Leg 5 Race 1.. Trade winds, finally.

08 February 2024

The days of the dark, destructive, or unsummounting, unpredictable squalls are seemingly coming to an end.

We emerged from the grey into clearer winds and blue sunny skies, white sails still up we kept our line under the guidance of 15 knots of wind. We were losing ground though without knowing, the boats ahead of us were slipping further ahead at the afternoon report, fifth place was solidifying in front of us, we had to go faster.

The Code 2 had been sitting on deck, ready with sheets and tack attached, all day, the only issue was that the sea state was still grouchy and the odd looming cloud quelled any attempt to hoist; through the day we had prepared and backed out three times as the wind backed and increased for twenty minute periods. But we were dropping back. Like a deer contemplating crossing an open field, we went for it. She climbed the mast slowly as she had been soaked from the wash on deck, it was as if it was in protest from the start, angry that she hadn’t been hoisted earlier.

Sweating it up inch by inch we managed to raise it to the top spreader before giving in to the winch; I quickly ran from the mast at this point to help grind in the knowledge that the hard might get harder as the wool holding it in loose sausages began to pop, once popped the full force of the wind would take it and add to the strain. Once up we dashed quickly to down the Yankee, I think someone might’ve misunderstood the memo of just how quickly we wanted it down, ‘ease yankeee’ turned to whizzzzzz as she fell abruptly from the sky on my head, I think I may have exclaimed just a couple explosive expletives, having had the staysail drop on my head just a couple days before didn’t exactly help my initial reaction, but luckily I was enough downwind that only the people on the foredeck may have heard, everyone was ok and we managed to haul the sail from over the guardrail quickly enough. We had hoisted the kite, and she was loving it. The days of the ‘maybe kite?’ were seemingly past us, we handed over to Mushu watch, proud that our warhorse was running again.

Returning to the deck for our night watch gave rise to a completely different environment. Our tepid 15knots had evolved into a consistent 25 with gusts over 30 becoming commonplace. This was not plain sailing. For the first three hours YM and I took the wheel, subbing in and out half an hour at a time to keep our concentration high. UNICEF were 10 miles ahead and we made it our mission to catch them by the end of the watch; we could see that they were doing 12knots whilst we were averaging 14, with 19knots surfs commonplace.

It was exhilarating as we made the most of every wave, coming on to the helm each time was anxiety inducing and terrifying in the pitch black and large swells, but once you began again you were racing. The guys in the cockpit worked hard and fast, every surf required a grind as the apparent wind decreased, half collapsing the kite; Rick had threatened that we may have to take it down should the weather become too much, we weren’t about to let that happen. After the first three hours we had gained 6 miles on them. By the end of the watch, with a little Santa and Chickpea magic thrown in, we were 0.2 of a mile away, the red port light an evil comfort in the darkness. We handed the glory over to the other watch, not only had we moved ahead of Unicef, but in the process of our long day's work we had pushed into first position.

Awesome sailing.

Will x