Quick Fire Questions

Why did you decide to do it?

CHALLENGE, UNIQUE EXPERIENCE, SAILING SKILLS

And more specifically why the Pacific?

MOST INTENSE LEG OF RACE SO WANTED TO EXPERIENCE IT AT ITS BEST AND WORST

Did you ever feel scared?

NO - THE BOAT HANDLED EXTREMELY WELL IN BIG SEAS AND SKIPPER AND CREW WERE SENSIBLE AT ALL TIMES REGARDING SAFETY.

What did you enjoy most about the experience? 

SAILING HUGE 20M WAVES 

What did you enjoy least about the experience? 

MOTHER DUTY - PREPARING FOOD AND DRINKS FOR THE DAY FOR 15 PEOPLE WHEN AT 45
DEGREES WAS NO FUN AT ALL 

How did you sleep? 

OVERALL WELL. HAD ABOUT 8-9 HOURS PER DAY IN BED WHICH IS A LOT BUT IN CERTAIN
24 HOUR PERIODS MANAGED LESS THAN 2 HOURS SLEEP, IN OTHERS SLEPT THE WHOLE LOT. 

Were you wet all the time? 

GOT WORSE AS TRIP WENT ON. FOULIES (WET WEATHER GEAR) WERE GREAT TO START WITH
BUT GRADUALLY BECAME SATURATED. TOP AND MID LAYERS FAIRLY REGULARLY SOAKED,
BASELAYERS LARGELY DRY. 

Was there a time or how many times did you think "I just want to get off"? 

BEING MOTHER OR TRYING TO GET INTO 7 LAYERS OF CLOTHES WHEN AT 45 DEGREES. 

What was the food like? 

NOT BAD ACTUALLY. FREEZE DRIED MEALS, PASTA, RICE AND TUNA ALL FEATURED
REGULARLY
 

What did you miss the most?

BED, HELEN, DRY CLOTHES. PROBABLY IN THAT ORDER.

How was it being in a confined space with almost strangers for so long?

SURPRISINGLY EASY. ONLY 7 ON OUR WATCH OF WHICH ONE WAS MOTHER EACH DAY SO ONLY
REALLY SHARING THE SPACE WITH 6 PEOPLE. NOT A PROBLEM AT ALL. 

Would you do it again?
NO. THOROUGHLY ENJOYED IT BUT IT'S A CASE OF SEEN ONE OCEAN, SEEN THEM ALL.

Nearly there

Out of adversity comes something....can't remember what it is but am sure it's
relevant to us here. Perhaps it's strength. The Derry crew has certainly shown
it in abundance since we lost our 3rd place. Morale is very good - maybe we're
just demob happy, maybe now that we've taken our focus off the podium and back
onto why we're really out here doing this we've realised just how amazing it's
been. It feels like months ago that we waited in Qingdao to see if we'd be able
to race at all after our water-maker failed. Had you offered us then a 4th place
finish with all crew safe and smiling we'd have ripped your hand off. Yet after
29 amazing days on the Pacific that's exactly what we're looking at. It's all
very, very good. We had 2 great day's sailing, counting down the number of
watches left before arrival and watching the ETA tick down towards zero.
Humidity levels down below are near saturation levels - I've really never seen
anything like it. If you hang something out to dry it gets wetter, so
counter-intuitively the best thing to do with something wet is roll it in a
ball to hopefully stop it getting wetter.

One real downer has been finding my "dry-bag" of land-clothes to wear in San
Fran has leaked so I now own nothing dry. Going to quickly turn my hotel room
into a chinese laundry on arrival. Not to worry - with a bed, beer, burger and
shower just 11 hours away it would be diffiicult put a downer on things. It
seems spirits are the onky thing left on board that aren't damp. And by way of
a final goodbye the Pacific threw us a quick 40 knot headwind for the last 6
hours just to remind us of how potent it can be. Despite some fairly extreme
conditions it's been a fairly benign crossing.

The schedule from here is 3-4pm crossing of line tomorrow, sorry, later today
(just started 4am watch). Moored by 6pm, beers, quick shower, food then more
beers until tiredness overcomes us. Big boat clean tomorrow followed by
maintenance day the day after and then crew dinner on the 4th. Then a lovely
week with family before returning home at last. Will post more details of the
adventure in the coming days/weeks, but for now, one more watch to go, a sleep
and then the Golden Gate Bridge awaits.

A bad 24 hours

Sadly it's not been a very good day on baord Derry which resulted in us
dropping to 4th place and out of the podium places. NY went into their stealth
mode (24 hour period "off radar") but we were largely unconcerned. They had
proved unable to outpace us in the previous 3 weeks, the wind files suggested
light winds to the south, and given our more northerly position they would only
drop further behind by coming up to our level. So nothing had changed - keep
sailing as we were and avoid serious equipment failure and third place was ours.
Just as our 12am-4am watch was finishing, our steering gear, for the second time
in the race, failed. What followed was a slightly frantic but highly
"professional" 45 minutes of rigging the emergency tiller, getting the sails
under control and fixing the problem. OK, we had lost about 3 miles in the
period but it was far from a disater. Indeed we opened and polished off a bottle
of Jameson to celebrate a job well done.

The next morning however we faced a bigger problem and one that was out of our
control - the windhole predicted down south had popped up north instead and we
sailed right into it - the even bigger sucker punch was that if NY had gone
south in stealth mode they would now miss the wind hole and sail into strong and
favourable winds. We spent a hugely frustrating 8 hours bobbing around at about
4 knots, and when NY came out of stealth at 8pm yesterday the updates confirmed
the worst - we were now 20 miles behind. It was a flyer for NY to go south - all
the data we had suggested it was the wrong move but in 4th place you have
nothing to lose - get it wrong and you might come 5th/6th, but get it right and
you're on the podium. And so it worked out - better lucky than smart as they
say.

