Today, I had my first shower in 8 days. I have to admit that I wasn't in any particular hurry to take it. NOt that I don't care about hygiene- we have plenty of wet wipe showers, but at some point, you just don't care as much about a shower. You know you'll have to wool a spinnaker and be sweaty again in no time. It is still hot here, but not sweltering like it was near Panama. Other than layer upon layer of suncream, I didn't feel that dirty. My hair did feel a bit like straw. Really, the only smell that is bothersome is that of stinky feet. There are two persons on board with the worst smelling feet/shoes/socks imaginable. Speaking of smells, Guido and I were on motherwatch and found 2 turkey kielbasas ( for our dinner of pasta with sausage and tinned veg) in our day bag that had gone off and exploded. It was pretty foul. Guido kindly rid the boat of the offending meat himself (we kept the plastic in the rubbish bin, sealed tightly in a bag, now stashed in the laz). Almost as bad as the unfathomable idea that the saussage would keep without refrigeration in the tropics was the idea of actually storing said meat with the rest of the food for the day. We immediately took to task to find other day bags with more meat in them and also washed all of the tins that were in the bag to save us from serious gastrointestinal discomfort. Poor Russell has been busy this leg - as he has every other leg. His engineering and fix it skills put him as the go to guy for all things broken. We seem to be killing a lot of impellers and things with ball bearings. At least the leak has been fixed. Chicago Joe has been entertaining us through the winldess days with many a tune, none of which can be repeated once off the boat. Raiya and I often find ourselves sharing a quiet laugh at the ridulousness or irony of the human dynamnics that surround us. We are desperatelymissing (Sir) Charles Willson on thisleg and hope he can join us in NYC for the rest of the race. Get well soon Charles! We have seen Marlin, trigger or parrot fish, a whale, blue bottle jellyfish (ouch!), and a few flying fish (one was after Clive). Since leaving Jamaica, the sea life has been sparse. Although we have left the lovely Carribean Sea, the ocean is still a magnificent bottomless blue. The fact that I have chosen to read about Steven Callahan's 72 days in a life raft in the Caribbean SEa shouldbe ignored. Atleast now I know thatI should havepacked that spear gun that I don't actually own. Good book, though. The sunsets way out here are absolutely amazing. We have been sailing slowly the last few days as the winds has died and has not produced as forecasted. We are currently making speeds of 4-5 knots and havepickedup a bit of the Gulf Stream to push us along. I'd love to hear about how Roz Savage is doing on her quest to conquer the 2nd of 3 legs across the Pacific. She can be followed at rozsavage.com. Please keep me posted! She is one amaaaaazing woman. Please NOte: when sending me e-mail, do not include the original message or send any photos or any other attachment or imbedded images or footers. PeaceOut, Bagley (32 28'.62N 74 26'.14W)
With skipper at the helm, we crossed the starting line too early and had to do a penalty 360 turn, putting us at the rear of the fleet right off the bat. Bummer. At least we didn'thit the Committee Boat (JamaicanCoastGuard). Qingdao missed the race start completely as they were farther away conducting some "secret" practise trials - but they have made some serious gains in the last day. Alhtough wewere told we were in 2nd at one point, we seem to have steadily remained around 5th place. It is cooling off on board, but that doesn't mean it is comfortable in the Res. Hot bunking has kept us on the high sideformost of the race so far, which means NO AIR. We are sweating buckets in our sleep - or in our attempts to sleep. The sea state is calm and colour is that amazing CAribbean Blue. Patches of sea grass float by. OTher than the hazy outlines of Cuba and Haiti, we have yet to see any land. Most islands out here are very flat. The nights bring some squalls and brilliant lightning storms. When clear, the stars are soooo bright. No sea creatures sighted yet, other than the occasional lonely flying fish or sea bird. We did see a kitchen sink, however! The leak seems to be fixed and the generator is cooperating for the mo. It only seems to work in fair weather! We have our midweight spinnaker up in aboupt 8knots of breeze. We are nearing the Mira Por Vos Passage and the Crooked Island Passage. SOme boats have taken the more easterly Mayaguana Passage. We'll see which one pays off. The winds areexpectedto stay light for the next fewdays. We hope to catch the Gulf Stream sooner rather than later toboost our speed. Today is Paul's 41st birthday. Not a bad place to be for a birthday, but the food could be better. I plan to supplement my food supply once we get to NYC as I cannot exist on top ramen noodles with penaut butter sauce (eeew!). Some of the menu items remind me of Fast Food Nation. My body is craving fresh fruit and veg. This daily intake of processed food is beginning to take its toll. I lack energy. I am, however, growing sprouts as I type. They should be ready in 2 days. I also have some nuts and dried fruit that I eat in place of cornflakes(cardboard)for brekkie. There was no soy, rice or nut milk in Jamaica (that didn't have diary in it!), so I am lacking calcium. Sausage and bacon are popular meat additions, and due to the preservatives to which I am allergic, I cannot eat said additions and therefore, also lack significant protein. The meals are processed-carb heavy, which gets old after a few weeks. I am down to my last raw veg crackers that I made back in April. I am surprised they have lasted this long, although they are no longer crisp. I tend to add them to personal stash of miso soup when "beef tacos" (tinned beef in premade Old El Paso tortilla shells) or Noodle PeanutSatay (previously mentioned) is served. I know, I know, it could be worse, but I think my patience is slipping(blame it on sleep deprivation). On the positiveside, we will never run out of TEA! Many of us are excited to sail into NYC. I cannot wait to my sister, my brother in law and their 3 wonderful children. HOw many people can say their crazy auntie SAILED across a few oceans for a visit???? BTW, I believe we are in midst of the Bermuda Triangle. Peace Out, Bagley
We have been so busy and then our comms shut down, so I am finally able to provide an update. It is still scorching hot andhumid. Down below smells like a zoo. The main hatch (and only soruce of real ventiallation) hasbeen shutdue to larger seas and lots of water overthe bow. Things are damp and drippy inside. Wehad an amazing finish on teh way toPanama, with Singapore on the horizon for 2 days., At one point, we were300 metres ahead - and ended finishing about amile or two ahead. Very close! We have had soem trouble witb our new rig and it was very loose, causing us to be a bit slower than other boats. Skipper's choice to head inside cloaserto teh coast did not pay off. A quick stopover in muggy Panma did not provide enough time for rest, but did provide many cold beers and a few cold showers. We were rushed throughthe Panama Canal but nearly failed to make the final gate in time. We were held just before the final gate with CBI, H&Hand Edinburgh. We rafted up and had a swim in the setting sun. A new pilot retrieved us a few hours later and we had anopther short stay on the other side before starting the next race. This has been a tough upwind leg, with a few sea sickness casualties, very wet and bumpy conditions, and lots of small squalls at night. We are all sleep deprived. My hands hurt from helming under such conditions - it takes a lot of strength to stay on vourse and to go as fast as possible. We have specialised positions this time, and I am on eof 6 helmsmen as well as Bow #5 and back up inthe snake pit. Winds are 20-25knots NE with swell 8 to 12 feet. As our luck would have it, only 50% of our electrical works, we have an mystery leak requiing dailing biulge pumping, our reef line broke and even worse, our sterreing went out twice. We continued for a day with emergency sterring and slkower speeds but are nopw back with the wheel and good speeds. We are all looking forard to arrving in Jamaica shortly and catching up on that much needed sleep. Peace Out, Bagley 15 32.12N 77 31.83W in the lively Caribbean Sea
