Race 4 - Day 12
Crew Diary - Race 4 Day 12: Fremantle to Sydney
14 December

The pirate ship Garmin has noisy days and quiet days but never silent days. Lying in my lower bunk on a calmer day I can hear the gentle whoosh of water passing by my head just the other side of the hull. It’s quite peaceful and calming. On rougher days, waves smack into the side of the boat with force and, lying in the same place, it sounds like we’ve been hit by a bus. Somewhat alarming the first few times you hear it, you can sleep through it after a while.

There is a winch on deck just above my head which grinds away as a soft background whirr each time those on deck make a small trim adjustment but increases in volume to a loud, excitable and more muscular sound on a change of tack.

Each watch chats on deck and each watch finds themselves highly entertaining, philosophical or even erudite depending on the mood, weather and time of day or night. On occasion we have been able to sleep with the hatches open so that those down below trying to sleep can hear all that is going on up top. Neither watch seems seem to find the “on watch” quite as entertaining at volume as they find themselves. All part of the fun of communal living.

Crossing the Great Australian Bight we had some decent wind and on deck the noise of the wind and the crashing of the waves means that chit chat is in very short supply and hand signals are the order of the day. Every now and then, the helm might shout “wave” loud enough for us in the pit to hear but not in time for us to assume the position (crouched over, head down, hood up) and the said wave comes over the top and dumps itself on our heads with a splat like the emptying of a very large bucket of water. Sometimes there’s a little squid in it and the smell of fish permeates for a while.

Becalmed as we have been in the Tasman Sea, the days and nights are quieter. The wind, such as there was, catching in the shrouds sounded like the cello section of the orchestra just warming up. Really rather lovely.

There is always something on the boat at any given time which is grinding, clanking, banging, smacking, slopping, flapping or whipping (or snoring). The longer one spends on board the more normal it gets and the easier it is to ignore. The real skill is being able to pick out the odd sound that’s not quite right and indicates something needs looked at. That I leave to our diligent skipper, GT, who is always aware of what going in and is straight on the case if it doesn’t sound right. Meanwhile, I sail on, taking comfort in my ignorance.