The really interesting thing has been the reaction on board. Probably more than
half the crew didn't really care - the lure of land luxuries just 2 days away
overcame any disappointment at losing 3rd place. That doesn't make them wrong
at all - people come on this adventure for many different reasons - to race, the
expereince, to learn etc etc and if the race itself is low down on your
priorities then nothing has really changed. A few of us were disappointed but
understood the nature of the lost place - we hadn't done anything wrong, were a
little unlucky while NY got very lucky. It hasn't changed how well we've done so
far nor the fact that anyone on board would have gladly taken 4th place when
we'd just learnt about the 1 ton extra of water we'd be carrying way back in
Qingdao. I'm reluctant to blame it all on luck but there isn't a lot we would
have changed about our tactical decisions or how we've raced. Sadly the person
to have taken it worst has been the skipper. Now I do understand that as a
professional skipper he is under different pressures than we the crew, but I
hope he does not now overturn the crew approach which has served us so well thus
far and risk destroying the tremendous atmosphere on board. Worst case there is
just 48 hours to go so we can survive anything, and either way the fun and
morale on our watch remains as high as ever. 
Thoughts now turn to all the land luxuries awaiting us in San Fran. I worked out
this morning that I only have to get dressed 5 more times (the hardest part of
every watch) before we arrive. Sleeping in a flat bed and seeing Helen (in no
particular order of course!) are the 2 things I am looking forward to most. In
the meantime we'll sail as hard as we can on this spectacular adventure and hope
for NY to mess up.

Ocean Racing

Ocean racing is proving a strange world. Nothing happens very quickly - in
identical boats and similar weather it's incredibly hard to make gains on boats
around you. Take New York for example - it's about 2 weeks now that they've been
about 10 miles behind us. 10 miles is less than 1 hours sailing, but the gap has
remained consistent for well over 1000 miles now. We've helmed some incredible
conditions in that period banging out ridiculously high speeds for a sail boat,
yet when we get our 6 hourly updates there they are, still 10 miles behind. It's
enough to drive you insane, enough to want to pull over and let them past just
to enjoy a few hours of relaxation. The only thing worse would be being in 4th
place trying to catch us for 2000 miles but depsite pushing boat and crew to the
limit being unable to catch up. 

The skipper of New York sent our skipper an email 2 days ago saying simply "Christ, you guys are hard to catch". Advantage Derry. It was a huge psychological boost for us. No matter how sick we were of seeing New York 10 miles behind us, they were even more sick seeing us 10 miles ahead. While 14 days out you can console yourself into thinking that all you have to do is match us and wait for a mistake, 4 days out the chances of that mistake become more and more remote. And if the latest updates are accurate, it looks like NY have taken a dive south in desperation to give themselves some chance of making 3rd. The problem is the forecast, if accurate, is for a lull to arrive from the south which should stop them dead before they can gain any significant ground. It's brave but maybe stupid - they may be risking a safe 4th position on a flyer. 

For now we plough on with our more northerly course knowing that if we can avoid significant damage to our boat that our podium place remains ours to lose. On we race, around 96 hours away from all we yearn - a podium finish, a bed, beer, meat, friends and family, toilets that flush, flat floors, dryness. The list is almost endless, as it sometimes feels is the Pacific itself. Morale on board remains fantastic - nothing like an exciting race to focus the minds away from the petty discomforts that could at any
moment rise up to arguments. The sailing too, apart from a frustrating 6 hour
lull this afternoon, remains incredible. We're close enough to the end now
that adrenaline is overcoming any tiredenss and no doubt soon will start to
regret the end of this great adventure. In the mean time however, all that
matters is that 10 miles gap to NY. 

PS

As I had suspected my "down day" yesterday was closely linked to my lack of helm
time. I returned today to huge seas and strong winds. Due to a lack of peope
on board willing or able to helm in these conditions I had a massive 2.5 hour
shift this afternoon (usually about 1 hour max) and another 1.5 hours tonight
(usually 40 mins). Absolutely amazing stuff. I hit a top speed of 25.2 knots
(about 45kmph) which is a boat record for the Pacific, and 2 minutes later an
even bigger wave crashed over the deck throwing more water at us than I have
ever seen. Imagine having a fire hose turned on you for 20 seconds and you get
the idea. When it finally stopped I had my 4 crewmates in front of me sprawled
across the deck in various posiitons. Thankfully no injuries. Size of
the waves is just straggering - well over 20m tall. Quite amazing stuff and
exactly what I came here to experience. Off now for my last 30 mnins helming of
the day and then a much deserved 3 hour sleep.

And from skipper Mark Light

“We have monstrous waves that chase down our boat and then climb up behind us, massive walls of water that break at the crest and then come hurtling down towards the back of the boat.
The art is to catch one of these monsters fairly square on and with enough speed to begin the most amazing sleigh ride ever.
"The boat feels like a torpedo being fired from a submarine (which is exactly how the boat feels) as she accelerates rapidly up to a full on surf speed,” explains Mark, as his team continue their game of cat and mouse with New York.

“Speeds up to 25 knots have been achieved today and in the right direction. The feeling on the helm is amazing as the stern is picked up and you stand tall looking down the entire length of the boat and watch as the bow dips at first, then literally takes off and great spumes of water are sprung up from each side of the bow.

Dorothy

Much time is spent discussing the "off button" during the race. The worst thing
about a boat/race such as this is there is no way to stop the game if for whatever
reason you aren't enjoying it. This is what makes it so tough for the Round the
World-ers to see the race out because every month or so when back ashore they have
the option to walk away from the race. We have so far lost 5 of our 9 Round the
World-ers and it's not difficult to see why. At the start of this leg I gave this
topic a name - the Dorothy Button - referencing of course Wizard of Oz. We each had
the option, once only, to press our Dorothy button which would instantly rerturn us
home. Home is an important feature - lots enquired as to whether the button could
bring you 2 days out from San Fran - the answer was a strict no - this is all or
nothing stuff - the Clipper adventure would be over. Not too surprisingly most of
the Round the World-ers were up for pressing it right away - most are battle weary
and are stubbornly hanging in simply to complete the race - for them the option to
be finshed would be quite a luxury. Incredibly, a couple of leggers would have used
the option in week 1 - why you'd spend the time/money getting here to wish it away
is beyond me. The rest of us have flirted with it on many occasions - usually when
life at 45 degrees becomes a little too much. The concept has taken on a life of its
own - we spend hours talking about what the button looks like, how close we've come
to pressing it and the first things we'd do once we were teleported home.

Yesterday I pressed the button.

