Race 12 - Day 16
Crew Diary - New York, USA to Derry-Londonderry, Northern Ireland
06 July

So this is it. My final blog on my mammoth sailing adventure. It has been a difficult one to write, re written many a time, so here goes nothing...

We are still racing hard, the port of Derry-Londonderry is in our sights and I for-one have not given up the hope that we might overtake GREAT Britain in these final stages of Race 12 – actually now that I have seen the latest GRIB files it is looking unlikely so come on Unicef we need you to hold 4th! We are just too close to that third place overall.

As I write this we are back at 45 degrees and I am so happy to have a break from all the Garmin kitemares of late. The return of the white sails has enabled the entire of port watch to take to the helm giving mine and Mike T's arms a well-deserved rest. The best kite moment and one of the highlights of the race thus far is when Kieran hit a whale (yes Ash I have been practising my spelling).

I think if I remember correctly Suzie from Leg 1 said at crew allocation many moons ago now, that this was her biggest fear whilst being on board. Lucy Frost (leg 7&8), the legend that is, said not to worry as she had already ticked the whale hitting box and lightning doesn't strike twice...

As you can probably see from the Race Viewer we have finally rounded the island of Rockall made, famous by the shipping forecast. The rock proved hard to get to due to the poor wind angle requiring us to perform multiple tacks, adding extra miles and slowing our progress. Frustrating sums the mood up! On a more humorous note, the joker has been on board, I have woken up in a prison cell of wool. Sean (Leg 8) our own inspector has opened the investigation into who has done it. All I can say is the culprits best keep their wits about them as the game is now on.

The vast oceans, seas and huge waves have taken a few items from me along this trip, it started with my tangle teaser on the way out of Airlie beach, in Qingdao my essential non replaceable pontoon pass, then my phone and bank cards in Seattle, to sunglasses, a lone flip flop, a sealskin sock, a pair of gloves, just to name a few. All of these are material items that I could live without, these are nothing in comparison to the two lives lost from fellow crew on this race. When contemplating and reflecting on the tragedies of losing teammates in sport you soon begin to question your attitude to life and if you are living it to full as you really do not know what will occur in your next chapter. This is one of the reasons why the Clipper Race really is the race of your life, it has fulfilled all my dreams, expectations and more. I would recommend it to anyone and everyone.

Don't be afraid to change your routine, the grass might be greener on the other side, what do you have to lose that you can't get back.

For all that has been lost I have gained a million times over. The pictures and sounds engraved into my brain of the peaceful expanse of water; the feeling of helming under a blanket of sparkling bright stars and the postcard perfect sunrises and sunsets will be treasured forever. Not only have I been taught how to sail by our ever patient, capable skipper Ash but have had the honour and pleasure of sailing with the goats – Old goat Campbell my engineering lecturer; the not so old goat – Ross Ham - my helming guru and kid goat Mike Adams. All four have taught me all I know and I will be forever grateful for your time, patience and opportunity.

The people make this race, from the office staff who organise everything so we can actually race, to the maintenance team where no job is too big (even when we really broke the boat on Leg 6 and asked for a new one; CV32), my parents back at home who's support has been unwavering, my friends and family that have sent messages and letters and finally my fellow race crew on Garmin and the rest of the fleet.

Phrases from the fleet that I will keep and use in my own repertoire include “four more days!”, “that's what she said”, “suck it up princess” and the Rich Perkin mantra that has spread fleet wide “funny before feelings”.

I have memories that I will share with my crew forever, many that will be the same but different.

The emotion and butterflies when you initially join the boat and leave port for your first time; hugs, waves and cheers from the rest of the fleet on your arrival/departure from port. Life on board from the choice of which heads to use dependant on your tack; the struggles of emptying bilges whilst the boat is slamming; the fear of the all hands on deck call when you're all warm and tucked up in bed; the awful noise of the grinders whilst lying in your bunk; the sound of a sheet snapping below deck as you think the world is caving in: Ross's constant burbles whilst helming: sweating from every orifice whilst wooling a kite.

I will miss sleeping every six hours but not that it's morning at least three times a day. The constant questions of what does the sched show? and how far until...? Comments such as “are you on course?”, “Too high!”, “get the sheets run” from the hatch often mean change is coming or he is unhappy with your progress.

The hatch is known as meercat manor and thus Ash is the Meercat, the hatch previously had a squeak so you could prepare yourself, Lucie Ward resolved this issue by taking WD40 to it...I think I could have lived with the squeak.

On deck getting soaked by the ten minute pre watch change wave, huddling in the pit in the cold wrapped up in yellow and red wet gear mimicking seals; blending in the sun; shouts of “ease that sheet!”, the long lasting bruises from being hoisted up the mast in 30 knots of wind; the hope that we can continue to sail with the storm jib aka our Yankee one even in stupid amounts of wind so you don't have to go on the foredeck to get battered, soaked and cold to do the sail change.

Through the good times, the bickering, when you feel ill and when you all surf that wave together; Being at the constant changing mercy of the elements; squalls, the storms, the rough seas, the beautiful starry nights, the amazing colourful sunrises and sunsets have stripped every one of us bare.

The sense of achievement when you complete the evolutions as team in the most extreme conditions I have ever faced will be hard to beat. Through the thick, the thin, the singing and the dancing; laughter and a few tears have exposed the team and I to our basics, to who we truly are.

The relationships forged because of all above on the boat, in port over wine and the dark and stormy's, and in training when you all know nothing cements the knowledge that I have never and will never be alone in the clipper bubble nor after the bubble breaks. I for one will be very sad when this chapter closes but with memories and friends which will last forever I will look forward to whatever life throws at me next.

Sail safe....

Lots of love

Holly Kitching XX