Out of Fremantle and Straight Into the Deep End
Time to leave “Freo” and it’s been a great stop over. All the teams meet at the Fremantle Sailing Club’s clubhouse for a speech from the Club’s commodore. Then a few photos and head down to the boats led by a marching bagpipe band. A bit of a treat. As always emotions are running high for a few who are saying goodbye to family and friends as this is their final chance before we get on the boats.
We slip our lines at 12.00 after a few photos and head out to prepare for our parade of sail. This time we will be heading up the river and back down past the brewery we’ve been to a few times and a great spot for spectators to wave. There are also a few banners flying high, especially Gavin’s family’s big red banner, which has been signed by all the crew, you can see it from miles away. Always gets me, so God only knows how it makes Gavin feel.
We head out into the bay dropping our banners, raising our sails and completing our standard MOB drills. Gavin asks for a volunteer swimmer, I don’t mind doing it, but Mark, a new legger, sticks his hand up and heads off to get the dry suit on to rescue “BOB” our floating dummy. For some reason one of our halyards has come loose and flies off in the strengthening wind, a real pain in the arse when you’re on a tight time schedule. Nobody can reach it, from the outside, it probably looks like a comedy show as everyone is trying to grab it as the line flicks about in the wind. Eventually it gets caught up in the main topping lift (the line that holds the boom up). So Mark, now has the job to be raised up the back of the main sail to retrieve the tangled halyard and like Spider-Man, up he goes and retrieves the halyard. Which he then needs to tie onto his safety harness before getting ready to retrieve “BOB”. The sea is fairly choppy as “BOB” is chucked over the side. We go through our processes, dropping sails, getting the engine on etc etc and go around to collect “BOB” , Mark is lowered over the side and as we get close to “BOB” we miss him. Poor Mark is then wound back up on deck again for a second pass. It’s not a pleasant job in calm waters let alone choppy seas. We collect him on the second pass, job well done and we can now get on with the race.
The start has been delayed by 30 minutes or so and all the boats are working out the best line of attack. The gun goes off and we’re off for leg 4 race 5 to Airlie beach.
Probably our worst start of the race so far, getting over the line in eight or ninth, a bit disappointing but now we’ve got a target and start chasing the fleet down as we head out to the 1st mark. We are quick and already starting to close down the fleet. We hear that Phil of Qingdao has put two protests in on the start. (I think he’s a bit upset with the race committee). Gavin knows these boats so well and we’re already pushing our way through the fleet and I mean pushing! Nothing like getting a few metres from another boat, intimidating them, taking their wind and watching them surrender and bear away. We muscle GOSH and Qingdao to move into third spot, not bad after only a few hours of racing. As I go down below at the end of my watch we’re closing in on Scotland for 2nd spot. Over the next watch we eventually get out in front, beating down the western coast of Australia heading for the Indian ocean and open water.
I suddenly awake being thrown across my bunk, as if we’d tacked? I hear Gavin shouting out, “where are we going to “ , followed by “all hands-on deck”. I didn’t know what had happened, the boat is hove too, basically stationary. I’ve got my foulies on and as I climb up on deck to see lights on the starboard horizon, we’re pointing in the opposite direction, the wrong bloody way! I’m thinking what’s going on, as a freak wave engulfs the boat. It hits us just as I’ve stood up, I go flying through the air, “am I teathered?” I’m thinking as I’m blindly tying to grab any part of the boat to stop me going over the side. Luckily I am attached to the boat and I come to a sudden stop, landing with all my body weight on my right forearm. The sharp pain in my arm is instant and intense making me feel nauseous. I pull myself back into the cockpit and trying to get back down below, clutching my arm. I don’t have the energy to unclip and shout out for a bit of help. One of my crew mates, unclips me and I manage to get myself back down below and collapse onto the galley seats thinking the worst. I sit for about 30 minutes catching my breath, getting my thoughts together trying to establish what damage I’ve done to myself. Once I’ve regained some sort of composure, I go through the process of moving my fingers, wrist and moving my left hand up my arm to find the damage. Ouch, I could feel a small lump on my forearm. Time to investigate further and strip off my lifejacket and the various layers of clothing, not good as the lump is now the size of an egg. Gavin has come to check me out, but he’s got other things to sort out and I send him off with one of the crew getting me a cold cloth and an ice pack to stop the swelling.
We’ve broken our bloody steering arm! Basically, we have two independent helms. Two steering wheels attached independently to the rudder below. We then have a heavy-duty rod that connects the two rudders together so if we turn the port helm, the starboard helm moves the same way. The bolt that holds them together has somehow sheared. Not a complete catastrophe, but not great for helming on the high side. Gavin has managed to get the rod connected, supported with some dynema wrapping and we’re back on our way but after all that hard work, in an instant, we’ve dropped back down the fleet to last spot, bugger.
I’ve gone to bed as the pain and boat movement is making me feel sick. I don’t think it’s as bad as I first thought. I’ve got full movement of everything just really painful to touch. The cold compress has helped with the swelling. I’m just praying that I’ve not broken anything. By the morning the swelling has gone down a bit but still really sore to touch. I’ll just need to be careful around the boat and my crew mates have given me a bit of a pass for going on the foredeck until I’m feeling less pain. Gavin and I have put a double rap bandage on my forearm to help protect it from the day to day bumps you get and with us beating into wind the whole time, there’s more chance of it bashing into something. But I think I’ve missed a bullet here!
