Clipper Round the World race
Reports by James Scott of St Michael & All Angels - Team Garmin
Scroll down to the bottom of the page to read the reports in chronological order.
Watch here for further updates.
Pictures right:
1. Team Garmin at the start, with Tower Bridge in background, September 2013
2. Arriving in Derry, June 2014
JAMES SCOTT
CREW DIARY
Race 14 - Day 12
19 JUNE 2014
An unprecedented second blog in only a matter of days, and there was me thinking the previous could possibly have been my last for the year. Aren't you all lucky! The flip side of this is that, as usual, the blog writing is fairly mutually exclusive to mother watch, which means I've spent my day slaving away in the galley. For those that know me, and particularly those who have sailed with me, you will be well aware this is not my favourite place on a boat to be, and I am far from in my element. Put me up the mast in a storm with a wrapped spinnaker any day. My sense of humour also seems to take a bit of a nose dive when trying to prepare food on a 30 degree heel, and when Courtney jokingly grabbed my derrière earlier on as I frantically cubed potatoes and prepared bread, I was forced to remind him that I was holding a large knife, and had no idea how to use it. Unfortunately this didn't deter him, so I just continued to cube those potatoes, roll that focaccia, and think of how much fun I had when Courtney and I had our little prank wars - wars which I strongly believe I won. The seawater in his water bottle and changing his iPod language to Mandarin were definitely my winning blows. His extensive gaffa taping my sleeping bag, and then realising it was in fact someone else’s and having to undo his hard taping was also pretty funny.
As I write this we are trucking along, in entirely the right direction, surrounded by thick fog that has just moved in and disappeared everything from the sea around us to the top of the mast. Luckily it being night, and us being the middle of the Atlantic, there's not much to see anyway.
However it makes for three unusual occurrences, as we rarely 'truck' along, rarer still in the right direction, and fog is still fairly uncommon. So there's something interesting to read about. More unusual still is the vaguest of comebacks we seem to be making at the moment. Only a few days ago somewhere in the middle of the fleet, rapidly losing miles to all around us, with Jamaica Get All Right in the lead by circa 180 miles. We are now (though I'm sure you at home have far more knowledge of what's going on than we do) in fourth place, slowing taking miles out of most people behind us, and seemingly tearing chunks out of Jamaica Get All Right and GREAT Britain, with both now within 50 miles. Suddenly anything seems possible, and we shall be trying our hardest to keep those behind (especially the speedy Henri Lloyd) at bay, and continue to gain on those ahead.
Other than that, life goes on, and to my immense frustration and disappointment (purely from the personal level of annoyance at not being able to fix it) the generator still doesn't work. Lots of talk about reintegration in society, plans and more adventures. Not that any of that bothers me too much; I was probably only vaguely integrated in society to begin with, and I always look forward to the adventures every day brings, little and big, so no worries with having to plan any.
Love to all our family, friends and fellow Team Garmin crew.Keep watching the Race Viewer and crossing everything that we continue towards that elusive podium.
Race 14 - Day 6
13 JUNE 2014
We once again find ourselves in the 'home waters' of the Atlantic Ocean,although with the recent temperature drop we have all experienced itwouldn't be difficult to confuse it with something Arctic. It has been along time since we sailed this way last, and while we're still over 1800nmfrom home, the feeling of being closer to just that is very much there.
An exciting day has been had in the galley by myself and the legendary MrBarry Groves, and we threw ourselves with much enthusiasm into preparing the new 'Denmark Diet' menu, concept and creation of Courtney Powys. I will admit, the enthusiasm waned slightly when we realised quite how much chopping and preparation was involved, and as we are currently sailing upwind with the boat heeled over to the greatest extreme possible, the idea of having lots of ingredients laid out is not a good one.
However, as chopping up onions and vegetables is most likely the only thing I would actually consider myself competent to do in the kitchen department, the challenge was on, and minimal food ended up on the wall or ceiling, although I did end up doing most the prep in a diving mask to combat the eye-watering power of the onions. Barry and I smiled to each other at the expected reaction of how Jim Bennett would be dealing with making a roast tomorrow in similar conditions.
Along with the cold weather this particular area of ocean has brought us,also comes the potential threat of icebergs, which are at least the causeof much interest and discussion between the crew. 'Berg Watch' is in fullswing on deck, and I have decided to rename the watches from the lessinspiring 'Port' and 'Starboard', to the 'Berg Busters' and the 'Ice Creams'. No guesses which one I'm on. Alex Curtis and I have decided that while itwould be a decidedly bad idea to collide with an iceberg and sink, gettingto have a little look from safe distance would probably be pretty good fun,and we will both be disappointed if it doesn't come complete with it's ownpolar bear as escort. The discussion on whether or not penguins will alsobe present has finally been put to bed, with all now agreeing that thereare NO penguins north of the Antarctic, save for London Zoo. As I promisedmy lovely girlfriend some months ago that I would find her an island andclaim it for her, flag and all, I am now running out of time and options,and I'm hoping that claiming a passing iceberg will suffice, as 'IcebergImogen', somewhere in the Atlantic. Imi has been out to see me a fewplaces, which has made for an amazing few stopovers, so thank you Imi forbearing with me while I've zoomed (wrong word – drifted, much better) offround the world, and waiting about in all those places. Not long now,and I hope the iceberg will do!
It's strange to think there will only be a couple of blogs left to go, ifthat, and then it will all be over – back to whatever we all decide to makeour normal life. I am well aware there have been a few people out thereavidly following our progress, and it's always nice to hear that peoplehaven't given up and got bored of us half way through. There are far tomany to mention to include them all, but off the top of my head a bigthanks to John Muir, who my parents assure me keeps them up to date when they are 'unplugged',. Jim Cox, Brian Smith, and Geoff Lumley whose emails in ports are much appreciated and well received, Jane Thompson for her kind support and interest in my trip, and all the many many other people who have contributed with kind words, wisdom, and useful bits along the way. I hope we can all find something else suitably constructive to do with our time when it's all over!
Back off to deck to watch out for those bergs...
Race 11 - Day 16
5 MAY 2014
Well I can honestly say that I am probably as likely to spend a birthday inthe Pacific Ocean as I am to turn 25 again! It's a strange feeling, as itis sad being away from friends, family and loved ones that I would normallyspend it with, but the guys and girls on board have done a top job atmaking it a special day, and a large range of wildlife as stopped by tosend their greetings. Most of the day and night we have had fleets ofdolphins surrounding the boat, and squadrons of turtles, spinning around inthe water as they drift past.
