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!

Level 3 Fast Approaching!

Without wanting to use all the clichés about "where has time gone" etc, it does in many ways feel like a couple of weeks since Level 2 finished and here I am with just 2 weeks to go until Level 3 starts again. I say it feels like only a couple of weeks ago but I find myself already struggling to remember all the manoeuvres - what rope goes where, which one to tighten and which one to release, what order to do things - and at any point doing the wrong one can literally break the mast or make the boom crash down onto deck doing untold damage to the people and equipment below it. I think the single smartest thing I've done in this whole thing was writing myself a cheat-sheet at the end of Level 2 of how each manoeuvre worked which should hopeful refresh my memory a bit. And failing that, I'll simply hope that it's like riding a bike or at least that everyone else on the boat has forgotten too so I don't look like the only fool on board!

So what's been going on since Level 2 you might wonder? Well the biggest change is that, despite my strong and outspoken views on the topic, I have been forced to temporarily join the evil empire of Facebook. Now before you rush out to find me and try to be my friend and the like, I am only using the system (and under a pseudonym) to access the very useful Clipper knowledge database which includes topics such as which warm kit works best, air-travel to/from legs, life on board etc. Sadly it is the only medium through which one can access such tremendously useful information and so I am now one of the 500 million or so of you who have joined Big Brother (Facebook), though I for one will continue to see and speak to my real friends through the traditional media rather than virtually. Other than that I have become a huge fan (and probably bore) or all the virtues of merino wool. I now have 2 pairs of leggings and 4 t-shirts as my base layers which have drifted from the realms of sailing kit into the world of day-to-day clothes and it's now rarely you will find me dressed without some piece of Merino wool on. And despite claims that you can wear Merino for up to 6 months without it ever smelling I still put them down to wash at least every 2 weeks whether they need it or not! (That's a joke mum, put the phone down....).

My final investment has been in a US Forces Bivy-Bag. Now a bivy bag is basically a water-proof outer shell for a sleeping bag which enables you to sleep outdoors in even the worst type of weather. Those of you that have read the Level 1 blog will probably remember the rather uncomfortable sleeping conditions on board where the sleeping bags soaks up water from the damp mattress below while the condensation "rains" on you from above all night. All in all, a rather unpleasant experience. So the bivy should come into its own on the boat. And despite Helen threatening to call the men in white coats, I stand by my decision to test the new bivy by sleeping out on the balcony last week in freezing conditions for a night. And I'm delighted I did as, despite being waterproof the bivy provides no warmth so I found my old sleeping bag, despite advertising itself as good to -14C, simply isn't up to the extreme cold so I will now be using 2 sleeping bags one inside the other on my Level 3 training. Once I got to this combo on my night on the balcony I was toasty warm for the rest of the night so it was a valuable lesson learnt that will hopefully reap hours of warm sleep on Level 3.

So what's Level 3 all about then? Well the first 5 days is land based and involves some very intensive theory on meteorology, navigation, "rules of the road" at sea etc. The courses go from 8am to 6pm every day followed by 2 hours of homework and then on day 5 a rather intense exam which many people have so far failed (and will have to resit before they can enter the race). Now although I can sit and argue that sailing in the freezing cold on a bare, cramped boat with no sleep is fun, even I will struggle to convince anyone, least of all myself that this course is going to be entertainment, but by all accounts it is invaluable stuff that we really need to know if we are to become experienced sailors. And then we have 5 days on a boat sailing offshore. This will be our first real experience of racing conditions.  Although on level 1 we did an overnight sail, this will be 5 days at sea in shift patterns and in open seas, so really a good taster of the race ahead. The shift patterns will probably take the form of 4hours on/4 hours off for the 5 days so we'll have to get used to sleeping in 3 1/2 hour bursts. Depending on the wind we're likely to sail to Ireland/west France or perhaps even holland (though this is generally avoided because of the shipping lanes) and of course back! It will be interesting getting used to sleeping at sea, not having any heating/showers etc and of course cooking at sea (which proved tricky on the couple of occasions we tried in Level 1&2). But based on the experience of Level 1&2 I am confident that whatever the demographics of the crew on board (and particularly given they have survived level 1&2 and come back for more) that we will have great fun whatever mother Nature decides to throw at us. And again, if it does turn into an uncomfortable 5 days due to insufficient/incorrect kit I'd still rather find out now rather than half way across the Pacific.