Day 16:
In the last week, we have experienced a variety of conditions. It has been about 35C with high humidity- increased down below due to wet sails and wet people. Yesterday, the boat smell factor (BSF) roseto 7 (out of 10) due to someone's shoes/socksgoing off. That is really the worstimaginable boat smell. The heat down below is stiffling, which makes sleeping (or spending your whole watch waiting for the chance of sleeping), a sweaty affair. It doesn't matter what time of days or night it is, "The Residence" is a sweat lodge.
We have a small water leak from an unknown source that causes us to empty the bilges every day. Being down below in cramped spaces with bilge pump and sponge makes for a messy 30 minute to 2 hour job.
We have seem more migrating turtles (Guido swerved the boat to avoid running over one). I found the source of a strong fishy smell (BSF 6) on the bowfor the last few days was asun dried squid. During one evening watch, we were nearly caught in a fishing net. We did manage to catch a small but tasty blue fin tuna. Even better, we were visited by a pod of Orcas and a few fly bys from the US Navy in an E3. We seemto be apopular resting spot for booby birds who perch ont he pulpit and don't want to leave - even during headsail changes!
Current conditions have been squally, with guststo 45 knots, hail, and choppy seas. These are especially fun at 0200 accompnanied by a headsail drop and putting in a reef or two as quickly as possible.Of course, those of us on Williams Watch laugh like maniacs and actually enjoy the squalls. They have been my only form of shower for the last 10 days. I cannot rmember when I last brushed my hair! Our current upwind course has been bouncy. Due to sodium losses from sweating buckets, SPAM seems to taste OK. Did I just say that?
I sure miss family and friends (and dog!) but am truly enjoying the constant challenges and helming in such varied conditions. The Race finish mark has been changed due to anticipated light winds and is now only a couple hundred miles away. Guido and I are set for motherwatch again and plan to make more German specialties to give the spag bol and tuna pasta bake a day off! A jug shower (fresh water) and a change of clothes are imminent (and much needed).
Peace Out, Bagley (6 May, 0638 hours UTC, somewhere off the coast of Nicaragua)
>Hi! Sorry to take 13 days to give you an update, but we have been so busy racing and catching up on sleep that there has been no time for e-mail. > >After an amazing race restart off of the San Francisco cityfront in >Force 5 winds, Team California charged into the Pacific Ocean and a >drizzly sunset with increasing winds and a medium sea state through the >night. For the first few days, it was squally with winds increasing to >Force 9 by 0900 on 21 April. A "nice" secondary swell off of the >starboard quarter made living down below a bit uncomfortable. This swell >also provided many a salty deck shower and snakepit bath as it hit the >hull and washed over the deck onto battened down crew. > >As with a majority of the boats in the fleet, we had been sailing about >75-100 miles offshore. For the first 4 days, we made consistent speeds >of 10 to 11 knots with bursts over 17 knots whilst surfing down the 3-4 >metre swells. We reached the San Diego latitude sooner than >anticipated. > >Most crew had expected temperatures to warm up much quicker than they >actually did. However, it was almost overnight that we put away our >oilskins and stripped off a few damp layers. After another few days, we >were in shorts and dripping with sweat. Currently, not one double >fleece-lined heavy duty ocean racing sleeping bag is in use during the >off watch. Last night was the first night watch in shorts. > >Whilst still racing, we have quickly repaired our generator and main >halyard. We lost our temperature gage in the Pacific rollover, so I >have no idea how hot it is, but I reckon it's in the 90s(F). Down below >is quite humid. > >We are currently about 20 miles off of the coast of southern Mexico with light Force 3 winds and our spinnaker flying. Each day, we are slowly gaining on the 6 boats ahead of us. Morale is high as ever. I am probably the happiest on board as I really missed being with my crew and skipper and, for some reason, living life at a heeled over angle. The sailing has been amazing - I have spent a lot of time on the helm and the foredeck. Since about Los Angeles, the winds have been perfect for flying the spinnakers. > >Guido and I were on motherwatch together (24 hours of cooling and >cleanig for the rest of the 16 people on board) and cooked up some >Käsespätzle, Apfelstrudel, and a German brekkie of pumpernickel, chicken >spread, pickles (from Swabia), and brown mustard. > >I am on an amazing watch with Melissa as watchleader and Paul as >assistant WL. I usually work foredeck with TJ, Paul, or Ed. I am on the >sail repair team with Melissa and Noreen, a crackerjack borrowed >crewmember from Cork (sadly, we lose her in Panama when she rejoins her >team on Cork2). We laugh alot with TJ, Clive, and Ed's constant wit. >Raiya and I spend the early morning hours trying to identify the >constellations. > >I try to spend some time (when not sleeping at 2 hours at a time) with >my friends on the other watch: Guido, Jodie, Em, Russell, Elaine, Donna, >and Chris. > >We have seen three types of dolphins, flying fish (I still find htem >incredibly silly creatures), sea birds, turtles, and a very lost dove, a few whales, and loads of turtles. We are hoping for a speedy race and >transit so that we can spend a bit more time in Jamaica and to catch up >with our new Leg 7 crew. > >The boat has some off smells from time to time (grey water tank after a >shower (like rotten eggs), the bilge (diesel), and a few cotton socks that have gone off), but otherwise, despite the increasing temps, things >aren't too smelly. This should change after a few more days. > >I would love to hear from you. Please remember not to send large files >or photos and to remove this original message and any footers in your >reply. I am unable to access my bagleyoceanracing.posterous blog from >the boat but shall try to update in from port to port when I can. > >Gotta go - reports of a very large fish jumping out of the water . . . > >Peace Out, >Bagley >(2 May, 2147 hours UTC; 14 degrees latitude)
To cheer up Goodie who misses his sidekick, I took him to the pet store to choose his newtoys. His favorite at the moment isthe Magic hat with squeeky bunnies inside. He also loves the Gefilte fish which says "Oy Vey!". Of course, I am the one that picked out the Mr. Bill. He is one happy dog. No doubt, his true wishfrom Santa is for oneof the resident squirrels to finally fall off of the fence.