I had decided that I was actually going to have 3 birthdays; a UTCbirthday, a Guatemala time birthday, and a Panama birthday. The Panamaversion is quite important as there will be beer and big plates of foodavailable, which is crucial to any proper celebration. However I was spoilton the food front, as Jackie surpassed all expectations and blew previousrecords out of the water with a legendary triple decker cake.
A big thank you to everyone that sent me a card, pictures and letters. Itwas very special sitting on the floor next to my bunk going through themall, and so lovely that such effort had been gone to. My new 'birthdaytoothbrush' is getting good use, and the pop-up card is pretty amazing.
While I had recommended we suspend all sailing activities and focus purelyon the immediate celebrations, apparently there is still a race to befinished, and it's not far to go now. We are in close quarter racing withJamaica Get All Right and it looks like it will be a close run to the new finish line.
The other big excitement of the day was having a large bird land on top ofthe mast and refuse to move however hard we shock the mast. We even got the fog horn out but to no avail. After more than 6 hours there pecking away at the windex, confusing our wind instruments, and generally being quite annoying we'd had enough and I went up the mast to scare it off.
Turns out I underestimated quite how large and aggressive it was, and initially thought it was going to scare me off, as it's quite intimidating beingwithin a foot or two of a bird that's trying to stab you with it's beak andbeing completely unable to run away! However, I couldn't really return tothe deck to admit the bird had made me run away, so I pinged the VHF arielat it a few times, and eventually it took off.
The heat is intense and makes maintaining concentration difficult during 6hours on deck, but however this ends it will probably be one of the mostrewarding races we've had so far. The end is near, and I'm off to brush myteeth.
Race 11 - Day 6
26 APR 2014
Very strange happenings on Team Garmin this week, all a bit disconcertingreally. The way these races normally go for us is that we see the othereleven boats on the start line, wave goodbye to them within the first 24hours, and arrive to them all nicely tucked up in a marina a few weekslater. For this reason the last 6 days have been very unusual indeed, andI've just come down from deck where twinkling away in the distance are the lights of at least 3 other Clipper Race yachts, and I know there are several others not too far away either. Don't misunderstand; I'm not in any way unhappy with the current state of affairs. It's just all a bit new andtaking a bit of getting used to.
It's been great fun having consistently had either the light weight ormedium weight spinnaker up since soon after race start, and generally had a good amount of breeze to fly them in. Life on board is so much moreinteresting and enjoyable when sailing downwind, as there isn't the need towalk on the walls to get around the boat, and the constant activity createdby trimming, helming and changing spinnakers keeps everyone busy andactive.
We had a brilliant couple of days in very close company with Derry~Londonderry~Doire and OneDLL, and the never-ending game of trying to make up fractions of mile continued watch after watch, each half of the crew trying to better the other. It's amazing what difference half a mile lost or gained makes when you are within sight of another yacht, and the motivation and determination to keep those gains coming has been relentless, and will continue to be so.
Coming down to the scoring gate was a very tense 12 hours, as we weren't sure whether parting company with Derry~Londonderry~Doire and OneDLL was going to pay off, but 10 miles above the gate there were lights all around as at least 6 of the boats all converged within miles of each and it truly felt like every second counted. With less than a mile to go we had Derry~Londonderry~Doire pass our stern by only a few hundred meters, so close you could see their halyards silhouetted through the illuminated sail. Very tense sailing, but very rewarding all the same.
On the domestic front the 'Jim and Daisy show' in the galley was in fullswing today, but unfortunately didn't live up to my expectations. I hadhyped it up to the new leggers as a combination of the Jeremy Kyle Show and Hell's Kitchen, but for some reason it all seemed quite harmonious, and a wonderful chicken curry emerged for dinner. While it was probably the best on board so far, it is still a far cry from the Jubraj Indian takeaway thatI have been so craving since leaving London, and is one of the things Imost look forward to when I get home. Playing 'fantasty curry' with Jimjust isn't the same thing.
I think everyone had a much needed break in San Francisco,I know I had agreat week there. All are feeling fully refreshed for the races to come,and the Pacific Ocean has been left far behind, replaced with enthusiasmfor what is to come. Position reports and weather updates are eagerlyawaited by all, as we are all very much aware that while a good fleetposition is nice, it's only ever for the losing should we let our focusslip. So on that note I'm back off to the starry night sky, to discuss thefiner points of how solar and wave power can save the world with my goodfriend Mr Coutney Powys, and sail the boat a little bit as well.
As I write this from a plank of wood that pretends to be a nav stationseat, I hope you're all reading this from a nice, comfy chair, during anice sunny day.
Race 10 - Day 25
11 APR 2014
There are many ways of determining our progress across an ocean. It is quite hard to do so by just looking at the charts, as the scale of an ocean routing chart is normally so small the distances involved can be misleading, and a larger scale chart only shows such a small portion of our journey there is no sense of bigger perceptive to it. Kit and Ben have taken it upon themselves, with great enthusiasm, to run the numbers game of this leg, which involves constantly updating a whiteboard in the galley with the progress of each watch over a 4 or 6 hour period, and what percentage of the overall distance to finish has been covered. This has been a great way to compare the mileage covered by each watch, in a lightly competitive way, but the percentage completed has consistently seemed a slightly depressing number, until we hit 90 percent at least.
One of my favourite ways to gauge it, however, is as we cross time zones, and the changing time of day that the sun rises and sets at. During our Pacific Ocean crossing we have moved through 8 time zones - from UTC +8, across the International Date Line, to UTC -8. Normally you would have to get on an aeroplane to do this, so it feels like a real achievement! We completed our last time change last night, and are officially on San Francisco time, so it can't be long now!
The last two time zones have brought with it the unexpected surprise of fairly regular sunshine, not something any of us really expected to see much of. It has most definitely been a welcome pleasure after several weeks of the most remarkable shade of grey that has been so consistent for most of this leg. What has not been so welcome is the wind angle, which has blown mostly from San Francisco, meaning the one place we can't sail straight to is San Francisco.
