Gone with the wind?

Only 200 miles to Cape Town, sailing with a consistent 9 knots, so the
bets are high on us reaching the end of this leg by late tomorrow…
It felt like the whole race has gone by in an instant, and although I'm
looking forward to the finish line from a racing perspective, I can't
help to regret it's coming to an end.
And, having said that, it sounds like the best time to have a look back
at the race, its ups and downs…

Top things I will be missing dearly:
- Sailing, especially helming during a sun rise or sun set, or
moon rise or set. Even more so if we're sailing through big swells, the
feeling is surely elevating
- Waking up and getting on deck to face the infinite horizon lying
in all directions. Being greeted with a bright pallet of colors or an
impressive night crowded with stars. Admiring the sea and the sky for
their inspiring, simple, yet changing and comprehensive beauty. Having
the time to concentrate on and appreciate this amazing universe, without
the distractions of the city-life
- Sheer single mindedness and simplicity in boat life.
Concentration on sailing, and nothing else really
- Deciding upon a sail change, and running it. The physical
challenge in carrying, hanking, dropping, flipping, bagging the huge
sails, running all the lines, trimming to the new setting. All followed
by the meditating moments of relaxation, when there's not a sound of a
thought, just the amazing feeling of charm for the sails and the nature
all around; it's a moment of admiration of and total submission to
nature.
- Helming, especially through 20 knots plus and high seas. The
responsibility alone of keeping the boat and crew safe, yet meeting the
course and speed expectations is demanding. This topped with the
physical effort and absolute concentration required to make it happen is
a perfect challenge. Helming, even under easier conditions, the feeling
of making miles in the middle of the Atlantic while driving a 68 foot
racer is blinding. I will be missing it most dearly
- Climbing up the spinnaker pole for a spinnaker drop / change.
God, that's amazing. Climbing via the rope that holds the pole down,
then sitting on the pole about 4-5meters above and about 3 meters away
from deck promises the view of the sea running directly beneath my foot,
and a nice bird-eye view of the boat. Accompanied by a brief adrenalin
rush as the boat's movement and the pull of the spinnaker is felt even
more strongly up there. I don't know what's so chanting for me about
heights, but I always get a rewarding feeling when I climb up somewhere
on deck. (I apparently belong to a different specie: climbers. The ones
who would envy the person wearing a harness, and would be happy to be
hoisted up in any weather. There are a few on board, spread across the
three watches to ensure all are happy)
- The foredeck experience, running the lines to go while being
splashed by waves at a rocking pulpit is another experience I will miss
dearly
- Listening to the movement of the boat and the waves hitting the
hull when I lie down in my bunk for a sleep. Feeling the sea flow right
by me is soothing, and the sound is like a lullaby.
- The occasional interactions with wild-life. The sea-birds which
kept us in company particularly in leg 2, the dolphins which would come
around for a play at times, the huge impressive whales showing off their
massiveness.
- The crew chats, and how the different personalities came
together to form a great team. Definitely have gained friendships of a
life time, and will be missing these newly made relations.
- Living on so few items, having as few things as a monk, amazing
how much access items we feel we're in need of in our daily lives.

Things I will be thankful for coming back to:
- Leaving the "favela" smells behind. Good lord, that's a heavy,
unpleasant one
- Not wearing layers over layers, and definitely not being
bothered about the foul weather gear. It's sooo hard to get into and get
out of with all the water protections seals and no zipper at the front.
Very heavy and bulky. I wonder if it's just a foul-gear for the trouble
it gives. Definitely will not be missing feeling like an astronaut at
each watch. The other thing I will not miss about the gear will be the
safety line. We clip on almost always, and get tangled very frequently
when it's stuck to a rope, particularly annoying when trying to carry a
sail forward. I thought so much about dogs suffering their collor and
line on this trip…
- Taking a proper shower. Even on daily basis! What a bless?
Haven't taken one since 18 days now, I know, disgusting, but feels less
so when no one does. We have gone back to our baby days: we take a
baby-wipe shower to avoid infections and skin breakdown.
- Proper toilets, with a proper toilet flush, one which you don't
have to pump 40 times to deplete the contents, and which does not block
every so often. One that does not move, and risk to throw you out of the
cabin in inadequate manner.
- A big, soft, stable bed, with clean fresh linings, in which I
can take a 6 hour undisturbed sleep.
- Healthy, quality food. We're literally hallucinating about good
food: a cheese plate starter with white wine, a thick medium-rare steak
with grilled vegetables and fresh salad as side dishes accompanied with
a strong red wine, fruit salad served with a orange juice&liquor syrup
and topped with ice-cream, an intense dessert: preferably a chocolate
soufflé served with double cream, powder sugar and a few strawberries to
go with it. Give a brief break to enjoy a digestive port wine.
Gooooodddddd
- A good long walk, or a run is even better. It would be a
pleasure to use some leg muscles for a purpose other than balancing.

And the best moments to remember:
- Two moments at the helm: the one at 30-40 knots breeze with 4-5m
waves and swells in Leg2, and helming through a heavy squall in Leg1.
Woooooo
- Doing the rig check in the middle of the ocean in Leg1. It was
an impressive view, and so pleasant to be so high up, while it was as
hard to hold on
- Two special moments up at the pole: the first time we peeled the
spinnaker in Leg1 (basically deploy a spinnaker when the first one is
still on, and drop the primary one afterwards; requires to go up the
pole with the new spinnaker's clew, the new halyard, and run a exchange
the setting from one spinnaker to the other). Also, going up there at
night when we were screaming 12-14 knots and through big swells. I
really was holding there for my dear life in Leg2…
- The night in Leg2, when we had a clear sky glimmering with
stars and a bright moon, one of the few. We watched the moon set in
amazing dark orange colors, the changing color of the sky from darkness
first to navy blue, dissolving at every moment into lighter blues at
dawn. And then watched the sun rise, in pinks and oranges, splashing its
rays through the few clouds. All in one watch. It was heavenly
- Setting out from Hull, saluting the cheering 100 thousand
spectators. Then the silent race starts from La Rochell in the lead of
Joshua, and the Rio start where we sailed at the shores of Sugar Loaf
and Copacabana Beach. Sailing head to head against the rest of the
fleet, and leaving the land behind. They were all so pleasant moments…
- Dropping a yankee double-handed at 25 knots wind. It was
dreadfully hard, yet I felt pretty proud of it once I was through it.
- The few times when Dolphins came in to play with the boat. They
give me a sense on intense happiness and excitement. Such playful,
clever, agile, lean and beautiful creatures. Amazing…
- When the bread we made on our final motherwatch, under very
challenging circumstances turned out to be absolutely amazing. I offered
a walnut-raisin one, while Davide cooked one with herbs. Both were
strictly favoured by the crew, nice:)
- The first meal I ate after I got over flu & sea-sickness in
Leg1.

So much so for the recap. Overall, it was an impressive experience,
challenging physically and at times mentally or socially, yet very very
rewarding. Improved dramatically in terms of sailing, and discovered a
new source of patience and acceptance within me against situations one
cannot change. And overall, I have raced sailing across two oceans! I
know it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but if you feel any excitement
within yourself about it, I would strongly recommend you to get up and
give it a go…

Sailing the very last bits now.
Will keep you posted about the end of the race as well, so keep an eye
on me for another day or two:)

Sailing under alternating weather conditions, and only a few days off from Cape Town

Some news from the past few days: we have been having a some nice
sailing, really. The sea state has settled just a bit, we now have more
regular ocean swells of 1-2meters, which are more managable for keeping
a steady course. The wind has been a bit tricky: changing both direction
and speed, challenging us for major sail changes through the days.
Therefore, the past few days have been physically pretty challenging:
change from white sails to spinnikar, and back, then drop them all, reef
the main in, then out. Trim, trim, trim...

The weather conditions have been as deviating as the wind state as well,
from a sunny warmish day to a freezing cold, rainy and dark night.
ie: we had a freezing cold watch from 3 to 6 am this morning. Pretty
damp with rain drizzels now and then. Wind was gusting from 20 knots to
30 knots and back, knocking the boat to a sharp tilt. Had to get the
yankee down and put two reefs in. Helming was a challenge on its own:
surf the swells and fight against the gusts while personally fighting
against the icy cold (yes, I had my fair share of it). Having two woolen
base layers, thick mid layers and foulies on still could not keep the
cold out, I had to creep into my sleeping bag and launch some warm
patches to heat up my hands and feet as soon as the shift was over,
cold was so draining... Then 12 pm shift greeted us with a sunny day,
blue sky with patches of clouds looking like scattered cotton pieces, a
nice steady breeze coming from behind. Spinniker up once again, and
layers significantly reduced...

Were now just a few days off from Cape Town, bets are that we'll be
there on late Saturday, if all goes well. Unfortuntaely, after the
several patches of still & foul weather we fell into, we're not
competing for the top ranks this time. Looks like we'll be finishing
9th. We're not allowing this to reflect into our sailing though, still
pushing hard to get the most out of the wind we have, and prove that
when weather permits, we're a great sailing team.

While everyone on board, especially the leggers, share mixed feelings
about arriving to Cape Town: we want to finish as fast as we can in a
racing perspective, however feel regretful that it's coming to an end.
Well, alike all good things I assume...

So much so for the day... Will catch up on a bit of sleep now, before my
night shift
Keep an eye on me...