email from Shana today:We are officially in the ITCZ (Inter Tropical Convergence Zone, better known as the Doldrums) - squall-o-rama! It dumped on us all nightlast night during our watch and my oilies are soaked through and through (there is NO such thing as waterproof). Today, on 0880 watch, I took a shower in the snake pit and then proceeded to get drenched for the next 2 hours (w/ 35+ kts wind at times). Warner and I were laughing like idiots (as usual) the entire time.It’s 32 C and cloudy, the squalls have stopped momentarily but I expect them to regain momentum the minute I am back on watch (1600 for today).
Here’s a note from Quannon, who is one of “California’s” crew from Oakland.On California all crew are on one of two watches, affectionately nicknamed the Terminators and the Barbarians. That is, unless it’s your turn to be on mother watch. Each day, at 10:00, one person from each watch is pulled through a sort of time-space continuum into this mysterious third watch. For the next 24 hours the world changes from sail changes, helming, repairs and sleep to long periods of cooking and cleaning interspersed with shorter bursts of cooking. And cleaning.
It’s now 22:10 on the boat and Russell and I have wrapped up the day’s mother duties. After a long day of looking after the crew, we’re both eagerly awaiting that most sought after reward that can only be earned after a day of mother duty. After a day of cooking lunch, washing up, cleaning the heads, cleaning the crew quarters, making tea, washing up, cooking dinner, and finally, yes, washing up, mothers come to that quiet time in the evening when they can finally reward themselves with a shower and, in the case of a male duo mother team like ours, a shave.
Memories of the day’s hard work soon fade away as one emerges from the shower wearing clean clothes and feeling human again. Life is good.
The boat seems faster now. Those dark stormy clouds on the horizon have parted and the melodic chirping of birds (yes, even in the middle of the Atlantic) can be heard. Dolphins leap over the bow, flipping acrobatically while laughing in their sing-song dolphin ways. Yes, life is good.
And in this hot and humid tropical climate in which we find ourselves currently sailing, this euphoric state of non-salty, non-sweaty bliss lasts for approximately eight minutes.
10/9We are finally in the tropcis and the trades. Smooth sailing, no squalls for at least a week. Soon to change in the ITCZ. Last night, I smelled vegetation, despite the fact that we are over 500 miles off Senegal and wind is NE, so it couldn’t be from Cape Verdes. Also have had a few flying fish land on deck - which is a bit disconcerting until identify the strange noise near the sheets.
HI! I can’t believe it has been 2 weeks since we left La Rochelle. Time flies when you are having fun, as they say. We have experienced a few squalls, including a Force 8 (35+ knots) storm where my watch had to change the headsail to something a bit smaller, all around 0400 hours and with driving rain and big seas (= we were soaked through and through but laughing). There is nothing quite like putting your foul weather gear on the following night and having them STILL be wet and salty. Eeeew. Antimonkey Butt Powder was a great contribution to the crew supplies. Most of our fresh fruit and veg is gone, but we are still eating very well. No scurvy here! It is incredibly hot down below and sleeping can be difficult due to the temps and the stagnant (smelly!) air. My i-pod helps drown out the sounds of everyone’s bunk fans (which aren’t that effective, but better than nothing) and the constant loud sounds made by the sails, rigging and winches. I haven’t showered in a week! But, I didn’t start to smell funny until today - remedied with a few buckets of salt water over my head. I also typically only change my outer clothes once a week. They don’t smell yet (I think . . ). In this becalmed weather, we were able to wash some of our clothes in a big plastic tub with special soap that works in saltwater. Apparently, we have found our very own windhole and are honing our lightwind helming skills. We are all still a happy bunch, just a bit bored and very eager to get back to some high speed racing. However, our slow speeds have allowed us to “stop and smell the roses” - we have been visited by flying fish (in the snakepit!), birds (swallows), sailfish (we think), many different kinds of dolphins (common, harbour,Atlantic spotted), bait fish, little sharks (they like our dinnerscraps), AND a big Sei whale. In addition to taking my turn working each position on deck, I am also the designated boat marine biologist. I have been logging all dolphins and whales for real scientific research purposes. Unfortunately, we have also observed quite a bit of plastic items and bits float passed. Today, we saw our first bits of Saharan sand/grit which will blow all the way to the Caribbean.
