2-6 Heave''.
Fifteen minutes later we are sailing calmly along with a poled out No1 yankee, staysail and full main. Cups of tea are being handed around, and the question that everybody debates is ''What are the others doing? Will they have dropped the kites too or do they have super-helms that can control the yacht?'' What will the next schedules reveal? Potentially we are looking at a 1 mile per hour loss for every hour the kite is down. On the other hand the kite is lying safely on the cabin floor, being picked over by two diligent crewmembers. We live to fight another day.
Footnote: The 0742gmt schedules showed that speed within the lead boats remained relatively constant during the 4 hours we poled out the No1. As the sun rose we hoisted the kite again and are powering towards the equator.
The question in Olly and Holger's minds was that the wind was often to be found at 30kts (F7). Challenge yachts are really built to go upwind, they are relatively narrow and do not have a flat back section. The lack of surface area at the back means that the boats roll downwind, become hard to control, and eventually broach. During the broach the spinnaker flogs madly in the wind and is often torn or damaged. It's also dangerous and puts the crew at risk.
Set against this, was the fact that we were going very fast, and so was BG SPIRIT out to our left - and we had just overtaken VAIO who were 4 miles behind. Having said all that, the reason we had overtaken VAIO was because they had a poled out headsail and were all sitting down below trying to sew their flanker back together!
So as the guys struggled with the helm I sat by their side pondering the numbers and agonising over whether to take the spinnaker down, lose 1kt per hour, or leave it up and power along with BG. Of course the skipper of BG SPIRIT was thinking the reciprocal. Well Olly and Holger only had 30mins before the end of the watch and were becoming exhausted with it - I began to realise that I would have to take the helm to give them a break. As soon as the boys encouraged me to get on the wheel I began to feel apprehensive. It's one thing to spend 4 hours in a rising wind steering a yacht, your skill levels and reactions match the boat. The helm is literally 'in tune'. However the poor sap that is presented with what appears to be a madly out of control yacht at 0200 is in an entirely different position. There is no easing into it, you stand by the existing helm for a minute, and then when the boat comes upright and is momentarily on course he stands aside and the yacht is yours.
''Well I'm the skipper damn it, if I can't drive it who the hell can?'' was the thought I steeled myself with as I grabbed the wheel. As soon as Holger moved out the way and I had control, I knew it was a bad idea. It was pitch black, and I could not resolve the amount of helm to put on to counteract the corkscrewing motion of the following sea. I felt afraid - and the next thing the boat roared down a wave rolled to windward and went into a broach.
''EASE THE SHEET, EASE THE SHEET, EASE THE SHEET'' is screamed around the boat and organised panicking breaks out. There is no way I can control this boat, and I yell out in my most urgent voice ''GET IT DOWN, GET IT DOWN, GET IT DOWN''. The boat comes upright, accelerates down the next wave, and broaches again. One more time and there is not going to be a 2.2oz kite left to play with. ''OLLY FOR GOODNESS SAKE GET THIS ***** KITE DOWN NOW!''
'BANG' the guy is tripped and the kite flies away from the yacht ''Oh thank God for that'' I think, ''It's still in one piece''. It takes the whole watch to haul down the streaming spinnaker. Christian roars encouragement and fights like a mad thing ''2 - 6 Heave, 2-6 Heave''.
Fifteen minutes later we are sailing calmly along with a poled out No1 yankee, staysail and full main. Cups of tea are being handed around, and the question that everybody debates is ''What are the others doing? Will they have dropped the kites too or do they have super-helms that can control the yacht?'' What will the next schedules reveal? Potentially we are looking at a 1 mile per hour loss for every hour the kite is down. On the other hand the kite is lying safely on the cabin floor, being picked over by two diligent crewmembers. We live to fight another day.
Footnote: The 0742gmt schedules showed that speed within the lead boats remained relatively constant during the 4 hours we poled out the No1. As the sun rose we hoisted the kite again and are powering towards the equator.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
6' 15S 18' 29W
So far this leg has seemed like a speeded-up version of some of the other legs but with most of it still to go. We have come to expect the ever-changing positions, from 1st to 6th then climbing back up again but it is happening every few days on this leg rather than every couple of weeks in the previous ones.
Whereas in the previous legs we have inevitably blamed the navigators for steering us into light airs here we are experiencing the changing conditions much more frequently and it is obvious to the crew that they are practically unavoidable. While some bold moves are being made by the likes of BG SPIRIT things are equalling out and re-shuffling on a daily basis. After nearly two weeks at sea there are only two miles separating us from 2nd and 3rd place and only 14 miles from VAIO in 1st place. At average speeds of 10 knots or more that's less than two hours. In the last 24 hours we have moved from 6th to 4th - 3rd if you take the waypoint as Boston. We have reduced VAIO's lead by 9 miles, reduced BG SPIRIT's lead from 12 miles to 2 miles and we overtook Spirit of Sark yet again but this time they have shot off west, a tactic only time will tell if it pays off. The fleet are lining up to cross the equator in the next 72 hours or so, it would be nice to predict that we'll be up at the front, it won't be for want of trying.
The more the positions change and the closer we get to the edge of our sail plan limits the more stress is placed on David's shoulders. Olly commented on my reference to 'crew sleep' in one of my recent logs. I suggested that the burden of the 24-hour watch was shared between David and the watch leaders but he said his and Cop's role was much more akin to the crews than that of the skippers - they really too could forget things as they passed to the new watch. One also has to remember that David is not even on a 24 hour
watch but a 10 month one - one that starts at the start gun in Portsmouth and finishes the same place as we cross the finish line.
It's getting hotter! Bits missed by the liberal application of factor 50 sunscreen are highlighted in red. The (nearly!) naked starfish posture in the bunks is the latest fashion below decks and the fans are the only things stopping the crew from melting completely where they lay. Above decks fashions are varied. Oakley sunglasses seem to be favoured by most but a breakaway contingent of 'style setters' are changing the face of yachting attire by sporting Harley Davidson wrap-around mirror shades and bandanas. John Stewart is sporting a 'biker' goatee beard to complete the look. Remember you read about it here first.
Whereas in the previous legs we have inevitably blamed the navigators for steering us into light airs here we are experiencing the changing conditions much more frequently and it is obvious to the crew that they are practically unavoidable. While some bold moves are being made by the likes of BG SPIRIT things are equalling out and re-shuffling on a daily basis. After nearly two weeks at sea there are only two miles separating us from 2nd and 3rd place and only 14 miles from VAIO in 1st place. At average speeds of 10 knots or more that's less than two hours. In the last 24 hours we have moved from 6th to 4th - 3rd if you take the waypoint as Boston. We have reduced VAIO's lead by 9 miles, reduced BG SPIRIT's lead from 12 miles to 2 miles and we overtook Spirit of Sark yet again but this time they have shot off west, a tactic only time will tell if it pays off. The fleet are lining up to cross the equator in the next 72 hours or so, it would be nice to predict that we'll be up at the front, it won't be for want of trying.