I had been on mother watch which is never my favourite job - 24 hours down below
preparing meals and hot drinks for 15 people for the day. It's pretty dull at the
best of times and a particularly miserable sea-state made it even harder than
normal. Usually, the boat is at a fairly fixed angle one side or the other. On that
basis you stack up all the things likely to fly around on the lower side of the
galley safe in the knowledgte that they can't fall down. This makes life a little
easier. Yesteday we had rough seas swaying from one side to the other. This made for
most of the day being spent picking up things from the floor - like bread dough
while trying to make bread, like lamb stew while trying to serve it etc etc. This
really wasn't fun. I had also (schoolboy error) offered to try to make yorkshire
puddings to accompany said stew - depsite managing down expectations, there was
boat-wide disappointment when I couldn't manage the feat due to no cooking oil and
an oven that wouldn't stay lit. Meanwhile, above deck, our 3rd place feels like it
is starting to slip away to a relentless NY boat slowly closing us down. We hoisted
our spinnaker (largest sail) and within 5 minutes had wrapped it and torn it on the
way back down - this was a huge setback to our race. A couple of minutes later the
stew pot once again lunged at the floor. I turned away, opened the glass protective
box and pressed the Dorothy Button. I had had enough.

In the real world this was merely a lot of cursing followed by cleaning up the mess
again, grinning and bearing it until dinner was finshed and then going to bed. This
morning after a good sleep and great boat speeds overnight I'm back on track. As
I've said before, in rough conmditions the best job on the boat is helming so not
doing it for 36 hours really takes away the fun factoir. I'm back up on deck in a
couple of hours and itching to get going in favourable 50 knot winds (90kmph) with
huge boat speeds being recorded. We've about 7 days to go till San Fran and are
still for now holding off NY in the race for 3rd. It would be just lovely to see
them give up just a little ground and allow us to enjoy the run in but they seem
unwilling to cooperate. So it remains a tense few days where any serious mistake
will cost us our much coveted podium place.

Bitter Sweet

Day 20 of the race and we continue to fly along in very favourable racing
conditions. By tomorrow morning we will have less than 2000 miles to go - still
longer than most sailors will ever have completed in one go but for us a big
psychological barrier. At our current rate of 240 miles per day we will arrive
in 9 days, realistically it will be more like 11 days to go - all depends on
what the high presure in front of us does next. It's funny watching and counting
down the miles to go to san fran - obviously the faster we get there the better
we'll do in the race but the sooner this incredible experience will be over.
So it's very bitter sweet. Things like showers, flat beds, fresh food, normal
toilets, seeing friends and family and of course finishing in a podium place are
all big incentives to getting there as soon as possible so I think the trick is
to enjoy every minute while we're still out on this greast adventure. Living
conditions are better with the angle down to about 25 degrees now - still
frustrating as hell getting out of bed and dressed 3 times perday (all my lows
of the trip have been in this period). Getting out of bed when at a 45 degree
angle is basically like a letter trying to jump back out of a post box. But the
winds are favourable and we are enjopying some wonderful sailing.

Hello From Yesterday

Midway by name and nature; the fleet is now just over half way through  their mammoth 

Pacific Ocean crossing, although they still have the equivalent of the breadth of the Atlantic 

to sail before they reach California!
 

So today we crossed the International Date Line which has lead to much confusion on board. We started today tomrrow, 

moved back into yesteray and are now back to today. In a straw poll of crew no one got the correct date or day once we 

crossed.....tad confusing to say the least.  It has to be said that the concept of days and dates becomes fairly irrelevant 

on board., it's all about the next watch and our position on the leader board - other measures of time don't really matter
anymore. 

We also returned "home" into the Western Hemisphere which was much comfort to all...until I realised that we actually
live East of Greenwich so in fact ion the Eastern Hemisphere. We're trying to work out if that makes us Asian!?

Race continues to go well - we've banged out a few 240 mile days which are keeping us nicely ahead of the chasing pack 

and slowly catching the 2 lead boats. Still over 2500 miles to go but it's going very well and as skipper put it today, barring
serious damage to our kit, someone has to sail right past us for us to lose our podium position and nothing we've seen to
date suggests that is about to happen. 

Weather has improved with winds at a more favourable angle and the boat pitch down from about 45 degrees to a mere 25-30

 - sea state has calmed though so sleep is back on the agenda. Morale good on board still with the rapidly descendingh miles 

to finish providing a big boost each day. Back on watch now so have to hop. Will try to update again in the coming days if the 

weather holds as promised. Estimated arrival date in San Fran now the 3rd April but lots could change in the mean time.

I Wonder do I smell yet?

"Being aboard a Clipper 68 at the moment is much like being inside an otter's pocket: Cold, damp and a bit smelly" - Quote from skipper of Singapore.

Yesterday I changed my socks. I grant you that's hardly earth shattering, but if
I tell you that's the first time I've done so in 13 days it becomes a little
more controversial. And if I go on to tell you that they were the first items of
clothing I've changed since leaving Qingdao on the 4th March it begins to verge
on the offensive. Now in my defense there are mitigating circumstances.
Following the failure of our water maker in Qingdao we have been under strict
water rationing on our Pacific crossing. We have 1.5L per person per day for
drinking and sadly none at all for showering. Although this isn't quite as bad
as it sounds (details below) it does make it harder to justify changing clothes
on a regular basis. Not showering hasn't been nearly as bad as I feared - there
are good options - dry cleaning (deoderant), wet-wipe showers (cleaning "the
arches" on a daily basis with baby-wipes) and anti-bac hand wash make it all
very doable. And let's be honest, the cold weather also helps keeps smells to a
minimum, or at least well wrapped up. There are also other factors to consider -
with average air temperatures in the single digits, combined with wind-chill
means getting undressed is hardly a very inviting proposition. Of course we were
all very much aware of this before setting off so have equipped ourselves with
clever things like merino wool base layers which claim to never smell (so far so
good...I think) and to stay warm when wet - this feature is remarkably helpful
after getting a soaking on the foredeck. The other factor to consider is that we
are allowed a total of 20kg luggage for the trip. That includes "land clothes"
for before and after the race, all our gear, treats etc. The long and the short
of it is that you have to pack light. For most this involves a couple of pairs
of midlayers, and maybe 3-4 sets of base layers, including underwear. I had
contemplated washing while on the go but had forgotten that drying things on
these boats is pretty much impossible. The t-shirt hanging from my bunk for a
week now is wetter than when I first hung it to dry. I had consutled on this
topic with the original salty old sea dog (and Clipper instructor), Simon
Bradley who advised me to bring 2 pairs of underwear - one to wear and the other
for special occasions, like arriving into San Francisco. How true those words
ring now.