18.9

18.9: the speed in knots I have reached while surfing down a significant
wave in a pitch dark night under 35 knots wind.
With the end of my mother-watch (which felt like a prison while there
was such strong winds and sea up on deck), I was back on deck last night
to enjoy the crumpets of the storm being past us. The night was as dark
as emptiness, even the horizon line could not be distinguished. Pretty
damp, with showers of rain or waves washing us every now and aganin.
The wind still strong, mostly around 30-35 knots, gusting upto 45
knots occassionally. The waves had reached their maximum strength after
two days of heavy wind, huge ocean swells. The swell would push to
turn the boat downwind as it approached the aft, job of helm is to keep
to keep the boat straight so the boat can climb on the wave, and surf it
down the wave as it speeds on its way beneath the boat. The bow of the
boat would heal down as we climbed on a wave, and the boat would speed
up up up as we climbed down it. Awsome, awsome, awsome sailing

The winds have unfortunately died down a bit, to 20-25 knots. We have
a blue sky again. The sea is still pretty rough, though with the swells
left behind the storm. I did a bit of more helming in the morning
(16.5knots was my top speed for the morning, ehehehe), and we had a gybe
without breaking anything (it was a bit of a challenge as the waves were
spinning the boat in every direction). So all is good...

We're a few days away from Cape Town now. Coming closer to the end of my
story for this race... Himmmm, will be missing so many things about this
experience... But until then,I will keep posting news as they happen

Keep an eye on me:)

The long awaited weather arrived, with a pinch of salt on my side

News of the three days...
The previous two days were torturous, we were left with absolutely no
wind as we fell behind the low pressure system, sitting in the middle of
South Atlantic in misery, while the rest of the fleet was screaming
miles over miles... Situation not recommended. It requires a rich stock
of patience, and has a lot to keep a stiff upper lip about.
That misery finally came to an end today very early morning: we were the
first boat to get into another depression system coming from south-west.
Finally, for the first time, we happened to make more milage than the
rest of the fleet for a schedule period. Not enough to put us back into
the game, but provides a source of motivation.
The weather and sea state has proven South Atlantic its' worth: 3-5m of
waves, approaching from port aft, in low frequencies, still breaking on
the boat, wind continuously blowing around 30 knots, gusting to 35,
occassionally upto 50knots. 2 reefs in (basically, making the main sail
much smaller), smaller head sails hoisted, still we're only able to
steer marginally among being pushed to an accidental gybe by a strong
wave, or being overpowered and broached by a strong gust. The helm is a
struggle, there's a tiny interval of comfortable helming (about five
degrees), from which a wave or a gust steers the boat away, requiring
great effort to maintain the boat's stability. ABSOLUTELY GREAT
STUFF...In the mean time, we're made wet by waves, made wet by the rain,
really challenging.
Yet, I had to take all this with a pinch of salt: I could only enjoy it
for only 3 hours, before my Motherwatch Torturous Prison time started
AGAIN... This one, has been a mental, emotional and physical challenge:
having helmed for just enough to introduce myself to the pleasure and
being deprived of it immediately feels like a punishment already. This,
without considering the status at the galley; which is far from being
civilised: the boat heals from 50-60 degress onto one side to to
30degress to the other in every 5 minutes, crushes into waves, and
trying cooking and washing up physically hurts (I have a serious bruise
at my back now, as well as two burns: one on the hand the other on the
leg from a tray flying over and a tea spilling). The Equator Baptising
of pasting food over us (which we passed) has caught up with me today at
the galley. Half of my shorts is covered in hot chocolate (a half full
glass simply landed over me at a tilt), a quarter with canned tomatoes
(half of a a newly opened can spilled all through the galley), socks
soaked in chilly oil souce (lucky about that one, the jar had an
artistic jump from the storage basket and attacked the galley. Missed me
by a cm, and landed and crushed by me), shirt soaked in milk and tea.
Through this race, anything that happened had an adventure about it. I
had not felt grumpy, until today: today I gave in... Knowing what I'm
missing up on deck, and being imprisoned to a painful and very
unpleasant job in the mean time has been one thing I could not be
positive about.
Looking at it from the bright side: we did cook one of the best dinners
on board, rice with a delicious tuna sauce, panatony served with a
special cinnamon sauce, 4 loafs of bread: two with herbs, 2 with
wallnuts and raisins.
Nevertheless, I have never been into cooking, but after this traumatic
experience, I think I might just as well live in a house without a
kitchen. Can cook if I need to, but WON'T cook.
Sooooooo looking forward to being on deck again, and helming...
That's the news from the past days
Keep an eye on me:)

Lonely Planet

Here we are, across the Atlantic one more time, and almost half way
through it...

The days on land left far behind, we're once again back into the rithim
of the sea. Sleeping patterns adjusted to the watches, eating habits
multiplied in carbohydrate intake and calories (and still merely enough,
God, hunger creeps in so quickly here. It's feels like the continuous
motion digests and consumes all that we put in), walking in small
cautious clumsy steps, concentration singlemindedly on sailing,
positions, wind forecast. Once again we're appreciating the huge horizon
lying all around us.

Yet, this run is a totally different experience than the Leg before.

The regular trade wind runs of North Atlantic are far behind now.
Instead, the southern sections of South Atlantic is challenging us with
alternating winds in between high pressure systems and depressions
creeping in them. We can be exposed to all sorts of winds from the
lightest down-winds to strong blazes up-wind in 12 hours time. We're all
fully alert for any single change in the wind speed or direction. This
also naturally implies that hoisting a sail and sailing with it for
several days is long gone as well. We usually have at least one sail
change per watch if not more, making it physically more challenging.
Even more so, when the rougher sea state we're exposed to is considered.
The ocean swells are definetly larger, the waves have a tendency to get
more irregular due to changes in the wind direction, and as we spend
more time going up-wind, we have to head bang into these waves, rather
than pleasantly surf on them. The name of the game has shifted from
concentrating on squeezing the best out of mostly steady and expected
conditions, to managing rougher seas and winds.

The wind and sea state are not the only changes, of course. These are
accomponied by the change in weather: sunny days was a given which we
took for granted in the last leg, whereas it's a pleasant surprise which
we enjoy in this leg. Much alike British weather. Grey sky, usually not
even decorated with different shapes of clouds. Watching the Sun and
Moon rise and set with a wide pallet of amazing colors, feeling blessed
under a sky so full of stars that it's almost bright are good memories.
We have grey sky, grey-blue sea. Together with the sun, shorts and
t-shirts are another thing we have left behind. The hot days, when we
were trying to survive the heat and keep cool are no longer. This leg is
about maintaining the body temperature. The preparation for taking over
a watch has gone longer, as we need to put on layers of clothing: base
layers, mid layers, foulies. Once we're ready to go (especially during
night watches), we usually feel like astronouts (full empathy and
appreciation for them, for managing to put that huge kit on, and still
be able to move in it).

Well... Southern Atlantic also makes itself noticed with a sense on
loneliness. At North Atlantic, we would be on watch for ships, and every
now and again, we surely would have at least one, if not a few. We would
see some sea-life around. Whereas South Atlantic reveals a sense of a
lost-world. We watch for a ship in the anticipation of seeing one,
finally; it has been days on end that we have not come across any. We're
surely missing the dolphins, whales and even the kamikaze flying fish
(which were in the habit of haunting us during night watches). There
were only two times we saw whales, and Dolphins only once. We are simply
thankful to the sea-birds for their company though. Without them, this
world would have been absolutely deserted to our eyes. (Havign said
that, we wish we had brought a book on sea-birds. None of us know their
species, and sincerely wonder about them now)

So, here we go... Half way through the South Atlantic, having totally
different stories to tell versus the previous leg.

Keep an eye on me:)

Great News: Favela smells are back

Yes, Favela Smells are back; indicating that the hatch is closed, and
for very good reasons.
WE FINALLY HAVE WIND!
Thank you very much for all the wishes of good luck, prayers, chants and
all; they surely did work!
We're over the wind-hole we had been suffering in the previous days,
which trashed our ranking and brought us to the end of the fleet. Wind
finally started building in two days ago, with many shifts as well. We
had a strong up-wind run yesterday, with 20 knots of breeze. It kept
building and shifting, yielding to a spinnaker hoist at 5am this morning
under 25 knots of breeze. Aaaaaahhhh, sooo gooooood to be making speed
again!
Spirits are high, as we are no longer disheartened to see that we're
falling further and further behind at each position report. On the
contrary, we're now making a few miles better milage than some of the
fleet for the first time in quite a few days. We're still last, 250
miles behind the leading boat, but aware that there are yet 2000 miles
to go, and a few wind-shifts which may work in favour of any boat… So,
we're waiting to see, keeping high hopes for the days to come, and
sailing as best as we can.
Which I'm proud to say, we're doing very well indeed. We're currently
running a 3 watch system, which means we're on for 3 hours, off for 3
hours, and on stand-bye for another 3 hours. This requires a higher
concentration and effort on deck during watch, as there are only 5 to
run the boat at a time, and helps us to get a bit more rest to recover
from this concentration. Running evolutions (major change in sail
settings, like dropping a sail and hoisting a new one) with so few
people on deck is physically pretty demanding, and yet very satisfying.
The most recent one we had was this morning, we carried the heavy weight
spinnaker up on deck, ran the lines, dropped the staysail, set the pole,
hoisted the spinny, dropped the yankee, packed. I was at foredeck
(great! Requires lots of effort, running the lines, moving all the sails
around, carrying the pole. Definitely soaked with a few waves). And I
have to say, I was proud of bringing the huge yankee (~140m2) down
double-handed, gave myself and the mate at the pulpit a pat on the
shoulder.

And on the social side of the story, this watch system gives us a better
chance to have a brief chat with people across watches when we're
below-deck.