The more the positions change and the closer we get to the edge of our sail plan limits the more stress is placed on David's shoulders. Olly commented on my reference to 'crew sleep' in one of my recent logs. I suggested that the burden of the 24-hour watch was shared between David and the watch leaders but he said his and Cop's role was much more akin to the crews than that of the skippers - they really too could forget things as they passed to the new watch. One also has to remember that David is not even on a 24 hour
watch but a 10 month one - one that starts at the start gun in Portsmouth and finishes the same place as we cross the finish line.
It's getting hotter! Bits missed by the liberal application of factor 50 sunscreen are highlighted in red. The (nearly!) naked starfish posture in the bunks is the latest fashion below decks and the fans are the only things stopping the crew from melting completely where they lay. Above decks fashions are varied. Oakley sunglasses seem to be favoured by most but a breakaway contingent of 'style setters' are changing the face of yachting attire by sporting Harley Davidson wrap-around mirror shades and bandanas. John Stewart is sporting a 'biker' goatee beard to complete the look. Remember you read about it here first.
Friday, May 13, 2005
8o40S 15o56W
In the early hours of this morning, events threatened to see Friday 13th evolving into everything it is cracked up to be. For Cop's watch especially, things on deck were momentarily as hairy as a woolly mammoth. "This was the most scared that I have been so far," admitted BP Explorer crew Gabi. Already sweating in foulie bottoms below decks, which she wore as a safety measure whilst cooking breakfast in the heavily-rolling galley, she was summoned upstairs to help with a particularly difficult gybe. As if the pressures of being a first-timer at the porridge and fresh bread were not enough!
After six days solid with the same kite up, the wind had first increased yesterday at around 6pm. The 1.5oz kite was dropped and the flanker hoisted. The swell continued to build and it looked like a long night ahead for everyone - the helms steering with all their strength to keep the boat steady and avoid broaching, only the best trimmers controlling the kite and those in the snakepit adopting the traditional position for chapel watch - crouched in a prayer-like stance for long hours whilst holding onto the preventer, white-knuckled, ready at any minute to 'dump' it in response to the boom being dragged underwater as the yacht rolls to leeward. Failing to release the preventer means that the boom is pinned heavily beneath the waves and things are in danger of breaking under the load - which could pose a serious risk to crew.
During the first of Cop's night watches, the 6-10pm, the VHF crackled into life as Spirit of Sark called us up with a warning that they were about the gybe - so near were they that in the pitching darkness the encounter could otherwise have been rather too close for comfort as they lurched in front of us. Hardening up to avoid them, the on-watch looked on as the enemy headed into the gloom to the beam. And there they stayed for around the next six hours, neck and neck as usual!
As David explained yesterday, gybing the kite gets more complicated the higher the wind strength, and during the second of Cop's night watches, the 2-6am, things were getting so marginal that it became necessary to reduce sail and put a reef in the main in order to be able to execute the gybe more safely. The boat lurched like a light aircraft taking off in heavy winds, voices on deck frantically yelled commands and safety checks at full volume to be heard above the sound of rushing water and those of us struggling to sleep in our Turkish sauna had at least one ear open, half-expecting a call of 'all hands' if anything went wrong and we had to drop the kite. Thankfully all went well, but at breakfast those coming off deck looked truly 'pooped' - hopefully they will be tired enough to sleep through our own similar yells and struggles this morning!
At least we are going fast as we try to claw our way back up the pack once again! Currently in sixth, we are 23 miles from the leaders but within ten miles of all the other boats in front as we storm towards the Equator (about 800 miles or four days away). Here we are going to make sure that the BP Explorer Crew get a dousing they will never forget - after full-body wrap and head massage a la googah, mashed potato, porridge and more they are going to think that high-wind, adrenaline-fuelled gybes by starlight are a walk in the
park!
After six days solid with the same kite up, the wind had first increased yesterday at around 6pm. The 1.5oz kite was dropped and the flanker hoisted. The swell continued to build and it looked like a long night ahead for everyone - the helms steering with all their strength to keep the boat steady and avoid broaching, only the best trimmers controlling the kite and those in the snakepit adopting the traditional position for chapel watch - crouched in a prayer-like stance for long hours whilst holding onto the preventer, white-knuckled, ready at any minute to 'dump' it in response to the boom being dragged underwater as the yacht rolls to leeward. Failing to release the preventer means that the boom is pinned heavily beneath the waves and things are in danger of breaking under the load - which could pose a serious risk to crew.
During the first of Cop's night watches, the 6-10pm, the VHF crackled into life as Spirit of Sark called us up with a warning that they were about the gybe - so near were they that in the pitching darkness the encounter could otherwise have been rather too close for comfort as they lurched in front of us. Hardening up to avoid them, the on-watch looked on as the enemy headed into the gloom to the beam. And there they stayed for around the next six hours, neck and neck as usual!
As David explained yesterday, gybing the kite gets more complicated the higher the wind strength, and during the second of Cop's night watches, the 2-6am, things were getting so marginal that it became necessary to reduce sail and put a reef in the main in order to be able to execute the gybe more safely. The boat lurched like a light aircraft taking off in heavy winds, voices on deck frantically yelled commands and safety checks at full volume to be heard above the sound of rushing water and those of us struggling to sleep in our Turkish sauna had at least one ear open, half-expecting a call of 'all hands' if anything went wrong and we had to drop the kite. Thankfully all went well, but at breakfast those coming off deck looked truly 'pooped' - hopefully they will be tired enough to sleep through our own similar yells and struggles this morning!
At least we are going fast as we try to claw our way back up the pack once again! Currently in sixth, we are 23 miles from the leaders but within ten miles of all the other boats in front as we storm towards the Equator (about 800 miles or four days away). Here we are going to make sure that the BP Explorer Crew get a dousing they will never forget - after full-body wrap and head massage a la googah, mashed potato, porridge and more they are going to think that high-wind, adrenaline-fuelled gybes by starlight are a walk in the
park!
Thursday, May 12, 2005
11 34s 12 32w
Keep the faith is a phrase that springs to mind on this long leg up the equator. The fleet is spread out over a 100 mile line NE to SW and the S Easterly trade winds blow more or less dead astern through this broad area. Inevitably there are variations in wind strengths and boats move forward and back depending upon what they find. You would not expect the wind in Southampton and Cherbourg to be the same all the time and so it is in the ocean. Over the long run you hope that the winds even out their favours across the whole area, but at present I have a feeling that the north end of the line is doing slightly better.
With the wind dead astern you are constantly offered two options, to go to the left or the right of the course. And as the wind oscillates + and - 10 degree one gybe or the other is favoured. When yachts are in sight of each other they often accompany each other on the same gybe for days upon end. Then the wind shifts in one area or another. One yacht takes one gybe, the other the opposite, and they begin to diverge and eventually lose sight of one another. Gybing to and fro over the last 24hours we have lost sight of Spirit of Sark and now have another companion behind us Team Stelmar.
Gybing a large yacht with spinnaker is a complex operation, which requires all of the watch to execute a role. The spinnaker is briefly flown with two spinnaker poles, the direction of the boat changed and the main transferred to the other side of the boat, and the redundant pole dropped. The stronger the wind the more difficult the operation. In the present conditions we may gybe as many as 16 times in 24 hours.
