Race 6 - Day 18
Crew Diary - Race 6 Day 18
09 February
Stephanie Reeves and Helen Thompson
John is on form on the sunset watch. He’s gleefully telling me about his collection of Walter Scott first-editions and encountering lone pipers on his mountain bike rides through the Scottish woodlands. It got us on to the topic of traditional music and set the watch off on a singalong of all the English, Irish and Scottish tunes we knew between us. Susan and Dave gave a cracking rendition of Calon Lan (in Welsh of course) and Jeronimo even sang me the start of a Spanish fishing tune very quietly.
The session descended into sea shanties and stories of boozy trips away with friends. Maybe it’s the enormous full moon but everyone is having a great time on board; singing, laughing at each other’s stories and being washed over by the odd warm wave. Or maybe it was the freshly-made chocolate fudge cake that Anne popped up with at half-time.
Maybe it’s the good rate we’ve been sailing at over the last couple of days. Traversing the Mariana Trench and currently bounding through the North Pacific at an average of 12.5 kts towards the Luzon Strait.
Either way it’s a welcome mood-change after struggling to move about the boat for the last few days whilst we’ve been on an aggressive heel. There may even have been some tears when I was too tired to climb into my top bunk on the high side.
It’s about time I headed there now. Wish me luck!
Helen:
Now we are really racing. We have entered into the Dell Rugged Latitude Ocean Sprint and are really fighting hard for those points. This has added a whole new set of challenges to life onboard.
The boat is constantly at an angle which means that the bunk I share with another person (thankfully not at the same time), when off watch, is on the high side.
Dear Reader, if you too would like to experience this part of boat living for yourselves, all you need to do is build a set of bunk beds, ensuring that the top bunk is above the top of your head at its lowest point, and then when you have put the ladder together, take it and throw it away. Next, practice doing the splits. You will need to warm up before you can go to sleep. Your available options for bed entry are to stand on sleeping crewmates, and tolerate their wrath for such actions, or walk up a precarious combination of flexible pipe (it is important to wonder what would pour out into the bunks if this broke. Options include black or grey water, or something rather more unpleasant from the heads) and cloth sheets secured only by a piece of cord. I have now settled on the latter method, finishing with a backwards dive off of the (hopefully not) waste-carrying pipe into a tuck and roll. Dad, you will be pleased to hear that all those swim training sessions Mum made you pay for, have come in handy!
Currently it is midnight, having crossed a dateline, this moment is feeling rather familiar. This evening I had the pleasure of waking up to the sound of the other watch singing sea shanties. Technically I woke up to the sound of Dave enthusiastically slapping the deck in time to a sea shanty. This is another thing that can be tried at home. For this all you need to do is find a giant rugby, playing PE teacher, provide him with a metal bucket, get him to creep up on you when you are sleeping and then hit it, no more than 30cm away from your head. I then found myself lying in my bunk with my eyes closed singing along with the sea shanties. Anyone who knows me, knows that I’m not usually a morning person, so for me to be fine with such a wake up call is odd.
As the wind and waves have picked up, we regularly have waves crashing over the deck soaking whoever is there at the time, before finishing up by pouring down the companionway. Having managed to manoeuvrer myself from my bunk to the galley, even changing into clean, dry clothes (this is a bi-weekly achievement at best) I then made the poorly timed decision to sit on the low side under the companionway. My boots have now had a wash on the inside. I, personally, thought they were fine without this, but the Pacific disagreed. We discussed it, but I was unable to argue my case adequately.
Dressed as a giant yellow banana in full foulies, I velcro-ed up my collar against the elements in preparation for heading up on deck. Steph, en route to performing the Olympic bunk pole-vault, now that she is off watch, has informed me that I look like a Doctor Who creature. I suggest a yellow version of those ones that look like they are wearing a suit of armour and have a bucket on their head. If I were on land I would google the name of this creature, but out here that isn’t an option. It is oddly enjoyable to not be able to google everything. Either someone on the boat knows the answer or thinks they do, and you either believe them or make a mental note (immediately to be forgotten) to look it up when you get back to land. Remind me to look up the name of the creature…
On that note, time to go on deck!