Race 7 - Day 10
Crew Diary - Whitsundays to Da Nang, Vietnam
30 January
SURVIVING AT 45 DEGREES
Two hours after midnight we begin our decent into the red
glow and heat below deck. For each of us retreating into our shared coffin, which
still holds the body-heat and sweat of your berth-buddy who as passing ships in
the night silently glides up the gangway to await what Mother Nature has in
store, down below our own battle begins.
We cannot adjust to this new heat which has doubled since we were clothed up
for the last dose of Mother Nature’s surprises. We are now boiling from the top
of our head down to our soggy skinning feet.
In one metre by four we jostle in the confined space between the foot
well and the galley which is now deathly quiet as the cooks need to regenerate
themselves as they will become one of us in a few hours’ time.
Like a scrum elbowing, sliding, pushing, grabbing, swearing, cursing, falling, we
try of remove the top layer of oilies which may have protected us from the
deluge of rain and waves being hurled at us as the deck heaves to 45 degrees,
then twists, and heals 45 degrees to port. Passing the Islands of Micronesia in
the South Pacific, all in inky darkness; there is some misconception about the idyllic
islands we dream about.
Back to these waterproofs which are holding our body heat which begins
increasing as soon as you begin to dress. Our lifejackets are clanking - so
relieved to remove them, the weight of a sack of spuds around your shoulders,
chafing your neck. Phew, that’s the
tunic and salopettes off, now for the next layer. Stuck like glue you yank and
peel it off, the males now just down to their pants. Lucky them. Us females try
to hold on to our decorum, which is treated with utmost respect by the males; but
at the moments in time, no-one could care less who is next to them, You are all
too hot and sweaty. Our heat is being absorbed by our t-shirts which are now
dripping with sweat.
The men, well, twilight the rivulets glisten like the miners who dig us coal,
two miles down a shaft into the grounds, and three miles along a tunnel - the
heat is the same, but they are not being tossed around like ingredients in a
breadmaking machine. Water water. It’s outside,
inside, everywhere, and we want to drink water and more water, yet we don’t
really pee that much, no need to. It comes out of our skin, we are de-hydrated;
keep drinking water they say. None of us
have ever drunk so much water, and it’s not pleasant as its not out of a
tap but whatever it tastes like we can’t
get enough of it. We must get to the
heads - everyone has the same idea, and one is out of order, - the boat twists
and flings you through the curtain of privacy, you hit the wall, slide down it
and plonk yourself onto the toilet bowl and hold fast as once again you are
sitting at 45 degrees and wonder how the hell can you relax and pee. The paper
is soaked as the tiny hatch above your head wasn’t locked down and seawater is
still pouring in above you.
You feel cooler now. Just get to your bunk, please god let me get there in one
piece.... inside the confines of your coffin, you now get to go to sleep but
the sweating is still increasing - its 45 degrees centigrade in your confines.
It’s dark, where’s the wet wipes, my torch, glasses, still haven’t removed all
my underwear, - I can’t be bothered. Pull up the lea cloth truly hard, and as
doing so the boat tacks, and you hang on for dear life. What else can I do for
fun - may as well be in a barrel rolling down Victoria Falls. Barrel load of
fun this sailing lark........to be continued.
Almost forgot to mention my family, friends and followers
back home in Essex and around the globe, who have urged me on to take this
challenge, I really do miss you all, my Billy & Bindy, Willy & John and
all the ten little grandkids. And thank you to all my supporters helping me to
raise funds for motor neurone disease in the name of our school friend Micky
Dart, bless him. I do have a second family now, encouraging and nurturing,
keeping a lookout for me are the crew and Skipper of my special racing yacht,
ICHORCOAL. Please don't worry about me - I am in safe hands.
God bless you all. I love and miss you xxx
Ann Adams - alias Annsoff Nuttynanny xxx
Love IchorCoal