Teaching crews to gybe is something of a headache for the training crews in the UK. For a time nearly every rope and winch on the boat is in operation and eight or nine people must co-ordinate their activities. Crew volunteers face a very steep learning curve and all of them have their own training horror stories of exasperated skippers and confused crews. In discussion the other day it was estimated that gybes during training can take up to 20 minutes to complete, with the skipper and training mate running around like mad things trying to keep the spinnaker flying and the crew unharmed.
At present the fastest gybe performed on BP Explorer is 2.5 minutes and I don't think I was on deck at the time. Many of our manoeuvres are timed to gauge efficiency and this veteran crew do seem to get genuine satisfaction in their ability to understand a task and execute it quickly. The less direction they receive from me the more they can measure their progress from bumbling crew volunteer to skilled foredeck hand or spinnaker trimmer. Learning to sail the yacht and be confident onboard is as much of a journey
as the physical miles sailed.
With the wind dead astern you are constantly offered two options, to go to the left or the right of the course. And as the wind oscillates + and - 10 degree one gybe or the other is favoured. When yachts are in sight of each other they often accompany each other on the same gybe for days upon end. Then the wind shifts in one area or another. One yacht takes one gybe, the other the opposite, and they begin to diverge and eventually lose sight of one another. Gybing to and fro over the last 24hours we have lost sight of Spirit of Sark and now have another companion behind us Team Stelmar.
Gybing a large yacht with spinnaker is a complex operation, which requires all of the watch to execute a role. The spinnaker is briefly flown with two spinnaker poles, the direction of the boat changed and the main transferred to the other side of the boat, and the redundant pole dropped. The stronger the wind the more difficult the operation. In the present conditions we may gybe as many as 16 times in 24 hours.
Teaching crews to gybe is something of a headache for the training crews in the UK. For a time nearly every rope and winch on the boat is in operation and eight or nine people must co-ordinate their activities. Crew volunteers face a very steep learning curve and all of them have their own training horror stories of exasperated skippers and confused crews. In discussion the other day it was estimated that gybes during training can take up to 20 minutes to complete, with the skipper and training mate running around like mad things trying to keep the spinnaker flying and the crew unharmed.
At present the fastest gybe performed on BP Explorer is 2.5 minutes and I don't think I was on deck at the time. Many of our manoeuvres are timed to gauge efficiency and this veteran crew do seem to get genuine satisfaction in their ability to understand a task and execute it quickly. The less direction they receive from me the more they can measure their progress from bumbling crew volunteer to skilled foredeck hand or spinnaker trimmer. Learning to sail the yacht and be confident onboard is as much of a journey
as the physical miles sailed.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
13o00S 9o42W
The last 24 hours have been quite exciting, enjoyable and rewarding. Our sail plan has remained the same and the wind has been quite constant, but for the occasional squall, so that is not the reason. While there have been some changes to the menu, the food is pretty much the same and so there is no real cause for celebration in that department. And, despite constant requests, Holger has not broken out the controlled drugs and allowed us to get high and loopy on the best the pharmaceutical industry has to offer - I repeat, despite constant requests. No, it's because the sailing is now so much better and we are constantly energised and boosted knowing that we are sailing well. We have been gybing the spinnaker in close to three minutes, a procedure that took in excess of twenty minutes in our early training days.
There is a genuine enthusiasm when we go on deck unlike some other legs, namely the southern ocean, where it was an obvious struggle. And as a crew we have gelled and bonded so that there is a shared energy lifting everyone rather than just individuals or small groups. We have purposefully surged through the pack of leading yachts to be in second place with the waypoint at the equator (it is important to mention which waypoint we are using as the positions may vary. At the time of writing we are second, or within one mile of second, with the waypoint being Boston as well). VAIO are just five miles away in 1st place, BG SPIRIT have made loads of ground and threaten us from the right and our constant companions on this leg so far, Spirit of Sark, we can see on the horizon behind us. A new nav light appeared on the horizon to our left overnight, that of Team Stelmar. With this company the stage is set for a battle royal and we are going to have to be an exceptional team to be sure to come out in front of this formidable pack.
Yesterday saw the liberation of a bottle of Gin, some tonic water and a shower of cocktail umbrellas (I'm not sure what the collective name for a group of cocktail umbrellas is so I made it up) in celebration of passing St Helena. There was much rejoicing and the off watch gathered in the sail locker for an impromptu party. I think the next celebration will be the equator where the rest of the crew will be taking delight in subjecting Giles, Gabi and Matt, all Equator virgins, to all kinds of horrors tempered with the subsequent downing of some bubbly no doubt.
There is a genuine enthusiasm when we go on deck unlike some other legs, namely the southern ocean, where it was an obvious struggle. And as a crew we have gelled and bonded so that there is a shared energy lifting everyone rather than just individuals or small groups. We have purposefully surged through the pack of leading yachts to be in second place with the waypoint at the equator (it is important to mention which waypoint we are using as the positions may vary. At the time of writing we are second, or within one mile of second, with the waypoint being Boston as well). VAIO are just five miles away in 1st place, BG SPIRIT have made loads of ground and threaten us from the right and our constant companions on this leg so far, Spirit of Sark, we can see on the horizon behind us. A new nav light appeared on the horizon to our left overnight, that of Team Stelmar. With this company the stage is set for a battle royal and we are going to have to be an exceptional team to be sure to come out in front of this formidable pack.
Yesterday saw the liberation of a bottle of Gin, some tonic water and a shower of cocktail umbrellas (I'm not sure what the collective name for a group of cocktail umbrellas is so I made it up) in celebration of passing St Helena. There was much rejoicing and the off watch gathered in the sail locker for an impromptu party. I think the next celebration will be the equator where the rest of the crew will be taking delight in subjecting Giles, Gabi and Matt, all Equator virgins, to all kinds of horrors tempered with the subsequent downing of some bubbly no doubt.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
14o45S 6o18W
On a hot leg, where all the sounds from above-decks reach the back bedroom through open hatches and the body is not knocked unconscious by Southern-Ocean exhaustion, sleep, though welcome, can be fitful and restless. Many of us swap stories of bizarre dreams once on deck and sometimes things seem a little surreal upon waking! When I lay in my bunk and heard the cry of 'Land Ho!' at dusk yesterday, I thought that I must be dreaming, but on climbing the companionway steps, sure enough, there was a murky outline of hills on the port beam. This was the island St Helena - and, as usual, Christian was the first to spot land and give the call.
We had not expected to actually see the island (a British colony since 1834), but Cop and his watch had gybed westwards during the afternoon and this was a welcome surprise to the oncoming crew. Close though we came, we did not pause even for the briefest look though - if we had made a pit-stop, we would certainly have been in interesting company. Since being discovered by the Portuguese navigator, Joao dã Nova, on 21 May 1502, St Helena has been visited by such illustrious characters as Edmund Halley (1677), navigator and explorer William Dampier (1691), Captain Cook (1775) and Charles Darwin - who stopped on his homeward-bound journey in 1836. During the nineteenth century it was the haunt of numerous exiles - Napoleon Bonaparte (1815), South African Zulu Chief Dinizulu (1890) and over 6,000 Boer-War prisoners from the Anglo-Boer War. When he arrived, Chief Dinizulu would have been greeted by St Helena's oldest inhabitant, Jonathan the tortoise. Already 50 when he arrived in 1882, he is now over 170 years old! Today, Jonathan shares his home with 5,000 other citizens, most of whom make their living from work in the Public Services, fishing or at the fish-freezing facility. Some 1,000 St Helenians also work offshore, in Ascension or the Falklands.