Other news from the past days: It was once again my shift to do the
Motherwatch, starting from the afternoon of the previous day, until
yesterday afternoon. The previous day was absolutely good fun, when we
were sailing down-wind, the boat was balanced, and life below-deck was
"civilized". We were three (one mother from each watch), and prepared a
boat specialty dine in much amusement: portugees style beef stew with
vegetables, rice, baked potatoes with bachemel sauce, and wet panacota
cake served with custard… A feast for the boat. However, I cannot claim
yesterday to be as pleasant, try mothering while bouncing over waves,
and heeling by 45 degrees, tough work, and definitely gives quite a few
bruises.
The 1.5m2 galley (kitchen), feels like a tilt machine, with the mothers
bouncing from its walls and corners. For moving around and about while
getting things done, you have to play the "twister" game against the
other mothers: move your right leg over the left leg of Davide extended
across galley and fixed at the edge of a locker for balance, to the edge
of another locker, hold the rail with your right arm, while missing
Carol's who holds onto the same rail for her dear life, done? Yes. Left
had carries the cattle. Move your left leg quickly over Davide's left
leg, and land on the floor right across the locker you're balancing on.
Do Not Hit Davide with the cattle while doing so. Everyone still alive?
Yes. Balance yourself at the edge of the sink (bruising the hips at
every bouce), pump water into the cattle with your left leg. Done? So
far… Reverse all for carrying the cattle back. Done? Yes? Well done…
Evaluation of the putting-cattle-to-boil project: 7 minutes, 200
kalories, 2 bruises. So far, we're on the 9th day of the race, had 4
upwind days, 2 of which coincided to my Motherwatch, talk about luck?

Final news of the past days: wild-life… We have 3 different types of sea
birds accompanying us on the journey. I did wish I knew better about
their species… Definitely not the Albatros yet. Also, we had three whale
incidences: we saw a few travelling and showing off their huge fins,
tails and bodies in a mile distance from us. Then had two, which just
rolled their huge backs on the water a few feet away from the boat… It's
impossible not to be amazed… We have been deprived of the beautiful
colors of the sun & moon rise & set, as well as the night skies full of
stars by the very cloudy and misty weather, but the wild-life is making
up for the loss?

So, that's the news from the past few days…
Keep an eye on me, and wish us good luck for improving our ranking.

Some prayers please

We've been stuck in this little wind hole corridor for the past day,
sucking us back to the last position on the rankings in a day. Unlike
the initial forecast, the boats north and south of us seem to benefit
from heavier breeze, and here we are, lingering, crawling over smooth
seas and 3 knots of breeze if we're lucky. Unfortunately, 3 knots does
not help much for moving 35 tons by a visible speed. Seeing the other
boats are making way on us on each 6 hour report, and being stuck in the
same position still, spending watch over watch trying to squeeze a few
knots out of mini gusts and without much progress is torturous...

All followers of this blog, some support would be much appreciated at
this point of time.
We do need all your positive energy, thoughts, best wishes, prayers,
chants, super natural powers, use of "the force" and/or any other means
of connection with nature over seas, for bringing us just a touch of
breeze PLEASE...

I tried chanting on deck, using a bucket as a drum, well... That worked
for a while and brought 0.7 knots of breeze for 5 minutes. (I was
rightfully silenced by the team thereafter) So please do not
underestimate the power of your prayers...

Hoping to deliver more good and exciting news soon.
Keep an eye on me:)

The fisrt moments of disappointment on the 2nd Leg

no, it's not fair...

This leg was meant to be about grey skies, damp, if not wet conditions,
chilly to cold weather, tough winds, big waves, breaking our way towards
Cape Town. We are now getting the forst half, it is grey, chilly and
damp and wet. However the second half of the "deal" is missing... We are
impacted by the high pressure system building right about Rio. Althugh
we're sitting at pretty much the edge of it, we are already suffering
the lousy winds and smooth seas. The enjoyable tough winds and the
bouncy seas deserted the fleet in the past 18 hours. The "equator" story
once again: low winds, flapping sails, mow moods...

Looking at it from the bright side: the conditions below deck improved,
helping the crew to recover from the heavy sea sickness quite a few were
suffering from. We were finally able to open the hatch, and allow fresh
air to wash away the very heavy smell of the "favela" (the compartment
where all sails are stored, and 14 of us are sleeping in. It used to be
called the "getto", after Rio, we decided to call it the "favela":)).
This is definety a major improvement. I will rely on a journalist
honesty for a few lines, and be a bit disgusting to explain the
situation: the "favela" smell is one you should try to avoid, a toxic
combination of still air that's low on oxygen, getting heavy with
humidity raising from 14 people's breaths & the wet sails, topped up
with all kinds of unpleasant bodily smells (I will save the details, but
I can smell 5 different sources with not the best product of smells),
and finished with a touch of bilge and sail cloth smell. Sailing is the
easy bit, try surviving the favela without getting sick, THAT is the
challenge.

Still looking at it from the bright side, we are not alone in suffering
the light wind torture this time. More or less, all the fleet is pretty
much in the same wind zone. So we think we're not really falling behind
(crossing fingers). And it's a long way, we have just started it, there
are yet many cards to be played along the way...

The stressfull event of the day, which was even more stressful than the
poor winds: our watermaker broke. The pump which we had recently
installed in Rio malfunctioned. The old one refused to work either. Here
we were, sitting in the middle of the ocean with only half a tank of
fresh water:( We believed for a few hours that we would need to go
off-course, divert to a boat with a spare part, and loose sooo much
time... Fortunately, after 6 hours of mounting and taking it apart, the
new pump decided to work again. Ohh, what a relief... (David, who is the
most handy person I have ever met in my life, and Jan were working on
it. David admitted that they were not sure what made it to start working
again. Well... I suppose it just needed a bit of TLC)

The high sides of the day: being out on the ocean once again... The
exposure to the open ocean, the eternity and infinity of the horizon and
the sea, once again. Watching the different colors of the day, the sea
and the clouds... Observing the change in these for signs of different
weather conditions lying ahead. Trimming the sails, changing them,
getting physically challenged at times, and relaxing for a few hours
afterwards just appreciating the beauty and wildness of the ocean. It is
so good to be out here again.

So that's the news from the day
Keep an eye on me:)

A Totally Different Story: 2nd Leg

Hello!
We're back racing again, crossing the Atlantic for a second time,
HURRAY!!
The race start was on 27th Tuesday, and we waved goodbye to Rio on a
rainy and hasty day. Our start was across Urca, a pretty competitive
one, turned around a mark right infront of Sugar Loaf, turned another
mark at the end of Copacabana Beach. So we had a proper farewell
ceremony to Rio…

The competition among the boats soon lead itself to boat strategies, and
we diverged to the open seas. There is a bunch of boats that have
started moving strictly south, and some others that stayed more
northerly. We are currently among the second fleet.

The race itself has already hinted to have a completely different tone
and challenge versus the previous one: we have been sailing upwind in
the last two days, with 20 knots breeze, and 1m waves crushing against
us.
The life on deck is awesome, really enjoying the challenging sailing
experience, definitely more demanding physically. We have already
changed the headsails several times, almost matching the total of the
headsail changes of the previous leg. Pretty exhausting to carry the
sail on deck from below, set it up, drop the previous sail, hoist the
new one, flick the previous one, pack it and get it below. This already
hints what's awaiting us in the next two and a half weeks, exciting…

But not for all of us. The sailing conditions have already started
challenging the crew: 6 people down, sea-sick. That's 1/3 of the crew…
This was one of the reasons why we stayed a bit northerly than we had
initially wanted to, considering that the conditions further south are
even more challenging. Giving the crew to catch a breath…

Despite my zeal on-deck, I cannot claim the life below deck to be
enjoyable. As the hatches are closed, it's very hot, airless, humid, and
well, stinky down below. Moving, sleeping, using the heads, eating,
dressing up at a steep angle, with little space and while bouncing off
the waves is very demanding. Cooking and cleaning under these
circumstances, don't try thinking about it, it's draining, a mission
impossible…

And, I had to face that challenge already: Tough luck, first day
Motherwatch:( Not pleasant one bit, actually pretty torturous,
considering that I was missing the early, eager times of racing…
Anyways, at least it's over now… For another 6 days

So, that's the news from the first two days of racing…
Keep an eye on me:)

Aaaaahhhhhh... Victory slipping from our hands by a few miles...

Today, is the toughest day ever...
We finished Leg 1 as of 5 am this morning, and missed a podium place by
a few miles. The wind hole we got stuck in for 6 hours, trying to make
way in misery first through fog, then under heavy rain cost us the race,
and we finished behind Jamaica by just a few miles.
Everyone on board is awfully disappointed, the moods are pretty low,
exhaustion is dominating physically, and even the fact that we're
motoring towards Rio is not helping.
As you may guess, I'm wholeheartedly sharing the disappointment. Missing
a podium place with a few hours, after holding that place pretty well
for days on end, at the very very very last minute, after 5000 miles...
AAAAAHHHHH... Misery...
Well, there's not much more to say, really...
But to pick up our moods again, and do better in the next leg. The big
race has yet started.
We will have a start for the next leg on 27th of October.
Until then, have happier days than we're currently having...
And don't forget to keep an eye on me from 27th October onwards...

Patience, more patience...

Confirming that the wisdom lies in patiene. Once again, we have been
haing dead winds for the past 12 hours. Our patience has once again been
tested by the continuous flapping of sails and banging of sheets with
every little wave, as well as the stress of falling behind when so close
once again... Fortunately, our competitors had been in similar
conditions, at least until 6am, and we have maintained our strong 3rd
position.

I now start to believe that we are in a never ending race: we had been
projecting to reach Rio yesterday for the past five consequetive days...
Always greeted cheerfully (!) with unpleasant surprises. We won't be
crossing the line yet for another day, again, it looks like... I have
started to wonder if a city called Rio really exists, whether the world
is really round... Or the end of the race will come by falling off the
edge of the earth after racing for infinite days... Patience.. More
patience...

In the mean time, we had the haredest and most problematic watch ever
(at least so far). As the wind died down to literally no existance, and
our spinnaker started burdening us by drafting into the water or
attempting suicide by wrapping around the forestay, we decided to drop
it down. Easier said then done, as the halyard peeled off to its core,
and jammed at the top of the mast with the new external halyard we tried
to hoist earlier on. It took Jan to climb up the mast and sort it out
in half an hour while banging on the mast like a ping-pong ball attached
to a racket. It was very nasty, definitely stressful. As the wind was
still dead down, we hoisted the Windseeker. This time we did not
complain about it though, as we have ran out of properly working
spinnaker halyards, and rely on a temporary one set from outside of the
mast for a long while. Auch... We are currently half sailing half
drifting merely heading towards the finish line, but not right on
course. But, we are contempt that we're finally moving once again.
Another pearls of wisdom, once again: be contempt, embrace the
conditions...