I'll try and post an update at the of Level 3 theory before we head onto the boat (around the 22nd/23rd Feb), failing that I'll do it all in one go at the beginning of March. Can't wait to get sailing again!

Finally, I had my 3 minutes of fame on the Clipper website - for those wishing to read the interview here is the link:
http://www.clipperroundtheworld.com/index.php/race_news/?item=12423&p=1

And finally finally, to those with access to the Quest channel (think you need virgin/sky/freeview) - there is a documentary starting on the 2nd march filmed on last year's race called "Against the Tide" which should give you a lot of insight into what I've got myself into - not sure I dare watch!

Some Pictures from Level 2 Training

"Spiking the Spinnaker" - a fairly spectacular manoeuvre even when moored in harbour - I can only imagine how it feels when in 100ft waves mid-Pacific.  

The fore-deck - everything forward of the mast where the high-adrenaline action takes place. That's me in the middle, suitably dressed for the weather.

Dawn in Gosport. It was all too easy to forget to take in the incredible views and experiences during the week.

Our Level 2 crew - dressed for the conditions and still smiling at the end of a tiring but exhilarating week.

Training - Part 3

We made our way onto our new boat to meet our new Level 2 crew mates, tired from the day's antics in the pool, jaded from the previous night's drinking and still fairly exhausted from Level 1 training, but with our gallows humour still firmly intact. We went below deck to encounter 6 pint-sized girls in their mid 20s tidying up the boat - we had officially arrived on board HMS St Trinians. The Skipper looked somewhere between ecstatic at having so many women on board and terrified at having so many women on board. Sparkey, Yacht Ninja and I just said nothing - we quickly realised that the gallows humour from the other boat would have to be toned down remarkably or risk being thrown off the boat for obscene behaviour, and due to the fairly tiny size of our new crew mates that we would be left doing every bit of heavy work on the boat for the next week. I have to admit my heart sank a little. The only person on board who was happy at this point was Michael - the only other male crew member doing Level 2 who must have thought he was in the middle of a Candid Camera moment when he seemed to be the only male member of the crew. However when we all sat down and had a crew introduction, my outlook changed completely. I referred in an earlier entry to the hardcore people who were taking on the full round the world race and how interested I was to meet them and see what sort of people they were. On Level 1 there were 2 - Keith, who had worked in the merchant navy for 20 years and now consults for oil rigs in the North Atlantic and the Yacht Ninja who had owned and raced yachts all his life - it made sense - only hardcore sailors would be willing or able to take on such a feat. But here we were back on HMS St Trinians and an incredible 4 of these pint sized girls were taking on the whole thing, 2 of which had never been on a yacht before their Level 1 training. I was stunned - were they stupid, naive or were they just remarkably gutsy? I have to say it was certainly not the former in any of their cases and for most it was just pure guts combined with maybe just a sprinkle of naivety! And as the introductions continued it became apparent that most of our new crew had a good sense of humour too and although not the dead-pan and slightly obscene humour of Level 1, we could still have fun in the week ahead.