Most of the fleet have headed south. We on the other hand, now last in the fleet, have decided to try our hand with a different tactic and head Southeast ducking and diving around the various currents around the bottom of Australia. Many of the guys are still seasick and so like the last leg we’re taking it easier with a conservative sail plan. It is bloody awful, especially for the new leggers who are in a vicious circle of being sick, not wanting to eat or drink and being sick again.
Christmas at 45 degrees
Day 4 and I’m on mother duty with new boy, Paul, a very cheeky chap, who’s been really struggling with sea sickness. Our Christmas Eve breakfast starts with porridge, always a firm favourite, soaked overnight in cold water, slowly heated up adding just milk, constantly stirring then adding a bit of brown sugar. What’s not to like and the majority of the crew have a go. Lunch is the infamous tomato soup with croutons and an old fav, bread and butter. Again, the guys are starting to get they’re appetites back and finally a lentil Dahl, something I’ve never attempted before but goes down a treat. Most of the team are back, smiling laughing and at long last eating. Just in time for their Crimbo dinner tomorrow. Paul and I get off to bed after a job well done and for a good rest before Christmas Day.
Paul has stood up to help Tony for our big Christmas meal. A really difficult thing to accomplish at 45 degrees. Before the food arrives it’s time for Santa to arrive and give out presents to all the good boys and girls on the boat. For some reason I missed Santa, must have been washing my hair! But he did leave me a stocking with some goodies in. I was told he had a slight irish accent, a very attractive chap with an amazing bushy beard, you’ll need to see the photos and can judge for yourselves. But it was all a great Ho, Ho, Ho, laugh.
I was really fortunate to get not one, not two, but three Christmas videos from home. The 1st a joint venture, split screen video from my youngest son Nick and his partner Hannah on one side with my eldest son Robert on the other. With a very funny outtakes part at the end. Made me laugh and cry at the same time. The 2nd from Lynn, my partner, with Kris her son, Mollie his partner and our beautiful new grand daughter, Darcy. With a humorous false start, I’m in bits again. Then finally an edited video from my parents in Northern Ireland accompanied by my brother, Charlie and his wife and daughter. Made me melt again. I watched it in the nav station, Gavin gave me a tissue before I watched it, then a big hug after I watched it. Bloody hell I was in bits again. I then opened my Crimbo cards which arrived in Fremantle. It was too much; I had to go and lie down for a bit.
But we are in a race and the boat needs to be sailed, so whilst the guys are cooking dinner, our watch are up on deck and shake out a couple of reefs. The off-watch has gone below to have their Christmas dinner and I’ve decided to have mine on deck. I mean Christmas dinner on the deck in the Indian ocean, certainly a 1st for me. Turkey, pigs in blankets, carrots, gravy, cooked ham and potato salad! All things being equal a cracking effort from our chefs Tony & Paul. There was pudding but it didn’t appear after lunch! When our watch was done, we nipped back down below and pudding was still there. Yippee, I had a large bowl of steamed chocolate pudding to finish off a very different Christmas, made so special by the effort made by family, friends, crew and Gavin. All I can say is well done and I went to bed a happy chap.
Bilge pumping and an albatross plotting revenge
Back to the sailing and it’s all a close-run thing. Most of the fleet had headed south towards the scoring gate, with Punta coming 1st, Qingdao 2nd and Gosh 3rd. Meanwhile we’ve been beating across the Indian Ocean with Scotland heading for Tasmania and as the fleet converge, it’s all very close. We’ve been beating upwind for 6 days and the crew, whilst recovering from sea sickness are all fairly tired and a bit pissed off with living on the same tack at over 45 degrees for six days.
Being on a 45 degree angle for so long, presents various problems, one of which is getting water out of the bilges. All boats tend to leak water and one of our jobs is to pump water out, in essence, preventing the boat from sinking. We have a rota of duties, one of which is bilge and waste management. All our bilge pumps, both automatic and manual are placed in the lowest part of the boat, along the keel. But at 45 degrees the bilge water sloshes to the sides and is now washing out of the floorboards. So Paul and I set about emptying the bilges manually using the electric bilges and manual bilges where possible, a small mobile electric pump and a scoop and bucket. After a couple of hours, we must have emptied over 200 litres out of the boat. A job well done and should make us faster.
But we’re due for a rest with the wind softening and backing and sure enough after a fairly stormy day, the seas start to flatten, the wind starts to back and at long last the boat is nearly flat. The sun is out, washing is being done, cloths are being dried out and for many, a time to get over their sea sickness, just what the doctor ordered. Apart from the fact the decks are now looking like a laundry.
We’ve not had many birds about on this leg apart from a large adult albatross who has been following us for a few days. After telling the crew about hitting an albatross on the last leg (read the blog), rumour has it that this Albatross is waiting for an opportune moment to get its revenge.
Another Super Sunday Sundown, another week done and the sun was shinning again. A steady week for the boat and crew. What will next week bring?