Only 230 miles to go. Only 5 miles behind 2nd boat, yet 17 miles ahead
of the 4th. We sooo want that podium place...

So much news for the day. Keep an eye on me

What a blessed day...

Finally, we're moving. We're moving fast, and steady…
Our wind picked up at around 11, when we did a spinnaker change (a peel!
Awesome, I'll come to this exciting bit later), and had 14-15 knots boat
speed at times.

The peel was just magically on time. The idea is to hoist a new
spinnaker inside the running one, change the rigging (ropes attached to
the running spinnaker) from one to the other, drop the initial
spinnaker, and continue sailing with your new one. It looks lovely, and
it provides a smooth transition of sails without loosing much power. The
most fun part is, of course, climbing the spinnaker pole, and changing
the rope settings, before spiking (letting one end of the spinnaker go
for it to be dropped down) the initial spinnaker. Try giving a guess to
whom it was going up the pole… Not a hard question, I assume, for anyone
who knows how I love the climb. Actually, I think I was too enthusiastic
about it, because skipper mentioned leaving me there until I've had
enough of it.

The peel was JUST ON TIME: a few minutes later, the wind picked up
strongly, and we were thankful to have hoisted the spinnaker for tougher
winds? Then, another 10 minutes later, there was a snap, and the
spinnaker halyard (the rope that holds the spinnaker up on the mast)
that we were using previously broke! Wow, that was close… I think
everyone felt blessed and, protected by a mighty (may it be called
Neptune, God, Universe, Luck or "the Force")

As we once again started screaming downwind, enjoying the adrenalin and
the full concentration for flying the spinnaker, we received the latest
ranking. GOOD NEWS: we're holding our position as the third, even closed
up on the second boat by quite a few miles! Being relieved out of the
concern of falling behind in still seas we had yesterday, with yet news
of an improved position, while we were still running fast, definitely
brought the moods up on board. It's still too soon to sit back and
relax, we're in very very close postings with 2nd and 4th ranks, and
there are yet 230 miles to go.

Things change momentarily, and the wisdom lies in patience, as well as
accepting what's given, and getting the best out of it without making a
fuss. Luck can be on our side for a day, and be with another boat
another day, you never know... With the changing rankings, the shifty
and unpredictable winds, and continuous review on the navigation, the
last few days have started feeling like being on a Tibet monestary,
experiencing, learing and slowly digesting the wisdoms in life; except
that I'm getting my exposure to these at Far West, versus Far East...

So much so for the sailing news, but that's not all… We encounter the
most amazing ocean wild life scenary of the 4700 miles of sailing: we
were greeted into the morning by whales, lots of whales. And they were
not only rolling over the sea, getting their tails, fins out and waving,
even jumping off the water. Soon they were accompanied by a school of
dolphins, jumping out of the water in harmony and energy. These were
breath taking moments, when everyone was gasping, and pointing to a
newly spotted whale or a new school of dolphins. At a point of time, we
could not decide which one of these we chose to watch. Awsome…
Exhilarating… If anything (and there were lots more), the morning was
worth the miles, including the mother watch days?

Soooooo close to the finish now… Really aspiring that podium place
dearly. We're all pushing hard for it. Any wishes of good luck is very
welcomed for the next two days, at least, cross your fingers for us

So much for the news for today. Keep an eye on me

Why on Earth...

As a part of our tracking, we post boat blogs in Clipper web-site. I had
written two previously. I received pretty comforting feedback on them,
so decided to post them on my site as well. I hope you'd enjoy them..
The second one:

"Cape breton Island Diary by Hande Bayik (Legs 1, 2)

Why on Earth?

"Racing across oceans!'

The reactions of most people always ended with an exclamation mark .
Most were full of respect, some green with envy and almost all,
completely puzzled: "Why on Earth?"

Looking at it objectively, getting 19 people who come from ridiculously
different backgrounds and stages of life, none of whom have met before,
on board a yacht to race across oceans sounds slightly nonsensical. What
would bring a farmer, investment banker, doctor, lawyer, marketeer,
student, teacher, journalist.... all aged between 19 and 63 and from 5
different countries, together?

Having now lived through one third of Race2, and having first hand
experience of this bizarre situation, I should know what I'm talking
about and feel the urge to share with you why we're doing this.

Every person on board had slightly different reasons for taking part in
the race: some want to take the experience onboard a racing yacht as a
first step forward to a professional sailing career, some want to be
really knowledgable about sailing and own their sailing boat hopefully
later, some just wanted an adventure, take a break, or simply use it as
a retirement gift. Our reasons for applying to be crew on the race are
as diverse as our backgrounds. Yet no matter what drew these first
intentions, there's an underlying one that we all share: the holy beauty
of sailing and challenge of racing.

Describing the experience, sailing across the ocean evokes a strong
sense of infinity as the horizon stretches from evry direction with
usually not a speck on it apart from the breaking waves. As we climb up
and down the waves, we are simply breathing together with the ocean,
feeling in tune and united with our environment, appreciating its beauty
while watching a sunset or a sunrise, or tracking a glittering path
illuminated by moonlight at night, while also bowing in respect to its
immense power. It really puts life into perspective, about how powerful,
yet how fragile and mortal we are. We all are drawn to be more "down to
earth", which in itself is against the force of nature. It's a holy
feeling, and sailing is like praying.

The boat life also has its gifts. Despite the continous rocking back and
forth, the lack of things you take for granted onshore like showers or
a toilet flush, and learning to spare water, function in very restricted
space and sleeping for max 3 hours at a time, the simplicity and
singlemindedness on board is a type of meditation. We end up cleaning
our minds of the worries of daily life, the multi-functionality, the
juggling, either while concentrating on sailing or by being exhausted by
it. We grow an appreciation for mundane little things (like wearing a
clean T-shirt - a real treat!)

And being in a race also brings its jewels. We have to learn, and learn
quickly about how to make most of the boat and sails, while taking care
of them. Creative problem solving is the name of the game on a daily
basis, as there are only so many things onboard, and we must keep
everything working properly and maintained. Racing also brings along a
physical and mental challenge requiring full concentration against all
odds and a continuous physical effort. The boat's and the crew's safety
lie in each other's hands, urging both a strong sense of responsibility
and trust.

And let's not forget too that there's also a strong sense of pride in
this whole experience as well. We're all proud to not let a dream pass
us by, but hold on to it, have the guts to realise it, and take every
effort to be able live it. We will look back on this experience and
recall proudly that we have raced across oceans.

At the end, there are only a few things in life that can propose all
these cherishes of a life all at once, and here we are, living it. This
is the reason "Why on Earth?"

Cape Breton Island standing by.
"

stealth...motherhood..and misery...

Well… Today is not the best of days of sailing:
Mainly because I'm on mother watch once again. Having an 8 hour sleep
time served me so very well. It's impossible to sleep undisturbed,
there's always a new noise, it's either the watch change, or a sail
change, or being too hot in the bunk… Yet, having 8 hours dedicated to
sleeping was awesome. Yet, there's a price to pay for this luxury: the
motherwatch day starts around 7:00, preparing breakfast for the team
(preparing porridge, tea, whipping fresh milk from milk powder), giving
a good clean to the heads, and antibacking (this is a frequently used
invented word among the team now,basically wiping all used surfaces with
antibacterial sprey) the rest of the surfaces below deck. Then comes the
washing up (20 sets of cutlery and dishes, huge pots for cooking, needs
an effort for sure) & cleaning the galley. If you had been fast enough,
you can take half an hour before starting preparing the lunch. Serve
lunch for two watches, more washing up. Pump out the 180lt of washing up
water from the grey tank, Then comes the most luxurious times of the
day: 2 hours free time! This is before starting preparing the dinner.
Cook again for 20 people in huge pots. Then seriously more washing up.
Clean the heads thoroughly, empty the grey tank once again. Then, as a
token for all the suffering, we're granted a shower (with roughly 3
liters water allowance). It's 9pm by then, and we have to go back on to
our sailing watches.
The toughest moment of the watch: preparing lunch in a 3 metersquare
area when two ovens and a stove was working adding to the literally
boiling hot on deck. I could feel my skin melting away…
Best moment of the watch: Baking BREAD ROLLS that were really good.
Ironically, I had to sail all the way down to Rio to initiate my bakery
experience in action…

The toughest moment in sailing: aaaaaahhhhh… we got stuck again… Started
out with an awesome run in the morning, great breeze speeding us in the
direction we aimed at, flying us towards the finish line. That zeal did
not last long, we got stuck about 4 hours ago, and have been making baby
crawls in the sea since. At the least, we know we now have one further
day added to reach Rio. Just crossing fingers that we have not lost our
position:(:( Soooo miserable...