This is a topic of conversation that has recently arisen on the boat as
presumably we all go through the same thought process each morning of just how
long we can go without a change of pants. Our experiences seem to have been very
similar - not nearly as bad as we had feared, can't see any reason to change
them yet, how can it be wrong when it feels so right etc. The slightly worrying
thing is that we all noticed after about 4-5 days that we weren't smelling as
fresh as perhaps we might, that damp clothes were starting to smell and that
some of our crewmates were perhaps starting to smell mildly of cheese. Yet now
14 days in, these smells seem to have all "vanished". Hmmm. The fear and most
likely cause of this is that we have merely got used to our smells and now don't
notice them anymore. And sadly the tragic victims of this phenomenon will be our
beloved friends and family who come to meet us in San Francisco who will no
doubt confirm our greatest fears - yes, we do smell. 

Re. A drier than normal Paddy's Day for Niall and an excerpt from skipper Mark Light:

Happy St Paddy's day! We started the day with a nice shot of jameson at 9am
before the morning watch! Think we're getting beer each with dinner too as a
treat.

"On Board, we have our own celebrations with decorations, face paints, hats, Irish music and maybe a wee tot of Jameson's Whiskey. For dinner we have roast lamb and vegetables with mash (freeze dried and nearly Irish) and we have a delicious fruit cake soaked in Jameson's Irish Whiskey, baked a couple of days ago and allowed to soak. We also have a sweep stake running on the England v Ireland rugby match.

This weather may be severe and safety is of paramount importance, but in reality this is exactly the conditions wanted and expected by all of the crew. This experience will live long in the memory and I imagine will form the basis for many a tale in pubs and yacht clubs for years to come.”

White horses

It's been an eventful 48 hours on the good ship Derry. We've had 3 snapped ropes (stay sheet, yankee halyard andreef line 3), a life raft come untied (caught before it fell off!) and most seriously a broken steering cable which left 

us dead in the water for nearly 90 minutes whiler skipper fixed it. But I'm happy to report we've come through in 

one piece. 

Conditions remain extreme - 45-50 knot winds (about 85-90kmph) but thankfully behind us which leads to more 

pleasant conditions, very high speeds (23 knots registered today - about 40kmph) and incredible helming 

conditions. The seascape is simply stunning - rolling mountains of water with white horses as far as you can sea 

in every direction. There were many swells today of over 20m from peak to trough. Photos just don't do it justice 

but it is something I will never forget. We also had bright sunshine for most of the day - it really was the North 

Pacific at its finest. 

Helming (steering) has been fun but very tricky. I took over yesterday evening around dusk as a series of squalls 

hit. One particularly strong one resulted in our first broach of the race - this is when a gust pulls the boat into a 

 sharp turn which tips over the whole boat dramatically ending with the boom (pole which the bottom of sails are attached to)  in the water. All you can do is fight it and hold on until the gust eases. Thankfully skipper was on deck so all was fine, and given the next 3 helms had a further 6 broaches between them I felt a lot better about the 

whole incident! Although a broach can be very dangerous to the boat, these were all relatively minor - it was 

comedy value though watching each helm confidently take the wheel and within 10 minutes suffer the same 

inevitable fate. 

Thankfully the conditions improved a little today so no further broaches to report.
 
The race continues to go well - we are currently around 4th or 5th and happy with our position (on the map rather

 than result) and boat speed. It looks like we'll be in a pack of 5 or 6 that will escape an imminent wind hole which will really split the fleet. The race remains very much on and we will be looking to improve our placing in the 

coming days. Tough headwinds predicted in 24-36  hours so sadly, life at 45 degrees will be on the cards again. 

The calm after the storm.

The storm and conditions as described by a competing skipper:

“To give you an appreciation of the fun we are having, the sea state is rough to very rough. The current causes the waves to build steeply so they are more like walls of water and as the ‘Purple Beastie’ falls off the wall of water we nose dive straight into the next wave. The warm sea comes rushing down the deck washing the crew to their knees, the cockpit is constantly full of water and runs down the companionway steps like a waterfall, then we crash head on into the next wave with an almighty BOOM. The entire rig vibrates and anything that is not secured below flies from one side to the other.

“Every muscle in your body is constantly under tension; this is like Ironman super circuits! With all that said and done, what an adrenaline rush you get from surfing the ‘Purple Beastie’ off one giant wave after another and feeling the raw power of the ocean as Mother Nature shows you who is clearly in charge!”
And here is Niall's update:

The calm after the storm today. After incredible conditions yesterday with huge

waves and winds gusting at 45knots (about 80-85kmph) today we have sunshine and
light winds. Great to get the boat on an even keel again, get everything
cleaned and organised and overall give the crew a much needed rest. We are here
to race but it is nice to take a little pause and hopefully the whole fleet are
in similar winds so we're not losing ground today. 

Today I'm on Mother Watch which means I have to prepare 3 meals for 15 poeple as well as baking bread for said crew. The conditions are ideal today for it so I've been quite lucky there - as the rest of the crew keep pointing out. It's a more realxing day all around, chance to catch up on emails, sort out wet clothes and best of all we get a 14hour sleep tonight! 

On the subject, for those not familiar with the watch system, the boat uses 2 watches on the following schedule: 

8am-2pm - on watch. Awake at 7.20am, quick breakfast, up and ready to sail by
7.55. Lunch at 2. 

2pm-8pm - off watch - eat, sleep, up at 7.20pm - eat dinner, get ready for deck
by 7.55pm. 

8pm-12am - on watch. 

12am-4am - bed, up at 3.30 am, on deck by 3.55am 

4am-8am - on watch. 

This rolls on a 2 day basis to prevent working same watches each day/night.
It works really well - plenty of sleep (unless conditions are very bad) and no
watch ever feels too long. Anyway, back to my bread!

The Experience

Photo  - Singapore, one of our rivals, in view!

Today I had "the experience". Or maybe that should be in the present tense - today
I am having "the experience". With the adrenaline of the start line long gone
and 3 painfully long days of trying to live life below deck at 45 degrees (and
associated lack of sleep) I was starting to experience my first dip in morale.
Then this morning we woke to "The Pacific". Helming a 68 foot yacht through
huge seas (it's all relative I know and we will most probably see far bigger
seas before we reach San Fran but...) is a wonderful experience and one we
are very lucky to be living.