Sailmail from Shana on 10/2It is heating up even more as we continue south. The winds have been fluky for all of the boats, which means hot and blazing days on deck and a very steamy and stuffy bunk area. We have fans installed, but they only seem to move the hot air around. I have had one glorious ’shower’ since La Rochelle and will not have another one for 5 more days. For some reason, I don’t care about whether or not I have shaved my legs or whether I can get a comb through my hair. We are in racing mode, even when the winds are light. Butwhen the weather is appropriate, we do throw buckets of salt water on each other. If you ask me, I don’t think I am smelly. I do have many merino wool layers and take frequent baby-wipe baths, but you landlubbers may disagree with my assessment. I am having a personal war with the port head. It is a hand pump marine variety toilet (nothing luxurious here) and hates to fully pump all of the water out when you really need it. I have had two near up-the-rim events whilst the boat was heeling. Privacy and modesty were long thrown overboard, but it was still a bit embarassing when I had to ask Dan, one of our engineers, to help get the water down the pipe. Yipes-it’s a good thing we are all friends! We are on a two-watch system, where two groups alternate racing the boat to its best speed and position. The hours are 0200 to 0500, 0500 to 0800 (breakfast), 0800 to 1200 (lunch), 1200 to 1600 (team meeting),1600 to 2000, 2000 to 2300, and 2300 to 0200. This way, we all share in the best and worst watch times and enjoy all of our meals together. Although we may have 3 or 4 hours for an off watch, you rarely are able to sleep the entire time. Most of us have adjusted to this system already and we have realised in times of bad weather, you really don’t need that much sleep to function. Some nights have been crystal clear with brilliant stars (so nice tohave a star to steer the boat by) and others filled with cold, dark clouds and squalls. Recently, my watch had to perform a headsail change around 0400 in a Force 8 storm. At one point, Emma W and I were on the bow collecting the Yankee 1 as it dropped, with rain pelting in our eyes and the ocean splashing over the our legs in the dark - and we were laughing like maniacs because we actually thought it was really fun. It certainly takes a different kind of person to do this kind of race. I am on a boat with 17 of them! :) Super-Dave, this one’s for you: When the late night and early morning watches are slow, I have turned the coffee grinder area of the deck into a ‘gym’. I have converted a few crew to join me in planks, press ups, crunches, and more. It keeps us warm and helps pass the time that always seems to come to a grinding halt when it is dark. We have seen dolphins, whales, flying fish, and even a few curious sharks. We hope to see Rio in the near future instead of, say, Christmas time! But each and every day brings new sights, adventures, laughs, and types of bread, so we really can’t complain. Signing out at 2250 for a quick kip before my next watch at 0200. I can’t belive it is already October! Bagley.
Here’s an excerpt from the crew log and pictorial reference:
As the race from La Rochelle to Rio nears the end of the first week the intense rivalry heats up along with the temperature (26 C). But this competition is not with the other Clipper boats that are considered to be a minor annoyance to our victory podium glory in Hull next July. Oh no, this is far more serious.
The two watches aboard California - Terminators and Barbarians - are in a titanic struggle to prove who is the premier crew. After every watch our resident statistician Paul Oen logs in all the data: change in log, boat speed, apparent wind and, the ultimate arbiter of victory, “velocity made good”. That means speed in the right direction (not much point in cracking along at 20 knots in a northeast heading if your intended destination is Rio).
The result after each watch is anticipated with heightened expectancy along with verbal sparring that would make the trash talking before a boxing fight seem like a debate at a Quaker meeting.
But the overwhelming important variables of wind speed and direction during the watch are not taken into consideration which makes the exercise statistically meaningless. From that last statement I could be seen to be eating a lot of sour grapes from someone on the free-riding watch.
Even the “Mother Watch” where a member of each watch does the cooking and cleaning for the crew is not immune to this feuding. The photo of two watch champions facing up to each other in the galley before they start their duties exemplifies the Darwinian struggle that exists on California.
Anonymous (retribution could be severe if my identity were known)
(Editor: Hint. Shana has a distinctive tattoo on her arm)
(Sept 22, 2009:The 2nd leg has started.Here’s the news from the official Clipper RTW site)
The ocean so adored by legendary French sailor, Bernard Moitessier, was in a benign mood this morning. As a watery sun rose over the town of La Rochelle, the Clipper 09-10 Round the World Yacht Race fleet was lead out of the port by Joshua, the yacht raced 40 years ago by Moitessier in the Sunday Times Golden Globe race.
Clipper Race founder and Chairman, Sir Robin Knox-Johnston, won the Golden Globe while Moitessier, so in tune with the simplicity of life at sea, turned his back on the race and completed another circuit around the Southern Ocean before making landfall in Tahiti.
As the ten o’clock start gun fired for the race to Rio de Janeiro, crews across the ten boats had to work hard to harness what little breeze there was. A mere zephyr blowing at just three knots meant that a mixture of lightweight kites and wind seekers were hoisted, generating the smallest amount of boat speed for the teams.
With 28 days of racing ahead of them, it will be a frustrating first 24 hours at sea and intense concentration will be required to gain the maximum speed through constant sail trimming. Team Finland set a strong example and it quickly meant that they headed the pack half an hour in to the race.
First to cross the start line was Cork, Ireland, followed by Qingdao,Team Finland, California and Uniquely Singapore. Jamaica Lightning Bolt may have been sixth across the start line but her choice of windseeker over spinnaker was a good one and the team was quickly chasing down the Finnish boat. Hull & Humber, Edinburgh Inspiring Capital and Spirit of Australia completed the starting order.
Viewers of BBC’s Breakfast TV programme, plus those watching on BBC World were able to get a crew member’s view of the race start from on board Edinburgh Inspiring Capital as the start gun fired.
Team Finland, Jamaica Lightning Bolt, Spirit of Australia andCalifornia were leading the fleet approximately half an hour into the 4, 890-mile race to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil.
Well, we came in last place but still had a great time. We seemed to have taken a much longer route than the other boats. Even after a few protests against 2 other boats, we didn’t move up in rankings. We intentionally didn’t race hard and unlike other boats, we didn’t break anything or anyone. We are one of the most tight knit and happy crews and that is what we are going to remember from this race. not necessarily how we placed in every race. We will turn up the heat as the race progresses. The Nroth Sea was kinder to us on the eay down than it was during the delivery. We also had a moderate sail through the usually treacherous Bay of Biscay. Winds were up to 30 knots and the temps dropped low at night. I never quite acclimatized to it, but I think it is mostly warmer sailiing from here on out.