This afternoon it is backed around enough to allow us to point 'straight for the waypoint', golden words that seem rarely spoken here on Team Garmin. There is nothing more satisfying than jumping on the helm, bringing up the required course on the instruments, and being able to sail the boat exactly to it. On the subject of instruments, those of you that read our skipper's blogs may be aware that we have some Garmin equipment on board; I think he's mentioned it once or twice. Jolly good it is too.
I have also had the pleasure of my first ever mother watch with Dan 'The Dangerous Doc', and so far it's been pretty awesome. Dan applies himself to everything he does with a great level of enthusiasm and focus, and cooking is no exception. Led by him, we rustled up a delicious (if I don't say so myself) potato and chorizo bake, with a topping of cheese and pepper. One of the best 'mother buddies', and I've taken great personal satisfaction over the last 6 months in breaking down his caution and occasionally sense of self-preservation at the bow, encouraging him to take part in various extreme sail changes, shuffling out along the bowsprit while speeding along in double-figure speeds. Even taking him totally out of his comfort zone and pulling a headsail down without first meticulously laying out the sail ties to receive it. Life on the edge at the front of the boat!
Today is a very special today for another reason as well, as it is my wonderful mother's birthday! So happy birthday mum and thank you for everything you have untiringly done for me over the last 24 years. The amount of energy you put into both Joe's and my life never fails to impress and inspire me, and I know that without it I would never have got here on this boat, or been able to enjoy the modest achievements I've had in life so far. The birthday phone call will follow as soon as we are on land! Hope you have a great day and the two of them treat you to a nice dinner!
Not long to go now, and we are all pretty keen to get there. It's been a long few weeks, more mentally tough than others, even though it hasn't been the longest leg time-wise. Constant sail changes are going on up top, as everyone is aware that every minute out here is another minute we're not onshore with all the wonderful people that are going to be there to meet us. Can't wait!
Race 10 - Day 20
4 APR 2014
Big excitement today. I had a can of coke. Also, big disappointment today. I've only got two cans of coke left.
It's funny what can make your day, and how much effort I'm having to put in to carefully managing my stock of treats so I don't blow the stash too early, but don't also end up with it all left to eat in one day (because I can't leave it all uneaten, obviously!). Current stock take is:
2 cans of Coke.
1 tube of Pringles (green, only the best)
2 Yorkie bars
1 pack of Haribo
1 Fudge bar
While everyone else is doing constant calculations to work out exactly when we will arrive in San Francisco, my calculations are mainly based around at what rate to consume the above mentioned supplies. I'm also very interested in when we arrive in port as I have a very special visitor there, but I don't want to lose my focus or will just end up eating everything in one day in a moment of idleness.
Sailing-wise; who really wants to hear about sailing, everyone must be bored of that by now. I suppose I could say that we got a spinnaker out of the bag today, and hoisted it, dust blowing everywhere, covering the boat and rig. As we've only got two left they are getting treated very carefully at the moment. A constant entertainment to Jim, Kit and myself is regularly asking Daisy if she'd go get the heavy weight spinnaker ready to hoist. She happily agrees to once finished with her hot chocolate (as she's always drinking hot chocolate), disappears off, only to come back shortly after, finally remembering that we destroyed that sail a few weeks ago, and most of it is somewhere in the North Pacific , or wrapped around PSP Logistics or Jamaica Get All Right's keel.
Jim is keeping himself busy with table plans, flower arrangements, and choosing canapés for his forthcoming wedding. That is when he's not picking wallpaper colours and deciding what type of blinds he wants when he gets home. I have suggested Magnolia as a good colour to go for. Alan is still hoarding everything possible on-board, from bottles, to tins, and generally most things that everyone else would just throw away. Dan is reflective as ever, with his birthday upon us in only a couple of days. Prepare yourselves for an epic blog on Life - A Doctor's Story, the first in the upcoming hit series - 'The Dan Chronicles'. I am also reflective, as I realised I'm now over 24 and three quarters, with not long until 25. While I could use all this spare time on board to contemplate life and what to do with it once I reach the big 25, I will instead use it to look forward to my car insurance getting cheaper once I'm home, and try and work out whether it means I can afford another motorbike.
In weather news, it's rather unemotive outside with the sky blending seamlessly into the sea. It is even more unemotive inside, with coarse white fibreglass blending into coarse white fibreglass. Beautiful.
Race 10 - Day 5
23 MAR 2014
It was all going so well. The sort of sailing we had been looking forward to for weeks; wind on the quarter, a good amount of it, and nice big swell that would bring fast surfing of the likes we haven't seen since the Southern Ocean. After the last few months of either light and fickle wind, or beating into lots of wind, it was the conditions we'd been hoping for and what the Pacific was reputed to have in store for us.
After the initial foggy motor out to the start, all the yachts got off to a good, well matched start (so I'm told, as I must confess I slept through it...), and began a fast run down to the bottom of Japan. It wasn't long before the northern pack had pulled out a good lead, much to our frustration, but that soon began to narrow down as the wind died out where they were, and while variable, allowed us to make consistent progress in the right direction. We reached the South of Japan with six boats in close proximity, and had a great match race with Henri Lloyd around the race waypoint before turning east and beginning the long haul to San Francisco.
The first few days had been hard work, with constant sail changes, never hesitating to begin a long, physical evolution if we thought it might work to our advantage. Every headsail had an outing, along with our light weight and medium weight spinnakers. Once we had turned east our medium weight spinnaker decided to 'self trip' rather unexpectedly, and, while it was on my off-watch, I am reliably informed it was fairly exciting with most of the spinnaker under the boat, visible on both sides and behind, with the boom physically through the top section. I awoke to find Mike Morawa in the sail locker with a hair drier and an iron beginning the repairs, surrounded by lots of torn sail. I began my watch the heavy weight spinnaker up, trucking along at anything between 15 and 22 knots of boat speed, all of us hanging on the for the ride, but loving every moment. Then it all went rather wrong.
A spinnaker wrap is when the sail backs on the front end of the boat, and gets tangled up in the exposed rigging and mast. Normally, and in our previous experience, this can be easily solved by steering the boat slightly up-wind and basically blowing the sail back off the boat, possibly with the addition of some careful sheet trimming. We managed to achieve the most spectacular spinnaker wrap the world has ever seen, which very quickly became apparent that no amount of helming or trimming was going to sort out. After getting a slightly unimpressed skipper up on deck, the situation was starting to get out of hand, with the wind and sea state building fast, the sail winding tighter and tighter around the forestay, and what wasn't wrapped was ballooning out with alarming power, putting some very uncomfortable loads on the rig. We began to try and get it down, but this only served to a) not do anything to undo the wrap, and b) loosen up more sail that then proceeded to get wrapped around the inner forestay as well.