We have seen peak to troughs of well over 15m (an average 2 bed house is 6-7m high) rolling through one after the other as far as the eye can see but on sails Derry- London Derry relentlessly ploughs through/around/over these mountains of water with not the slightest bother.
Being at the trough and surrounded by walls of water might sound a little
daunting but no sooner has she got to the bottom, then she climbs high over
the next one over and over again. 

It's exactly what I signed up for when I chose the Pacific leg and now just 7 days in it is already living up to all my hopes. On board, morale is good. The race is going well so far - we are currently in stealth mode so don't know our exact position but hope to be in the lead pack when we resurface tomorrow.

Update - on resurfacing they are in a good 3rd place as at Sat 10th March 2pm about 60 miles from Gold Coast the leaders but on a different trajectory.

Stealth

The boat is still at a ridiculous angle and has been for 2 full days now and
probably at least one more. It is great fun helming but any jobs below are
ridiculously hard to do and sleeping is almost impossible too - as one of our
crew put it today, "It would be hard to design an environment where sleeping was
more difficult." 

The race is going well though - don't worry too much about race viewer
in terms of positions as they are measuring stright to San Fran which is a route
none of us will take - the map is a more important indicator of how we are doing. We are currently about 2nd or 3rd and are in 'stealth' mode. we are hoping to hold or improve on our position while we're "invisible". (Each boat can do this twice during the race. Gold Coast have already done it once)

There is a long way to go still though so taking nothing for granted but it is good to be competitive though. 

Still having a lot of fun here though and it will be so much more comfortable once the wind turns more westerly and the boat flattens out.

Qingdao & Race start

Qingdao stopover - what can I say? - bedlam is a word. I'll post further when I
get back to land but a combination of boat prep, Clipper admin and very late boozing
meant race start was a welcome relief!

Race morning gave us something of a bombshell though when our water maker packed up. So we loaded a ton extra of water and headed off. It means strict rationing of water - no showers (yes, no showers for 30+ days!!) and a big weight handicap. No point complaining though - at least we made the start line and now, after 24 hours of motoring we are finally racing. Brilliant to be out sailing again and although fairly cold, conditions are good.

Day 1

After 24 very frustrating hours motoring south east of Qingdao, word finally came through from Clipper Race HQ that we would soon be racing. It was going to be a Le Mans start to the race - a technique many of us had practiced already in training. It involves all crews preparing their boats to sail while still sailing under engine with just the main sail raised.

All 10 boats line up in the same speed and direction alongside then all cut engines at the same time and then one minute later crews are "released" to raise sails and start racing. It is a great test of crew coordination and trimming ability as ultimately there are ten identical boats moving in the same direction at the same speed in the same tight stretch of water so it is massively rewarding to see your boat pulling away from others.

It is quite an impressive site watching ten 68 foot racing boats lined up this way but sadly on this occasion, other than a few unimpressed seagulls there weren't many around to appreciate it. And so the race was finally on. Although it didn't feel like our start when particularly well, the trimming was good and we were probably third off the line. Then the relentless game of "trim, trim and trim again" began.

We've had a good six or seven boats in sight for most of the day and are probably now in a satisfactory fourth or fifth place.  In truth given our weight disadvantage we feared we wouldn't be quite as competitive. This disadvantage was not just down to the extra-large size of some of the crew members joining on this leg, but down to the extra ton on water we had to take on board yesterday before we departed due to the fact that our water maker packed up on departure morning from Qingdao. It's far from ideal but we certainly are not complaining - the alternative was a one week delay in China which would have all but ended our race before it had even begun. For me as a legger joining the race this week it's wonderful to finally be racing.

Next stop San Francisco in early April and in the mean time a whole lot of fun ocean racing.

Final Training Done.....just 2 months to go!

I figured that not sailing from early July 2011 until race start march 2012 wouldn't be such a good idea - it would be a shame to waste my well-earned reputation at Clipper (ha!) by making a fool of myself on Day 1 of the race itself. So in order to refresh my sailing skills, re-test my cold weather gear and at the same time obtain a very useful qualification, I signed up for my Day Skipper Practical (equivalent of a driving licence in the sailing world) in mid December. It involves 5 days and nights on a boat, practising the very useful skills of navigating, sailing a given course and mooring a boat in a marina. These are skills that although we learnt in theory as part of Clipper, that in reality the Skipper would always put into practice. So on the recommendation of one of my Clipper skippers, I found a small company operating in the same stretch of water in the Solent. Given the lack of demand for such cold weather sailing, it turned out it would be just me, one other student and the instructor aboard the very pleasant (despite the name) Prime Evil - a lovely 40 foot sailing yacht with a nice amount of comfort below deck.

           Prime Evil at dawn in Cowes Marina - a familiar part of the world from Clipper training.

So I packed up all my kit and headed back once again to the south coast of England. Instructor John was a very pleasant fellow who was understandably very boat-proud of his lovely Prime Evil. He showed me around and I was pleased to see that although far from identical to the Clipper 68s, that they shared enough in common for me to work out what was going on and how to sail her - one of the real fears of Clipper training is that we are being taught how to sail a specific boat for a specific race rather than "how to sail", but so far this fear has been unfounded.  The forecast was almost perfect - 25-30mph winds, clear(ish) skies and no rain. So once my sailing partner Andy arrived just 2 hours late we headed off for some sailing. This late arrival proved to be the first of many of Andy's eccentricities (is that a word?). He was around 50 and had only taken up sailing in the previous 2 years. He had roughly the same number of hours at sea as me but where as I had done it in 4 long trips, he had done it in maybe 50 short ones, so we arrived at the same point in 2 very different ways. Although in some ways he had learnt a lot, in others he had clearly learnt some fairly bad habits from the sailing club with which he sails - this is a common trait with sailing clubs that they will do things a certain way but not necessarily the right way. They say there are 2 ways to do things on a boat - the Skipper's way and the wrong way, so if you sail with the same skipper a lot you will soon believe his ways are the "right" ones even though they may not be!

Fellow student Andy attempting navigation - yes those are rollers in his moustache - enough said!