Hope all is well at home. We are enjoying the sites of La Rochelle today after 2 hard days of boat work. I can now repack winches, fix a marine head, replace hanks and do sail repair! I just hope I don’t have to do any of it while underway.
Next Up: Clipper RTW starts the next leg to Rio de Janiero on Sept 22. Then, 28 days at sea including crossing the Atlantic and the Equator.
(Here’s an email update on the way to France) Star date 14 09 2009, s/v CV10/California crew and mother watch duty officer Bagley reporting. We are just off Brighton area coastline and headed toward La Rochelle. Conditions are good, Force 5, patchy clouds, bright stars and dry. A few crew are sea-sick but we are having fun. Celebrated Guido’s b-day with wonderful apple cake. Huge send-off on Sunday with big parade, lots of friends and family with banners and tears. Over 100,000 people lined the banks of the Humber. I was on BBC radio. Already needing AMB powder as waves crash over the bow/sides. Not showered in 3 days. Smell factor: 1 out of 10. Happy to be finally in race mode!
Sept 13, 2009. The Clipper Round The World Race started today. As of rounding the point and into the English Channel, the California Boat was in the lead. Thousands of people lined the marina and coastline of the River Humber. The Red Arrows, RAF precision flying team (like our Blue Angels), also put on quite a show.
Hopefully this link works for everyone. Charles Willson, one of the folks on the “California” boat who is from San Franciso, made this short video to give everyone a look at the conditions on the boat delivery up North.
Here’s an email from Shana about the first leg-Boat Delivery:“We left Gosport with a big send off parade, and boat parade. The local pub gave us a stuffed mascot. Saw Colin. After all of that, we motor sailed to Brighton as 2 huge storms were coming. Some boat race We then slipped out for one hell of a race to Grimsby. Force 11 gale with gusts to 60 knots. Big chop, salty stinging spray over the bow. Water inside everywhere. We do have two toilets seats but they are not long for this world. As we came in at 5 am this morning, I don’t know who won the Pilgrim Cup Race. A bit battered but not shattered. Certainly it was baptism by fire. Everyone is still smiling today, but I am guessing a few crew ( on other boats) will drop out. Grimsby is throwing us a big party tonight and tomorrow with free beer. Our crew is really fantastic”.
Some tough going between Brighton and Hull during the boat delivery up the English coast. The weather forecast was for “heavy rain.” Here’s one of the crew’s (Emma Beaumont) Facebook entries as they got to Hull (with full sarcasm intact):
“Emma is not impressed with the north sea…. 57 knots of wind, rain that tore the skin of her face off and half the crew sick sick sick…. Hull had better be worth it! And we have to do this water again next sunday for the bl**** start!!! Still nearly hot water time.”
Here’s a post from one of Shana’s team (Charles Wilson) on the California boat from his Facebook account:
“On a glorious sunny day The 10 internationally sponsored Clipper Round the World Race yachts depart their home port in Gosport to head up to Hull the site of the race start on September 13th. Royal Clarence Marina gave us a fantastic send-off with crowds lining the shore in both Gosport & Portsmouth.Each boat is already fully stocked the provisions required to feed the crew of 19 during the Leg 1 race to Rio.The weather forecast for our passage up the North Sea and into Hull is not as accommodating. We are expecting to take a force 8 right on the nose for the final 24 hours.”
August31: Boat delivery started today, from Gosport to Hull. They are scheduled to take as much as five days to deliver the boat in order to “shakedown” new sails, running rigging and other equipment. In Hull there will be a week or so of “festivities” and of course work tweaking the boats before the official start on September 13. Here’s a couple pics of the crew and boats leaving on the delivery leg.
ALL HANDS ON DECK! ALL HANDS ON DECK! Skipper Eero says we have to raise the main because the keel is going to fall off! These antimalarial dreams nearly had me in my sea boots at 0300.
After my Part B training, I took a side trip to Nairobi to visit friends. It was a wonderful trip, but the side effects from the antimalarials were nutty. I kept waking up at night by the window, reaching for a halyard that wasn’t there or trying to put my kit on in a sleep walking state. I couldn’t stop dreaming about sailing. It was all I did - other than seemingly trying to act it all out!One night, I dreamt that skipper Eero (from Part B) was shouting “All hands on deck! all hands on deck! The keel is falling off so we need to raise the main!”
OK so that doesn’t make sense, but I jumped to action, leaping out of bed with my eyes wide open. I need to get on deck! My voice but not my voice: Oh but wait, Bagley, you are at home, in your own bed, enough with these crazy dreams” My voice: “No! no one is going, I must go help Eero. The keel is falling off, didn’t you hear?” My voice but not my voice:”You are in your own bed, go back to sleep, you have to get up in a few hours. How the hell are you going to get to the boat from here?” Eero’s voice: “if you just put your sea boots on, you will be transported to the deck and can fix the problem.” I literally stewed about this for 20 minutes or so, half getting out of bed to put on my sea boots- which were in sight of the bed.
I finally fell back asleep only to be awaked by Eero again “Please pick up the raisins (we all know how wrong that is as he would have said sultanas) off the cabin sole and secure them in tupperware so that we don’t capsize”. Of course, I was nearly to the kitchen to complete the task at hand before I realise I was not back on the boat yet!
I took those dreaded malarial pills for as long as I could stand it.
My vision quest dreams turned into sleep depriving labyrinths. I ended them a week early and Bob finally took all of the guns and big knives out of hiding. BTW, if you have to take antimalarials, don’t even bother reading about the side effects - they are pretty scary compared to actually contracting malaria.
