Crew Blog

Nowt so queer as folk

11 February 2008

As I come to the end of my three-leg adventure I feel I have to comment on some of the things I have noticed going on around me aboard New York. Being at sea for protracted periods of time in the close confines with people you barely knew five months ago but whom you have come know almost too well now is a fascinating experience. All those strange habits, unusual character traits and downright weirdness that are usually confined to the nearest and dearest at home cannot be hidden away on a 68-foot yacht. I hate to say it but it does feel very Big Brotheresque at times.

2.45pm and Ian is hanging his freshly washed pants on the guard rail. Take dressing and undressing for example. There are those who maintain a modicum of decorum changing in their bunks under the cover of darkness or in the heads at opportune moments. Then there are those who wander around in a lot less than is decent preferring a full parade of underwear for a lightning dash to the heads or to swap bunks during a tack. At least most people listened to my requests (or were they pleas) for no white pants on board. The worst offender is one Scotsman, who shall remain nameless, who occasionally enjoys trousers down helming to allow the breeze to reach the parts other breezes cannot reach.

5.15pm and Neil completes his tour of empty bunks during his off watch. New York also has several bunk whores (meant in the nicest possible way of course). These are people who have slept in almost every place it is possible to sleep on the boat in a vain attempt to gain even half an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Usually they can be found in random empty bunks but also parade their wares in the saloon, on sail bags in the hell hole and in very strange positions/locations on deck (when they should be keeping a lookout for other shipping). Hot bunking gives a whole new meaning to the term sleeping around.

3.27am and Trevor discusses the big bang theory in the cockpit. Then there are the strange conversations which take place in the depths of night. Some of the more highbrow discussions have covered religion, politics, global warming, house buying and even the difference between Homer and Virgil poetry (we have two Cambridge graduates on board - need I say more). The more base level chat topics include Clipper fleet gossip (my personal favourite), the differences between men and women, the relative merits of HP over sweet chili sauce to mask some of the more suspect meals onboard and how to correctly pronounce words our American crew members seem to struggle with such as route (rout) and debris (de bris). 

9.50am and Sarah grapples with a sail change while feeling rather below par. Dealing with seasickness has degraded even the most charismatic and boisterous members of the crew to shadows of their former selves. There are the bolters who seem to whiz from being absolutely chipper to providing their lunch to Neptune on the transom and back on form again in an instant. Then we have the living dead who resemble the incredible hulk they are so green having spent days on end prostrate staring at the horizon from the deck or horizontal in their bunks. We also have a few for whom seasickness is manageable until someone mentions mother watch to them and then they turn green at the prospect of a day spent cooking for 16 people.

1.37pm and Paul asks if there are second helpings for lunch again. Speaking of mother watch, there are those who will hoover up anything put in front of them, ask for more and to top it all off even eat others’ leftovers as well. It has been noted that these people have become adept at sweet talking mother into making all manner of delights to satisfy their appetite such as apple crumble, pancakes and flapjacks. Then there are those who prefer to nip into the galley to snack on tit bits all day long conjuring up weird combinations of food like peanut butter and marmite sandwiches served with a chocolate/horlicks combo. We also have several midnight snackers caught plundering stores in the wee hours and still have not managed to solve the mystery of the galley ‘night raider’ who, it is alleged, hoarded bags of M&Ms during Leg 3.

For me, other weird and wonderful experiences have included Bob dancing in the snake pit, Felicity bursting into song in the galley, Hen’s never ending weird and wonderful choice of attire both above and below deck, Al’s ability to inflate his life jacket on demand, Gary’s lightning fast bunk hopping without touching the ground in the bow, Neil’s bin liner/duck tape waterproof pants creation, Nate’s singing from the foredeck and Keith’s naughtiness in sucking up people’s tea with the bilge pump.

Of course, I include myself in these observations having had several slightly odd moments while aboard. I was absolutely convinced I could see the Great Pyramids in the Southern Ocean and have developed a reputation for having mad half hours on my watch. Not entirely normal. Maybe that is why I am here.

Finally it is not just those aboard worthy of discussion. There have been several close encounters of the strange kind external to New York. Channel 16 (the emergency channel) has yielded some very odd messages including someone whistling intermittently and sirens singing to entice us to a small Indonesian island. My personal favourite was our watchkeeper friend on a tanker who, after we tacked in front of him, came on the radio to say, “Hello idiot monkey I can hear you but I cannot see you, where are you idiot monkey”.

Good luck to the rest of the leggers who follow me. It’s not just about the sailing. You have all this to look forward as well.

Jennifer Leech

Note to NY friends and family: We are having a few IT technical hitches at present therefore are unable to communicate home via the crew email. Rest assured all is well as we slowly enter the northern hemisphere winter. Brrrrrrr.