It seems that the sheer cliffs intersected with deep valleys, the rocky shores and rolling hills, subtropical forest and grasslands found inshore can expect to remain largely unspoilt. For the tourists who enjoy these sights, along with St Helena's lush semi-tropical vegetation, are few. The island has no airport, no safe anchorage for yachts in heavy seas and little space aboard the passenger/cargo ship RMS St Helena, so tourism is unlikely to develop rapidly.
This must be a relief for Jonathan who no doubt has got used to things as they are and it seems a shame that there was no time for us to enjoy a brief visit, but as ever we are being hounded by another little inhabited island - Isle of Sark. As we fly through the gloom towards a new day they are hot on our heels and almost within shouting distance! It feels like our own private form of exile; our fate to sail the seven seas forever more, head to head, neck and neck with Captain Gillespie and his determined crew.
We had not expected to actually see the island (a British colony since 1834), but Cop and his watch had gybed westwards during the afternoon and this was a welcome surprise to the oncoming crew. Close though we came, we did not pause even for the briefest look though - if we had made a pit-stop, we would certainly have been in interesting company. Since being discovered by the Portuguese navigator, Joao dã Nova, on 21 May 1502, St Helena has been visited by such illustrious characters as Edmund Halley (1677), navigator and explorer William Dampier (1691), Captain Cook (1775) and Charles Darwin - who stopped on his homeward-bound journey in 1836. During the nineteenth century it was the haunt of numerous exiles - Napoleon Bonaparte (1815), South African Zulu Chief Dinizulu (1890) and over 6,000 Boer-War prisoners from the Anglo-Boer War. When he arrived, Chief Dinizulu would have been greeted by St Helena's oldest inhabitant, Jonathan the tortoise. Already 50 when he arrived in 1882, he is now over 170 years old! Today, Jonathan shares his home with 5,000 other citizens, most of whom make their living from work in the Public Services, fishing or at the fish-freezing facility. Some 1,000 St Helenians also work offshore, in Ascension or the Falklands.
It seems that the sheer cliffs intersected with deep valleys, the rocky shores and rolling hills, subtropical forest and grasslands found inshore can expect to remain largely unspoilt. For the tourists who enjoy these sights, along with St Helena's lush semi-tropical vegetation, are few. The island has no airport, no safe anchorage for yachts in heavy seas and little space aboard the passenger/cargo ship RMS St Helena, so tourism is unlikely to develop rapidly.
This must be a relief for Jonathan who no doubt has got used to things as they are and it seems a shame that there was no time for us to enjoy a brief visit, but as ever we are being hounded by another little inhabited island - Isle of Sark. As we fly through the gloom towards a new day they are hot on our heels and almost within shouting distance! It feels like our own private form of exile; our fate to sail the seven seas forever more, head to head, neck and neck with Captain Gillespie and his determined crew.
Monday, May 9, 2005
17 05s 03 43w
0430 GMT is 0530 local time onboard BP Explorer. Its still dark, as the tropical southern nights are giving us some 11 hours of darkness a day. We, like the rest of the fleet, are currently sailing easy miles. The wind is dead astern, the spinnaker is permanently set, wind range is around 18-20kts and the yacht eats up the distance, heading straight for our waypoint on the equator. We are slowly gaining on the yachts in front and our rival Spirit of Sark is located 3 miles astern its lights doggedly following us all night.
The agonising of a few days ago is over. It was an annoying time and boats to the east Team Stelmar / VAIO and Barclays Adventurer made gains on us, but then so to the east did SAIC La Jolla. Stuck in the middle, ourselves and Spirit of Sark seemed to find a band of reduced wind that slowed us. It may have been better to have cracked off and slid east, but then again we might have prospered out to the west too. What we do know is that given equal conditions we feel that we can beat any boat in the fleet. This gives us a residual confidence that carries us through dissapointment and setback.
The very early morning is quite a convivial time onboard. From about 0430 the mother watch (this morning it is Giles M) start to knead out the bread in the galley, at 0500 a vast pan of porridge is placed on the stove and the smell of baking bread fills the boat. At 0530 the new watch are woken and drift bleary eyed into the saloon to spoon up their breakfast, before going on deck at 0600.
This leg, like all the others, has seen a slightly different relationship between myself and the crew. As the crews skills develop and their abilities increase, they need less direction from myself and want coaching, not instruction. An increasingly constructive relationship is possible, nicer for them and better for me. As long as I see that the crew want to constantly improve, I am encouraged. We have a whiteboard on the bulkhead (wall) on which one watch will write tips/improvements so that anything that they have learnt can be passed onto the other watch. What is there to learn after 23,000 plus miles I hear you wonder? Small things now, but that is the nature of constant improvement. This morning appeared ''watch out not to catch spinnaker on bottom of companionway steps when packing'' and when I looked two pieces of tape had appeared on the bottom of the steps to prevent the kite from snagging as it is dragged around the inside of the yacht.
It might make you laugh but as a skipper this sort of detail is tremendously encouraging. If the crew are interested in the small things, then invariably the larger issues are covered with the same amount of concern. We have tried to foster a constant learning culture with the opportunity to swap jobs and roles onboard the boat and I think that the yacht is the better for it.
If the bread that I can smell baking is good at 0600 then that to me is a sign that the person who cooked it is motivated and that the boat as a whole is thinking about winning. The feeling that I am not pushing 17 people forward anymore, but racing alongside 17 other motivated crewmembers is very positive indeed.
The agonising of a few days ago is over. It was an annoying time and boats to the east Team Stelmar / VAIO and Barclays Adventurer made gains on us, but then so to the east did SAIC La Jolla. Stuck in the middle, ourselves and Spirit of Sark seemed to find a band of reduced wind that slowed us. It may have been better to have cracked off and slid east, but then again we might have prospered out to the west too. What we do know is that given equal conditions we feel that we can beat any boat in the fleet. This gives us a residual confidence that carries us through dissapointment and setback.
The very early morning is quite a convivial time onboard. From about 0430 the mother watch (this morning it is Giles M) start to knead out the bread in the galley, at 0500 a vast pan of porridge is placed on the stove and the smell of baking bread fills the boat. At 0530 the new watch are woken and drift bleary eyed into the saloon to spoon up their breakfast, before going on deck at 0600.