Wow! What a surprise! This morning, I was at the end of what I thought was my last early morning training session with Super Dave at 24Hour Fitness. I was wondering how I was going to stay motivated through the end of August and rid myself of the return of my beer gut (blame it on discovering that not drinking for 2 months before training was not really helpful during Parts A and B, splurging at Crew Allocation, and a back injury). And Super Dave tells me he wants to sponsor me to the Race start - that he would keep training me at his expense. I couldn’t believe it and I wanted to cry — but you just don’t cry at the gym. Talk about generous and talk about motivation! I have no excuses now!!!! Thanks Super Dave!
After a full weekend of no sleep and general Clipper crew bonding in Portsmouth, UK, we were finally told for which boats we would be racing!!!!! I have been selected to race on California with a cracker jack skipper and crew! You will be able to follow the race via a live rack tracker. We will also have a boat blog - although crew will not be able to read your posted comments while racing - we’ll have to wait until we reach the mainland and internet access. See: www.clipperroundtheworld.com . Check out our crew: http://www.clipperroundtheworld.com/california/index.php/Home . Peace Out, Shana
May 30th is quickly approaching. That is when we find out what boat/country we are racing for. I will be flying to Portsmouth, UK with a few other “colonists” to attend this most anticipated and grand event.Of course, I am hoping to be selected for the California boat - but as I have met so many wonderful crew mates from around the world, I am guessing that any boat is going to be a great boat!!I will give you a full update upon my return.
This is about my second week of Clipper Training and the amazing people that I have met along the way . . . .
On Sunday, 12 April, I met a whole new crew of people from around the world: Mark (IRE), Lizzie (UK), Jennifer (SCO), Nick (UK), Morgan (UK/WALES), Charlie (USA/Connecticut), Louise (UK), Antoine (FRA), and our first mate Paul (UK) and skipper Eero (South Africa/Finland). So many accents, so little time!
Once again, we made dinner, learned each other’s names, and headed off to the Clarence. I actually left early and went to bed at a reasonable hour! We were up at 0630 for a quick brekkie and then off to sail the English Channel.
Although the basic rules of racing with Clipper are the same, every skipper has their own way of running the boat, so I had to learn a whole new drill. Eero was great, a perfectionist - but in a good way. Somehow, he silently convinced you to want to do it his way and to do it right the first time and every time. We were now on the 68s, the actual boats that we will be doing the Race in. They seemed palatial compared to the 60s! You could do your task without feeling like you were on top of someone else. However, the parts were also bigger, which meant heavier.
We were one of the few boats that was up early and out of the marina to race and one of the last boats back in at night. We also did a night sail to become accustomed to what will be an every day experience - racing non-stop for weeks (up to 6) on end. Getting used to the missing toilet seat, the lack of showers, the mountain of wet sails to climb over to reach your bunk (and gear), constantly feeling wet and cold, and living life at a totally different and slightly bumpy angle! It doesn’t sound very fun, but let me tell you, it was the time of my life. We completed evolution after evolution and just when you thought you couldn’t do one more, there it was. We practised man over board drill every day. We also had the chance to go up the mast and out the spinnaker pole — except that with our group - it had to be timed. Everything we did turned into a fun competition.
Sleeping in such a small space makes everything echo - including the guy above you that snores like a rabid bear. However, I was so tired, I never needed my ear plugs. I just didn’t care. In fact, by the time I arrived home, it was too quiet and I missed that snoring above my head (somehow, it made me feel safe).
By mid week, my tendonitis had reared its ugly head. It had been dormant for years, but with all of this manual labour coupled with the fact that I sued up all of my ibuprofen the week before, I was nearly hurting. Lack of sleep and daily manual labor for 10 days straight ( I know, I have absolutely nothing to complain about), I was nearly to my knees. I couldn’t do one more evolution with the perfect that I thought Eero wanted. I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to cry. WHAT??? I never cry - but here I was, crumbling like a bad shortbread, falling like a tall tree. But, sweet and always effervescent Lizzie came to my rescue after she saw the look on my face in the snake pit: “Don’t worry lovey, I felt like that 5 minutes ago. You’ll be just fine.” That was exactly what I needed. No tears and back in action. After that, I never stopped working even harder. Even though Lizzie is now allocated to CV5 (with Eero), I will never forget her words and I use it when I start to feel tired, I hear her speaking to me (Thanks Liz!).
We sure had a great crew. Everyone had such different backgrounds and was so interesting. This time, however, we had a bigger group of “strong personalities”, so it took us all week to stop being polite to each other and start having evolution leaders. Totally different from Part A.
Because of our constant racing against no one but time efforts, we did very well at the end of the week during our race against a few other Clipper boats. It became very apparent that our skipper had a real depth of knowledge and was surely one of the ones to beat in the real race. He knows the rules inside and out but also has a real mind for long term tactics. Very impressive. To boot, he was a super nice guy.
At the end of the week after our races, we had the opportunity to meet some very important and impressive people. BBC was filming a commercial on another boat ( Elaine! was onboard) with Matthew Pinsent (UK Olympic Rower), Sir Robin Knox Johnston (Clipper Race founder, amazing sailor and person, and the first person to sail around the world, non-stop, alone), and Dee Caffari (Vendee finisher and inspirationally brilliant sailor). We then had to transfer and transport them back to the marina. It is always a nice way to end a hard day with a little visit from your personal heroes!
I can’t say enough about our crew. We had so much fun together, even if the weather was crap and even if we had no sleep. We laughed the entire time. Of course, there was plenty to laugh about with two Colonists on board. Poor Charlie and I had a real language barrier with all of this English-speak. But no matter what, we were always a team.
What I did realise by the end of the week was that we will be in some dangerous conditions that will require the ultimate trust of our crew to sail into safer waters. It is that trust and the emergence from the crap conditions that will make us into lifetime friends. You trust these people with your life and they trust you with theirs. You spend every waking hour with these people in a very small (hopefully) floating box. Your days are not filled with deadlines, returning calls, and filing seemingly important briefs - they are filled with the task of survival: eat, sleep, keep the boat going quickly in the proper direction - and most importantly, keep your crew safe. The stress may be the same at times, but it is more real and more important. And this is only the training bit - we have yet to get out into the ocean and see some real sh!t.