Even bigger problem, and serious loads on the rig in all the wrong places.
The decision was made that we need to cut the halyard and then try and get it down from the deck, so it was all hands on deck and I harnessed up and got ready to go up the mast. Not a comfortable situation to be climbing a mast in with so much line and sail out of control, but the to leave it was worse, so well prepared with three knives in various pockets, so one would always be within reach should I need to cut myself free, I went up the mast, cut the halyard at the top, and then came down the inner forestay to try and free the worst of the wrap by hand.
It didn't go well, with every turn I managed to drag around just getting blown around a different bit of rigging. After a while it became apparent that this was not getting anywhere and I was about to run out of strength to safely get back down so I was quickly taken back up the rig and then lowered down the mast. The ensuing carnage lasted over 24 hours, in which time Jim went up the inner forestay to try and clear it from below, with sterling efforts but similar success to myself, and we spent a good few hours trying everything possible to clear it from the deck, but as darkness fell we made the call to make it as safe as possible and wait until daylight, for fear of someone getting hurt.
At first light it was obvious the sail was totally ruined, so we just need to get it down by any means possible, so I went back up the rig to cut it off. I could never have imagined cutting a sail in half would be so difficult. It was wound up so tight it took me over 20 minutes with a serrated blade to make any progress. After a while I again had to be brought back down as to stay any longer just risked getting me stuck up there and making the situation even worse. The following ten hours are fairly vague as I basically crashed out in a bunk due to exhaustion, but I believe the skipper went up to cut it clear from below twice, a large section blew away and port watch spent a full six hours with a hacksaw, cutting and dragging the remainder down, with eventual success by nightfall.
Without doubt the worst spinnaker drop over, and probably the hardest 24 hours on this race as yet. However, despite the loss of a rather expensive and useful sail, everyone is still in one piece (albeit slightly battered and bruised), we are racing again, even braving hoisting the newly repaired medium-weight kite earlier today, and seemingly making some lost miles back on the rest of the fleet due to a conveniently place wind hole further north!
I once again proved that my trusty Leatherman is possibly one of the single most useful things I own, with six years’ service fixing (and breaking) things, building stage sets, putting motorbikes back together by the roadside, making sandwiches, and now cutting spinnakers in half! One positive that can be taken from it all is that our on-board camera man, Ollie, who is with us for this leg, caught the whole thing in BBC quality HD, so it's going to make for some awesome viewing when we can finally bear it!
Anyway, on we go, races to be won!
James, and the tired but undeterred crew of Team Garmin.
Race 9.1 - Day 6
08 MAR 2014
It turns out the weather in the Taiwan Strait is a tad inclement this time of year. At least as far as regards trying to race a sailing boat through it goes. I'm trying hard to think of a good way to explain what it is like sailing through these conditions, as it is almost impossible to relate to unless you are here.
So it's pretty windy, and as we're sailing straight into it (is there any other way?) it feels windier still. The size of the waves is not so much the problem, although they are bigger than most of what we've experienced so far. The acute angle at which they drop off, and the way the boat crashes down the far side of them makes for a pretty spectacular ride.
During the day you do your best to judge them, and where possible adjust the boats angle in a vain attempt to reduce the boat-shattering impact as you crest over the top, but at night it is almost impossible. Imagine driving very fast down a country lane you don't know, at night, with only your sidelights on. The waves here appear as quickly as those sharp country corners would, yet in a car you would probably have half a chance to brake.
No brakes on a boat, so all we can do is hold on tight, try and enjoy the weightlessness, and do your best not to land on anything too damaging as you come back down to the deck. Getting dressed to go on deck is just like riding a motorbike in the winter, piling on the thermal layers and fleeces, trying to fit waterproofs over the top, and then spending the next 4 hours finding out where all the water comes in, slowly soaking you from the inside out.
The foredeck would be much better suited to sky divers, not sailors, at the moment, as to spend any time there is to spend most of it not in contact with anything solid, expect a rather heavy wall of water. I know this, as I spent a good half hour there earlier today wrestling storm sails up and down, while occasionally going 'submarine'. As I said the intrepid three members of my watch who had the good fortune to be wrestling storm sails underwater with me, "Keep smiling, we paid for this". I think we kept smiling for at least 50 per cent of that sail change, the other 50 per cent of the time was probably spent grimacing with impact-related pain or swearing.
I'm not feeling the cold too much yet, but we are expecting it to get a lot colder still as we continue to (slowly) head north. However, when your benchmark for 'seriously cold' is a 6 hour night-time motorbike ride from Somerset to Cornwall in freezing fog after a day’s scuba diving in a leaking dry suit, it's got to get pretty bad before I surpass that. I did however go from shorts and t-shirt to full thermals and waterproofs in less than 12 hours which was quite funny. My new gloves and socks are keeping my fingers and toes toasty warm (thanks mum!) and I am about to hit my food parcel (thanks Imi!) for some serious sugar and chocolate fixes, so things could definitely be worse.
Personally, I'm absolutely loving this bit of sailing. Despite the fact that everything is difficult and even the smallest tasks take huge amounts of effort and determination to achieve, it's a truly exhilarating ride, and one that would be impossible recreate anywhere else. So much more fun than bobbing about with no wind!
A big hello to all the people back home who are following my progress on this crazy trip. In particular to Caryl, Dun, Ness, Moyle and Tali down on the farm, my parents and brother back home (hope you have a great time in Kenya bro, sorry I won't get a chance to call before you go), and the lovely Imogen (email to follow shortly!).
Off a soggy bunk I go, before putting back on soggy clothes, and up to another wild night of shipping and stormy chaos.
Race 9 - Day 2
21 FEB 2014 - Race 9
Team Garmin - A new start.
It was a long haul into Singapore, and the first taste of real food and real drink felt very well deserved, whatever position we had finished in. Having completed most of our jobs list while motoring in, the majority of the crew had almost the entire time off for some well-deserved rest and a catch up with friends and family that had come to meet them, while the odd remaining job was done, so the boat is as prepared as it can be for this forthcoming leg up to Qingdao.
