Race 1 - Day 25
Crew Diary - Race 1 Day 25: Liverpool to Punta del Este
14 September

A Night Watch at 45 Degrees

2330

The watch actually starts 30 minutes before midnight, being woken up by a member of the opposite watch. If they are a considerate soul, you will get a gentle stroke on your arm, a quiet whisper telling you it's time to get up for watch, what the weather is doing, and how to dress appropriately. If you're woken by those less inclined to this approach, or someone who is really ready to come off watch, you might get a poke in the ribs. Its a 'bit' like doing shift work at home - the ongoing watch dredge in, the off-going watch are thrilled at their arrival.

So you get out of bed - easier said than done when you are heeled over. One foot against the wall, hands in the cubby holes next to the bunk, hanging on for dear life. Steady yourself - step DOWN THE WALL until you touch your neighbours bunk edge - steady yourself again. Apologise for putting your bum in their face again. We're all friends here. If you're tall, you can then step to the floor. If you're short, you wait for a roll in the other direction and jump. Sometimes, if your energy is waning, you might not even make it to the bunk and instead sleep in the storage space underneath, only spotted when someone throws their things on top of you (Catherine).

We then make our way in to the galley area, which tends to be both hands on the bulkheads (walls) and side stepping, occasionally straddling a watch member if you are ready before them. A trip to the heads (toilets) involves holding onto the rope across the galley area, making your way down low, and getting into the head itself. Attempting to navigate the 'overspill' on the floor, you hold on to the handrails, zip up the canvas 'door', try to take your clothes off without getting them in the heads/on the floor/ anywhere near anything, sit down (a must) angled towards the door, trying not to have your butt digging in to the hand pump, do your business, and then reverse.

Then its time to get our foulies on - waterproof salopettes and smock. This involves some wriggling, a steady balance or place to prop up against or a helpful hand from a crew mate. Then, on with the life jackets. By this point, being down below in the sauna, you are sweltering hot. So, up we go on deck.

0000

Have a handover with the current watch, find out what's going on with the weather, other vessels, the sail composition. Jobs on deck area just as difficult as jobs down below on an angle, and the likelihood of tidal waves over the bow and into the cockpit are common place. We've now had four days of getting into bed after a day watch wet from being on deck and waking up wet from sweat, and going to bed wet from a night watch to waking up wet from not being able to dry. Yachty botty is a real thing people - but most people know it as nappy rash, and PSP Logistics is working its way through a years supply of Sudocrem and talc at a rate of knots (see what I did there?).

Jobs whilst on watch are: doing the log book, emptying the bilges, cleaning the heads, safety checks, deck walk, and steering gear.

The log book involves someone goes down below, sneaking past the sleeping bodies into the Nav Station, propping your foot against the wall, and learning how to write at funny angles. We fill out our position, speed etc, check the radar for weather, check the Automatic Identification System (AIS) for other vessels - always a surprise to see another boat in the middle of nowhere - sometimes a bit more of a surprise than others (sorry Roy).

The bilges. All boats leak and ours in no exception. Every hour we check the bilges (space under the floorboards) for any water coming in from a number of places. Heeled over, with waves crashing over, this has become a bigger job in the last few days, emptying 20 buckets in one check. So down we go as a pair, one person climbs in and sponges out the water, the other navigates back to the companionway and lobs the water back into the sea where it belongs.

Sailing wise, on deck comes with its own challenges. As Stian says, imagine trying to drive a rocket in pitch black, through rolling swells, with gusting winds coming from multiple directions up to 30 knots, trying to keep her on course by sticking your face in a red glowing compass. That, dear readers, is helming.

Up on the bow, sail changes involve plunging crew members into the waves unexpectedly and relentlessly. Dave put it best best when he said 'you know its bad when you've got to hold your breath'. All zips and velcros closed, and yet the water still gets in enough to cause the old yachty botty. At least its warm water down here!

0330

Time to wake up the other watch and aren't we keen to do so by this point. Slightly jealous of their damp, rather than wet state, we swap places.

0400

Time to get back into bed but not before the normal rigmarole! Tired, hot, and soggy, we sleep.

Francis Baker