This leg, like all the others, has seen a slightly different relationship between myself and the crew. As the crews skills develop and their abilities increase, they need less direction from myself and want coaching, not instruction. An increasingly constructive relationship is possible, nicer for them and better for me. As long as I see that the crew want to constantly improve, I am encouraged. We have a whiteboard on the bulkhead (wall) on which one watch will write tips/improvements so that anything that they have learnt can be passed onto the other watch. What is there to learn after 23,000 plus miles I hear you wonder? Small things now, but that is the nature of constant improvement. This morning appeared ''watch out not to catch spinnaker on bottom of companionway steps when packing'' and when I looked two pieces of tape had appeared on the bottom of the steps to prevent the kite from snagging as it is dragged around the inside of the yacht.
It might make you laugh but as a skipper this sort of detail is tremendously encouraging. If the crew are interested in the small things, then invariably the larger issues are covered with the same amount of concern. We have tried to foster a constant learning culture with the opportunity to swap jobs and roles onboard the boat and I think that the yacht is the better for it.
If the bread that I can smell baking is good at 0600 then that to me is a sign that the person who cooked it is motivated and that the boat as a whole is thinking about winning. The feeling that I am not pushing 17 people forward anymore, but racing alongside 17 other motivated crewmembers is very positive indeed.
Sunday, May 8, 2005
19' 55S 0' 34E
We are one week in and it seems to have flown by which is good. We have seen our position go from right at the back at the start, to being first a couple of days ago, to being in sixth now. But this has not sent us spiralling into self-doubt, far from it, everything is going smoothly and confidence is high. David's log on Friday is an excellent insight into what makes a skipper tick, well our skipper anyhow. It is poignant he should mention how well he sleeps as a measure of how well we are doing. In contrast, " Crew sleep, what a wonderful thing" he said. "That sleep where you've got to the end of your watch and it's up to the other watch to look after things now". I'd not thought about it that way before but it's true. It's true as long as we've done everything we can during our watch to make the boat go faster and hand over to the new watch knowing that there is nothing left undone, no mess to sort out, no extra work for them to regain lost miles. Knowing that we have done everything we can is the key to the inner calm and a good 'crew sleep'. We have made some significant advances since those testing few weeks at the start of the first leg. To say we can almost do manoeuvres blindfold would not be too much of an exaggeration. To aid the helms and to retain our night vision we have be doing a lot of things on deck at night in near darkness. It is much safer now that the yacht is more level and we have developed a routine that works, a routine that has become second nature. Much like our attitude to safety a lot of the things we do are becoming habit - continually reviewed and checked to avoid complacency - but habit.
There are too many reds on the positions screen (yachts in front of us) and as we sailed along the middle track the yachts either side got the better of us. But things, we hope, are set to equal themselves out a bit soon. We are in a constant head to head battle with Spirit of Sark, which sees us crossing paths on a regular basis and we are also taking miles out of the leaders so we should be able to work our way up through the positions again. We just need the weather on our side or at least to present a level playing field.
As we enter week two we are just going to continue as we have been doing. There is in fact a lot of positive energy onboard. At the end of the day David and the watch leaders have the most pressure but as I write this log (at 4am) David and Cop are sleeping soundly and we hope Olly and our watch will when we get off at 6.
PS. To Gabi's friend Cenira, thank you for your kind words about my logs. Always appreciated.
There are too many reds on the positions screen (yachts in front of us) and as we sailed along the middle track the yachts either side got the better of us. But things, we hope, are set to equal themselves out a bit soon. We are in a constant head to head battle with Spirit of Sark, which sees us crossing paths on a regular basis and we are also taking miles out of the leaders so we should be able to work our way up through the positions again. We just need the weather on our side or at least to present a level playing field.
As we enter week two we are just going to continue as we have been doing. There is in fact a lot of positive energy onboard. At the end of the day David and the watch leaders have the most pressure but as I write this log (at 4am) David and Cop are sleeping soundly and we hope Olly and our watch will when we get off at 6.
PS. To Gabi's friend Cenira, thank you for your kind words about my logs. Always appreciated.
Saturday, May 7, 2005
21o45S 2o10E
When the scheds come in every six hours, the numbers are displayed on our screen at the chart table in red and black - red for the yachts in front of us, black for those behind. "Please go downstairs and find out how to turn the red off," was David's wry request to Rich this morning. "It is a bit depressing to look at and I think that this is going to last a good few days."
By the time that the clouds parted out to the east at around seven, the sun had already crept a few fingers above the horizon; appearing to break on our day from above, it shot tentative golden brushstrokes across an otherwise watery dawn and illuminated a newly rolling sea. Thankfully, it also lit up Spirit of Sark's spinnaker on our beam - our primary adversary has failed to escape the same fate as us.
This is one blessing in the otherwise gloomy picture with which we are dealing right now. Yachts to the west and yachts to the north have got away from us and meanwhile we have been labouring in far less wind watching the red grow and grow. We are now in seventh.
Overnight, however, the wind did begin to build once again; twice in the darkness we have flown our kites to the edge and hurriedly changed up a gear, first to the 1.5oz and then to the flanker - amidst edgy-voiced commands as we realise that we are pushing our luck. But this is the name of the game - pushing things just far enough to be competitive but not overstepping the mark. We do, after all, have to nurse ourselves and our equipment almost 6,000 more miles to Boston and one breakage now could ruin our chances of storming back into position.
On a lighter note, as we struggle to keep one step ahead whilst the fleet is constantly reshuffled by the elements, we find ourselves invaded with alarming regularity. Whether arriving on the back of the gentle South-Atlantic waves, or spinning onto the deck with the aid of jet-propulsion, numerous squid have been making their presence felt underfoot and elsewhere. Their hideous blue-black ink does not go with our colour-scheme and those kite trimmers who lapse into that classic head-back, mouth-like-a-goldfish stance would do as well to watch out in case they find themselves dealt an unwelcome snack as the next squid whizzes through the air!
By the time that the clouds parted out to the east at around seven, the sun had already crept a few fingers above the horizon; appearing to break on our day from above, it shot tentative golden brushstrokes across an otherwise watery dawn and illuminated a newly rolling sea. Thankfully, it also lit up Spirit of Sark's spinnaker on our beam - our primary adversary has failed to escape the same fate as us.
This is one blessing in the otherwise gloomy picture with which we are dealing right now. Yachts to the west and yachts to the north have got away from us and meanwhile we have been labouring in far less wind watching the red grow and grow. We are now in seventh.
Overnight, however, the wind did begin to build once again; twice in the darkness we have flown our kites to the edge and hurriedly changed up a gear, first to the 1.5oz and then to the flanker - amidst edgy-voiced commands as we realise that we are pushing our luck. But this is the name of the game - pushing things just far enough to be competitive but not overstepping the mark. We do, after all, have to nurse ourselves and our equipment almost 6,000 more miles to Boston and one breakage now could ruin our chances of storming back into position.
On a lighter note, as we struggle to keep one step ahead whilst the fleet is constantly reshuffled by the elements, we find ourselves invaded with alarming regularity. Whether arriving on the back of the gentle South-Atlantic waves, or spinning onto the deck with the aid of jet-propulsion, numerous squid have been making their presence felt underfoot and elsewhere. Their hideous blue-black ink does not go with our colour-scheme and those kite trimmers who lapse into that classic head-back, mouth-like-a-goldfish stance would do as well to watch out in case they find themselves dealt an unwelcome snack as the next squid whizzes through the air!
