Leg 5 Race 1.. Equatorial fun and games.

04 February 2024

Rambo and I took the last mother watch in the southern hemisphere. I feel like I may have a curse, as for the last three mother watches it seems we have been blessed with wind holes. Of course, I don’t mind so much that the boat flattens out to allow for easy cheffing, but if we’re to get to Vietnam on time then maybe I should be taken off the duty entirely. We finished our long day with a vegi chilli come curry thing, we chucked all the ingredients in a pot, threw in a few random spices, and were told it was one of the best meals yet. No idea how. As we were prepping, I had joined the deck for a quick break from the heat of the galley and a quiet moment to watch the sunset. Vibrant orange and light blues folding through cotton candy clouds, tinting them sugar pink as the sun continued to bed in a purple night sky. Until I was rudely required for a windseeker drop, slightly random as it collapsed on top of me, and a Yankee hoist.

Overnight we passed the great equatorial milestone for the second time since starting the race. A feat that many of us could now enjoy as Shellbacks, and bear witness, and cast judgement, upon the polliwog crew members among us. We began the ceremonies the day after, couldn’t complain as I made full use of my mother watch sleep. Urgent, having been involved in many an equator crossing ceremony before this, led the initiations, rising to the deck dressed supposedly like Neptune, but looking slightly more like a Poundland Merlin, his excitement was beaming and his purpose was clear. These polliwogs, it was decreed, would be to have a ceremony of three parts: an offering, a trial, and a cleansing. What was most exciting about all of this was that our skipper, Rick, was also a polliwog. The offering this time was universal, each polliwog was to sacrifice some hair to Neptune. Some trimmed their split ends, others went full wolverine, all passed. The trial was particularly skanky.

Urgent, in preparation for this, had been brewing a concoction of food scraps in our lazzarette, including, but not limited to, eggs, milk, and corn. This was then less than delicately used to decode if our polliwogs were worthy. Finally, the cleansing. Equatorial water was collected and used to baptise the souls, and clean off any eggshell on our polliwog crewmates, anointing them shellbacks. All were sufficiently disgusted but proud to join our prestigious ranks...

Our track has continued North in a ‘stick to the plan’ sort of mentality as we watch the boats around us peel off one by one towards the fleet. It is now just us alone continuing on this line and we are anticipating good news, through way of us getting wind and the others being left somewhat stranded without in their quest for the scoring gate. But, the forecast has been wrong every day so far, letdown after letdown has left us skeptical as we take a renegade route, like a deer crossing a field we hope to do this quickly without stopping to think. We are currently 13 miles north and 30 miles east of the others. A lot of catching up to do but we have the favourable conditions to do it, we hope.

Will x