Nicknames were the way on this boat - Sparkey and I carried our Idiots 1 & 2 names over from Level 1 (they seemed to fit so why change....) though Sparkey later became the Hippo, Yacht Ninja was soon christened, and we quickly had Jedward, Grabby Hands and Idiot 3 on board too. There is something quite comical about, in the heat of the moment of a complicated manoeuvre shouting something like "Jedward - throw the Ninja a sail-tie, quickly!".  What ensued was a thoroughly enjoyable week of sailing. No it wasn't the hardship and incredible bonding that we experienced in week 1 but it was great sailing and genuinely fun throughout. My initial impression of the pint-sized girls was completely blown out of the water - far from leaving all the grunt work to the men they were determined to prove themselves our equals and so we probably ended up doing less of the heaving lifting than we normally have. The only frustration they ever showed was at times their lack of height counted against them but never once did I see one of them beaten. The sailing, in sharp contrast to the "hell week" that is Level 1 was so enjoyable. We did more downwind sailing which is much faster and warmer than sailing into the wind and even flew the Spinnaker (the huge sail on the front of the boat) a few times. We practised the Man Overboard Drill 3 times a day and it soon became second nature - in total (all Clipper races) there have been something like 3 men overboard and all were recovered without any serious injury. The frightening thing is how long it takes - between 10 and 15 minutes to recover the person back onto the boat which must seem like an eternity when bobbing up and down in the water watching your boat sail away but by the time you secure the sails, get the engine back on, get back to the person and get them safely on board, 15 minutes have soon flown by.

The weather, though cold, was not as severe as week 1 with most days providing clear blue skies and amazing sunsets. And no night sailing this time, with most evenings being finished off with a hot shower and a couple of pints before bed and a good sleep. There were no shortage of comedy moments this week either. Idiot 2 (Sparkey) made it his mission to be the landing party (the first person to jump ashore with all the mooring lines) each time we came into dock. Now although it was warmer than last week there was still a good covering of ice on the pontoons each evening and watching the Hippo slip forwards, backwards, and even one time straight into the hull of a neighbouring ship brought many a tear to the eye. I myself had a comedy wipeout on the foredeck of the boat which resulted in some pretty spectacular shin bruising but that was nothing to the damage done to my pride - one of the few things that the First Aid course didn't teach us how to repair! The week pretty much flew by. The crew bonded well and worked very, very well as a team on deck. We had great weather - a little more wind would have been nice but no rain or sleet this time, the sailing was good and we learnt a lot. Thursday provided an interesting evening, as we pulled into Gunwharf Quay in Portsmouth to go for a few drinks. The showers were all busy so 4 of us went straight to the bar in our boots, waterproof gear etc clutching out plastic bags ready for showers later. But when we walked into the All Bar One (or equivalent generic bar) it was simply surreal - it was full of people all dressed up for Christmas drinks etc and we looked and felt like we had just landed from another planet. It hadn't even occurred to me it was just 2 weeks to Christmas. And although it sounds a little dramatic, it felt really strange trying to re-integrate to "normal" life after the 2 weeks we had just experienced. Dave, our First Mate on Level 2 had said he thought they should provide reintegration courses to people after they had finished the race and based on how weird it felt returning to society after just 2 weeks on a boat, I can only imagine how the round the worlders cope after 11 months on board.

And that was it. After another big Friday night meal and another hungover saturday course (VHF radio this time so a little less stressful than sea rescue) we said our goodbyes and headed home. The last couple of days have been weird trying to work out where the hell I am each morning when I wake up and then trying to remember how normal life works. But I guess in a couple of days the last two weeks will be little more than a strange distant memory. I thoroughly enjoyed the 2 weeks and learnt so much about sailing and life on board one of these yachts, and now simply cannot wait for the next training which is still 2 months away. The race now feels very real and very exciting and although it remains 15 months away I have a funny feeling the time will fly.

