Ready About!

Back home now, and after a couple weeks of enjoying the company of family and friends for Thanksgiving and my birthday I finally had the chance to upload photos from Race 3, as well as a few from earlier in the race.

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I'm in the Dubai airport now - next stop San Francisco and home!

I decided during race 3 that Cape Town would be the end of my race due to the ongoing seasickness that I had been experiencing. I simply couldn't know for certain that I would be able to contribute in the way I wanted to when we would turn upwind or when the weather got nasty. Ocean racing is a tough endurance challenge as is without the additional burden of being seasick. I'm disappointed at not getting to complete the entire race - and in particular miss the chance to sail with friends I've met along the way. But happy to be heading home and quite content with the variety of experiences from the first two legs and crossing the Atlantic twice.

On top of that, I got to have an absolutely amazing time staying with my friends Richard and Monique at their house and farm during my stay in Cape Town. It was a fantastic experience that I would have missed if I hadn't been heading home. It was a great lesson that You never know what life has waiting just around the next headland, but I'm excited for it.

I'll post more after I get home to fill in some of the adventures (good and bad). After turkey, of course.

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Literally. While I was on the helm in 35-40 knot winds at 11pm last
night the steering wheel fell off the boat. It had been coming loose
for the last couple of days but we had managed to tighten it each time.
This time it just kept getting looser and came off.

This of course happened during the peak of the storm that we'd been
anticipating for the last couple of days. To give a sense of what the
conditions were like, when we went on deck for the watch, Pete warned us
to be extra vigilant about staying clipped on at all times, because with
the wind and rain and waves in pitch black, "if you go overboard
tonight, you're dead".

After the wheel came off, the boat turned into the wind, which made the
apparent wind much stronger, something like 45 knots. We got out the
emergency tiller and three of us held onto that to keep the boat from
swinging all over the place while the rest of the crew lashed down the
now-disconnected steering wheel and struggled with getting the mainsail
down. On top of that the staysail halyard broke and the sail went into
the water and had to be brought back onboard. All in all it took a
couple of hours to get the boat to the point where it was moving slowly
but steadily in the wrong direction.

Since then we've rigged up the emergency tiller so that it's steered
from two winches, each manned by two people. One person stands where
the wheel used to be, calling out "starboard" or "port" and then the
people on the winches grind or ease to move the tiller to one side or
the other. With this arrangement we're only currently able to fly the
staysail, so we're going a good deal slower with just one of the three
sails. On top of this it's cold and rainy. On our watches we're
rotating people through the mind and body numbing positions of sitting
in the rain for a couple hours while acting like a machine. I now know
what it feels like to be a powered winch. Good times.

We're going to be in most likely a couple days later, but are
technically still racing. About a thousand miles to go on emergency
steering.

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We're at the back of the pack again - familiar territory. After our
good start, the main decision was whether to go South or Southeast, and
the boats that went South have ended up ahead. They've sailed more
distance but have had more wind and so we're left to play catch-up once
more.

This has gotten to the crew, who are tired of putting in so much hard
work only to be consistently disappointed in the result. While at least
this time we shouldn't be in days behind the rest of the fleet, taking
part in the race is a big dream for most everyone and too much of our
time has been without the excitement of having a real chance to win
throughout the race. Yesterday the general frustration came to a head
during our daily crew meeting where we debated whether to have
specialists in positions of helm and trimmer which, with our current
conditions, are the only ones that would make a consistent difference in
speed. Most everyone was opposed to the idea, and instead we agreed on
redoubling our efforts and focusing on having the stronger helms-people
train up those who are not as experienced or skilled. Since we are in
close proximity to the Edinburgh boat we have a sort of benchmark to
test our efforts, and so far they seem to have paid off - we are slowly
and steadily reducing the gap between them and us. That's really the
only "game within the game" that we have to play now until we get to
Cape Town, trying for 8th place.

As for myself, I've been seasick a couple more times when we've had more
upwind conditions. This has really worn me down physically and
mentally. I find myself not having the energy or enthusiasm of weeks
ago. Whereas everyone else seems to jump at the chance to change a
headsail or check trim, I feel lethargic and have to will myself to do
everything. I have a constant dull headache and find myself snapping at
people and being short-tempered which I think the crew can tell is
pretty out of character. What I've found is that the day after I'm
sick, I'll feel physically fine, but it seems to still affect me
mentally. When people say "good to see you up and about" it comes
across more as a sarcastic "nice of you to join us, lazy-ass". You
certainly start feeling very divided from those of the crew who never
experience the nausea. I can at times see myself behaving this way even
though I haven't been able to stop it. It would make a fascinating
study if only the subject wasn't me.

We're in a calm patch now for the first time in a few days, and tomorrow
evening should be hitting some pretty intense weather, so this will
likely be my last update for a while. With a lot of luck I won't be
bed-ridden and miserable, but the conditions certainly won't allow for
much time at the computer.

The weather has gotten much colder, and we're wearing our foul weather
gear for the first time in many weeks. I even find myself zipping up my
sleeping bag, which is an amazing change after so many weeks seemingly
spent sweating profusely in the bunk. There are some amazing seabirds
that have been following us the last few days. What we think are
albatrosses, sooty terns, what we're calling "flying penguins", and some
amazing little birds that I call "fighter pilots". One of these birds
must have left us a little gift which we discovered when we shook out a
reef in the mainsail and found a squid lying on the deck.

