Race 11 - Day 3
Crew Diary - Race 11 Day 3
13 May
“Downwind”...are we even sure we remember what this means? This is apparently the downwind leg – gentle, light spinnaker days in hot, hot sunshine. As a worlder, having just endured eight weeks of cold, cold – cold! – and overcast, gloomy weather with huge waves and big winds to contend with, I can confirm those of us that have been on the boat for a while have been looking forward to this for a long time. But for the first days of the race we’ve been beating upwind, pushing against weather that doesn’t want us to go south and west, winds that seemingly back even tighter hourly against our chosen course, long hours of rain, and temperatures that first cause us to tuck our nipped cheeks deeper into our collars, and then chill us to the bone with deep, damp cold in the depths of the night watches. The heel of the boat on an upwind heading is well known for making an already difficult environment seriously, maddeningly uncomfortable – in past races we’ve even taken to labelling the degrees of tilt with the conditions they engender. Ten degrees – adjust your bunk. Twenty degrees – restow everything you thought was secure, that is now littering the corridor. Thirty degrees – rethink your bowel habits. Forty-five degrees – descend into jittery, muttering insanity. Our new joiners are determinedly battling seasickness, and the fatigue and shock of being thrown into these conditions so rapidly. So then where is this ‘downwind’, this flat boat, this sunshine? What is it like? Will we ever see it again?
Well, we have to remember we’re still up in the North Pacific. Even in these more coastally-driven conditions, the weather can be unpredictable, the winds strong, the temperatures cold. We motored out through the beautiful Puget Sound to the Race Start, smelling the rich, earthy scents of the fir trees and admiring the incredible mountain vistas in the ‘land warmth’ and sunshine, but relentlessly the temperature dropped as we got to the open ocean: t-shirts were first replaced with mid-layers; mid-layers with jumpers; jumpers with coats; coats with foulies. Dreams of flying a kite from the first day and only dropping it once we reached Panama soon gave way to gritted teeth as the boat progressively heeled and the wind strengthened.
Ocean racing – and indeed circumnavigation – is not, in the end, about the sailing, in many ways. These boats can handle everything from the lightest to the toughest conditions, and with many miles under our belt, those of us that have been here for a while have become familiar with the routines of the sail plans and procedures to handle most of them. But as the miles roll on in their hundreds daily, we are all increasingly understanding just what it means to make it all the way – through a race, or around the world. Sailing might become more routine, but after ten races, weeks and months of all winds and weather, successive short stopovers with limited rest, we worlders are digging ever deeper to find the mental fortitude for the progressive, seemingly endless endurance needed for these harder days – the fortitude that we will need to see this circumnavigation through to the end.
What have I understood in this ‘race of my life?’ I better know this fortitude. It isn’t extreme mental toughness or crazed determination. It’s the ability to see the big picture: to remember that however tough the conditions, in a few days the weather will change, the winds shift; to see that when anyone is struggling, there’s always a ready arm around their shoulder; to know that if those of us that have done many miles are fatigued, our brilliant new joiners are here to bring back the energy and enthusiasm.
As I have been putting together these words, we’ve been forging south – off Washington, then Oregon, now off the California coast. Slowly, slowly, the temperatures have lifted, the skies have become less grey, the wind has relented to a more favourable angle and the boat has begun to flatten. Our new joiners are recovering from seasickness, getting to grips with the routines, taking over the key roles, and reminding us with their excitement what a great adventure this truly is. Just a short time ago I heard the spinnaker being hoisted and looking up at the companionway I see the sun coming out. “Downwind”? At last, here it is again. And so,we race on.