Training - Part 2

The first thing I did when I got up on Day 2 was put on pretty much every piece of clothing I had in my bag - actually, that's a lie, the first thing I did was give Sparkey a tirade of abuse about his snoring, then I got dressed. So I was now wearing (from top down) a thermal hat, 2 short sleeve t-shirts (1 technical material, 1 merino wool), 2 long sleeve t-shirts (one technical, one merino wool), 2 fleeces, 1 wind-proof jacket, 1 waterproof heavy-duty outer layer, a scarf and gloves, 2 pairs of thermal leggings, 2 pairs of trekking trousers, one pair of waterproof heavy duty leggings, 2 pairs of thermal socks and a pair of technical sailing boots. Day 2 started with a walk around the deck of the boat and our first lesson in rigging the boat - basically setting up all the sails and ropes on deck so that you are ready to sail. This took about 3 hours of standing around in the cold and despite now wearing everything I had brought I was freezing again. So I was now tired, cold and getting all the rigging wrong. And at the very point that I may have been most tempted to jack in the whole adventure, everything suddenly changed - the gallows humour began. It soon became clear that no one had slept well last night (well, except Sparkey and Keith, aka the snorers), everyone was cold and no one, not even the experienced sailors, were used to rigging a boat this size. And suddenly, by laughing at ourselves and the situation we found ourselves in, the crew began to bond. We were in this together and nothing, not even the appalling weather we were facing was going to break us.

We set off for our first night sail which was just amazing. It's remarkable how strong your night vision is when you get away from the city lights. We sailed till about 9pm and although cold, we all enjoyed it immensely. Upon returning to port we had time for a hot shower and even a quick beer and spirits were remarkably high. The forecast was for freezing winds and snow the next day, and the boat was still raining inside but we didn't care. We went to bed, most of us still wearing all our clothes and had a better if still not great sleep. As the week went on the gallows humour became more and more outrageous as the weather got worse and worse - we had force 8 gales, snow, freezing fog, temperatures as low as about -8C with an additional wind chill factor of about -11C. But we just sailed on and on, learning, enjoying it and coping with the conditions. Day 5 saw us sail overnight from about 11am on the thursday (having been out until 2am the night before drinking in Weymouth) until 5am friday morning. It was our first experience of sailing in watches - ie 2 teams of 4 taking it in turns to sail the boat while the others tried to sleep below. The shifts would normally be 4 hours on 4 hours off but due to the extreme cold it was reduced to 2 on/2 off. That left little time for sleeping really and so we just lay in our bunk with our full wet-weather gear on (to save 10 minutes trying to take it off and then put it back on) trying to get some rest. You'd learn tricks like not rolling over as that would expose a new cold bit which you'd have to try to heat up all over again, and in between it all we actually grabbed bits and pieces of sleep here and there. One of the more surreal moments was when I was called in by the skipper to contact 2 french fishing vessels on the VHF radio who didn't speak english to find out where they were going. He then asked what we were and when I told him we were a sailing boat (it was about 2am in freezing conditions at this time) he simply paused and said "oh" as in "are you nuts?". The other training boat had actually abandoned their overnight sail at around midnight but our Skipper was adamant we were carrying on (we think largely as punishment for a slightly sluggish and error-strewn performance that morning) and in the end we made it. It was slightly surreal going for a shower in a snow-covered East Cowes Marina at 5am but very satisfying none-the-less.

And so after a gentle sail back to Portsmouth on Friday morning in thick fog we arrived back in one piece. What followed was a 4 hour "deep clean" of the boat for the oncoming crew and then one hell of a session over dinner looking back on what had been a remarkable 5 days sailing. In one of the few profound conversations of the week we had discussed how, signing up to an experience such of this should be taking a step up Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs to Self-Actualisation -  (anyone remember them from Uni?) when in fact the reality is that you are actually pushing yourself right back down to the bottom - Survival. After chatting to the Skipper and the training directors, we learnt that the last week had been probably the toughest Level 1 training ever experienced and that, the whole purpose of Level 1 was simply to push crew to the absolute limit to see how they will cope in the conditions. 20% of people drop out after Level 1 training and interestingly, on what was the toughest Level 1 ever, only 1 of the 15 people dropped out. There were so many highlights of the week it's hard to remember them all nevermind try to recount them all. There were comedy moments such as duing a lecture on what kit to buy/bring, I asked if there were sailing trousers with knee pads (as your knees get destroyed up on the foredeck when trying to put up sails/take down sails in rough seas) - a fair enough question I thought - the Skipper thought about it for a bit then said "No, not really. I mean you could perhaps try to find some knee pads in a DIY store or something, or you could just MAN THE F**K UP NIALL" which simply brought the house down. From then on if anyone complained about anything, whether justified or not, they were greeted with a chorus of "JUST MAN THE F**K UP". Sparkey and I were soon branded Idiots 1 and 2, which stuck with us all the way through Level 2 and I fear probably will do all the way to the end of the race - somehow it seems to fit. But possibly the highlight of all was when we had 30 minutes in Weymouth to go to outdoor shops/chemists etc to get any gear we might need, that Anton, our Russian Spy, went off and bought everyone onboard a set of thick gloves used for helming the boat as a gift - a remarkably thoughtful thing to do in the circumstances.