Well… So much news from the day. Final note of the day: it's really very
hot in here, looking forward to a cooler leg…

Keep an eye on me

Top 5

As a part of our tracking, we post boat blogs in Clipper web-site. I had
written two previously. I received pretty comforting feedback on them,
so decided to post them on my site as well. I hope you'd enjoy them..
The first one:

"Cape `Breton Island Daily Diary

Thursday 15th October at 12.00pm off Salvador, west coast of Brazil

Hande Bayik

Top five conversations onboard CBI

I am trying to remember what were my daily easy conversation topics with
friends and family well over a month ago. I vaguely recall some bits and
pieces: discussing a few changes in the organisation at work,
criticising politics, recommending a good restaurant, a new CD, a good
book, making plans for an evening out, listening to the stories of
recently acquired habits of my friends' kids, cheekily catching up on
the high-street gossip, evaluating how life is and how it should be…

Having sailed for about 34 days now (including from Hull to La
Rochelle), our topics of conversation have changed dramatically. So here
are the top 5 favourite topics on board:
- FOOD: The conversation either is on the dining menus once we
reach Rio, or on what else we should have bought for the boat. The
highly rated menu: steak, wine, apples, salad, ice cream and lots of
fruit. Then there is a long list all sorts of food missed dearly: wine
gums, crisps, yogurt, a good mohito, roast dinner, veggies… Although the
dinners are mostly wholesome, the appetite for rice, pasta, canned food
is declining drastically, while the desire for fresh food builds in
(since we ran out of them 9 days ago), triggerrng hot day-dreaming
conversations on good food. And, of course, we have a wish list for the
next boat shopping…
- RACING POSITION: How we are doing versus the fleet, pep talks to
boost morale and regenerate motivation to check, check and check again
the trim. This topic is also set off at the navigation station, when
there are a pair of eyes evaluating the wind direction/forecast, the
latest positions of the rest of the fleet, the currents, the rhum line,
the speed so far, when to and where to make another evolution or sail
hange.
- HEADS: This is a "fruitful" and never ending conversation,
thanks to the heads causing such unpleasant and frankly pretty gross
trouble every so often: the surprises include blocking, pump failure,
overflowing. This provides a hot conversation on how many times we
should be pumping, how much oil we should flush down daily etc. (I
cannot give further details for the readers' sake)
- SHOWERS: This conversation is particularly popular after an
exhausting evolution, and after the mothers of the day come on the deck
after having taken a shower (the one token per 9 days, and in return for
all the tough service given all day long). Everyone dreams and talks
about a cold shower, a warm bath, the type of aromas of soap and shower
gels, booking SPA treatments after coming back…
- CLEAN LINENS AND STABLE BED: Well, this is a relatively low key
conversation, mostly started by a crew member not having had a good
sleep during off time. The desire for a stable bed is followed by clean
linens, silence, 8 hours on end, air conditioning.

I can certify that it's possible to live without news on politics,
gossips, latest book or CD releases?

Roll on Rio!

Cape Breton Island standing by."

So close... so far...

What a race!
After more than 4500 miles, we are competing literally head to head.
Unfortunately, after our wind-dry hours when Australia and Jamaica
passed us, and claimed second and third position respectively, we have
been struggling a bit. We gained back our position in 3rd place
yesteray, lost it once again to Jamaica today... The positions change
momentarily depending on the navigation strategy, how wind behaves
versus the weather forecast grids, the efficiency in trim and helm. We
are in full concentration, and really pushing it. It has been tiring and
frustrating, considering we were awaiting 15 knots of breeze today, when
we got only 5 for several hours, and under literally roasting weather
conditions. It was draining for the whole crew
For those tracking the race daily, we will be going into stealth mode
tonight, so our position will not be posted to our competitors and
trackers for 24 hours. We have a very interesting strategy in mind to
follow, just cross fingers that it works and wins us a podium place:)

PS: In the mean time, we (actually David, who's the handiest person I
have seen) have found the leak, and were able to stop it. Good news:)
PPS: The highlight of the day, definetly helming in light weather and
managing it:)

Keep an eye on me...

Not all times are good times

Unfortunately, not all times were meant to be good times… we've had a
turn around point, and things have started going faul in the past 18
hours:)
We had a severe drop in the wind, which came as a surprise, the forecast
was not quite so… Followed by news that Australia passed us once again,
and put some milage in between. We have Jamaica, Cork closing on us as
well. The situation was confirmed with the latest weather forecast, the
wind was lower in force and more Easterly than the initial forecast,
putting a disadvantage on us versus the other boats; I have to admit
that a bit tension has creeped in on board, as well as more
concentration on trim & helming. Tough and unpredictable days ahead of
us… It feels like we are having a late lived doldrum scenario on scene.
So close to Rio, and yet so far

Our piece of bad luck was not restricted with the weather. We discovered
that our bilges (the space between the floors and the haul of the boat,
used mostly for storage, tanks etc) had a significant amount of water,
fresh water… We sucked out about 200 liters, or maybe more… We are
keeping on pumping it out as it builds? So much rationing for the fresh
water, and here are, having a leak which we could not spot yet, pumping
fresh water into the bilges. Also, quite a heavy weight sitting on the
wrong side of the boat, killing speed when we most need it. Auch.

Not ALL things were bad though, there was an amazing moment, another
milestone for sailors: we saw the green light on sunset. This is a
pretty rare occasion, and needs the right visibility and humidity to
happen. You can either see a green flash, or a green halo for about a
second at sunset. Miracles in life…

And another touch of wild life: we were visited by a school of WHALES,
not the biggest ones, but big enough to hold on to ensure not to fall
into the ocean. There were more than 10 of them, moving all around the
boat. We passed the inspection, they soon lost interest and left us
alone with our tension in the race once again…

Well, so much news for the day
Keep an eye on me:)

Hot Stories ouf of press

Quite a few stories to tell from the past few days…

First of all, we have been ranking 2nd for the past 40 hours! Great and
yet stressful feeling, as the boat we have left behind is only 2 miles
away. We really are putting quite a bit of effort to keep top trim, top
helming and top speed… Crossing fingers that we'll be able to maintain
this podium place for the last couple of days

Another hit event was crossing the equator! Well, I'm officially a more
mature sailor, now that I have checked this important milestone in a
sailors' life?? (I wish it was this easy) The crossing took place on the
12th of October at 12:50 AM. So much so for the stereotyped equator
crossings under light winds, hot weather, smooth seas, leveled boat and
a bright daytime. We crossed the equator at night time, under 15-20
knots of upwind breeze, cool weather, boat healing to 35-40 degrees, but
no less fun. We skipped the weird ritual of covering the first time
crossers in remaining food, and every crew member has been thankful for
that decision (we had a dense feeling that Neptune preferred a cleaner
crew on deck? ). However, we did have a toast, thanking Neptune for the
awesome weather conditions and smooth seas, than had a few more toasts
to our skipper's touching speech, to the skipper, to our performance… We
speared "Neptune's share" of drink and presented him a glass of 10 year
old Single Malt Whisky (Benromach, for those who wonder) as well. Well,
the hour of the crossing was the only time the boat was not a
"dry-boat". We had some music on, and glow sticks to top up the fun.
There was one ritual that we did not miss out though, some of the crew
DID dress up for the event, meaning as silly clothes on stage as would
be for a hen/stag night. Two gents dressed up in teenage girl beach
clothes, another in ballerina costume (that was a hit one), a girl
dressed up like a Captain Jack Sparrow, with the proper make up on as
well, and finally I, wearing a belly dancing skirt! It was cheersome,
stupidly funny, and a good top up to morale

The other news, is that we have less than 4 days to go to reach Rio!
We're officially close to South America mainland! At the dawn of our
first month of racing (13th September to October), it's exciting to be
slightly ahead of the schedule, and among the leading boats. Awsome!

Finally, another high point came in the morning; finally some touches of
excitement and a new experience in my helming. I was steering at 5:30
AM, through a pretty dark night, when we spotted that we were
approaching a big heavy dark cloud. By the time we could have half the
crew down to wear some waterprooves, it started pouring as strong as a
shower, and the wind speed boosted from 8-9 knots to 20+ knots in less
than a minute. Being on the helm through a squall was definetly good
fun, and gave me a bit of adrenalin rush (as well as soaked wet
clothes). I spent the rest of the morning at the pulpit, calling for
head-sail trim as the wind was continuously changing direction, getting
further soaked, but enjoying the beautiful, clean, clear sunrise from
the sea, the new chill of the morning. Still, calling off the watch,
getting some dry clothes on were releaving moments. Great great times

We also had a funny moment in the morning, we saw a ship approaching,
which was heading to pass by us by a good 5 miles. Well, they definetly
were curious about what on earth was a 68 foot sailing boat doing in the
middle of no-where, they changed course, and passed about a mile from
us. We could see a bunch of crew lined up at the aft. Imagine what they
were thinking? I guess we were reported in their log book as the event
of the day? Waving greeting in the middle of the ocean was a moment of
humanity… Considering that we have not been seeing more than specs of
ships in the ocean for so long, having a ship so close by, seeing other
human beings was as interesting to us as seeing dolphins (or maybe a
little less, dolphins are more interesting, but well, you get the point)

That's the news from the past few days
Take care & keep an eye on me…

Life at 35 degrees

Quite a few major news in the past severa days.

We're now officially living at 35 degrees. That is the temperature AND
angle of heel on board. We have been incredibly fortunate with our
Doldrums experience - we passed from down-wind sailing (when the wind
hits the boat mostly from behind) to up-wind sailing (when the wind
comes mostly from the bow) in a few hours rather than a few days. So we
did not have to take the test of resilience and patience, waiting for
the wind to rise for several days under roasting sun, then meeting the
heavy burdening winds of the squalls. I think we have had enough of it
around Canaries, and Neptune has been very kind to us.

Today is the 20th day on board, and we have travelled a significantly
long way: the closest continent is now South America, and we have
travelled from 51 degrees North, down to 2 degree North. We estimate to
cross the equator within 24-36 hours! Than we will start reporting
increasing degrees in the Southern Hemisphere, really very exciting:)

We're holding a good and very close 4th position within the fleet: only
1/2 and 2 hours of difference versus third and second ranks
respectively. We really are pushing hard not to end up missing a podium
ranking by less than an hour after 30 days of sailing at the end...
Currently we are enjoying 7-10 knots speed upwind. Happy happy days… -

The change of wind direction changes sailing and life on board
completely: I now know why down-wind sailing is called "gentlemen's
sailing". Although the boat is floppy, it's more or less levelled. Come
up-wind sailing, and we have lost one more luxury.
Living at 35 degrees heel is not the easiest of tasks at all. We need to
exceed our sailing skills plus add a combination of rock climbing, hard
course trekking and slipsliding to our competency set.

