Race 2 - Day 11
Crew Diary - Race 2 Day 11: Punta del Este to Cape Town
15 October

A persistent shake shake shake of the bunk is a different feeling than the rolling back and forth of the keeling Unicef CV21 and it is how I distinguish my wake up call by fellow crew, versus the everyday movement of the big blue ocean against our hull. Extending my arm through the small breathing gap between the cabin roof and the hiked-up bunk, I give a sleepy thumbs up to indicate consciousness. And this is how it all begins. The start of the midnight watch.

A good level of gymnastic style balance and childlike jungle gym experience is required to move from the bunk shelf down the wall to the 45 degree-angled floor boards and begin the process of donning the eight to nine layers of gear, mostly New Zealand merino, in order to keep toasty warm against the elements. When I am adequately puffed round, booted up, zipped in, and still in a sleepy haze, trying to work out if last night's dream of swimming with orca whales was in fact a reality, the thankful red light of the galley guides the way forward. Being greeted with the warm smile of the support watch galley-superstars, an offer of a hot drink and a cheery good morning, makes you instantly aware and grateful of our wonderful crew. Time speeds up, as the upper deck calls for a change over. A couple of spoonfuls of an unidentified red lit warm meal, a gulp of water, foulies on, life harness on, tether check, hat, googles and gloves on and finally ready for action.

White sail surfing

Climbing up the companionway steps the cold wet blast hits, and you can only just make out in the darkness of the night a series of bodies clipped up on the high side, stationary, bobbing with each swell that passes, clearly exhausted. With our fresh energy the new watch team are ready to go and the change over banter begins. What line is where, is anything broken, what was the top speed, what's the course, what's the wind doing, how are the squalls, did you see any whales, what's for dinner, is it good, are you okay, and what did you dream about? And with all that a new helm is transitioned in the pitch-black night and the other pack of wet tired bodies descend and unclip into the red glow of the galley.

When the night is overcast with black bulging clouds of rain, and the moon and stars of the southern hemisphere are masked, helming is one-part compass focus and the other parts feel of the gut and wind on the cheeks. One boot foot is pressed against the sailing board and the other spread up the high side to port, as a strong wide stance is required to maintain course and leverage power for racing speed. With two reefs secured in our mainsail to make it smaller under the rocking ocean and gusty wind, our boom extended right out deep dipping itself into the ocean starboard side, we are full white sail racing. It takes a few moments to get into the groove of the helm, with senses heightened under the blackness of the night - the surfing begins.

Sswwshhhh! Down a giant tumbling wave our 70 foot racing vessel glides and a glow of phosphorescent gently lights the hull with a magical dance of little glow warm fire crackers. Spissssh! A wave hits the bow and then crashes port side up and over the black line of shapes of the crew clipped on in the night, and into my eyes and mouth, just a moment too late to yell 'WAVE', this delay causing a full crew drenching. The taste of this cold salty ocean and the crispy chill on my face is familiar and must mean we have dipped below 40 degrees south, in to the Southern Ocean. It jolts into my mind memories of home and the wild west coast beauty and buoyant sea of the Cook Strait of Aotearoa New Zealand.

Chasing speed at the helm in the night surfing the Atlantic Ocean is one of the most extraordinary experiences of a lifetime.

Feeling grateful for the prep work prior to race training, the body strong enough to leverage the wheel with each surfing wave, legs squatting up and down, core on, arms and hands turning and trying to time the dance with the ocean juts right. Wooosssshhh! Down a wave we go and I hear a 'WOOHOO!' coming from my port side shoulder as a thrilled fellow watch member gives me a pat on the back and we share in the adrenaline of the moment.

In between the concentration of helming, watching out for changing weather systems, trimming and trying to keep warm and dry in the night, there is a rare time for mindful solitude.

Recently leaving Punta del Este, Uruguay, my thoughts are filled with the friendly faces of the children that boarded Team Unicef and their delight and excitement with giving the grinders a go, heading up to the bow, having a turn on the helm, and giggling at the crammed spaces we live in. Punta del Este was one of kind; Uruguayan warm hospitality and the generosity from the locals will be with me forever.

And thoughts of home. The huge process of a year's worth of training, saving, down sizing, injury setbacks and rehabilitation, learning the ropes and travelling from 41 degrees south Wellington New Zealand to make it to Liverpool United Kingdom for the race across the Atlantic. The hundreds of people who have supported the story so far, at the boat show, yacht club, Rotary, work, gym, quiz night, for Unicef New Zealand, with time, words, actions and donations, each of your faces with your big smiles passing through my mind with incredible warmth. No words can justify the immense feeling of generosity and support, and I can only hope to continue to pay this generosity forward to our community.

Team Unicef getting though the race

Team Unicef has experienced a few challenges so far in the race across the South Atlantic that have set us back, however have eventuated in an impressive standard of human performance. Damaging a forestay under a gruelling spinnaker wrap took us a few days to work through as a team, with everyone contributing hours of ideas, DIY ingenuity, fuel for the crew, and the strength to jury rig a solution. A remarkable group of people from such diverse backgrounds, ages, cultures, lifted each others spirits up and pulled our minds together to get us racing again. It was one epic moment when the vessel was in hove to, the deck was bare, and all 18 bodies of crew were squashed and piled onto one another at the bow, hauling back onto the deck an ocean weighted spinnaker with pure grit and a lot of humour. This moment showed the true heart of our crew and the tenacity of Team Unicef; human persistence, tolerance and of course elation and celebration! Oh those damn kites - how you have tested us!

Ending the midnight watch

Back to the dark, wet, wild and cold air of the midnight watch, the four-hour shift is up for renewal, as slowly another series of shadowy bodies emerge out of the red glow to take over. The friendly banter is had with extraordinary stories of dreams and even larger stories of record-breaking speeds, before we descend below the deck to be greeted by another tired but friendly face offering us something hot for our chilled bones. What bliss to slurp on a steaming bowl of soup and fresh bread! Compliments are all round as we all know what it takes to prepare a meal under a 45-degree keeling galley space.

And with all that, the night watch concludes and we morph into administration mode to keep everything ship shape: bilges to bail, heads (toilets) to spruce up, bread to make, navigation to check, tracks to be plotted, kites to patch and sew, and sheets (ropes) to be whipped.

And yes, some days we are tired, sick or grumpy too, after a full throttle watch, but all that gets shaken off in a jiffy when you are surrounded by a crew with the enthusiasm, empathy, tolerance and skill as we have on the Unicef crew.

We are all linked, you see. A common focus to race around the world no matter what conditions present to us, and place a spot light on human perspective, as we race for the critical awareness and funds for the most vulnerable children of our world.

Kia ora to all those supporting us - we can not achieve this without you. Cape Town will be my final stop of this challenge after the Atlantic and South Atlantic Crossings. To those at home, I'll be seeing you very soon, to those racing, may the wind be always at your back and the sun shine warm upon your face, until we meet again.