Race 12 - Day 6
Crew Diary - The Care and Feeding of Your Clipper Skipper Through Wind Holes: A Guide for the Perplexed
08 June
Part II in an occasional series
By Tracey Thomas
Crew Member, GoToBermuda
For all the excitement of ocean racing, there is a rarely talked-about dirty secret: wind holes.
For those of you who’ve not spent your Covid lockdown getting a PhD in meteorology – that is, most of us – wind holes are high pressure systems that create stifling hot days unrelieved by even a whisper of passing air. The Clipper Race fleet has been dodging and/or battling them the last several days, as they are common along the Pacific Coast of Mexico and Central America.
As painful as wind holes are on shore, they are tortuous for ocean racers, because no wind means no sailing, much less racing. And they are somewhat unpredictable, despite the best available forecasting.
This is stressful for everyone on board, and on the boat causes a build-up of heat during the day, humidity around the clock, and in the crew it increases all forms of anxiety and attachment disorders. Not that I’m judging anyone. These are just facts.
The following may – or may not – actually have happened.
You might be on deck in the midst of a rainstorm so ferocious that you ask your helmsperson if you can get him anything, he has only one request: A cuddle.
Yet four hours later, you awake to find your boat bobbing on a demented Lake Woebegone – with zero mileage to show for the passing hours. Wait. As the great wit Dorothy Parker would have said: What fresh hell is this?
I grew up in Upstate New York, a region renowned for its beautiful lakes. The calmest of those lakes is likely Glimmerglass Lake, named for the sun and moonlight reflected from its eerie smooth waters. And this past week? I have bobbed on ocean waters that would put Glimmerglass to shame.
But when I say wind holes stress ‘everyone,’ of course the biggest ‘everyone’ is the skipper – who is responsible for trying to avoid wind holes, and getting us out of them and back to racing.
A disclaimer: The following observations, about the care and feeding of your skipper, may or may not have actually happened. And they may – or may not – have come through my experience serving with my current skipper, David ‘Wavy’ Immelmann. I defer to my skipper’s superior knowledge and experience in all things – with the possible exception of his very dodgy advice about tinned meats.
These are, of course, not observations I have actually shared with Wavy. I only say these things behind his back. It’s called ‘manners,’ you heathens.
The first place to look for a wind hole is the galley sink. If you find one of the two galley sinks filled with dirty coffee mugs – or, God forbid, two sinks full – give your skipper a very wide berth. There is potentially a wind hole on the horizon.
Excessive Caffeine Consumption indicates Intense Navigation Deliberations are underway, and may continue for hours. These deliberations may be accompanied by… ahem… pronounced grouchiness.
Following the Excessive Caffeine Consumption, food intake will become a problem. Because large quantities of coffee do not mix with some freelanced bolognaise sauces or Faux Mexican Food of any description.
Your skipper may prefer what experienced parents call The Fussy Toddler Diet. Check your specific skipper for terms and conditions, such as Only White Foods and No Foods Touching Each Other On The Plate.
Intense Navigation Deliberations are often accompanied by The Fidgets. Skippers often handle these symptoms by taking on the never-ending list of OSB, Other Skipper Business.
Other Skipper Business often involves fixing broken things. You simply cannot imagine how many broken things you could find on a boat. You will come to suspect that the skipper is breaking Perfectly Fine Things in order to have something to fix. You will suspect this. But you won’t say it. Because again, manners.
If your skipper absolutely, positively cannot find another thing to do – well, that means it’s time for paperwork. Like a duck paddling on a pond, It’s all Other Skipper Business above the waterline – while underwater, skipper’s legs are pumping like mad.
And, at last, the moment will arrive when your skipper can simply take no more. Look for the furrowed brow and the agitated countenance that says, ‘I’ve Ducking Had It.’ But without the Ducks, if you know what I mean.
Stand back. Do not approach ‘I’ve Ducking Had It.’ Just like with suspected serial killers, do not make eye contact. You-know-what is about to hit the fan.
Your skipper will wear grooves in the floorboards pacing between the navigation station’s computer screens and the helm for consultations. The air will be thick with Post-It Notes full of hand-scratched calculations of wind angles. Whatever hair your skipper has left, stands on end. There will be half-mumbled ruminations about the costs and benefits of sail changes. And cursing at all of the above.
If this cascade of Navigation Decisions happens at night, have an unlit trimming torch at the ready - or, for American readers, a flashlight devoted to checking sail trim at night.
Do not light the trimming torch, let the skipper do that. Because a lit trimming torch not properly aimed does to your night vision what the Nazi dentist did to Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man. It’s not pretty.
Trimming is actually a very good sign that your wind hole troubles are nearly over. Because if there’s trimming going on, there is Sailing To Be Done. Glory, hallelujah!