As well as being one of the most relaxed stopovers so far, it was also one of the most turbulent. Due to unforeseen personal reasons our skipper, Mark, had to return to the UK, which was unexpected for all of us. Our new (new, new) skipper, Jan, flew out on the Monday, with a couple of days to get up to speed before our departure on the Wednesday. So a big thanks to Mark for the last two months and taking us from Albany, all the way to Singapore in one piece. And a big hello to Jan, we're looking forward to the rest of the race with you. The whole team, including Jan, got together and we've decided this is a completely fresh start for
us as a boat and a team. A lot has happened over the previous half of the race, and our performance as far as results go has been far below what we had hoped and felt we are capable of. So a new start, a new focus, and a new type of racing for us.
We also had the misfortune to lose three crew members in Singapore, including two of our round the worlders. Elliot Martin has been a great addition to our team since Brisbane, and we've greatly enjoyed the tunes he brought to the deck (at full volume), both you and they are already sorely missed! Sharon and Mike Carter both had to leave due to unexpected circumstances, but we very much hope they will be back with us as soon as they can, in Qingdao or San Francisco. It is amazing how much of a difference the addition of one set of hands makes to an evolution, and the absence of them is even more significant. I will feel Carter's absence in particular as he has been my assistant watch leader since Cape Town and is the core of my bow and mast team. I have a feeling that while he is gone I am going to be getting a lot more cold and wet for the next month! I will also need to find a new shoulder to cry on when the going gets tough.
The Race Start and the first day of racing has been a great opportunity to work on our boat speed and some much more in depth focus on trim and performance. So far this has been paying off with us keeping pace with some of the front runners, and enabling us to compare our trim and speed to other boats with ease. We are determined to keep this up, and as far as I'm concerned our race is only really beginning; this is the real start, where we can prove without limitation what we can achieve.
Race 8 - Day 30
11 FEB 2014
Cruising... sounds pretty nice doesn't it? You can imagine the low hum of a highly tuned engine quietly working away, dutifully propelling us at high speed to Singapore, while we relax on deck, play cards, and drink gin and tonic. Well, while that is probably a realistic scenario on some types of boat, not on a Clipper 70. The engine is currently thrashing away in the foreground, the diesel motor's noise readily equalled by the noise of the turbulent water from the propeller moving over the back half of the boat (obviously, as we all sleep in back half of the boat). The only thing louder than the engine is the noise of the fuel transfer pump, which every 6 hours or so is run to keep the fuel tank topped up, and is literally the loudest thing ever.
There is no gin and tonic, not even soft drinks (the vending machine is out), and no time for cards as we plough through our jobs and maintenance lists to give everyone the best chance we can at getting some proper time off in Singapore to rest after this long and rather tedious race. So we are all suitably prepared for the smashing and crashing that will be our sail up to Qingdao. The lines have never been so well whipped and run, and the winches never been serviced so well. They almost need brakes they spin so fast.
We had an impromptu pit stop in Malaysia for fuel the evening before last, and spent a few hours drifting around outside the marine entrance catching up with a couple of other boats, which is always nice after so long without seeing any of our fellow competitors. While we all had visions of a night of beach parties and drinking as we waited for fuel, the reality for far from it, and with feet barely touching the ground to fill operate the diesel pump, we were in and out without event or excitement. Another few days to go until beer o'clock then.
It is a strange thing being captive on a boat when not racing, as there suddenly seems to be a lot of time to try and fill, especially when everything has lost its sense of urgency. What is even stranger is seeing how people try to fill their time. There is currently a boat-wide game of 'Cluedo' beginning tonight (quite how I am to get someone up the mast steps with a lighter I just don't know...), I am committing as much sailing theory to memory as possible, along with writing random letters in my newly learnt Morse Code to whoever will humour me by, and the on-deck fitness sessions continue, made greatly more practical by a flat(ter) boat.
A few more days of dodging suicidal fisherman, bumping all the floating trees out of our path, zigzagging our way through a maze of oil rigs, and at long last we should make it to Singapore. Food, drink, and a good catch up with loved ones back home. Well-deserved by all I think.
Race 8 - Day 15
27 JAN 2014
Sailing through the Bismark Sea is like something out of a Tintin book, and having been a well brought up sort of chap (I think), I am thoroughly versed in the Tintin classics. I've been trying to place where I've seen this scenery and surroundings before, and it clicked this morning. We've got islands all around us, some small and distant, some towering over 2km high with rolling green slopes running down to the water's edge, with potentially tribes living deep within the jungle. Then there are the volcanoes, smoking lazily from their tops, as we all excitably attempt to differentiate between the low clouds that drag themselves over the mountain tops and volcanic indicative smoke. As I watch Jim Bennett attempt to keep his cool while washing up the carnage left by 18 people's lunchtime I can't help but be reminded of Captain Haddock. Mike Carter's eagerness and generally abounding energy can only be Snowy, and Mike Morawa's devilish lateral thinking is very Professor Calculus. For those of you that know us, I'm sure you can fill in the rest of the characters yourselves.
All we need is some sort of mystery or puzzle to solve (other than how we're going to get to Singapore in anywhere near the allocated time), and the Tintin likeness would be complete.
It is definitely a weird and wonderful place, which is a very good thing, as it helps to take away from the immense frustration of sailing upwind in light or non-existent wind, constantly making a course perpendicular to where we want to go. Light wind sailing in these boats is great when it's down-wind, as you are constantly playing with different spinnakers and angles to keep moving. Upwind though, all you can do is chuck up the windseeker and watch as your heading reads West, and your course-over- ground a depressing East. A constant sideline entertainment is watching the wide array of foliage and plantation, with the occasional oversized LPG container, float past the boat, often making much better speed, albeit in different direction.
Today, however, heralded a definitive change in the conditions of the race so far. Having spent our time mostly becalmed, or going nowhere slow, I write this standing on the wall of the galley, occasionally 'catching air' as I sit when the boat takes off on a steep wave and then comes crashing down in a sleep-ruining smash. Wind at last, but still on the nose and from the wrong direction. With this comes the acute heel that ruins all peaceful and calm existence on board, and unfailing plays havoc with our salt water systems. I've spent a good 5 hours contorted in the engine room today, sweating my body weight, 'tinkering' with the generator, as it adjusts to life on a heel again by burning out and shredding all it's impellers. I'm going to leave the coolant and raw water leak I've just discovered on the main engine for another day, before I suffer a major sense of humour failure (as if I'd do such a thing...).