Then the week finished with a particularly unwelcome 7.30am start (after a 1.30am finish from the drinking the night before) for 6 hours of Sea Survival and Rescue including 2 hours in a pool with liferafts, life jackets etc. It was very interesting stuff and would undoubtedly save your life (for instance if you catch a fish when stranded you should only eat the eyes, liver and skin as the flesh requires so much liquid to process that you would effectively speed up your own death by eating it) but was probably not what we needed after the previous night's excess. And then it was over. We had survived Level 1. We said our goodbyes, and then Sparkey and I along with John (the Yacht Ninja as he later became known for his ability to appear unseen at one end of the boat and then suddenly at the other) got our gear together and went to find our boat for our Level 2 training. We feared it couldn't be the same atmosphere as we had just experienced on our boat in week 1 and we were right - in fact it simply couldn't have been more different......

Training - Part 1

So the good news is that I just about survived our first 2 weeks of training in one piece. I'm not quite sure where to start really, so I think I'll split it the blog up into 2 or perhaps even 3 posts - 1 for the first week (Level 1 training) and 1 for the second week (you guessed it, Level 2 training). There is so much to relay that I fear this may be a long entry - I hope it doesn't bore too much but I'm trying my best to recount some detail of what made for probably the most extraordinary 2 weeks of my life.

Having packed all my gear into what felt like a very light bag, I began to worry that I hadn't got enough kit for the 2 weeks ahead. And the weather being predicted for the south of England was bad enough to make me concerned. I double checked my sleeping bag  which claimed to be good to -12C (it couldn't get any colder than that could it?) and so threw in a few extra pairs of skiing socks and one extra waterproof jacket. And that would have to do because I didn't really own anything else worth bringing. So I arrived in London on friday the 26th Nov, which feels like about 4 years ago now, and then very sensibly before a tough 2 weeks on a boat went out drinking all night with 2 of the lads used to work with in London - perfect preparation. And the next morning, feeling excited if a little tired, we headed down south to Gosport. A little late, we went straight into our First Aid course where we met the other 13 crew who had signed up for the week's training. As expected, the people came in all shapes, ages, genders etc. I was probably 1 of about 5/6 people in their early thirties and the rest were older than that. I think there were 4 women and 11 men. Despite Clipper's claim that 40% of the crew have never been on a boat before, there was an awful lot of sailing experience in the room and I was a little worried that my limited experience would count against me in the weeks to come.

