As the yachts pull away from the dock to begin a new leg, something strange happens.
To those on the ‘outside’ it may appear to be a crew of smiling waving sailors setting off on a grand adventure, but the Parade of Sail hides a mysterious transformation.
It doesn’t happen quickly, or at the same rate for each, but gradually we all enter Clipper World, cue mysterious music.
A world limited to 70 feet by 18.6 feet and a horizon as far as you can see, approximately 12 miles on a sunny day or a few hundred feet in the fog off San Francisco.
As internet and cell connections are cut, thoughts of the ‘outside’ fade. By week two we are all fully immersed in Clipper World. Politics, geopolitics, the economy and even sport results are forgotten. Work, for many, is also a forgotten concern. A tenuous link to family is maintained by the modern wonder of satellite communication, somewhat let down by an email system that seems to be something Steve Jobs developed in his garage in 1978 and promptly forgot about. The payment is also reminiscent of a 1970s pay phone. The wondrous system is powered by ‘tokens’ which are of finite quantity and further limit communications not already restricted by the antiquated system. For those old enough to remember, like having enough coins to pay for a long distance call on a pay phone.
By week three, weighed down by the somnambulant heat off Mexico and the oppressive grind stone that is the watch system, thoughts are limited to eat, sleep, sail, repeat, repeat, repeat.
Over 24 hours: 8pm to 2am sail, 2am to 8am sleep, 8am to 12 sail, Midday to 4pm sleep, 4pm to 8pm sail, 8pm to 2am sleep, 2am to 8am sail, 8am to 12 sleep, Midday to 4pm sail, 4pm to 8pm sleep. Repeat, repeat, repeat...
8pm to 2am is the watch that never ends, particularly in the freezing waters off the US. Midday to 4pm is where we bake, boil, BBQ and other associated cooking words, with or without a ‘b.’ 2am to 8am is also long, but a sunrise around 5am is a welcome distraction. Similarly, the 4pm to 8pm watch has the sunset.
In this world, personalities are distilled to their essence. It doesn’t matter your position or achievements on the ‘outside’. Here only three things matter: can you sail, do you pull your weight and do you have any personality traits that are less than desirable when trapped with 18 strangers for weeks on end in the space the size of a one bedroom apartment? Ability to sail is less important, we learn as we go, but if you are perceived as a shirker and have some ‘quirks,’ pariah status can be an unfortunate side effect.
Behaviours thought to be left behind in the school yard, reemerge. For example, the power needs for 16 people are supported by four USB sockets (battery packs are discouraged as they tend to blow fuses when recharging). Not so bad in the chillier climes, where it was just phones or head torches to be charged, but as the heat built, so did the competition for electricity. Our rechargeable fans greedily devour power as their feeble breeze disturbs the sauna-like heat of our berths. But without them we lie gently stewing in our own juices. So it's a mad dash for sockets as the off-coming watch retrieves their revitalised fans. Some, unscrupulous types, sneakily unplug devices to charge their own.
Which brings us to another daily ritual. At 7:45pm we have ‘happy hour/wine time’ aka ‘whine time’ or the ‘tantrum ten’, where for 10 or so minutes crew members get to raise ‘points of concern’. An important opportunity to vent splines before safety valves blow.
But as week three draws to a close and we pass Finish Gates one and two, the ‘outside’ begins to intrude. Have you booked a hotel in Panama? How did you do it? Where is it? How much? Last night, at watch change, we even got some ‘real’ news supplied via email to a crew member on the opposite watch. The hot goss… McDonald's has pulled out of Russia. Russia, we’d forgotten about that.
There is also the growing reality that our time in Clipper World is drawing to a close. While we moan and groan, self absorbed in the watch cycle, the pleasures of the heads, oppressive heat or freezing cold (nothing in between), unusual culinary concoctions (usually involving couscous and chickpeas) and enjoy the quirks of our neighbours, it is a strangely simple and happy world many will be sad to leave.