Friday, May 6, 2005
23' 03S 4' 25E
Yesterday was a good day, the boat was powered up, we were in the right place tactically, all the numbers on the schedules looked good and the weather was clear. As a skipper this results in a very pleasant feeling. All is well in your world, its easy to sleep, and when you awake to more good news from the schedules, its easy to joke with the crew and praise their efforts.
Today is a tense day... Overnight we/I agonised about whether to drop the genoa and bear away and raise the 1.5oz race kite. Do we, don't we? Have the others? You get the crew to set up the spinnaker and pole and then change your mind and hold the situation. You can't sleep, you have a nagging feeling that things aren't going well and six hours later the schedules come in. '' the boats to the east have made some big gains on us'' is the gloomy analysis from the navigator. Your fears are confirmed. Finally the wind falls into a shape that you are comfortable with the kite goes up and some form of parity with the others in the race is achieved.
Looking at the schedules you see that for the next 18hours we are in a vulnerable position on the inside line of the high waiting for the winds to fill and the next stage of the race to take shape.
As a skipper I find that you are often in this kind of situation and it is the hardest part of the job for me. You can't just do what everybody else is doing all the time. But unfortunately I have not cracked the art of being right all the time either. We are more often right than wrong or we wouldn't be consistently up the front. Dealing with the days like to today is the real challenge of skippering a boat.
We are sailing slowly and there is a likelihood that the boats to the east will be/ could be sailing faster. There is six hours between knowing what everybody is doing and finding out via the schedules. Its tempting to sit like a bear with a sore head, or roam the boat making observations about how
the crew might sail the boat faster. But the crew hate this and have told me at numerous debriefs. It has often proved a mistake to voice my concerns to crewmembers as this seems to have a bigger negative effect on their morale than the positive effect on my own! So like bosses the world over you have to put on a positive face, squash down the feeling that the race is disappearing over the horizon and practice logical thought control.
What we have lost we shall regain. Being down only brings the crew down. We know how to sail the boat and have proved it time over. Get on deck and be positive.
Well I'm glad I've got that off my chest I feel better now!
N.B For those that don't realise we are supplied with the position of all the boats in the fleet every 6 hours. These are know as 'the schedules'. I often think of this constant 6 hours analysis of the situation (every day for 35 days) as ''the tyranny of the schedules''. Pre satellite, yachts in ocean races might learn of positions once a week or at best once a day. Or in some cases by waiting in the bar at the finish and seeing who turned up next!
Today is a tense day... Overnight we/I agonised about whether to drop the genoa and bear away and raise the 1.5oz race kite. Do we, don't we? Have the others? You get the crew to set up the spinnaker and pole and then change your mind and hold the situation. You can't sleep, you have a nagging feeling that things aren't going well and six hours later the schedules come in. '' the boats to the east have made some big gains on us'' is the gloomy analysis from the navigator. Your fears are confirmed. Finally the wind falls into a shape that you are comfortable with the kite goes up and some form of parity with the others in the race is achieved.
Looking at the schedules you see that for the next 18hours we are in a vulnerable position on the inside line of the high waiting for the winds to fill and the next stage of the race to take shape.
As a skipper I find that you are often in this kind of situation and it is the hardest part of the job for me. You can't just do what everybody else is doing all the time. But unfortunately I have not cracked the art of being right all the time either. We are more often right than wrong or we wouldn't be consistently up the front. Dealing with the days like to today is the real challenge of skippering a boat.
We are sailing slowly and there is a likelihood that the boats to the east will be/ could be sailing faster. There is six hours between knowing what everybody is doing and finding out via the schedules. Its tempting to sit like a bear with a sore head, or roam the boat making observations about how
the crew might sail the boat faster. But the crew hate this and have told me at numerous debriefs. It has often proved a mistake to voice my concerns to crewmembers as this seems to have a bigger negative effect on their morale than the positive effect on my own! So like bosses the world over you have to put on a positive face, squash down the feeling that the race is disappearing over the horizon and practice logical thought control.
What we have lost we shall regain. Being down only brings the crew down. We know how to sail the boat and have proved it time over. Get on deck and be positive.
Well I'm glad I've got that off my chest I feel better now!
N.B For those that don't realise we are supplied with the position of all the boats in the fleet every 6 hours. These are know as 'the schedules'. I often think of this constant 6 hours analysis of the situation (every day for 35 days) as ''the tyranny of the schedules''. Pre satellite, yachts in ocean races might learn of positions once a week or at best once a day. Or in some cases by waiting in the bar at the finish and seeing who turned up next!
Thursday, May 5, 2005
We were very different people when back in October we left the shores of England bound for Argentina. That first leg saw us getting to know each other and BP Explorer and more importantly, ourselves. The light airs and glorious sunshine we are experiencing today give us time to reflect on the first leg. Just like a perfume or the smell of Play Doh reminds you of an ex-girlfriend or of long gone school days, the Atlantic Ocean stirs memories of that first few weeks at sea and all that has gone between. Soon we'll have gone full circle and it feels like we are re-visiting familiar ground but this time we are more prepared, more aware and are stronger individuals. I'm glad the Southern Ocean is behind us and sailing with the kite up and going 10 knots in the right direction just makes me miss it less. Olly said today that sailing in these conditions just reminds how bad the Southern Ocean was. The procedures are second nature now and living in this steel bathtub is becoming normal. We are getting used to the smells, the uninteresting food and the disturbed sleep. I am already getting the feeling that when I get home I'm going to miss it all so much. With the experience comes a better understanding of what we are doing and a confidence that we are doing our jobs well. On the first leg we were asking David much more and tentatively approaching tasks not really sure if they were the right things to do. Now we just up and do them knowing that they are right. The same sea, same weather and the same competition but it feels very different.
24 hours ago we were in fourth or fifth position last night we were in first having taken 23 miles out of the leaders. Team Stelmar, Spirit of Sark and Barclays Adventurer are all within sight and at 2am this morning Team Stelmar loomed beside us shrouded in a light mist like a ghost ship. We came to within shouting distance and David, not wanting to miss an opportunity, shouted at them!
They bore away and disappeared once more into the darkness the light from their steaming light illuminating their spinnaker looking like a small moon reflected in the still waters. Our lightweight kite fluttered in the scarce wind and we returned to trimming and tweaking.
When writing these logs I am always worried that they may be repeating the same old stuff over and over and as we start our journey home am I just repeating previous experiences in reverse. But I think this won't be the case. Although we are travelling a similar path, we will be looking at it in a different way and as such it isn't a journey there and back again but one journey, a play where the set is re-used but the actors are different and the performances more polished.
24 hours ago we were in fourth or fifth position last night we were in first having taken 23 miles out of the leaders. Team Stelmar, Spirit of Sark and Barclays Adventurer are all within sight and at 2am this morning Team Stelmar loomed beside us shrouded in a light mist like a ghost ship. We came to within shouting distance and David, not wanting to miss an opportunity, shouted at them!
They bore away and disappeared once more into the darkness the light from their steaming light illuminating their spinnaker looking like a small moon reflected in the still waters. Our lightweight kite fluttered in the scarce wind and we returned to trimming and tweaking.