In the meantime, it's 'bed time' for me, so I shall be off to spend the next 4 hours wide awake holding on for dear life to the edge of my bunk. Then some sailing, where I shall continue to make good on my promise to not see any more whales until I return to England. I hope that you're having a nice day wherever you are reading this, and not having to sit on a normally vertical surface to use your computer.
Race 8 - Day 3
15 Jan 2014 - Race 8
The next few months are certainly going to be a shock to the system. After the last three races we've all become comfortably accustomed to short, sharp races, followed by relative luxury for a few days, with suitably wet and windy conditions, but nothing close to the biting cold experienced during our big Southern Ocean crossing. As we spend the first day of Race 8 reaching nicely along the coast of Australia, dodging reefs and tankers, I am all too aware that the last month will soon become a pleasant memory, with the trip up to China and then across the Pacific to bring a myriad of conditions and challenges not seen since November. No one is looking forward to the stifling heat that our journey up to Singapore will bring, and the immense frustration of trying to sail a boat with no or little wind. However, we are better prepared for the hot and the cold than we were before, both mentally and practically, with a stronger mental resolve on board, tried and tested systems for handling the rougher weather, and various tweaks to the boat that will make life more comfortable.
The new crew are settling in nicely, with only a very small level of sea sickness going round, which is good for them, and much nicer for everyone else on board. No one enjoys a constant stream of buckets going up and down through the boat! So while we look forward to our time with our 10 'newbies', one of whom has returned from Leg 1 and is technically an 'oldbie' I suppose, we shall miss the space left by the skills, personality and contributions of those who got off in Brisbane. A special mention must go to a few, including Mr Courtney Powys, who was not only a half decent sailor, but was a great asset in stopovers with his intricate knowledge of all things '12V', and also made the very generous donation of our new sound system to the boat. It will be much loved and appreciated, so thanks from all of us on Team Garmin. We really hope everything works out, and you know you're always welcome back.
Also Helen Cook, who has been with us since Race Start and done an unfailing and consistently sterling job with keeping us fed and watered. Possibly the most thankless job on board, so we truly admire the fortitude with which you did it, as well as the brilliant results. And don't worry, no one really holds the freeze-dried against you, we know we have to use it up somehow. Your replacement is trying hard, and only just starting to appreciate the frustration of the constant questions. We shall be looking after him well this leg, and giving him lots of hugs to try and make him start smiling again.
And Mikey Anderson, whose spectacular face-plant of the deck behind the helms has precipitated the installation of the aptly named 'Mikey's Handle' between the helming stations. We thank you for your selfless action in demonstrating the dangers of walking between the helms; your concussion could save a life.
Top marks also go, as ever, to the Clipper Race maintenance team. Thank you Jay for giving us new rudder bearings and stopping the boat sinking, Greg for keeping the mast pointing up, Nick for stopping the electrics sparking, and Tim (a top quadcopter pilot) for making the wind instruments spin round in vaguely the right direction.
Big thanks to my girlfriend Imogen, my parents and brother for coming out to see me at the various stops in Australia. It's been amazing to see you all after so long, and I can't wait until San Francisco when I get to see Imogen again. I know it is such a long way to come for a relatively short period of time, but it was great to finally get a chance to spend much missed time with you again, and for that reason Australia has truly been the highlight of my trip so far.
So onwards and upwards, in mileage, latitude, and hopefully positions (we certainly need it). Bring on the heat, rain, and pirates!
Race 5 - Day 7
10 DEC 2013
It has taken me several attempts to sit down and write this small snapshot of another day in the life aboard a Clipper 70. A pesky little thing known as 'mother watch' got in the way for most of the day. Then a small amount of sleep. Then, just when I thought I'd snuck off deck for 10 minutes, I was called back up by the eagle-eyed members of my watch to report a light being sighted off the Port bow.
Chart checking and flash measuring commenced to ensure we were where we thought we were, and that Team Garmin was not careering flat out into Tasmania. As expected, all was well and we are 30 miles off the South of Tasman Island. For the third time I sat down, but then noticed the barely perceptible change in tone of the water-maker pump from the engine room. It’s a bit sad that I have now got to a point where I can tell how efficiently most bits of machinery on the boat are performing based on the sound and vibration from 20 feet away, but useful all the same. An hour well spent tending to the airlocks in the water-maker system ended positively, so teas and coffees are back on after a precautionary temporary water ration. It would be very disappointing to run out of water so close to the end!
My day in the galley has been a largely successful one, with seemingly well received food being churned out all day long. Two loafs of bread and two garlic and herb focaccias all went to plan, much to my own surprise, and I'm sure that of my loved ones reading this. The plans for culinary progress and success when my race is over are building by the day. It was also fairly enjoyable to be inside and dry while listening to the hailstones and constant rain hammer down from above. It is a rare thing that I would rather be below decks than in the thick of it up top, but today I was content to be confined to galley and make a mess with flour everywhere. I hope my mother will be proud.
Back on watch this evening has seen some interesting squalls and has seen us run with just the storm job and a 3 reefed main at some points. I was slightly surprised to see the instruments register a 189 knot gust while still steadily standing upright and not watching the rig depart from the boat, so I discounted it and assumed a rather more modest 50 knots. Things have calmed down now we are entering the relative wind shadow afforded to us by the Tasmanian land mass, and I anticipate piling back on the canvas soon enough.
We are very much hoping for a swift run up the coast, and the weather files certainly look positive for the first half. Further up towards Sydney there are the disconcerting signs of a high pressure system taking residence, which would be very disappointing indeed. Here on Team Garmin we feel we've had our fair share of high pressure systems, and really don't want to get caught in another, but are acutely aware that it is totally out of our hands, and all we can do is sail as fast and hard as possible, and try and get there before the worst of it does.
I, like several others on board, have my girlfriend, parents and brother coming to see me Sydney. As this will the first time I have seen any of them since Race Start in London I am greatly looking forward to finally seeing them again after what feels like far too long, and for this reason Sydney is going to be the highlight of my trip so far. It will be fantastic to catch up and spend time together, and for this reason any further light wind will be the most frustrating of all the light airs and slow-downs experienced to date.