I feel rather like being part of a computer game: every game (which
onboard translates into me joining my watch or deck crew) you either
score or lose points as follows:

The watch starts trying to dress in the bunk when nailed down to the
side: 10 points. Next comes the jump off the bunk: secure safe ankle in
landing, ensure not to lean or land on anyone, find something to hold
onto once landed so as not to crashland onto the side of the bunk.
Successfully managed: 25 points!

Here's the next challenge then: walk to the saloon, over the sails,
while carrying sailing gear and life jacket; had a nasty knock on the
shoulder on the way, missed, minus 15 points.

Using the heads: do not fall off the toilet, do not fall into the saloon
half naked, be clean and leave the heads spotless: 75 points, (100
points if managed in less than 10 minutes).

Then comes a more tricky bit: dining in the saloon when only 3 seats
provide seating without tilting or sliding off - with a crew of 20 and
10 piling into the saloon at meal times, eating can be a hectic and
haphazard experience. The saloon is bricked by other crewmember's legs
stuck to the walls to avoid slipping and there are no handrails to hang
on to on one side. The "mission impossible" is to climb over the legs,
keeping balanced and not falling onto or annoying anyone, serve yourself
the food on the elevated floor without spilling it, find a seating place
with food in one hand, land at the spot, and finally secure yourself
with a leg on the wall before gently sliding off the seat. Hey, done
without a failure, this brings 200 points. Repeating the same success
rate three days back to back will bring me a level up the scale.

The next level requires some of these to be managed without holding on
all the time. Challenge for the rest of the journey
Sincere call to all those on land: enjoy level surfaces!
And keep an eye on me:)

Hot news

Unfortunately, the news is not so hot, but the weather is...

We're happily sailing through the trade winds, and thankfully with winds
scaling between 10-20 knots. Comfortable down-wind sailing with a
spinnaker up.
Fortunatel, the flying fish attacks have decreased in the past two
nights, with only 2-3 fishes per night. Figity, slimy creatures...

As for the rest, the heat has definetly climbed in. It's hot and
directly exposed to sun on deck, and hotter and boiling in humuidity
down in the galley. All our fans are on, but still we all find sleeping
very challenging. Lack of sleep promotes lethargy to creep in. Night
watches have become particularly harder, as the tiredness really sets in
more then... Not having a shower is a huge challenge. Cherish showers,
big time!

Still, if anything, my major regret is not being able to attend leg3,
which is sailing through the southern ocean. I would have loved to
experience bigger seas and tougher weather conditions before this whole
experience is over. So much so for the trade winds... Well, the journey
is yet not over, the scolls (imagine a wall of weather,exit to doldrums,
where the wind suddenly changes direction and triple speed. It's a
slapping welcome back into the trade winds, and usually costs sailors a
spinnaker break.) seem promising for a bit of an adventure:)

Other highlights: we saw two huge whales the other day. They were bigger
than the boat, and we guess that they were sperm whales. Massive
creatures, and frightening at a close distance, to be honest...

Will be writing soon again

Keep an eye on me...

Scores at night

You think ocean life is a lnely one, think again. There are so many
flying fish that we have lost complete interest in them by now.
I have to admit we had a funny intorduction to their strange slying
patterns yesterday when we had our first visitor, a relatively big
flying fish scoring through a small hatch and ending up in the boat!
Learning, never underestimate risks: the chances of hitting a closed dry
hole in the middle of the ocean is 200cm2/million square miles, and it
still happens
We had two more scores: one flying fishing hitting Tom and another
hitting me on deck. Otherwise, we had to keep an eye open to throw away
any further introdours back into the sea.

still keeeping a great sailing rithim, 15-25 knots, swells... Several
gybes a day to keep the right angle. and still gaining miles over the
rest of the fleet. We are now ranking 4th, and trying to close on our
next rival which was 60 miles ahead on rum line last night. Some good
racing going on.

Final note of the day: it's getting really really hot here. 30 degrees
out on deck, 35-40 down below, not the best of choices to make among
direct sunlight and heat, or no wind and more heat. It will become worse
at the equator, trying to prepare myself for it...

So much for the news of the day
Keep an eye on me:)

Stock Market Prices for Rare Items

Well... Moving to our 12th day of sailing since we left La Rochell,
appreciation for mundane daily things are climbing. The perceived stock
price of some items in particular are increasing for me each day:
- Tiolets that flush properly. (PLEASE... Blockage is a horror story,
smelly, filthy, time consuming, and unfortunately happening every other
day) - £100 daily
- A proper toilet flush, not a manual pump - £30 daily
- Showers... (God, I will surely be thankful for every morning shower I
will have from now on) - £50 per shower
- A good meal: a juicy medium-rare steak, fresh salad to go with it
(with plum tomatoes and mustard souce please), a glass of chilled
Muscad, and a huge bowl of fresh fruit salad with vanilla ice cream, and
a glass of port wine to top the meal up... - £200 (as we have have ran
out of fresh veggies and fruit a few days ago, I started to realise how
much I miss them)
- Sleeping through a complete night in a silent place, preferably stable
as well - £200 per night
I realise that I cannot afford to ask for more:) I think I can endure
washing 2-3 pieces of shirts in sea water during our mother watch every
9 days, that's not too bad :)

Otherwise, great day of sailing. We are now enjoying the nice stable,
strong trade winds, and moderate ocean swells all pushing us in the
right direction. We had another lovely night, almost full moon lighting
the night, glimmering on the ocean. Good 20-25 knots of breeze... And a
very enthusiastic school of dolphins jumping as high as deck level,
keeping us in company at a point of time. Having another bright day
dawn, and blessed with still strong winds of 15-25knots. Enough to keep
us busy and concetrated, yet not too demanding

We had good concetration in the team, which paid back with another
strong milage record versus the fleet, bringing us another increase in
our position, now we are ranking 5th. Slowly getting there:)

Also we had a pampering day with bread rolls in breakfast, and a slice
of freshly cooked bread per person during evening! Awsome treats from
the mother watch today. I literally burried mine in Nutella and enjoyed
both with the joy of a kid recieving a present.

Will keep you posted
Keep an eye on me:)

Space walking, pond sailing, finally back in the game...

There was a reason to not hearing much from me for a while...
The inevitable has taken its course, and sea sickness got hold of me at
the most unexpected time. It did take me a few days to recover enough
from it to fgeel confident about sitting at the little cave called the
Navigation Station where the computer is situated, and consentrating on
a screen. But, well, I'm back:)

First of all sea sickness. There are three stages to sea sickness: in
the first stage, you are afraid that you're gonna die, in the second
stage, you wish you were, and in the third, you think you already are...
I can now confirm that this staging is completely correct. The stomach
decides to rock in a completely different direction and rithim to the
rest of your body and the boat, you feel like youre walking in space,
and not quite feel involved in the moment. Wierd, and not too pleasant.
I have to admit that I'm thankful for the recovery:)

As for the timing: I got sea sick when we were literally tortured by
"pond sailing". We had 3 days, with the sea sitting as still as a glass
of water, the strongest breeze only as strong as a relieving deep
breath, speed challenging those of snails, heat building in. So much for
the big ocean swells, and 20-30 knots of wind, and stressfull helming...
(And here I was, being sea sick over the mini movements of sea, when I
had absolutely no problem when all the boat was rocking, irony...)
I could not help thinking of the old merchant ships, sitting in the
middle of the ocean, waiting for trade winds to build back in, getting
worried about their food and drink supplies. Probably tension building
in together with the rising tempuratures and scarcity of water. The
tick, the ropes drying down, and sails flapping without any rithim just
like ours did. It felt just like visiting an archeological site,
thinking about what life must have been like back then.

Well, these are the days when you win or loose the race... The calm
waters was like another start, lining most of the fleet up. Almost all
the rankings changed as the fleet took different strategies. Some went
in between the Canaries, and took different routes even then, some went
west and some went east of Canaries. We were among those going in
between the islands. It proved to be a medioacre strategy and luck. We
seem to be still ranking in the middle of the fleet.

Several things were enjoyable for a change: we saw land for the first
time since 8 days: Fuerteventura and Grand Canarie islands. Watching sun
rise upon Fuerteventura, while finally and gladly leaving it behind was
an inspiring sight in particular. All colors of orange, and red and
blue, shading the land, and then the clouds in level with the land,
slowly yielding to a bright yellow and the rise of the sun. Looked more
like a photoshopped beauty picture than real. More Dolphins visiting the
boat to explore what was up, but getting bored pretty soon as we were
not making any speed to challenge them and keep them busy. Sea turtles,
though they were not as interested in the boar as the dolphins, they
just swam by.

As soon as I was over the sea sickness, I went up the mast for a rig
check yesterday. Once again being 90-95 foot above water, in an
elevating view, with the boat looking smaller down at my feet,
seeing the horizon from a totally different perspective (I could really
recognise that the world's slight roundness fromup there), swinging more
than the rest of the boat, moving in between the spreaders and working
on the screws, the stays, making sure all is fine was completely
exhilirating. I LOVE IT!

We've finally picked up breeze late yesterday, giving us all a cheer.
Finally a Spinnaker hoist (dropped down the windseeker, god bless:) ),
and started putting some miles behind us. We got hold of Edinbrough's
steering light and chased them down last night. It seemed like they had
a problem, and dropped significantly behind (I hope it's nothing too
serious). Now we can see Jamaica a few miles ahead of us and we're
chasing them for another position. Just like the start of the race...
Being in sight of another boat, after 5-6 days brings better
concentration and morale in the team as well...

Going for some rest now.
Keep an eye on me:)

Beauties layed ahead...

Hello again...