Over the next 5 days we headed off on what could be described as a very long pub crawl. We basically sailed all day in and out of various marinas on the south coast, following our plan from leaving the first marina, finding the next one and then mooring the boat before heading off again. And each night we'd pop into the local pub for a few pints before bed. It was great practice and more than just a little nerve-racking parking the boat for the first time alone. But this was all the really practical stuff we needed to learn if ever we were to realistically be able to hire or even buy a boat ourselves in the future. The sailing was a lot more pleasant (and less tiring) than a Clipper week - no heavy sails to change, no overnight sailing, no watch patterns, no competitive racing. It made for a very enjoyable but perhaps less rewarding week than I have experienced so far, though "normal" sailors probably found it more challenging than normal. But it was exactly what I had hoped for in terms of the learning and we did more sailing than I expected including over 50mph winds on the last day home - thankfully we had it behind us rather than in front!

Overall it was well worth doing - my kit stood up to the conditions extremely well, though they were nowhere near as bad as they might have been with only a little rain and not much sub-zero temperatures. I am pleased to say that I hadn't forgotten much of my sailing and that the skills transfered well to another boat. And finally I'm pleased to say that I now have my Day Skipper Licence so watch out seas, here I come! Returning home to the Festive season has been great and once we emerge into 2012 there'll be just 7 weeks to go until I head off for China. Who knows where the time has gone but I'm starting to get excited and can't wait for the race itself to begin. I'll update shortly before I go on ways to follow the race and Helen will be updating the blog while I'm away with updates from on board as and when possible.

The Race is On!!!

And so it begins.....As I type, the boats are now racing in anger as the Clipper 2011/12 race begins, leaving the solent, turning hard right, next stop Madeira. I'm delighted to say that although I knew I couldn't make it to race start today I managed to get back for 24 hours on Friday for the race start party (arguably a lot more fun than the race itself!). It was great to see the boats all set to go, catch up with friends on both Derry and "other boats", and to meet some more people I'll be sailing with in March - I've now met all but 3 people from my leg. The city of Derry hosted a lovely drinks reception in the afternoon for our crew and it was nice to meet the people we'll be representing around the world - as one of the smallest cities sponsoring a boat it's really great to see how much it means to them. And then after another fleet-leading performance at the party (pretty much the whole derry crew was there to the death which was some time around 3am), the party was over and it was time for the Leg 1 crew to focus on race start and the month of sailing ahead of them en route to Rio.

The boats in formation leaving Southampton on the way to the race start in the Solent.

So for those of you keen to follow the race, there are a few ways to do so:
http://www.clipperroundtheworld.com/index.php/the-race/race-viewer/ - this is the easiest way to do so with a snap-shot updated every 4hours (I think, might be 6 hours though).
http://www.marinetraffic.com/ais/# - search for vessel CV10 and you'll find the live location of Derry.
http://www.clipperroundtheworld.com/index.php - general race news.
http://www.clipperroundtheworld.com/index.php/the-teams/derry-londonderry/ - the Derry home page where you'll get photos, blogs etc from the boat.

Please note - every boat can "go dark" for 24 hours during each leg during which time we and the other boats won't know their location - this is a tactical move, it doesn't mean they've sunk!

Level 4 - Training Complete!

I set off to Gosport for my 4th and final training week excited to be back on the boats but a little worried about what, or more to the point who I might find. Level 4 is the first time you train on your actual boat (despite all 10 boats being in theory the same, they have a lot of little individual quirks and the same boats in the last few races have finished towards the front and towards the back despite different skippers and crew - the fleet are fondly described as "identical except for the differences"), with your race Skipper and some of your race crew. These would be the people I'd be spending 32 days with next March and how I got on with them will largely dictate how enjoyable the experience would be. Although we'd got on brilliantly with the vast majority of people we'd met on board so far, there's always a niggling doubt about encountering one or more "problem people" and of course if the skipper himself fit into that category it would be nothing short of a disaster. I arrived on wednesday evening, collected my race kit (over £1000 of heavy weight waterproof outer layers and a variety of other stuff), checked into the B&B and then met up with one of our round-the-worlders, Lizzie "2 Bottles" for a bite to eat and a few beers. We were joined by Rich, our first-mate from Level 3 and had a very pleasant and sensibly early night ahead of the start of training the next day.

Skipper Mark looking all serious and skipper-like - thankfully in reality he's a wonderfully relaxed character.

We arrived at the boat nice and early and soon met our race skipper, Mark. He immediately seemed a very relaxed man with no ego whatsoever - at nearly 40 he's one of the oldest skippers in the race and perhaps this maturity explained his lack of ego. And we soon met the rest of our crew - there'd be 10 of us in total for Level 4, 8 of which would be sailing the Pacific next March. As soon as the boat was rigged we headed off to perform some refresher manoeuvres and it quickly became apparently that this was a very competent crew - everyone knew what they were doing, there was no need for anyone shouting instruction - it augured well for the practice races ahead. Although you would hope people would be competent as they headed into their final week of training, in reality we had only spent about 14 days at sea in total and I can assure you that not everyone on their Level 4 was as good as this lot. After an afternoon of sailing around we spent the first night at anchor and on the morning of day 2 practised a series of drills with another boat - towing each other, passing supplies from one boat to another, transferring people etc - all very useful to have seen and done before ever needing to perform them in earnest.

 Practising drills before the serious business of racing begins.

And then, the reason we were there - the practice race. It was great seeing all 9 boats (one was missing due to engine problems followed by an injury to their skipper) lined up for the start and as is typical in such scenarios, we made our only mistake of the whole week right on the start line and set off in a disappointing 8th position. However it's was marathon not a sprint and after some fairly relentless trimming (tiny and continuous adjustments to the sails to get 100% out of them) we soon caught the fleet and became one of 3 boats to break away from the others - the race was on. Despite a weather forecast of very light winds we certainly had enough to race with and as dusk arrived the 3 boats clear in the lead rounded Beachy Head (near Brighton) and headed towards the first checkpoint. Sailing is really not a great spectator sport as there are so many routes and tactics boats can take that it's only at each checkpoint (usually 3 per race) that you really have any idea on who's coming where. And in quite spectacular fashion on the stroke of midnight we rounded the buoy first, no more than a boats length ahead of second and the same again to third. The race was very much still on.

"Trim, trim and trim again" - hours spent looking at the sails from this angle and making tiny and continuous adjustments are ultimately what make the boat go faster.