So I shall head off to my bunk (high-side of course), dreaming of good winds and a fast run into Sydney, lulled to sleep by the steady (hopefully non- changing) tone of a water-maker, and water over the hull at an average speed of at least 10 knots please!
Race 4 - Day 8
12 NOV 2013
I would say that the boat is full of reluctant queues, but there is not really enough space for a queue to form, so I shall instead say that the boat is full of reluctant huddles.
A watch is woken to begin their shift, and they reluctantly huddle in the galley for a nice portion of porridge, or something of similar consistency. The reluctance grows as they hear wave after wave crash over the deck, with the occasional “awwwwww” from the drenched on-watch. They then reluctantly huddle to change into the same wet items of clothing that they only took off 2 hours ago.
Think getting into a wet and cold wetsuit, and then add some. The huddle then moves to the bottom of the companionway steps as one by one they climb up into the darkness, replace the shivering huddles on the rail, and take over the chorus of “awwwwws”.
Welcome to a snapshot of life in the Southern Ocean. This could be any watch handover in the last 6 days. Life has become permanently wet and mainly cold, with watches within watches now being rotated to give people a chance warm up every 30 minutes or so. The sterling work of our engineers over the last 2 months in waterproofing the boat from the deck downwards has been blown to pieces by the special sort of Mother Nature dished out below 40 degrees south, with all the 'guaranteed dry' lockers and bunks now joining the wet club. As I write this I have just seen the skipper disappear to the back of the boat with a bucket and sponge. The skipper emptying bilges I hear you ask? Dream on. Apparently the lockers in his bunk need emptied before they overflow onto his mattress and sleeping bag.
At least we know that boat is not selective on who it allows the waves to fall on below decks!
However, considering all of this, spirits are high on board Team Garmin, with lots of soggy smiles just about visible beneath the many layers of waterproof clothing. The galley is still producing a plethora of mini-miracles on a daily basis. I was confined to galley yesterday, and despite my total lack of ability with all things raw ingredient based, managed to produce two rather amazing (crew's words, not mine) loaves of bread, including one with chocolate in it. Luckily Steve waded in to de-bone thechicken. My rather unharmonious connection with all things kitchen related is even more obvious than I thought, with the skipper commenting on his surprise that I wasn't a capable modern man with extensive cooking and baking skills at the tip of my fingers. If there is ever any confusion about this just ask my girlfriend, as I have absolutely no doubt at all she will confirm this lack of ability. My new life goal for improvement is definitely cooking, once this wet and cold experience of a lifetime is complete. Promise.
Anyway, I must leave it here as the boat is raining on the laptop, I need to empty my right boot of the ocean, somewhere around here is a marginally dry sleeping bag with my name on for the next hour, and I have just seen a chocolate cake getting made and there is a bowl to be licked clean. I hope you have fun reading this from what I'm sure is warm and dry chair in a warm and dry room!
JAMES SCOTT
CREW DIARY
Race 4 - Day 1
6 NOV 2013
So this is Day 1 of our race, but Day 3 of everyone else's! We all decided we liked Cape Town, and most of us would probably go back at some point.
None of us however expected us to be returning quite so soon. Race start had gone well, with a good position on a busy start line, and we were the second boat around the windward mark, with a kite hoist soon after. The usual chaos reigned with boats in every direction, all jostling for the same bits of water, skippers calling to each other over who had rights and making sure the other knew exactly who they thought would be bearing away. It's an exciting form of chaos, with so much happening it can be hard toconcentrate on what's going on inside your own boat.
Unfortunately that is where the excitement got too much for the boat, and it became obvious we had a small issue with our rig tension. Not something that was an immediately major problem, but not something we could ignore, and we had to make the decision to drop sails and return to harbour. After some remedial work the next day we set out with every hope and intention of making best speed to Albany, but again it was not to be, as things were still not quite right, and with fading light and easing winds it became something we could only deal with in port.
Of all the places to be stuck Cape Town has got to be one of the best, providing another opportunity for phone calls with loved ones, and with the kind trust of the harbour master we were given permission to nip out for a final good meal and drink, and some of the crew had one last chance at the comforts of a hotel room for the night.
An early start the next day saw us take the Clipper Race rigger and all round good guy Greg North out for a sail. We fulfilled our main aim of getting him thoroughly soaked and hammered in the wind and waves, but we also managed to get the rig tuned up to perfection. After a quick stop back in port for an ice cream and to drop Greg off (he declined our offer of a free ride to Albany, something about a wife expecting him home three days ago...), we were off! The V&A swing bridge operator gave us a special departure announcement, and we headed out to applause and cheers, our own mini race start.
The weather has been what our skipper described as “fruity”, and it has lived up to expectations. Our first afternoon and night we have been hammering across the wind and waves, seeing wind speeds of over 40kts and some great boat speeds of up to 19 knots. Big smiles all round, even by the seasick amongst us, as we are pleased to finally be under-way, with the big swells and weather of the South Atlantic prompting lots of “this is what I signed up for” comments. While we may be days behind the rest of the fleet, we are determined to push as hard as we can over the next few weeks, to try and make up any ground we can on the rest of the fleet. If anything we're more driven than ever before.
So thanks to Cape Town for an extra couple of nights, thanks to all the Clipper Race team that cancelled flights to sort us out so quickly, thanks to Charlie North for being so patient (we hope you have him back now), and special thanks to the couple from the yacht from Albany who brought us wine to the boat on the first night back in. Have a good time in the Caribbean!
Watch out Clipper Race fleet, Team Garmin are coming at you hard and fast. Keep looking over your shoulders...
Legs 1 and 2:
London to Cape Town
(picture: arrival, right)
1 NOV 2013
So several people asked me to keep them updated of my progress as I race around the world … I shall keep it brief, as there's not much time to get the boat ready and kitted up before the big race across the Southern Ocean to Australia.
My team has now completed the first two legs of the race; a short race from London to Brest, a long run down to Rio, and we have just arrived in Cape Town from Rio. The race from Brest to Rio ended up taking 31 days, much longer than expected. The first week we were making very good progress, with a top boat speed of 26 knots, which is pretty fast! We are hoping to top 30-35kts on the next race with big swells to surf down… Unfortunately after that we spent nearly 10 days stuck in the Doldrums just before the Equator crossing doing very little other than aimlessly drifting around. This was definitely the hardest part so far, as the heat on and below deck was very unpleasant, and when you remove the wind completely from a sailing boat in the middle of the ocean it all very quickly loses its sense of purpose and there is almost nothing at all to do! However we managed to keep on moving just enough, sometimes only a couple of miles a day, to eventually push out of it, across the Equator and down the coast of Brazil.