I could not stop jotting down about the lovely night we have just been
through: sitting at 9pm-1am watch, we had a lovely breeze of 20-25 knots
coming from behind, the spinnaker up. Again, strong concentration
essential at the helm with all the ocean swells of ~2m forcing the boat
for a turn, and strong trimming to keep up with the movement.
We had the most lovely view laying ahead of us through, a half moon
illuminating our route like a highway, and the boat gently steering on
this glimmering path. Merely chilly weather, not too many clouds. A
comforting conversation about what music may best accompany such a
lovely scene (Louis Armstrong, Norah Jones, Mozart, Charles Baker, Pink
Floyd were the top calls at the end)
To top up our pleasure a school of dolphins decided to join us, playing
all around the boat, jumping, drawing lines on water. My first dolphin
interaction on this trip:) They are such beautful and charming
creatures. (As may be imagined), I was completely overridden by
excitement, cheering them all the way... It has been a wonderful memory
captured...

The night had a great end to it as well: on our 5-9am watch, the wind
started dying out a bit. With the confidence daylight brings along, we
decided to change to a lighter weight spinnaker. And so came my next
moments of joy: going up the pole (2m above and 2-3m sideway to the
deck), setting the new spinnaker, hoisting and opening it, spiking the
heavier one to let it peel form over the new one. Such a lovely scene to
watch from the pole, it resembeled a flower blossoming, and definetly
looked cool. Cheerful, uplifting moments...

Finally, we were further greeted with good news that we were able to
pass Singapore overnight as well, now at 5th position. Slowly climbing
up the ranking:)

Forgotten to give one more news from eysterday: WE SAW WHALES! 2, medium
sized. Still they were pretty massive, and really flushing water as they
surface, just as is the stereotyped in the cartoons. I felt like I was
in a National Geographic scene. What an experience:)

So much so for the happy news about sailing. There has been quite a few
tough moments as well
The exhaustion is slowly building in. My shoulders are as stiff as a
rock and hurting desperately. Blame is on helming and trimming. I was
not expecting my shoulders to let me down to be honest, but here they
are...
I'm starting to feel the lack of sleep, particularly at the end of 1-5am
and beggining of 5-9am watches.
Everything and everyone has started to get smelly (almost a week out
without a shower, and lots of exercise are not the best combinations),
The toilets regularly giving us trouble by blocking, unscrewing the
pipes to identify the blockage, and getting rid of it (which, as
expected is not a clean, nice smelling piece of art) feel filthy.
A bit of a cold is running accross the crew, and many are not feeling
tip-top.
Well, these are the prices to be paid, and they are worth it. That's the
good news...
Still several things I miss dearly: showers, a sleep at a quiet and
stable place, also stability while using the toilet and toilet flush.

I'm heading back to my bunk for 2.5hrs of sleep now...
So take care and do keep an eye on me

More stories from Bay of Biscay

Hello again...

More news on the tough sailing. Well, after the rough previous night, we
continued to have a tough day. As I was anticipating the wind picked up
to 30 knots, and by the time of our watch, we were screaming downwind
with the spinnaker. Well, that is enjoyable if anything under normal
conditions. Biscay is not "normal conditions", the waves do not follow
the wind, the swells of the ocean, tide, waves of wind and of those
bouncing from shore muse together, and they literally come from every
where. This swings the boat abnormally, causing the spinnaker to wander
around in front of the boat, threatening us with a gybe or another
wrap...

Another hard working time, getting one yankee sail down, getting another
up on deck, before dropping the spinnakker. We hoisted the yankee, the
stay sail, and still screamed down at 10 knots speed through the night,
fighting against the wierd pushes from the waves.
MANY HIGH POINTS THOUGH:
- Continuously working was great, lots of learning, and a nice tiredness
- Going up to the pole to spike the spinnaker, when making way by 14
knots, and the boat was swinging like a toy
- Helming for hours on end during night, and particularly at a gybe.
Tough responsibility, as an accidental gybe on the process would
literally risk loosing one (or more) of the crew at the foredeck

Finally handed over the watch, after hoisting the spinnaker again after
leaving Bay of Biscay. Sunny, windy lovely day outside. Already looking
forward for my next watch

The only low point: We did loose our position during all the hassle.
We're ranking 7th:( But there are 4700miles to go, too early to be
sorry...

Keep an eye on me
Hande

The first tough night challenge at Cape Breton

Hello again...

I'm through a tough night, and a very long watch...

the struggle started right before the start of our watch at 1am: we
woke up (from our 3 hour sleep) with the rushing noises the previuos
watch was having. They were struggling with the light weight spinnaker,
and suddenly and finally it caught on the forestay and ha a long tear:(
we helped briefly to carry it down, and they hoisted a heavier one. This
was yet the predicissor of what was to come.

When we took over the watch, the status was pretty tricky, we were
having the wind right behind us (which is called the dead run), which is
exactly what we aimed for to get ahead of the fleet. However, what we
was not calculated was the severe shifts in wind, shifting the spinnaker
from one side to the other like a ghost puppet, giving us very hard time
on the trim and the helm.

Holding the trim was challenging but still ok, however, I cannot claim
the same for the helm. When I was on, I had a wild swing, ended up with
the spinnaker pulling to one side quite far, then to the other side, but
behind the forstay rather than in front of. So here we were, with our
second spinnaker wrapped around the forestay (the line that connects the
bow of the boat to the mast). I left the wheel shievering to our skipper
who was up on the deck as quick as a falshlight.

5 minutes later,we were able to retrieve the spinnaker from the forestay
without harm, and I was back on the wheel for another hour.

However, the night was long, just before we handed the watch over to the
other shift, already exhausted, the mate on the helm had exactly the
same problem as I had, a wild shift in the wind. But this time, to make
things more interesting, the spinnaker first wrapped around the
forestay, then around the innerstay (another wire, that connects the
mast to 1m aft of bow). Here we were, with our second spinnaker
hoisted in double 8s.

Getting the sail down, (it didn't drop as it should when the halyard was
eased, because there were wraps close to the top of the mast as well),
then unwinding it from the innerstay and the forestay, then checking for
holes, finding one and reparing it briefly with sail tape, wrapping
the sail for hoist , then hoisting it back again was a massive struggle
at each step. And already 1.5 hours past our watch time.
The nightmare continued when we realised that there were more holes, and
get it down again. We had to go through every centimeter of the
spinnaker searching for holes to repare later on. That was 2 hours 15
minutes past our watch. We started resting, but withuot much sleep, as
the other watch was now hoisting the windseeker, and it was as busy and
noisy as a fare down at our bunks.

Up for next watch, whihc was another frustrating one: this time, very
light wind, and here we were without any wpinnakers to fly. Slow and
painful, with the realisation that we were loosing much ground to the
other boats, and have lost our position advantage after the tough night.

The sails are sorted now: Katherine has reparied both with a spinnaker
sewing machine. And one is up already

I'm finally off watch, have eaten, winded down a bit after very long 14
hours, with only 1-2 hours of sleep. However, the wind has built up as
we were leaving watch, and probably very heavily now. I can hear the
other watch struggling keeping the spinnaker trim, and the boat
speeding. Hope we'd have no further accidents for the day.

No harm done to the crew, no harm done to the boat, all was
challenging, thrilling and teaching. So all is well:)
Need a bit of sleep now...

Routing down to Rio...

So here we go again... 24 hours into the second race of the first leg...

The race start was a bit a miseray for everyone; the whole fleet was
drifting more than sailing. What would have been a lovely autumn day
with bright sun shining on the sky, and its warmth pomping positivity,
turned out to be a bit of a struggle for us, because there absolutely
was no wind. No wind is hard work: we had to change sails several times,
keep on the consentration despite the demotivation of no movement and
the heat driving the body to "standby" mode. We will be having more of
these at the doldrums, crossing the equator. I can't say that I'm
looking forward to it.
Fortunately the condition did not last, and we had a nice 10-12 knot
breeze filling our sails in the evening. We trimmed trimmed trimmed our
sails continuously, and had some real concentration at the helm, winning
us two positions over the night

The high-lights from the day: helming for more than 2 hours. Getting a
few critical trimming decisions through, which paid back with good boat
speed.
Low-points from the day: no wind at the start, and falling behind in
picking up the wind when it arrived:(:(

Well, so much for the sailing news, let me introduce you a bit to boat
life:
Life on-board is a disciplined one, there are two watches to run the
boat. AS you may already have guessed, we sail through day and night,
and have to keep the speed building for 24 hours. So each watch is on
and off for 4 hours twice a day, and 2 hours once a day. When we're on
watch, we concentrate on sail trim (making the sails work according to
the wind)and helming, as well as navigation. The biggest effort is in
keeping the motivation and concentration going; it's very easy to get
lazy and let the trim go, or loose concentration and let the helm off
course. Off-watch is free time, which includes all preparation for
sailing(we need to dress up a bit, particularly when it's cold. Trying
to wear two salopeds (mid layer and foul weather gear, which have many
sticking plastic all around it for water-proofness, when boat is rocking
around, does take some effort and time) eating, sleeping, personal
hygene and anything else you may want to do (ie: writing a blog). As the
hours off watch are quite limited, most of this time is spent sleeping
by most o fthe crew.
Which I now want to join in to do as well... I will be back on watch at
14:00., and have 2hours 15 minutes to sleep, before waking up to get
ready & have lunch

I'll try to tell more about boat life as the opportunity arises. Until
then, take care and keep an eye on me:):)

Hande

Final notes from land...

Sooo, once again it's time for a start.

This time, it is a start for a tougher and longer journey... We will be moving out of the marina at about 7:00 am tomorrow morning, once again directed by the times of high tides. The start for 4 weeks of racing is at 10:00am.

We will be escorted by a legendary boat: Joshua: this is the boat sailed by Bernard Moitessier in the first round the world solo racing in 1968, competitor to Sir Robin (Bernard Moitessier abandoned the race to keep on sailing round the world, leaving Sir Robin to become the first one to sail round the world, and the only one to finish the race back then)

There seems to be not too much wind awaiting us, once again not a dramatic story to tell about Biscay... What will mark this race (apart from luck, of course) will be full concentration and unity of the team at all times, endurance and resiliance. We are looking into several different wind and current paterns to sail through, and each may change the rankings severely. Exciting times....