We headed off watch for a well deserved 4 hours sleep (we were on a 4hours on/4 hours off watch pattern) leading the field into the second stage of the race. I woke after a great sleep and was soon on deck (no heavy weather gear needed in this weather which made things a lot easier) to find us dead in the water bobbing up and down in 6th place with not a breath of wind in sight. How the weather can change.

It's hard work looking this relaxed. When the wind dies (yes that blue glass-like thing in the top left is the English channel) there's nothing to do but sit back and relax.

 The other boats had initially got ahead of us as we were missing our lightweight spinaker (huge sail used to sail downwind in light winds which we hadn't yet received ahead of the race) and then the race had stopped dead. And with the tide soon to turn against us the decision was made to abandon the race and regroup south of the Isle of Wight. After a little more sailing there we anchored overnight and prepared for the second race, round the Isle of Wight. This time, all 10 boats made it to the start line and, with no mistakes on the start line, we powered into the lead and reached the first checkpoint a long, long way in the lead (see photo below - believe it or not we were in the same race as this lot!).

Yes, those boats in the distance (behind us!) were in the same race as us believe it or not.

But once again, as we turned downwind, our lack of the right sail (yes I know, bad workmen and all that) meant that we were slowly and simply run down (sailed down?) by the rest of the fleet and by the time we reached the second checkpoint we were down in 5th and as the wind dropped to pretty much zero again, our skipper made the executive decision that the race would soon be abandoned so we motored to Cowes to catch a last orders of fish and chips before a late return to Gosport. We arrived back in at midnight but the call had already been put through to the local pub that we were coming so a lock-in until 2.30am was organised. It's hard to describe the scene as over 100 very tired but very thirsty sailors arrived in the pub trying to drink a week's worth of alcohol in 2 hours. For the hardcore (I think almost all our boat made it), the party continued in the car park with some pretty awful wine and even worse singing until 5.30am - job done. There was a lot of comparing notes with other crews on what a good few days we'd had despite the light winds. Apparently the rumour going around was that we had a secret engine on board to make us go so fast into the wind - a compliment indeed.

If nothing else, by the end of Level 4 we've learnt how to look very sailor-like at least.

And after the last day of putting the boat to bed, crew debriefs etc Level 4 was done. It was a wonderful week of sailing - without a doubt the best week of training so far despite some pretty amazing experiences on previous training levels already. The skipper and crew were a really nice bunch and the boat was very fast - nothing like the thrill of winning to keep everyone interested! It's amazing really to think how much we've all learnt in less than 20 days sailing. What started as an alien, intimidating and slightly scary environment now felt like a wonderful place to be. Yes, the fact we were sailing in warm weather made it all a bit more gentle, but we now know these boats like the back of our hands. And another important part of this training was getting used to life on board - it was the first time we'd spent 5 days at sea (having re-read the above I seem to have lost a day, not to worry!) and really got used to the watch systems and just living on board. Joys such as "wet-wipe showers" went surprisingly well - don't worry, I won't go into further details in case anyone is eating while reading this.

Derry crew complete with standard issue pink sunglasses (to match the pink hull of our boat

So it was with mixed emotions that we headed home - relief that it went so well, excitement at the race starting in just 4 weeks but for me and Sparkey, just a little sadness that "our race" won't be for another 8 months. We said our goodbyes - some of these people we will possibly never see again, and for 6 of the lucky ones we'll be sharing 32 days of our lives in the Pacific next March. Between now and then there'll be the race start at the end of July (sadly I can't make it but it's meant to be the mother of all parties!), hopefully a refresher week training for us towards the end of the year and then we head off late February for Qingdao, China. I'll send out all the links for those interested in following the race online - there's even a race simulator - the equivalent of Fantasy Football - for those interested.

Race Logistics and Team Announcement

A series of important announcements have been made regarding the race over the past couple of weeks. Firstly, I will be racing on the most politically-correctly named "Derry-Londonderry" boat, which seems to be the only "Irish" boat in the race this year (I guess funds for sponsoring sailing boats are fairly scarce south of the border these days). This is a great result and although I don't know the skipper, Yacht Ninja (from Level 1 & 2) is also on board as is his daughter idiot #3 although we won't be racing on the same leg as her. And best of all is that after a little wheeling and dealing, my old friend Tim "Idiot #2" "Hippo" Sparkes will also be racing on the same boat so we will get to see out this adventure in full together. We've encountered a couple of other people on our boat along the way though no one (other than Ninja) that we'll be sailing our leg with next March so it will be fun getting to know everyone else. They do a great job of organising a load of team building events between now and the start of the race, none more exciting than this weekend where they sailed the boat up to Derry to be officially launched. I'm gutted at not being able to go as it's a really big deal and reports back from Derry so far are that they are having an amazing time and being treated like royalty. And in June and July there are various sailing races, go-karting days etc being organised though it's unlikely I will be able to make it back for any of them other than my Level 4 training which is the first week of July, when I will meet my Skipper and some of the other Derry crewmembers. The rest of the crew will just have to get to know me en route to San Francisco!

                                Our boat in all her colourful glory - nicknamed "the Pink Panther". 

As well as that they've announced the race will start on the 31st July in the solent, probably Southampton (though yet to be officially announced) which will be a great day out if anyone is in the area around then. Sadly, again due to July/Aug being our peak season I won't be able to make it along to wave them off but I will be closely following their progress over the start of the race online. As a result of the start date being announced we now have a good idea of when we'll be racing - 4th March to 5th April are the likely dates barring any seriously terrible weather along the way which could delay the overall race. So now starts the fun of getting visas sorted, booking flights and hotels for the race itself. Next March is still a long way off but when you think it's nearly a year already since I signed up for this adventure, I have a feeling that time will fly. Next update will be after Level 4 in July.  

Photos of Below Deck on the Clipper 68s

The Nav Station - the brain of the Ship where we see radar, gps, contol the electronics etc. Is usually where the skipper ends up sleeping too so he can be on hand should he be required.

The kitchen where 3 meals for 18 people and countless cups of tea are prepared every day.

The bigger of the 2 toilets - this one also has a "shower" - the cold water tap has a long neck so can be used as a type of hose.

The lounge area where meals are served when it's too cold or rough on deck.

