Race 1 - Day 29
Crew Diary - Race 1 Day 29: Liverpool to Punta del Este
18 September

A tale of gybes, meltdown, rips and spam.

Well, what a day! In many ways, each Clipper Race day is similar in that it follows the same pattern of watches involving moments of grabbed sleep in between shifts on deck and fuelling up (aka eating). In periods of prolonged similarity, the subject of debate is what the Mothers will turn out for dinner and lunch.

This was not the case today. Last night all looked fine. Mothers (the brothers John K&R) turned out a fine fare of beef stew and dumplings followed by fruit and custard - all delivered whilst sporting matching outfits and finely pressed white napkins draped over their forearms (not really). Anyway, the night was set to be a normal night.

We had been on a port tack for, well, seemingly forever although we did know that at some point the following morning we would be gybing as the weather changed. Much to Port Watch's surprise, this took place around 3am which was an hour prior to watch change. It was also a surprise to the numerous items of crockery, cutlery, pots, pans, leftover stew from the evening meal and half a jug of milk, that found themselves being forcibly ejected from one side of the galley to the other. Equally surprised were the sleeping crew cosily slumbering in the top berths on the starboard side, who, without warning were rolled to the edge of their berths and opened their eyes to observe a terrifying 6 feet drop to the floor below.

So, Port Watch went on duty. Mike F took to the helm after having had several rather successful visits over the past few days and within 2 minutes was a jibbering wreck cowering behind the wheel unable to process the fact that we were on starboard tack and everything was different. His sleep curdled mind simply not up to the task, he went into meltdown. He laid on the deck behind the wheel, thought about pleasant green fields, fell asleep to awaken towards the end of watch!

Changeover approaches. It's 8am and Starboard Watch are shaking off the ZZZzz's and lumbering in deck when a rather unpleasant zzzziiiip noise comes from our Code 3 Spinnaker which had decided, after several thousand miles of service (and abuse), to part company with itself and go on holiday, making a bid for freedom in two separate directions separating right down the middle. Sleep forgotten, the constituent parts were hauled down below for the sail making team to scratch their heads over.

7 hours later, we bagged a "mended" Code 3 back into its bag with mending being special sailmakers tape basically taping the sail together. We are good to go again - only a few miles lost to the pursuing GREAT Britain. Clive W enjoyed his well-deserved, if not somewhat belated, lunch of mushroom soup and spam rolls which was consumed in no time and life continues.

Our cunning route and plan seemingly working, we start feeling optimistic about the race outcome. With luck we would be on white sails 'til near the finish and then spinnaker just for a while - that was the plan. And it was a good plan. The problem with good plans is that life tends to intercede, and so it was here. At 7pm, we were looking at the dropping wind speed and direction and the call went out: "Code 3 - lets put the ****** back up". So we dropped Staysails and ultimately the Yankee 1 and hoisted the patched up Code 3. "Look, it's flying!" Boat speed climbed to 9kts, Port Watch started the tidy up and Mike F braced himself for the starboard tack night time spinnaker tremors when zzzzziiiip...it had gone again. The pieces were dragged down below - the sailmaker woken to be told that his handy work of a few hours before was so good that we would like him to do it again! The Yankee 1 and Staysail hoisted...9kts and more achieved and now Port Watch start thinking about the impending food event which tonight is cottage pie (with no meat!)

So, not all days are the same (thank God) as this one covered all parts of the emotional spectrum from our race position to dashing prospects with sail traumas - where the cottage pie will sit on that spectrum will be known in around 45 minutes and, more to the point, which side of the galley floor it will end up on in the morning!

Your intrepid on the scene reporters: Clive Watson and Mike Fenton.