The different head spaces you get into whilst doing these long ocean races is hilarious. The way they color your day-to-day perspective. When the racing is really close and the outcome is uncertain, every six-hour race update brings a change in mood. It's been a good mood schedule (scheduled update) for the last four, with us slightly pulling ahead of the rest of the boats each time. The last one was the first bad mood schedule, Zhuhai did a better course at half a knot faster, reducing our lead to 10 miles. What adds to the anxiety is that because they have a better angle to the wind, our lead is likely to reduce further, or disappear completely.
Before I started the Clipper Race, I read a book called 'Team Spirit' by a previous Clipper Race winning skipper. He talked about this 6-hour up-down emotional rollercoaster. Something to avoid I thought, not I, I'm going to be professional and show a good face even when it's going badly, after all, it's only a job. But here I am, one hand holding my head, one hand finger typing this blog. The next update is due in an hour, so in the meantime, I'm going to go and stand next to the helm, obsessively trimming and watching the GPS Speed change second by second (its own little real-time emotional rollercoaster and a great substitute for scheds.) The only thing that gets me through it is the crew and the sea. They see my worry and meet it with funny anecdotes and discussions over wind conditions and Oban. The back of the boat helps too, bioluminescent plankton have been replaced by bioluminescent jellyfish which stream away from the boat like confetti, in more of a plume than the normal plankton. They don't have to think about schedules, and soon nor will I. Me, Ineke, and the RTW-ers will soon be human jellyfish for at least a month.
Joss, Ineke, and the now well-versed in my silliness Seadogs
P.S. Thank you to my mum who is bringing a bottle of Whiskey to the dock, whatever the result, we're going to need it.