"The Ghetto" as it's known - the crew sleeping quarters with obligatory wet sailbags underfoot.

A close-up of the bunks with 3 "caves" in the wall to store our gear in, though most of this space will be filled with food on the race. The blue material on the side of the bed is to stop you falling out of bed when the boat changes tack whilst asleep.

Level 3

Level 3 started a little hungover as is now becoming the norm - note to self, avoid Keith Price the night before Level 4 training. We arrived at 10am and went straight to the classroom where 12 of us were doing our Level 3 theory. Despite rumours of vicious exams and remarkably low pass rates on previous courses, our instructor was a very laid-back welshman who made it clear from the off that he wasn't in the mood for failing anyone on this course. The group was as diverse as ever - from an 18 year old girl who was still in school to the 63 year old coach of the Swiss national rugby team. Although the group got on well, there wasn't really the same bonding as Level 1 & 2, largely because it was learning in a classroom rather than sailing together at sea, but also because people stayed in a variety of places so went their separate ways every evening. And so began 5 days of learning about weather patterns, rules of the road at sea, lighting for boats, buoys and lighthouses and charting passages (journeys at sea). The latter took up nearly 3 days of the course and was very useful stuff, taking into account tides, local hazards, wind direction when deciding on a route to the destination. And then after 2 fairly informal assessments we all duly passed our Day Skipper Theory.

And so we went straight from the classroom onto our boat for our Level 3 practical - 5 days continuous sailing at sea in real race conditions. Just 2 of the others from the classroom were doing their practical along with Sparkey and I and we were joined by a retired Japanese Banker to make a remarkably small crew of 5 - this was going to be a long 5 days with just 5 of us running the boat. It was great to be back on the boats though and all my new gear combined with significantly warmer temperatures than last time (0-10C rather than -10-0C last time) made me confident I would be a lot warmer this time. We met our skipper, Simon, who we had in fact met briefly at Level 1 training. He had completed Clipper 10 years ago as crew and 2 years ago as skipper so was something of an oracle in terms of Clipper know-how. Over the course of the 5 days he must have answered over 200 questions regarding life onboard during the race. And we were joined by our first mate Rich who was something of a character. Aged just 23 he was already almost fully qualified as a skipper as well as being a lorry driver among many other things. And so after getting the boat fully equipped and ready we headed off in a westerly direction to see where the winds would take us.

                                   - A Very Empty Deck with only 5 Crew on Board



Once we got into the Solent we ran through a few of the basic manoeuvres - partly to remind us of how the boat worked but mainly so Simon could see if we were competent enough to head off to sea - and then we made for the Needles (narrow bit of water north west of the Isle of White). However visibility soon deteriorated to the point that we were now surrounded in fog and couldn't see more than 500m away. Given the conditions and the narrowness of the Needles, Simon decided we would have to find a sheltered cove and drop anchor for the night. It was frustrating for all but the correct decision. And as Murphy's Law would have it, no sooner had we found a suitable place to drop anchor and manoeuvred the anchor into position (a lot easier said than done), the fog cleared and the wind picked up and off we went to sea. So the 5 crew members were split into 2 watches - we had 3 in ours which was something, though we quickly were down to 2 as the lady in our watch was struck down badly with sea-sickness - to put this in context, during the race we'll have 9 people on each watch. We were working in a 3hrs on/3hrs off watch pattern - it would normally be longer but due to the small numbers on each watch and the cold conditions it was felt any longer than 3 hours on watch would be too much. So at 10pm we headed down below for some sleep while the remaining 2 sailed westwards. I was sleeping well downstairs until they tacked the boat and I nearly slid out of my bed and then once awake I noticed conditions had worsened and struggled to get back to sleep. We were now sailing into the wind with the tide behind us which gives probably the worst conditions you can get at sea. And then at 1am it was our turn to go up on deck. I was greeted with the darkest night I've every experienced - no stars or moon visible, too far from land to see any lights, so all we got was the tops of the waves either side of us illuminated by our own navigation lights. It felt like we were sailing down a valley of waves and when I took over the helm from a clearly exhausted Sparkey he left me with the directions of "we're heading roughly west - good luck".

 - Conditions were a little rough this week but nothing compared to conditions in the Pacific last year which resulted in one boat losing her mast (above) - if you consider the boat is over 20m long, I can only imagine the size of the waves she's surfing down in the above picture.


The second member of our watch made it on deck but simply was sick continuously and then there was a surreal moment when Sparkey came back up from below to be sick all over the deck which then triggered the other 2 people on deck to join in - all this action was taking place right in front of me while I was trying my best to keep the boat in a straight line. It felt like it was going to be a long night. And when we lost the third member of our watch to mild hypothermia, the skipper made the decision to turn back to the Isle of Wight. Although a little disappointed, I wasn't looking forward to helming the whole 3 hours on my own so did welcome the change of plan. And so with the wind and tide now behind us, conditions improved immediately on board. I went down below at 4am wet and a little cold but after 3 great hours sleep I felt a lot better. And when I went back up on deck I was greeted with the sun rising into a completely clear blue sky - it was just wonderful and a great reminder of how amazing life at sea can be. Over the next 48 hours we spent both nights in harbour and worked as a crew of 5 on deck all day which was a sensible decision given how tough it had been in watches. So we didn't complete the exact aim of the course but learnt an awful lot nonetheless.

And that was Level 3. In some ways it had flown by, at the same time we were fairly exhausted having got through a lot of work in 5 days. And upon returning to Gosport we just about managed to make a well deserved last-orders in the pub where we bumped into Idiot #3 and the Yacht Ninja from our Level 1 & 2 courses which was a lovely surprise - they were midway through their Level 3 theory and keen to get sailing again - boy could we have used them on our boat over the previous 5 days! Now all that's left is our Level 4 training in July and we're all done. I felt a lot more comfortable on board this time - my kit was great and I was warm throughout, and I'm really getting a feel for sailing the boat in all conditions and understanding the things we need to look out for in order to make the boat go as fast as possible - it is after all a race we're entering. Sparkey as ever was great to have on board and noises from Clipper HQ suggest there is a good chance we'll be picked on the same boat for the race. Next significant date is 1st May which is crew allocation day when we'll find out our race crew.  Back to the real world now with a big conference starting in Cannes this weekend and then of course the small matter of Charlie's little brother arriving in 2 months time!