Oh baby we sprinting. Just woke up to a 12.1 knot average boat speed over the last six hours. We have had 12 foot waves and a lot of water over the deck. Helming last night felt like, what I imagine, popping a go kart at the top of a double black Mowgli ski run, and sending it down the hill, with no brakes and the driver blindfolded, would feel like. It makes for quite the ride, and one clings onto the helm desperately preventing themselves from being thrown round the deck by the swells.
You can hear the water thrashing either side of the boat as we cut our way through the swell, with the occasional wave making its way over the boat aft of the traveller, slapping you fresh in the face.
I commented this morning that the water here is saltier than normal, which got a lot of giggles, but those saltwater slaps on the helm last night were serious. Some of you wonder what changes onboard during the sprint; it depends on the circumstances and the crew. Dan and I debate where is best to enter the sprint, and whether to take a straight line for less miles, or point towards the next mark of the course. Helming becomes a fine art, with often two people acting as co-helms to help keep us on course.
Beyond that, we just do the same thing as usual; sailing one day after another. We have been sailing one day after another for some time now, and we are halfway around the world, so it seems to be working okay!
Laura