What then followed was a fairly brutal 5 hours of lectures on the various types of injuries likely to be encountered on a boat from the fairly simple windburn, rope burn, cuts and bruises all the way to badly broken and dislocated limbs, hypothermia, man overboard drills and dealing with dead bodies on board. Quotes like "you're not dead on a boat until you're warm and dead" (in case of extreme hypothermia your body may seem dead but isn't quite so needs to be heated up to see if you're actually dead or not) really hit home with some people. It was quite a reality check into the potential dangers onboard, and although the chances of serious injury remain very low, when you're mid pacific and days away from help, you really need to know at least where to start in case someone gets injured. The second part of the lecture took place on one of the boats, which was the first time that many of us had actually been onboard. I can't really describe in enough detail what the boat is like - it's nearly 20m long but feels about half that when below deck. There is a kitchen with a counter about 2m long (including hob/oven) from which you need to feed 20 people 3 times a day. Opposite the kitchen is a "couch" which seats maybe 5 people and that is the total living area below deck. There are 2 toilets, the larger of which is about the size of the toilets you'd find on an airplane - for the race itself this is also your shower room. The second toilet is basically too small for me to actually fit into. And the toilets have no doors, just bits of cloth that hang down in front of the doorway. The rest of the boat is simply a passageway with 3-high bunks along each side and bagged sails along the floor - each raceboat carries about 10 sails which can be as big as 200m2 and has no space for them except on the floor so you end up walking around on a wet and uneven surface. And then there was the "rain". Our boat "rained" constantly, indoors below deck. Because of the extreme cold outside, the lack of heating onboard and the air/water-tight nature of boats (helpful feature when at sea), massive amounts on condensation form on the ceiling and constantly fall like rain. It means everything onboard is wet at all times and it becomes bascially impossible to ever get anything dry. There'll be more on life on the boat later but this was merely our first impression upon climbing onboard. We then put into practice some of the First Aid we'd just learnt by doing things like trying to carry a body down below from on deck which proved nearly impossible - and we were moored and not in 100ft waves like you'll get on the ocean. Although there were jokes being made throughout I think it really made the whole adventure seem very real and a little scary and I'd being lying if I said I didn't ask myself if I really wanted to put myself through all of this. Over the coming days of getting to know the rest of the crew it seems to have been a thought process we all went through.

  - The Honeymoon Suite and Sparkey trying in vain to dry a towel on the rope-locker door.

 - Walking around on damp sailbags was pretty much inevitable down below.

Hell's Kitchen?

And so we ended the day back in the office and were split into 2 crews for the week. After a little wheeling and dealing I managed to get Sparkey on my boat and so we headed to the boats to meet our Skipper and First Mate and to get to know the rest of the crew. First impressions of the Skipper and first mate were very good - fun, relaxed people, and the crew, though remarkably diverse in backgrounds etc seemed a very nice bunch. After a lovely lasagne for dinner we bedded down for the night. Sparkey and I had the last bunks up the front of the boat, affectionately known as the honeymoon suite and we prepared for our first sleep onboard. I worried a little about my wet matress and non-waterproof sleeping bag but with thermals still on I got ready to sleep. What followed over the next 8 hours was the worst night of my life with less than 2 hours of sleep. I have never experienced cold like it - I quickly realised my sleeping bag was not in fact "good to -12C" as advertised. I shivered most of the night and listened to the dulcet tones of Sparkey snoring soundly all night in his luxury sailing sleeping bag - his snoring was complimented beautifully by Keith who slept behind us so that basically while one was breathing in, the other was breathing out, to ensure maximum noise. Among the many dark thoughts I had that night (including suffocating Sparkey to death to give myself even some chance of sleeping) I did keep wondering what I had got myself into. I think at that point I would only have given myself about a 25-30% chance of actually taking part in the race and the 6 days that followed would prove decisive.

Training Starts in a Week and I'm pretty sure I haven't got all my stuff yet

So can someone please tell me where the last 4 months have gone? I first contacted Clipper about entering the race in July, and frankly one of the few things I didn't like about the challenge was how far off it all seemed. The race was 20 months off (or my leg at least) and the earliest I could get away for training was December - an agonizing 5 month wait. Of course it wasn't enough to put me off entering and now, here I am just one week before training starts and I'm quickly realising I probably haven't given nearly enough thought to all I need to bring with me yet. But I spoke to Sparkey this morning and I'm pleased to say he's in the same boat (dreadful, sorry...) - he gathered all his gear in one pile and worked out he's got lots of thermal underwear and little else to wear - could be interesting. The only significant purchase I made was a "technical" pair of sailing boots which is basically a very expensive pair of wellies that do clever things like letting your feet breathe etc., which, by all accounts is important when you're wearing them every day for a month in freezing conditions. Other than that, I seem to have a lot of very thin long sleeved t-shirts and a couple of fleeces, and that's about it really! We have a total of 20kg baggage allowance on the boat which includes sleeping bag, pillow, towel along with everything else we might need for 2 weeks winter sailing, so less is more seems to be the motto.

