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

The routine today started like the routine yesterday (and so many other days this month): with a spinnaker lying on the floor, ready to wool. To recap briefly, every time a spinnaker sail comes down the mast it must be “wooled”, meaning all of the edges rolled up together into long sausage-like rolls and tied off with brightly coloured wool to ease the sail into the sky without unfurling on the next hoist. It is rough and untidy work, done below deck in the dark, hot, and cramped underbelly of the boat. Considering how often we change these behemoth sails to fit changing conditions, we've become highly efficient wooling engineers, thoughtfully applying the lessons learned from each hoist to make sure the sails fly easier the next time.

Our next chore is to explore the deck in the early grey morning, checking the lines and sails and getting ready for another day of racing. Only then do we settle into our seats (or sides for those with sore rears) to enjoy the sliver of sunrise

These activities come naturally now, without fuss or explanation, like so many of the routines of boat life that once seemed so arduous or inconvenient. We've almost forgotten the “luxuries” we've previously taken for granted; a simple flushing toilet, a clean set of clothes every day, a drink with ice. Now we look forward to different perks; a choice spot on deck for lounging, a bit of ground coffee, and a couple hours of sleep uninterrupted by the grind of a winch are enough to brighten any day.

Now even as we've become adjusted, it's time to consider life ashore again. Daydreams and conversations about eating, drinking, bathing, and sleeping have reached a fever pitch, and we share our plans with relish. Mine are pretty standard (steak, ice cream, beer, shower, and a king-size bed), but as this will probably be my last blog as a crew member, I'll leave with a couple of my departing thoughts.

First, that it's been an absolute pleasure to live, learn, and grow with the other people on board. It occurred to me earlier in the race that each of us have folks at home who miss us dearly and would give anything to spend time with us. So I try to take advantage of the heaps of time I have with everyone here and try to enjoy and appreciate them the way their friends and family back home would. I've learned an incredible amount about them and myself in the process even on just this first leg.

Second, that every one of the crew members across the fleet deserves congratulations for their hard work during this crossing. I can appreciate the level of passion and enthusiasm on Sanya Serenity Coast, and given the level of tough competition throughout the race, I know the other crews are just as committed to giving their all. This race is incredibly long. Not every day feels like a success, and at the end we might not all get golden laurels and ticker-tape parades. But I think anyone who has completed even part of this race would agree that finishing a leg comes with its own piece of glory for each of us. And I don't mean “glory” as a puffed-up synonym for personal achievement, but proper “Glory” - the kind people write and sing about, which we'll remember for the rest of our lives as a crowning triumph (even if only over our former limitations).

So congratulations to my fellow crew mates across the entire fleet on your accomplishment, and I look forward to sharing stories (and drinks) in Punta. Only a few more sails to wool!