When writing these logs I am always worried that they may be repeating the same old stuff over and over and as we start our journey home am I just repeating previous experiences in reverse. But I think this won't be the case. Although we are travelling a similar path, we will be looking at it in a different way and as such it isn't a journey there and back again but one journey, a play where the set is re-used but the actors are different and the performances more polished.
Wednesday, May 4, 2005
26o52S 9o07E
Downwind sailing is definitely, to use one of David's catchphrases, 'the way forward'! From the small pluses to the huge advantages, there is no comparison when it comes to comfort and speed. The bread rises perfectly, people have no excuse not to wash their socks regularly and getting dressed takes just a few seconds - which means more sleep! We have been steaming north-west out into the Atlantic for approaching three and a half days now and have already covered 650nm. We have been very, very lucky with the weather. When the fleet left Cape Town on the Atlantic leg to France in the 2000 race, they got stuck for days in a sickening windless hole just outside the city and the race finish had to be postponed.
Our long journey north is broken into several stages and the first of these, the Tropic of Capricorn, is just a short hop away, where the crew will be treated to a special treat of a gin and tonic complete with a slice of real lime and a cocktail umbrella (pink of course!). The freezing temperatures of the Southern Ocean are a 'still fresh but thankfully past' nightmare and things are looking good. And without the distraction of simply trying to survive intact in the face of all that weather, there is renewed vigour amongst the crew when it comes to racing. The competition could not be closer; as we travel at ten knots through the perfect starry night towards another fantastic dawn, we are flanked by Team Stelmar and VAIO on the port beam and bow respectively, with Spirit of Sark on the port quarter and Barclays Adventurer dead astern. The ghostly shapes of lit-up spinnakers are all around on our high-speed runway heading straight to Boston!
In the immediate term, however, there is rising concern regarding tactics. Those boats out to the west - SAIC La Jolla and Samsung - have seen considerable gains (they were 17 and 4 miles ahead on the last scheds), whilst those of us who came out east to avoid the high-pressure with its accompanying light winds (which should arrive tomorrow) have lost some ground. So there are important decisions about routing to be made. David is in and out of bed like a man possessed. As we try, with varying degrees of success, to sleep in our rolling bunks, the regular noises which rouse us are the all too familiar screams of 'get it down now!', shortly followed by the whoosh and wet flutter of yet another kite being rugby tackled onto the deck in the nick of time. Leg One memories come flooding back.
Our two new BP Crew, Gabi Froes (a lawyer from Rio) and Matt Cannon (a Marketing Analyst in Marine from Hemel Hempstead) seem to be enjoying themselves and are doing brilliantly at picking everything up at top speed. In my humble opinion they have been allocated a great leg. The war of attrition against mountainous seas might be over for the time being but there is definitely a battle raging out here and it is already a fierce one!
Our long journey north is broken into several stages and the first of these, the Tropic of Capricorn, is just a short hop away, where the crew will be treated to a special treat of a gin and tonic complete with a slice of real lime and a cocktail umbrella (pink of course!). The freezing temperatures of the Southern Ocean are a 'still fresh but thankfully past' nightmare and things are looking good. And without the distraction of simply trying to survive intact in the face of all that weather, there is renewed vigour amongst the crew when it comes to racing. The competition could not be closer; as we travel at ten knots through the perfect starry night towards another fantastic dawn, we are flanked by Team Stelmar and VAIO on the port beam and bow respectively, with Spirit of Sark on the port quarter and Barclays Adventurer dead astern. The ghostly shapes of lit-up spinnakers are all around on our high-speed runway heading straight to Boston!
In the immediate term, however, there is rising concern regarding tactics. Those boats out to the west - SAIC La Jolla and Samsung - have seen considerable gains (they were 17 and 4 miles ahead on the last scheds), whilst those of us who came out east to avoid the high-pressure with its accompanying light winds (which should arrive tomorrow) have lost some ground. So there are important decisions about routing to be made. David is in and out of bed like a man possessed. As we try, with varying degrees of success, to sleep in our rolling bunks, the regular noises which rouse us are the all too familiar screams of 'get it down now!', shortly followed by the whoosh and wet flutter of yet another kite being rugby tackled onto the deck in the nick of time. Leg One memories come flooding back.
Our two new BP Crew, Gabi Froes (a lawyer from Rio) and Matt Cannon (a Marketing Analyst in Marine from Hemel Hempstead) seem to be enjoying themselves and are doing brilliantly at picking everything up at top speed. In my humble opinion they have been allocated a great leg. The war of attrition against mountainous seas might be over for the time being but there is definitely a battle raging out here and it is already a fierce one!
Tuesday, May 3, 2005
29' 2S 11' 15E
What are we up to? I hear you cry. Well its back to cat and mouse in the Atlantic. At present BP Explorer is aiming at a waypoint on the equator at the approximate position of a strange island Penedos St Pedro and St Paulo which is located right on the equator. This is a mark of the course and must be left to port. Traditionally it has paid off to be out on the left of the line as you go up to the equator and without this mark, some of us would probably have drifted even further to the left. Set against this is the South Atlantic High, the middle of which contains little wind. This pushes you right off the line. So go right and avoid possible light winds but possibly miss out later. Go left and look good for later and get caught by light winds in the process. Decisions, decisions.
Last night as Team Stelmar, Spirit of Sark and BP Explorer battled together under a weak trough line in the wind, Out to the left of the line SAIC La Jolla and Samsung sneaked past to take the top two positions. They look good today but will they suffer later?
The pattern for tropical weather is steady winds during the day and difficult changeable conditions at night. Between 0000 and 0500 the tops of clouds cool off and cool air descends from then creating rain and squalls. This changeable and rapid increase in wind threatens to blow spinnakers to pieces and with it race chances. Thus the night time is when we tend to work the hardest and last night was no exception. At one point during the night we dropped our flanker as winds built to a dangerous level. Out to our left Spirit of Sark choose to bear away rather than drop the kite. This forced them to run down on us and at one point you could have thrown a tennis ball between us. Rather than risk a collision they shot behind us at a rapid speed and were last seen heading over the horizon, where they remain to starboard. These hurried spinnaker drops can often be quite scary affairs. The crew hurriedly assemble beneath the boom and attempt to claw down a piece of cloth that would cover a tennis court. At one point in the last 24hours the spinnaker got the better of the team and threatened to pull a number of the crew overboard as the flanker blew away in a particularly gusty drop. Thankfully they were clipped on at the time.
So from a skippers perspective, there is much to keep you awake at night and my body and brain are slowly beginning to accept the broken sleep patterns that come with tropical spinnaker work.
Last night as Team Stelmar, Spirit of Sark and BP Explorer battled together under a weak trough line in the wind, Out to the left of the line SAIC La Jolla and Samsung sneaked past to take the top two positions. They look good today but will they suffer later?