After my return to the office, someone said, what is it like returning to the real world. My delayed (and slightly wobbling) response was that I had just come from the real world. I wouldn’t change it for anything. I had finally found a place where I belong and people that were just as crazy as I am (it’s true, I am NOT the only one!). I thrived on the physical aspect of everyday racing, on hanging off the pulpit to hank on/off the headsail, grinding my life away on the coffee grinder, sleeping precariously in a floating cot, and meeting challenges that I had never faced before.
After 41 years, I have finally found my muse. The trick is to find a way to make someone pay me to do this . . . . . . .
From 5 to 12 April, I completed my first of several weeks of Clipper RTW Yacht Race training in the Solent and the English Channel. I will update this entry shortly . . . .While you wait for the update, check out the Serician’s video:
OK, finally updating the blog. . . I left SFO for Heathrow on 4 April with only one eye open. We had celebrated Bob’s birthday the night before and we had just learned that our beloved rescue springer, Maria(h) Farnsworth, was suffering from Canine Lymphoma. I took her for her first chemo treatment right before I left. I was guilt-ridden that I was leaving her for 3 weeks. Of course, she was in good hands, but what if something bad happened while I was gone? The good news is, nothing bad happened.
I arrived in Heathrow with an overpacked duffel bag (having no idea what conditions to pack for and having to pack for two climates as I was off to Kenya after 2 weeks of Race Training). I met fellow Californian Chris Wolf in London for breakfast and then we took the train to Gosport. I was anxious for the training to begin and truly had no idea what was ahead of me. Little did I know it, but my life was about to change.
We arrived in the early afternoon to meet the skippers of our floating “home” for the next week. They separated most of the people who know each other or potentially knew each other -meaning Chris and I were on separate boats.
This week, we would be on the Clipper Training Yachts, which are 60 feet long. They were purchased from the former Global Challenge Race and actually raced in several campaigns around the World before being honourably retired to the training fleet. From my 30-something foot racing boat experience, these boats seemed palatial! I threw my gear bag on one of the pipe berths that fellow Californian Charles Willson had so wisely recommended (he completed 2 weeks of training just a few weeks prior and gave a few of us the inside scoop upon his return).
Oh, the pipe berths. They were pretty standard issue. But if you have never seen one before, it might be a bit of a surprise to realise that you have to actually sleep in this camping cot device that is suspended by ropes and pulleys. Actually, they were rather comfortable, even if mine was on the second tier and required a bit of jumping and scrabbling to get inside. The good news is, the cabin sole was covered with layers of sails, so if the lee cloth failed and I fell out of bed, I didn’t have as far to fall. Actually reaching my berth from the salon was a bit like mountain climbing as the sails do not exactly store neatly and flatly.
We had little cubby holes to store our gear - which, by the second day were drippy and damp. Anything remotely cotton that was not super sealed in a dry bag absorbed the moisture and was forever wet — and if not remedied, smelly. Space was certainly limited, but for a one week sail, there was plenty of room for all of our gear.
As crew began to arrived, so did the fog - with a vengeance. The sunny and temperate afternoon turned into a gloomy, cold, and drippy evening. My long curly hair took on a life of it’s own and pretty much rebelled then entire 2 weeks I was in the UK. Despite the fact that we all spoke English, there certainly were times that I felt the skip or first mate were speaking Japanese. Several of the nautical terms were different than what I was used to using, adding to my confusion (it is a yankee not a jib, a safety line not a jack line, and a “booh-E” (buoy) is actually pronounced “boy”). Don’t even get me started on the names of food!
We put away the provisions that Adam, the first mate, had purchased, in what we thought was a logical fashion. The first two on mother watch cooked dinner. We spent time getting to know each other before walking over to the seemingly only local pub, the Clarence. We met crew from the other boats there as well. It was a strange mix of blue collar locals and excited Clipper maniacs.On Serica for this week were: Jodie (UK), Stacey (AUS), Orla (UK/IRE), Emma (UK), Hugh (UK), Mike (UK), Sam (UK), and Rachel (UK), with Adam (possibly the funniest guy in the UK) as our first mate and Ben (UK) as our trusting skipper. We became fast friends as we had to work as a team to accomplish anything on board.
Early Monday morning, we fired up Serica’s engine and headed out for our first sail on the English Channel and off to Cowes for the night, not to return to Gosport until the following weekend. It was a bit intimidating as although we had all presumably read the Clipper Training Manual, nothing really clicked until you actually had to do it a few times on the boat.
We hauled the sails around, completing headsail change after headsail change. The yankees had 20 huge brass hanks on them that were a bit hard to manage with cold hands. We found that wearing gloves was pretty useless and patiently waited for our hands to toughen up. The sails are heavy and made of Dacron, which at some point, rip off a finger nail or two. We also reefed the main, shook out the reefs, tacked, gybed, flaked and stored the sails, and made a lot of tea, over and over again. We did this every day, sailing from port to port and coming in in the evening to a new place just in time to cook dinner. Thankfully, most dinners did not have to be cooked at heel. Before we could have dinner, the boat had to be “put to bed”, which meant placing all of the halyards, sheets, lines, and sails in their proper places. The mooring lines were wet and cumbersome. Sometimes, I just wanted to go to bed! Of course, after dinner, was a bit of a chat about sail theory.
Later in the week, we completed a night sail, so that we could adjust to a watch system and sailing at night. Of course, the fog came in, it started to rain, and the wind was blowing like snot. Perfect time for a headsail change, don’t ya think? I worked the bow and had to grip the headstay with my legs whilst using my oven-mitt sized and cold hands to unhank the old yankee and hank on the new smaller yankee with the help of my 2 brilliant foredeck mates, Sam and Emma. There’s nothing quite like working the bow when it is bucking like a horse in the dead of night, with green water shooting up your oilskin trouser legs, and the wind is threatening to take your sails and anything else away with it. Thankfully, I had my new Musto HPX Ocean seaboots. Truly, the only dry part of my body for the entire two weeks were my feet.