                 - The Finish Line at the Golden Gate Bridge in San Fran - still feels a long way off.

So that's the gear sorted.....kind of. I think I'll have a much better idea of what I'll need for the race after my upcoming two (very cold) weeks training. Last week we received a pack of required reading before training starts, none of which I've had time to look at yet. Week 1 will apparently entail First Aid, Knot-tying, boat safety, sail trimming and "sea survival techniques" - and the latter takes place at 8am following our one night out during the training - you've got to love the scheduling there. Week 2 entails Collision regulations, fire fighting, radio & radar techniques, racing protocol and somewhat amusingly "hygiene" - does that mean we can expect week 1 to be rather smelly and unpleasant as none of us will yet have learnt how to be hygienic?

Have to say I can't wait to get started now - the adventure is beginning and, come what may, by mid December I should have learnt an awful lot about ocean sailing. We just received an update from Clipper HQ in Portsmouth and in the last week alone they have had hail, freezing fog and gale-force winds. One thing's for sure - it's going to be damn cold. I've decided to add a balaclava to my kit-list (please add all Irishman in a balaclava jokes at the bottom of the page). My next update will be on "the other side" of Level 1&2 training. Assuming I survive in one piece I'll send an update in mid December of how it all goes, how nice/annoying the other crew are and what life on the boat is like.

                                              - Sadly, snow on board is all too common

The Challenge

Introduction:
In March 2012 I'm going to sail across the Pacific Ocean from Qingdao in China to San Francisco, USA. It's a simple little sentence but doesn't really tell the full story of what will be involved to simply get to the start line in China, never mind sailing over 6000 miles (10,000km for the more metric minded) in a 68 foot (20.7m) boat across the largest body of water on the planet. And that's where this blog fits in really - a bit of background into the challenge and then a diary of the training, final preparation and then the race itself. It's funny though, reaction so far from those I've told about this has been a kind of "oh", which I must confess has surprised me a little. I expected "you're insane" or even just "that's exciting", or maybe even the odd "wow, I'd love to do that", but most people seem rather underwhelmed. I do find that once you get a map out and actually show people the route and distance involved that they seem a little more interested but I still think people either don't know or simply aren't interested in what it all involves. On that basis this may be one of the least followed blogs of all time.....oh well! One person who bucked the trend was my old friend Tim Sparkes who I'm very pleased to say, with the backing of his lovely wife and his employer in the City (who said the City doesn't have a heart!), loved the idea so much has decided to join me on this adventure.

Some Background:
The race itself is in fact the sixth leg of the Clipper Round the World Challenge which is a biennial sailing race around the world for Novice crews. The race takes roughly 12 months to complete and some foolhardy members of the crew will in fact undertake the entire circumnavigation of the globe - to put this in perspective this is a feat achieved by far fewer people than have climbed Mount Everest. I have to say I look forward to meeting the people about to undertake the full circumnavigation. They will number around 40 in total and, for the mere cost of about £40,000, will get to spend 12 months in a small and cramped boat at sea in damp and often freezing cold conditions, with a total of 20kg of luggage, a maximum of 1 shower per week and having to cook their own food, clean the toilets, sleep in rock-hard bunks and of course sail the boat through whatever the oceans throw at them. Foolhardy? Masochistic? Or old-school adventurers? I will update you as and when I do meet this strange breed of folk. So in July 2011, ten identical boats will set off from the UK, crewed by teams of 18 novices and 1 professional skipper and complete over 40,000 miles before returning to the UK in mid 2012. Each leg is a race in itself lasting roughly 1 month each, and then of course there is the overall race of completing the circumnavigation in the fastest overall time.

In the coming posts I will update on the training we'll be undertaking, the kit needed, life on the boat, all the logistics involved and then a diary of how the first set of training goes at the end of November in ice-cold conditions. I hope you enjoy the blog and look forward to all your wonderful and insightful comments and posts.