The pattern for tropical weather is steady winds during the day and difficult changeable conditions at night. Between 0000 and 0500 the tops of clouds cool off and cool air descends from then creating rain and squalls. This changeable and rapid increase in wind threatens to blow spinnakers to pieces and with it race chances. Thus the night time is when we tend to work the hardest and last night was no exception. At one point during the night we dropped our flanker as winds built to a dangerous level. Out to our left Spirit of Sark choose to bear away rather than drop the kite. This forced them to run down on us and at one point you could have thrown a tennis ball between us. Rather than risk a collision they shot behind us at a rapid speed and were last seen heading over the horizon, where they remain to starboard. These hurried spinnaker drops can often be quite scary affairs. The crew hurriedly assemble beneath the boom and attempt to claw down a piece of cloth that would cover a tennis court. At one point in the last 24hours the spinnaker got the better of the team and threatened to pull a number of the crew overboard as the flanker blew away in a particularly gusty drop. Thankfully they were clipped on at the time.
So from a skippers perspective, there is much to keep you awake at night and my body and brain are slowly beginning to accept the broken sleep patterns that come with tropical spinnaker work.
Monday, May 2, 2005
31 29 S 13 51 E
Start days are always adrenalin fuelled affairs and are practically the only time the whole crew are on deck at the same time. They are also the most tiring. Having started the day at about 7:00 and after the emotional roller coaster of the send-off at 11:00 there is a pause of about two hours for the start gun when we just want to get going. Then through all the excitement of the initial jockeying for best position we start to settle into the routine tasks and thereafter get into our watches. Olly's watch stayed on until 22:00 and we were getting pretty tired by the time we hit our bunks. With only four hours of sleep in 22 hours we were up again at 02:00 and didn't hit our bunks again until 06:00.
Our first night at sea was very exciting starting with 30 knots of wind and the flanker up. To our left and just ahead were Team Stelmar, Spirit of Sark and SAIC La Jolla. We watched nervously as the wind rose and more pressure was put on our straining spinnaker. We watched as Team Stelmar's flanker wrapped and flapped in the wind, at one point I'm sure I saw it rip in two but I couldn't be sure. They downed it quickly and went to a poled-out no 1 yankee but they lost ground and we came to within calling distance. We couldn't hold on any longer - the risk was too great. We went up to prepare the yankee for a hoist and as we did so went into a broach. Water cascaded over the deck and BP Explorer heeled at an alarming angle. We tripped the flanker (releasing one of the 3 corners causing it to de-power and flap like a flag). The guys in the cockpit struggled like mad to pull it in and at one point it got the better of us and fought back dragging Olly across the deck before he finally had to let go. With thoughts of past legs, when flankers have been lost and points deducted, we renewed our efforts, with everyone pulling, we got it all below deck without further incident. We poled-out the yankee and there it has remained.
Six hours of sleep was very welcome at 6 this morning and we awoke to stories of yachts blowing flankers and boat speeds in excess of 20 knots though none have been confirmed. We have been steaming along at over 13 knots average and we are well and truly back to proper sailing again.
At lunchtime today we celebrated Jasper's 1st birthday (David Melville's son) and David was presented with the first bottle of Champagne of the leg, which I'm pleased to say he shared amongst the crew. We also celebrated Cop's birthday, which was actually last week but any excuse for some chocolate cake is a good one in my book.
A quick one from the skipper: "happy birthday jasper, you make me smile every day'' love daddy
Our first night at sea was very exciting starting with 30 knots of wind and the flanker up. To our left and just ahead were Team Stelmar, Spirit of Sark and SAIC La Jolla. We watched nervously as the wind rose and more pressure was put on our straining spinnaker. We watched as Team Stelmar's flanker wrapped and flapped in the wind, at one point I'm sure I saw it rip in two but I couldn't be sure. They downed it quickly and went to a poled-out no 1 yankee but they lost ground and we came to within calling distance. We couldn't hold on any longer - the risk was too great. We went up to prepare the yankee for a hoist and as we did so went into a broach. Water cascaded over the deck and BP Explorer heeled at an alarming angle. We tripped the flanker (releasing one of the 3 corners causing it to de-power and flap like a flag). The guys in the cockpit struggled like mad to pull it in and at one point it got the better of us and fought back dragging Olly across the deck before he finally had to let go. With thoughts of past legs, when flankers have been lost and points deducted, we renewed our efforts, with everyone pulling, we got it all below deck without further incident. We poled-out the yankee and there it has remained.
Six hours of sleep was very welcome at 6 this morning and we awoke to stories of yachts blowing flankers and boat speeds in excess of 20 knots though none have been confirmed. We have been steaming along at over 13 knots average and we are well and truly back to proper sailing again.
At lunchtime today we celebrated Jasper's 1st birthday (David Melville's son) and David was presented with the first bottle of Champagne of the leg, which I'm pleased to say he shared amongst the crew. We also celebrated Cop's birthday, which was actually last week but any excuse for some chocolate cake is a good one in my book.
A quick one from the skipper: "happy birthday jasper, you make me smile every day'' love daddy
Sunday, May 1, 2005
Cape Town
As we head out once again for the open ocean, the crew of BP Explorer reflect on our farewell to Cape Town and the start of this, the last marathon leg of the race. Emotions on board this morning were a far cry from the ominous quiet which rippled through our ranks in Sydney before setting off for the Southern Ocean; now, we are chasing the sun, a return to our home hemisphere and that dream of first place. It seems so much more within reach than before and a 'not-daring-to-dream' approach has been replaced with a far braver conviction that it IS possible - we CAN do it.
The start itself, it has to be said, did not do us any great favours though! Two worries were foremost in our minds with the light conditions that faced the fleet bobbing around below Table Mountain: firstly, drifting over the line early and being subjected to a time penalty (as happened to VAIO); and secondly, drifting into another boat and becoming entangled in their rigging - all too possible a scenario in these conditions. So our main aim was to stay out of trouble. This we managed, but were a little rusty before the wind began to pick up. "It was one of our bumpier take-offs," admits David. "We managed to find every gap and hole in the wind there was going but some aggressive work with the kite has enabled us to fight our way back up the pack. Currently we are lying about fourth thanks to an early gybe to the windward side of the pack which gave us a nice amount of power. I am very pleased with the way that the crew reacted to the peel and then the gybe and I'm glad that we are on our way again - looking at sails behind rather than in front."
Let's just hope that we can keep it that way as we head into our last African night and the start of another adventure.
The start itself, it has to be said, did not do us any great favours though! Two worries were foremost in our minds with the light conditions that faced the fleet bobbing around below Table Mountain: firstly, drifting over the line early and being subjected to a time penalty (as happened to VAIO); and secondly, drifting into another boat and becoming entangled in their rigging - all too possible a scenario in these conditions. So our main aim was to stay out of trouble. This we managed, but were a little rusty before the wind began to pick up. "It was one of our bumpier take-offs," admits David. "We managed to find every gap and hole in the wind there was going but some aggressive work with the kite has enabled us to fight our way back up the pack. Currently we are lying about fourth thanks to an early gybe to the windward side of the pack which gave us a nice amount of power. I am very pleased with the way that the crew reacted to the peel and then the gybe and I'm glad that we are on our way again - looking at sails behind rather than in front."
Let's just hope that we can keep it that way as we head into our last African night and the start of another adventure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)