Race 2 - Day 13
Crew Diary - Race 2 Day 13: Punta del Este to Cape Town
17 October

The Need for Speed

We can't deny the fact that we all have a built-in desire for speed. As toddlers, we go as fast as we can on our 2 wheeler push bike down the road with our parents shouting "Slow down Johnny!"

As adults when the opportunity arises, we go flat out down the hill on our road or mountain bikes. And similarly we occasionally push the throttle just that bit extra to see how far this car can really go.

Doing a transatlantic crossing on a Clipper 70 is no different. From the minute the race starts we want to go fast. Fast to win the race. Fast to hear the water tear past the gully. Fast to see the swoosh at the back on the yacht. Fast to see the hull carve the water.

Speed, let's face it, is exhilarating.

Catapulted with a 30 knot north westerly wind from Punta Del Este, we soon discover what ocean racing is about. Both the highs and the lows.

Water dancing past the hull. Spray sprinkling over the deck. White water churning at the aft. Occasional white walls of water break over the windward hull. Knocking fellow crew off their perch. We get drenched. We hold on for dear life as CV24 rockets forward, balancing at a 45 degree angle, going faster and faster. 15 knots, 18 knots, 21 knots yells the helm shooting a fist into the sky. We all cheer him on.

It becomes relentless. Hands sting. Shins, knees, elbows, arms and thighs all have bruises from being battered down below or on deck. Crew lie in their bunks. Some from sea sickness. Some from a bash in the head. Some from a bad fall. Balancing on the deck, in the companionway, in the galley area, everywhere, is a challenge. Not to mention the fine art of negotiating the heads.

Helming is exhausting. We are cold. We are wet. We are tired. Pitch dark, winds gusting at 45 knots, the helmsman's world is reduced to focus solely on a red compass for direction, using every bit of strength and will to keep this 35 ton machine on course.

Then there is calm. The wind has gone. We gather on deck like wounded soldiers from the trenches. We laugh. We joke. We are alive. And we feel alive. We witness the extraordinary power of the sea and the remarkable way the Clipper 70s carve through the Southern Atlantic.

3 knots. 4 knots mumbles the helmsman as bob up and down in the middle of the Atlantic on a chilly, but gorgeous sun filled day. We soak in the sun. Air the boat, dry our kit, gather our strength.

Just like that, the wind changes. We are off again, galloping east across the Ocean. Our Code 2 spinnaker flying proud with The Race of Your Life written in bold red reminds us why we are here.

15, 18, 21, 22.5 knots yells the helm and we cheer. We are ignited by speed. United by speed. The need for speed. Cape Town here we come...