Cold, wet, numb. My personality has been described as many things over the years (parents can be so cruel), but only now has my mind and body come together in total symbiosis, the North Pacific taking one look at me and deciding I no longer have the need for feeling in any of my extremities. To be fair the majority of me is warm – having adopted my patented 7 layer system I’m roasty toasty at my core. It involves a merino wool base layer, a second merino wool layer, a merino wool hoodie, merino wool pants, merino wool long johns, plus assorted other layers of goodness. I’m essentially half man half merino wool sheep at this point. A ‘merinotaur’ if you will. However, and it is a big however, what is going on with my hands and feet? They are in a permanent state of cold and dank. Where are the sailing gloves that stay dry and warm and dexterous? Where are the boots and socks that don’t get sodden and stay sodden? Where? WHERE?!
We have a rota onboard for all boat jobs, blog included. Back in Subic Bay I saw my little name up there for the 14th April and thought, oh, how lovely, I’ll get to do a nice recap of the race just before we finish and start our motor into Seattle. Given I’m a complete and utter wally, I’ve ever so slightly miscalculated as we still have almost 2,000 miles to go. As I sit here typing I am on my 5th (FIFTH!) stint in the galley. At this stage I have Mothered so many times I’m considering asking our on board surgeon Holly to perform an emergency hysterectomy. And whilst biology and logic clearly play no role in my thought process, I think we can all agree it’s been a long time spent at sea.
So, Leg 6 recap so far it is then. You’ve been watching the tracker and don’t need me to tell you about the ding dong battle we’ve had at the front of the pack – 3 gate points in the bag, but how we’d love to get so many more with a strong finish into Seattle. It says a great deal for the overall quality of the crew and our attitude to racing that I’ll be disappointed if we don’t win, or at least podium, but whatever happens I’ll be immensely proud of the effort we’ve put in.
There’s been mention before in the Unicef blogs about Type 1 and Type 2 fun – the former being fun at the time and the latter possibly seeming like fun on reflection. You know, the type of fun you have running the marathon as your feet blister and your nipples bleed. Fun, fun, fun. Well, you’ve probably figured out already that this has been mostly Type 2 fun. In large part this is because we’ve done the vast majority of the race beating upwind, the boat heeled over, smashing through waves, drenching the crew on deck and causing life below to be something of a challenge. I thought this was meant to be a downwind surf from Japan, the whole crew yelling wheeeeeeeee all the way to Seattle. I’m not sure if the expected trade winds have been embargoed as part of an ongoing sanctions package against the East, or even if they were meant to be there at all. As with anything I say here or in general life, I really have no idea what on earth I’m talking about.
That all said, I’m absolutely fine with the conditions. This is what we signed up for. Rephrase – this is what the majority of people signed up for. There are perhaps one or two who not so much failed to read the small print as completely glossed over the big print. Ian promised us a tough race and this is exactly what we’ve got, and that is entirely as it should be. As JFK would likely have said had he signed up for Leg 6, ‘we choose to cross the North Pacific not because it is easy but because it is hard’ He’d probably also have muttered, Ich bin ein tin of corned beef – but joyless wrap fillings at lunchtime are a subject for another day.
As a matter of fact, I don’t think it’s actually been too hard (Leg 2 remains the literal high water mark on that front). We’ve been drilled so well by Ian and Dan prior to the race that the real thing quickly became second nature. We’re a relatively light crew in terms of numbers but have adopted what I like to call a total sailing approach – people more than willing to come up on deck in their off watch to assist with an evolution on deck. There are some incredible grafters amongst our crew and it’s a pleasure to witness. In any case, it’s a mental challenge more than a physical one in my opinion. Yes, you have to be able to heave a new sail to the forestay; yes, you have to sweat that new sail up; yes, you have to be able to move around the deck, pulling in lines and clipping between jackstays as you go. But first you have to have the mental fortitude to actually get out of bed, put on your still wet clothes and steel yourself for the watch ahead. To say you’re going to give it your all and leave nothing out there as you don’t want to let your team down. That’s the real challenge and one of the joys of ocean racing and team sport in general.
So, a week or so to go and all to play for. Let’s hope we get in soon and I don’t rotate round the jobs rota again and have to write a third Pacific blog. It will be a dark, dark read if I do. Instead, let’s get in, have the party we’ve all been craving (OK, I’ve been craving) and then go again for our race down to Panama and beyond.