 

But before sailing off to the experience, I can't help mentioning the very sipritual day we lived through yesterday. Our boat was blessed by the chief and drummers of the Mi'kmaw tribe with a smudging ceramony (Mi'kmaws are one of the American Indian tribes of Canada). Sage and special herbs were burned and thier smoke was blown over our boat, our sails and each of the crew members, with blessings for a safe journey, good winds, calm sea, and strong speed. The smudging was followed by 4 drummers chanting for us, and a Mi'kmaw dancing with the chants on the pantoon. It was a very intense and enchanting experience for all of us; and considering my past interest in the American Indian culture in my high school years, even more so for me. Finally, I have met real American Indians, and have heard their chants live. What a priviledge

Our boat sponsor Cape Breton, put even further effort into the event and organised a Michelin Star worthy dinner. They introduced their Lobster, some fine wine, and some more sea food to the crew and to contacts in La Rochell. The lobster would be worth travelling all the way to Cape Breton Island to enjoy, sooo gooood:)

 

I have added on some sites to the blog where you can follow the race, the news from the boat closer. And also added the link to the news and pictures about the smudging, for your view:)

 

 

Personal notes from today: I was up the mast once again for rig checking, I absolutely love it up there:) And more preparation to the boat, and for the crew as well. Feeling very ready to start sailing tomorrow, and actually looking forward to it!

 

Keep an eye on me, and wish me all the best luck, because I'll need it!

Cheers

Hande

 

 

Notes from land...

It's unbelievable how time passes bye... We ended up on the Saturday night at a blink.

Not many complaints though, great times passed by.

 

We finished the race sailing upwind against an unsteady wind gusting upto 40 knots, very tough on the wheel, and lots of trimming were the names of the game. Some tough highlights during the race:

holding the spinnaker under 30knots of wind (the force on the sheets were basically unbelievable)

then gybing the spinnaker under such wind

finally dropping the spinnaker, when the boat and the wind so did not want to let it go

 

There were several times when the whole crew got pretty wet, exhausted and tired of the adrenalin rush.

 

Experiencing once again the immense power on these sails demanded and emphasized once again the importance of being alert all the time. And basing the decisions on achieving a position in the race, taking calculated risks and pushing the limits at times, proved the fact that we were up for a BIG game. Once you're out there, the ocean, the wind, the tides and waves treat every level of experience equally. And once you're racing, with boats that are not made for leisure, and with intentions of speed, it becomes pretty demanding very quickly

 

Yet, the challange, and the impressive power of nature, the impression of eternity and infinity ocean beholds is more than a fascination. This feeling exceeds my mind, it is a feeling beyond any words I can possibly express in any language. It uplifts the soul beyond all the daily worries we are exposed to, and honors it with what it deserves: the feeling of integrity with the whole universe...

 

OK, that's enough sipuratualism, coming back to the race:

We gave a finish at about 4pm on Wednesday, followed by Jamaica and Singapore... We missed the timing for the lock to the marina (this is a huge door that locks the entrqnce to the marina, and keeps the water level at bay during tidal changes; very useful as the boats do not end up on land twice a day:), however keeps the boats locked in or out during low tides), which meant hard work: we anchored at the bay, Jamaica and Singapore being tied up to Cape Breton. Dropping the anchor was not a huge deal, however once it started dragging, we had to pullit up and anchor again, bonus work...

 

It's hard to believe how much there is to do on a boat to maintain it, and prepare it. To save some of the hassle at port, we made use of the anchorage time to start with the repairs and packing the sails. Got quite a few settled before a delicious dinner which definetly was a treat with a diversity of freshly made vegetables topping pasta:) A bit of rest until 2am, when we lifted the anchor and motored to the marina. Although it was a pretty short sailing (and fast one, we reached the destination 2 days earlier than intended), it was still a good feeling to take berth, to be greeted with cans of beer, and the welcoming faces of the Clipper Team.

 

The next two days simply flied out with a buzzing preparation:

deep cleaning the boat, and I mean it. We literally clean every little corner on-board, remove whatever we can out, wash whatever we can, pick & choose the fresh stuff, repack everything.

then make the maintenances, mend the ropes, check the equipment, check the rigging, repair any broken pieces (ie: leakages)...

and further prepare for the crossing: make the final touches to have a more comfortqble journey

 

And we had such good afternoons: the crew really mended together, we had a team dinner worthy of the royalty, then a boat dinner, cooked by John (one of the crew members) which challenged the previous dinner! Lots of chats, a bit of social drinking, definetly a boost of morale before setting to 4 weeks of no land & people

 

Today was finally a freeish day, and had the opportunity to go around La Rochell a bit. A cute city which still feels medivial, and definetly has a Meditarrenian city. Also serving GREAT MUSSLES, god I could eqt those until being hospitalised...

 

Tomorrow will be a busy day for Cape Breton, as we'll have a ceramony of blessings for the boat, than a sponsor dinner.

Monday, more preparations, including the shopping

Already looking forward to Tuesday morning to set sails again

 

I will keep on updating later; keep an eye on me:)

Hande

third day on the race

hello again,
coming on to wednesday now, we are in good shape and mood. we're ranking
5th, and it's probable thatwe will finish as such. That is not too bad,
as w did not push the boat too hard. had te strategy not t risk damage
n the boat n the first race, still not fall behind. tis seems to have
worked out fine so far.
we had a wonderful sailing yesterday, the boat speed went upto 23 knots
under spinnaker. exciting surfng on the waves, with a wind of 30-35
knots. currently, we're ging upwind, against 20-30 knots of breeze, with
not too heavy seas, a sunny, cool, breeze, lovely sailing day!!!
the crew has already bonded, and we're working pretty well all together.
great luck!
I'll write more on shore, it looks like we'll be there late tonight!
Keep an eye on me:)

First Notes from the boat

Hello and a warm welcome to the blog of my small adventure.
well, I've luckily been writing this blog from the boat, sailing in the
channel and Biscay Bay between UK and France:) exciting!
Unfrtunately the blog you're readig is the second one, after loosing the
first on to system abnormaities (not so exciting)

several notes before the story:
Please excuse the spelling from now on, the waterproof keyboard forces
very istakes (an slow writing), the mail access is limited, and so is
the time to rest. So as fatigue creps n on th folloing days, or weather
detoriates, you will be exposed to a "words" puzzle rather than a
letter, it looks like.

I have to admit that I'm so very happy to be finally off sailing.
Clipper Race start has been celebrated as a huge event in Hull, combined
with the Hull festival and accompanied by wonderful (for UK conditions,
miracolous) weather. Hull Marina had been buzzzzziiinnngggg with both
locals and with spectators coming to watch The Start.

We moved Cape Breton Island (the boat, not the landscape:) ) from Hull
marina to Albert docks on Saturday, to have an easy exit for the start.
There were a few moments to rememer:
the marina was still surraounded by a ring of spectators at almost
midnight, and they waved us goodbye, sentimental moments, preparing us
for what was to come on the following day.
Another moment to remember was the sight of Hull, the modern aquarium
building standing out in its beauty, the pavements at the waterfront lit
up by torches and fires, and a weak-orange moon rising slowly on it
all... what a sight...

This was all only a preparation for the Start. The Start was absolutely
sectacular. Each tam was introduced on stage to a cheering crowd. Then
as we moved to our boats, an amazing flight show was staged with the air
squats. when we left the docks for the start, we were cheered by
thousands (tens of thousands actually). The whole waterfront and
rivershore as far as we could see, was completely covered with
supporters cheering, waving, and wishing us good luck.. We were escorted
by Navy Ships as a fleet, and waved good-bye to all. The scene falshed
back the memory of a year ago, the finish of 07-08 race in Liverpool. I
was among the crowd waving welcome to the racers, imagining what it
would be like for me, once I was on-board sailing off. Well, time flies.
Here I was waving goodbye, moved by the intensity of the moment, with a
few butterflies in my stomach, and a strange sense of reservness. My
little moments of fame...

coming onto the race, we culd not be luckier about the weather. 20-30
knots, N-NE meaning it would blow from behind, 1-2m waves, pushing us to
our destination nicely. Not too light, not too hard either to start out
with.

We started the race in the 4th position, and have ben keeping our
positio in between 3r and 5th throughout yesterday an today. Great
to be sailing against identitical boats, being able to watch the
perfrmance

High points in the trip:
5-6 hours of helming, first with a beam reach, then with the spinnaker.
It was heavenly to surf on the waves, feel the immense power of the
nature. Personal speed score: 16.4knts! this is the fastest seed I have
travelled to in any boat. Awsome!
Trimming the spinnaker at night, when it ws blowig 30-35 knots. The
power on the spinnaker was like no other (imagine holding the momentum
that speeds 35 tons to 15 knots). And looking at a background of
millions of starts while watching the sails, thinkng that we always kill
the beauty of the real lights while shining through with our own.
Low points: We had 6 peole suffering sea sickess heaviy. Poor guys... I
had a share of the situation by cleaning sails after one of them could
not hold it any more and threw up. OK, that was not as bad as I thught
it would be, I suppose we come to our senses when something needs
doing...

I'm now on my mother watch, meaning I have no shifts, but have to
keep the boat tidy and clean, and cook all that's to be eatn. Duty
calls, I have to make my move now.

Keep an eye on me:)

Yarış başladı :)

Merhabalar,

yarış başlama telaşı içerisinde kısacık yazıyorum. Yarış başladı... :)

http://www.clipperroundtheworld.com/index.php/Follow/RaceViewer

adresinden yarışı,

http://www.clipperroundtheworld.com

adresinden ise genel gelişmeleri görebilirsiniz. Vakit buldukça güncelleyeceğim...
H.