We have been making good speeds the last few days, and at our current
pace could make it into Cape Town on the 14th, which is a week away.
I'm very much looking forward to our arrival as, for me, the race has
become much more about the destination than the journey.

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Latitude: -33.92081
Longitude:-22.58757
Time: 11/04/2009 23:25:45 GMT

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We hoisted the medium weight spinnaker for the first time since it fell
into the water and was subsequently repaired for 52 hours. The crew
were feeling exuberant and actually cheered when it deployed without any
problems. It was all patched up and covered in blue anti-foul paint
from when it was trapped under the boat but we all knew how important it
was to get it flying again and how much work had gone into getting it
back up. I celebrated by opening one of the three soy milk containers
that I had bought in Brazil and enjoyed my breakfast of cereal and
cinnamon rolls the way I do at home for the first time in 3.5 months.
Watching everyone else pour milk on their cereal while I munch away on
dry cereal or resort to pouring hot water on mine grows old. It's the
only time I miss being able to drink milk. So that soy milk was like
the nectar of the gods. I think I had four bowls of various
combinations of corn flakes, bran flakes, and muesli.

At around 9:15pm I was on the helm and though we had light winds, we
planned to fly the spinnaker all night. To date we've only flown a
spinnaker at night once that I can remember, back in race 2 off the
coast of Spain. I asked if we were going to fly it for as long as
possible and skipper's reply was "until Cape Town or until it breaks".
Unfortunately it was the latter. I heard a pop and saw the same
sickening sight of it deflating and falling into the water. This time
we were all more prepared and jumped into action quickly. I threw the
helm over hard to windward before handing over to Pete. As we ran
forward I yelled down the companionway for all hands on deck, and Ian
opened the forward hatch to the crew quarters and did the same. The
off-watch got out of bed and into life jackets and tethers quickly and
we all ran forward to secure the kite.

It was a very good recovery, quickly done and with very minimal damage
to the sail. Nobody was hurt, no significant damage to the kite, and
the repair is being taken care of as I type this. We got the yankee
poled out to minimize the loss of speed and will likely be able to hoist
the spinnaker again in the morning. Initially the cause was thought to
be a broken halyard, but now it seems that the snap shackle at the head
of the sail may have opened, which is very unusual. It seems that
spinnaker just does not want to stay up. Because it is designed for the
most commonly experienced wind conditions, some people call it the
all-purpose kite, and it's the only spinnaker that has Clipper and
California branding on it. Funny that it's our most beat-up one, with
at least four different repairs, blue paint all over, and patches right
through the logos.

Another lesson in perseverance courtesy of the medium weight spinnaker.

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Latitude: -30.63663
Longitude:-35.18642
Time: 11/01/2009 01:24:44 GMT

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Latitude: -30.61933
Longitude:-35.20436
Time: 11/01/2009 01:11:12 GMT

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View Larger Map
Latitude: -29.65426
Longitude:-36.18216
Time: 10/31/2009 05:37:11 GMT

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So as it turns out, crossing your fingers is not a viable means for
fighting seasickness.

Day four already. The weather has improved, with flatter seas and the
sun making its first appearance. The four newbies and I have emerged
from our bunks so we have our full complement of crew for the first
time. Hopefully we'll get the wind shift we're hoping for and be able
to do some downwind sailing soon. Very much looking forward to making
into Cape Town in the 20 or so days as predicted. After the 33 days we
just did, 19 seems like a breeze. Of course we will need that
consistent breeze to get in on schedule.

We're currently doing well on the race results, but as Pete keeps
reminding us, the results won't be very relevant for another day or so
when the fleet converges a bit more. Still, it beats knowing that
you're showing up on the website as back of the pack, which we have been
by this time in the last couple of races.

The mood on the boat is different than in the last two races. Although
we're doing better, I feel like it's more subdued. I guess that's to be
expected with 15 crew staying the same. The new crew are naturally more
exuberant but the rest of us are sort of back into the routine. The
short stay in Rio probably reinforced that. There isn't the same level
of excitement when someone brings a bag of chocolates or cookies on
deck, or when someone cooks a nice meal. I have to say that the
victualling team has done a nice job with the limitations on budget and
selection they faced in Rio. We've continued to eat well. Had a very
yummy vegetable curry last night with beans, lentils, sweet potatoes,
coconut milk and rice. Oh and exactly one quarter of a slice of chorizo
per bowl :)

Oh, and as a side note I saw a whale breaching while we were preparing
for a sail change a couple days ago. I saw spray and a ship up ahead
and was about to ask Pete (who was on the helm) if he could see the
hovercraft (which makes no sense) when I realized that it was a whale.
Jumped right out of the water at 45 degrees just like you would imagine.
While we finished bagging the sail, Pete said it jumped eight more
times, though I was busy heaving the sail in between heaving over the
side. On the boat we say "2, 6, HEAVE!" to coordinate lifting and
pulling the heavy sails. I think this comes from old british navy
practice of loading cannons.

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