I stupidly had not picked up a pair of loaner Clipper oilies as I had a new pair of sort of water repellent Henri Lloyd Blizzard salopettes and jacket. These were quite warm, but really designed to be a midlayer in colder conditions. I somehow thought that by having them and a set of oilskins would be cheating as it would afford me a dry set of outerwear, an option that no one else would have had. Needless to say, I was REALLY wet by the time we finally hit Weymouth at some ungodly hour the next morning and I never warmed up until I landed in Nairobi two weeks later. Despite all of that, I was having the time of my life.
We practised inflating and then rowing the dinghy about the harbor. We ALSO had the great opportunity to see Steve White and Toe in the Waterjust back from his successful Vendee Globe campaign, Sir Robin Knox-Johnston (brainchild of the Clipper Race, among a long list of accomplishments), Hannah Jenner, and Katie Miller!!!!
We also anchored in a beautiful bay near a wildlife refuge off the Isle of Wight. Before dinner, those who wanted to practised climbing the mast. Of course, I was all over that exercise. That night, we took turns in pairs on anchor watch, monitoring depth and position. Of course, during my watch, it began to rain and then the tide went way out (the tides in the UK are crazy!) and the depth meter went to zero. Of course, I failed to remember that it was in meters and not feet. As ordered, I woke the skipper up when it dropped below zero, but it took me awhile to realise why he was so calm (there was still a foot or two under the keel and the tide was due to flood).
On one of the few nights we went into a local pub for dinner and drinks and stayed out a bit late, the skipper promised that we could sleep in 2 extra hours to 0800. Unfortunately, he had other plans for us. A simulated fire alarm happened at 0400. I was the only one who sprang out of bed, but before realising it was the fire alarm, I had tried to close the hatches as I groggily thought that it was the bilge alarm and that rain was pouring in (mind you, it was NOT raining). Once awake, we make tea and began preparing the boat for a full day of more sailing - with sore heads.
On a second trip to Cowes, we practised climbing out to the end of the spinnaker pole. What fun! We had a man over board drill every single day. Clipper is really great at making safety an instinct and not just a theory.
It took a good four days before I realised that there was no toilet seat. The head was pretty much right in the middle of the berth area. There is a canvas door with a zipper that no one really bothered to use. Simply put, there is no privacy on one of these boats. It is just a fact of life and you acclimate. Just like cooking in a cramped galley with foreign food (squash is juice not a vegetable, flapjacks are not pancakes (Orla’s flapjacks are the best on the planet), bacon isn’t bacon it is more like ham, gammon is also ham, but different) and a cranky marine oven or making hot tea for eleven without spilling it or wearing it. There was no real shower on board, and we were not in a marina every night, so we grew accustomed to not showering every day - something that will be more intense during the race when you get a bucket of saltwater and a bar of soap once a week. I pretty much wore the same clothes all week, only changing when we ventured on land.
Every task on deck requires at least 3 people to complete. We had to work as a team or we would fail. In rougher conditions, there was no time to think about what you needed to do, you just had to do it. We took turns at every position so as to stay fresh and alert. Just like Ben said, by the end of the week, we would be a real team and we would sail the boat ourselves.
On Saturday, we returned to the Solent to meet up with another Clipper training yacht, Black Adder, for some evolution racing. Each race involved one of the evolutions we had learned over the week, such as completing headsail change - but for time. We ended up winning all but one of the evolutions, but winning wasn’t really the accomplishment, it was working together as a team. We did it, we really did it!
We returned to Gosport Saturday afternoon for a written exam. The hardest part about the exam was understanding the questions. But it pretty much covered what we had been learning all week long. We had to scrub down the boat and clean every corner and crevice- even under the floor boards! We took Ben and Adam out for a celebratory dinner and a few drinks at the Jolly Roger, which turned into a few more drinks at the Clarence and then a few more drinks . . . .
How did the week pass by so quickly? While we sweated, grinded, hauled, pulled, hanked, unhanked, and grunted all week long, we also laughed the entire time.
Eleven people from all parts of the world, in ages ranging from 18 to 62, with different kinds of jobs, with varying or no prior sailing experience, having to live together in what became a very small space. Annoying habits can seem enhanced when there is nowhere to be alone (well, there is always the rope locker), where your jobs on deck require you to be in someone else’s personal space and them in yours, and when you haven’t had a full night’s sleep in days. But, you also learn to accept people’s differences and quirks because it is far more important to be a cohesive group than to grouse about something that has nothing to do with completing your evolution. Every meal you eat might possibly be the best thing you have ever eaten as you are so physically and mentally exhausted and your body is in serious need of something warm and high in calories. What used to be important in our prior land-based lives, has been turned upside down and forgotten. A big house, a fancy race car, or a flat screen tele just doesn’t matter when you are at sea. All of a sudden, your every movement becomes important to the other lives on board (and also to your own), and you rely on yourself and others to complete the simple task of turning the boat in a different direction or making the boat easier to sail.
This week turned out to be more than just physical challenges (if you wanted to take them on, and I sure did) and mental challenges (so much to learn in so short a time), — there was a lot of introspection and self-imposed-barrier breaking. There was also the feeling of a very strong bond - I would sail with anyone of these people, anywhere. Thankfully for me, as I would find out at Crew Allocation 6 weeks later, three of them (Jodie, Emma, and Sam) are on my boat, California, for the race and several of them are racing multiple legs (Orla, Stacey, Hugh), so I will be able to see them in port at the stopovers.
Being the true glutton for punishment, I had to wake up Sunday morning (sore head again, I guess I’ll never learn . . . ) and move my gear to one of the 68-footers for a second week of intense manual labor, otherwise known as Part B Training.
We then slipped out for one hell of a race to Grimsby. Force 11 gale with gusts to 60 knots. Big chop, salty stinging spray over the bow. Water inside everywhere. We do have two toilets seats but they are not long for this world. As we came in at 5 am this morning, I don’t know who won the Pilgrim Cup Race. A bit battered but not shattered. Certainly it was baptism by fire. Everyone is still smiling today, but I am guessing a few crew ( on other boats) will drop out. Grimsby is throwing us a big party tonight and tomorrow with free beer. Our crew is really fantastic”.