The run down the coast was much more exciting, with a constant stream of Brazilian fishing boats, Russian oil tankers, and huge drill rigs keeping us more than entertained, constantly exhausted and busy, and on one occasion nearly run down (by the Russian oil tanker) in a squall with over 45kts of wind at night. I can almost tell you how many rivets were down his Port side. We made it into Rio in the middle the night after what had been a very long 31 days, a few fishing lines around the keel, but nothing too major broken on the boat, everyone pretty much uninjured, and our first ocean crossing complete. There were only a couple of days spent in Rio, repairing the boat and getting everything restocked.
The race from Rio to Cape Town was a lot quicker, even though we had less wind than we had hoped, with the entire crossing taking 15 days. For the first few days and nights we headed out through fairly rough conditions with lots of work and not a lot of sleep for every one. However after this things stabilised slightly and we spent almost the entire remainder of the race with our largest sails up making best speed East. Unfortunately our Northerly route meant we didn't get the wind we had hoped for so finished much lower than intended, but again there were no major injuries and we were one of the only boats that didn't shred sails top to bottom, which puts us in a very good position for the next one.
Cape Town has been very busy getting the boat ready again and doing extra work to make sure we're fully prepared for the conditions the Southern Ocean is going to deliver, but unlike Rio there has been enough time for lots of real (non freeze-dried) food and plenty of beer. Our Skipper also quit, for reasons nothing to do with our team, so we have a replacement until Australia who has done the race before and is very competitive, so things are looking hopefully for a good result into Australia. My time on board is mainly spent helming (driving) and getting very very wet and smashed about on the foredeck and out on the bowsprit. That's when I'm not busy fixing generators, computers or up the mast re-running lines and rigging that have become disconnected or damaged. All good fun and I'm very excited about the next race, despite the cold and heavy conditions that we'll experience.
I attach a couple of pictures, and hope that gives those who wanted it an insight into the last couple of months racing! There are daily blogs and pictures we send in from the boat during the race which are at www.clipperroundtheworld.com. I'm on Team Garmin, currently in 9th place, but hopefully not for long! Things have been building up nicely, and I think we're ready to start getting some results now.
I hope everyone is well back home.
Best wishes from Cape Town.
James
JAMES SCOTT
CREW DIARY
Race 2 - Day 21
29 SEP 2013
Currently down at 2 degrees North and out of the Doldrums, things are looking up from what has been a Groundhog Day week. Waking up every morning, afternoon and evening, hoping to feel the boat moving, even racing, only to be bitterly disappointed; let's just say the novelty wore off pretty quickly.
There was boat movement, albeit it in a circular, generally non-Southerly direction. While carrying all the maintenance work we could, hull and rudder inspection, and regular rig checks convinced us for a while our time was being well spent, we soon realised there was no escaping the frustration and lack of purpose we felt while becalmed. Some creativity was inspired, mainly in terms of finding new places to sleep in search for sub-30 degree heat. On top of the largest spinnaker in the sail locker was a personal favourite for me.
However, as the title suggests, the last few days have been a marked improvement on our Equator approach. We are actually sailing again, in a direction that matches the concept of going to Rio, and the wind of the previous 48 hours have given us racing speeds again. Double digits on the Team Garmin Garmin gauges had been all but forgotten.
As if to remind us we were moving again, and at good pace, last night was a busy one. After a period of sailing comfortably with the Yankee 1, our largest headsail, and full main, 6 hours saw us go to 2 reefs, a Yankee 2, shortly followed by a Yankee 3, followed by a headsail drop, to balance the rising wind of over 35 knots. Not much sleep was had, and there some good waves caught in the face.
So onwards and downwards, with all happy to leave the 10-5 degrees North area behind, the wet and sleepless routine well into swing again. The only mark left by the Doldrums are the sunburn strips, a series of dots very close together on a chart, and a craving for gin and tonic, with tiny, ice cold tins of tonic. I hope there are some being kept cold for me.
Love from Team Garmin, currently heading South on Port tack, best course to windward.
JAMES SCOTT
CREW DIARY
Race 2 - Day 12
29 SEP 2013
Sailing is a world of extremes.
This is what I am fast coming to learn about ocean racing. It's either cold and wet, or unbearably hot. You're either trying to make the boat move in a frustrating lack of wind, or life is spent for days at a time at a 20 plus degree angle. You can be so hungry that every mouthful of food is the most valued and savored for the rest of the watch, or you feel so tired and ill that after one mouthful you can only tip the bowl over the side, food for the fish anddolphins. I hope they like freeze dried food, as we've been feeding them aplenty!
At least the extremes are certainly some of the most memorable parts. As I write this we are approaching 16 degrees North, making our way down the African coast to the equator. With every degree South we travel, it seems that we gain several in heat. The last few days have been a change from constant spinnaker work, with standard white sails up for the majority of the time. Whilst this has seemed like a welcome break from the incessant wooling and packing of these sails (only to see them hoisted minutes later and our beautiful packing gone in seconds), the heat below decks and inability to sleep in it means that today's start of a sailing angle friendly to consistent spinnaker running is a welcome relief. The constant trim trim trim of these huge sails, and fiercely focused night helming, means there is little time to dwell on the discomfort.
Sightings of the occasional whale and numbers of dolphins are a rare but enjoyable sight. One thing guaranteed to make everyone smile, no matter what their mood, is a dolphin intent on showing how impressively high they can jump from the water, only meters from the boat. The foredeck seems to have become home to range of small fish unfortunate enough to get in the way as we plough through the waves, which makes for a more unusual daily deck clean.
We are pushing south hard, looking forward to making up miles lost early on in the race once across the equator and on the run down the coast of Brazil. So despite the heat, anything we can do to make the boat go faster is being done, with sail changes at any hour, night or day, and high-side hot bunking the norm. My personal highlight of the week has been the view from the top of the mast, looking down on our 70-foot racer with the largest spinnaker flying, cutting through the sea at 15 knots. A view like no other.
Needless to say, girlfriends, partners, family and friends are being greatly missed by all.
James Scott (Scotty)