Leg 7 Race 2 .. Snakes and ladders

08.06.2024

Close to the wind.

Everyone in place. We ran through two practise Le Mans starts, one to set the sails, and the other to make sure we could make it work. Dawdling up to take our place on the leeward end of the line, we were in no rush. After a bit of friendly jostling for space, and some mistimed ques from lead skipper, Micro, the start was a go. Bodies leapt forward in the midday sun, muscle memory took over fuelled by adrenaline as hands clasped on halyards, sheets and winches, the sails went up like sprung cobras, hoods out at the opposition to our right, leaving them backing off behind. We had escaped the entrapment of little wind, and we’re leading off the line; At the far opposite, windward, end, Dare to Follow challenged our progress momentarily before falling back into the fold.

Despite our blistering start, our dragon ran out of puff fairly soon after, we slowly conceded places, dropping down to 8th, but this was as short lived as Bekezela claiming a momentary 3rd place… We fought hard through the night. Some fortunate, or unfortunate, timing, depending on your perspective, led me to being on deck after failing to sleep in the Changi prison cell that is my coffin bunk; as I just relaxed into a napping position beside the helm the Falkor began on a Yankee 2 headsail change, changing to a smaller sail as we were overpowered with the Yankee 1, and going sideways. I watched half awake for a second as the 3 Falkors struggled with heaving the bag up to the forestay before going to join them - a new pack of Marlboros attracted water like a puddle attracts wellies; halfway through helping them drag it to the stay, the decision was made to simultaneously reef to make the main smaller, still meant to be asleep for another couple of hours I was more than enthusiastic to lug my soaked shell to the mast to climb for the reef; once done however we had gained at least half a knot and we’re back on the push. As it came time for Puff to return to the deck, R1D1 and myself came up early to aid in hoisting the Y2. As it began climbing the forestay we began grinding on the halyard, R1D1, Rick (yes, Rick), and myself moving almost too frenetically, before… WHACK! The active sheet was not tailed in quite enough and the nasty green snake began whipping its long tail into the cockpit. It first struck me across my back forcing me to turn quickly, to obviously get a better look at my aggressor, which then took the opportunity to have a slash across my nose (thank you big nose genetics, my eyes are safe) taking some skin off before I fell to the deck. After a few seconds of comprehension time, I crawled over to the port primary winch and began tailing in the angry viper, which by this point had struck 3 of us in the pit. The line was controlled and we continued with the hoist, minimal time lost. During the hoist, as we dropped the 1 we lost only half a knot, the 2 went up and we instantly gained 2. Time to get our skates on.

We were in 8th position. The next night and day and night, sailing hard up to and past Jamaica, and approaching Cuba, followed the same strategy: point as close to the mark as we can and sail as straight as we can, trimming around the ever changing apparent wind angle. Constantly checking our sails, and our instruments, we began taking places back; at night a great chain of clipper yachts lined our starboard horizon, each sailing happily in tandem as we climbed through them like rungs on a ladder; 7th place, 6th place, 4th place, have a gander at where punta might have been before the next report, completely wrong, 3rd place.

As we approach the gap between Cuba and Haiti, we expect to encounter a great wind shadow, and so are preparing ourselves for that, giving a respectful margin between ourselves and the coast, the likes of Ha Ha and the other Chinese boat, ahead of us, seem more brash. Some exciting scenes to come.

Will x