AQP Blog
I'm hoping that this is the last blog that I write for this race. The wind hole has arrived, and we've got into our light wind setting. When there's a bit of wind, say 4-5kts. I really enjoy light winds, they give you an opportunity to make massive gains and tests your ability as a sailor. When we're all blasting along at 11kts, the marginal gains are small, but If I can do 4kts whilst you do 3, then I'm going 25% faster than you. Or slower than you. Herein lies the challenge. The best sailor I've ever sailed with was a professional tactician and Jacques Vabre IMOCA sailor from France called Gerald Verniard. He said once "Joss, when the wind c'est fort, un bateau c'est un bateau, mais, when the wind is light we must be très très aggressive.” I always took that as a comment on acceptable risk and seamanship in heavy weather racing, but it also definitely applies here.
What's also good is that light winds don't rip your kites as much. We've blown the back out of the Code 3 and we've torn the Code 2 in a couple of places. Ineke and I read all the other teams’ blogs every week and they often include incredibly profuse paragraphs about how grateful teams are to hard-working and diligent sail repair people. I am also, but I'm getting the feeling that it comes with its large positives as well. This afternoon I delivered two earl grey teas to the sail locker where Peter and Dan were bathed in warm light, listening to rock, in a set up that looked a bit like a cosy shed than a place of toil and hardship. That being said, the repairs coming out of the shed look top quality. More like reinforcement patches that should have been there anyway rather than repairs.
I'm excited to see my dad, and excited to see photos of the boat he's been diligently repairing in my absence. I think the whole crew are excited to see/properly connect with loved ones. It's been a really, really long leg and its almost sodding over. The trick at the end of these things I think is to keep them in their proper perspective. We are floating at the very edge, that liminal which divides the deepest deep and the stary sky above. We are all in a wonderful tradition of sailors throughout the ages that thought 'get me off this rotten stinking leaking b***tard tub and into a shower/bed/pub'.
Joss, Ineke and the currently going 1.95kts Seadogs