Je vis d'amour et d'eau douce

I am back on dry land after a rather prolonged race to the Fastnet Rock!

The 600 nm course was my longest offshore trip to date, and the first time I have sailed to the Fastnet- so despite finishing without much of a result, I was very pleased to have completed the race and gained some invaluable experience. We were at sea for five days and 9 hours; a lot of time with just a bucket and a bed of fibreglass to call home. 

Boats ready to go

I was amazed to cross the line without having hallucinated once, which previously has been a bit of a habit of mine. Perhaps now I have got the hang of managing my sleep and nutrition, as only once did I completely crash and burn, while heading to the one of the last marks of the course. When you get so tired that your body just does not function it is quite scary- you just trust that the boat is going in the right direction and that any ships around you know you are there- all you want to do is shut your eyes and disappear! 

Night sailing

But to go back to the start of the race; we woke at 5am to be ready for a tow out at 6. After a shot of strong, black coffee and a crepe left over from sunday's lunch, I clambered into my bright yellow drysuit (despite the sun starting to appear), knowing from previous experience that the Mini is a wet boat- there was no point in being uncomfortable from day one!

With an average wind speed of 16 knots from the west that morning, we put in a reef, hanging about the start line waiting for the 8 minute warning signal. As the wind decreased it was time to go full main, and then jostle for a position on the line. Unfortunately we were third row back at the gun, and it seemed to take for ever for the pin end of the line to pass behind the stern. Tacking off for clear air, we then spent too much time faffing before heading back over to the left, consequently losing touch with the top guys in the fleet; who sped up the shoreline with the tide. We struggled for boat speed the whole way up the beat, a combination of incorrect rig tension and the use of an old main and genoa (the new sails hadn't arrived in time); the leech of the genoa was totally worn and later ripped, leaving a gaping hole in the top of the sail!

The start line

Still we tried our best, and were trailing at the back of the fleet with three other boats. I then made an error plotting our position on the chart, thinking that we were  near Le Bouc, but it was actually Parquette, our next mark! So it was time to tack again, and I could see the majority of the fleet higher and further to the west of us.

It did not take too long to reach the Chenal Du Four, which I had been apprehensive about navigating through as on the chart it looks very crowded with rocks and unlit marks. I had sailed through here last year with Becky on a delivery back to Cowes, and it turned out that the passage through was actually OK- but we did have a lot of tide sweeping us west, and it was here that the two boats behind over took. One was an Argo, a new series design, and they just seemed to have ever increasing boat speed on us. Despite falling back I enjoyed the sail through, trimming the main and working the bow of the boat over the chop - I love sailing upwind because of all the trimming, tactics and strategy you have to do. 



Once out of the Chenal we were one of the furthest east placed boats, with the others two miles plus to the west, in a stronger position to catch the new breeze. I tried to tack back to head west, but the heading was very low for Wolf Rock and we were making just 3 knots over ground at a bearing of 250 degrees, with 72 miles still to sail to the rock. Throughout the night we sailed between the code 5 and the gennaker, just trying to keep the boat moving. On Monday night I went down for what was supposed to be a 20 minute nap, only to awake perhaps 2 1/2 hours later! Looking at the tracker we appear to have done some 360's overnight in the light winds, which I seem to have slept peacefully through. Once back on the helm though, there were plenty of ships to avoid, who were moving at some pace to the West. I had to do a lot of checking of the AIS and thought that I might have to call up some ships in French- but we ghosted through in the bright moonlight without being run down. 

We had by now totally lost contact with the fleet, and so didn't hear a thing on the radio. Alone in what appeared to be a vast expanse of never ending sea was quite an experience! During the early hours on Tuesday morning we  switched to the medium kite and later the grand spi, as the wind went to 245 true. We got caught in very little wind overnight, but eventually reached Wolf Rock at about 1200 on Tuesday, gybing to head 010 degrees to get us clear of the North East point of the TSS scheme. As we left Cornwall and the Scilly Isles there were two mini's about 1.5 nm away, but we couldn't catch them. 

Overnight on Wednesday we had the code 5, medium and big kite up; sometimes the wind was 0.2 knots, so it was difficult to keep moving! By the evening the wind was just 6 knots, now from the NNE, with 72 nm to go to the Fastnet Rock. 

Come Thursday morning we were still moving slowly, with a COG of just 5.5 knots. Life on board however was good- we had seen Dolphins and numerous sun fish, and I discovered that there is a lot more grub in a packet of freeze dried food than in a wet meal pouch. By now my daily routine seemed to be a continious loop of eating, drinking, using the bucket, checking the chart and  checking the AIS in the hope that I would spot a Mini...

By Friday we eventually reached Ireland, where I have never been before. The jagged coast line was really interesting, with lots of mini Islands (or perhaps just large rocks) dotted around the place. We could actually smell land, and I'm sure the whiff of cows. We had a beat up towards the rock, and were hit by continous squalls, finding ourselves taking reefs in and out, and watching the rock dissapear behind mist and spray. I believe that some sailors have rounded the rock at least five times and never seen it- so I was pleased when the mist cleared and the sky turned to blue to see the elusive thing! 

Writing down some key translations...

In the afternoon we rounded, hoisting the medium spinnaker for the 280 nm trip back home to France. We had a great blast along with the kite for maybe three hours, again seeing dolphins, until the wind increased to 30 knots- a lot of power for the Mini. Florian went to drop the kite, but punched the autopilot on before the boat had settled down, so we shot up to windward; he got swept overboard with the spinnaker, and was left dangling by one arm from the kite sheet. He started to speak in French; it was clear he was not too panicked, but was most definetley in pain, and I feared he had broken his arm. I am so glad he was clipped on with the life line, which gave me time to duck down below for the safety knife and process the situation. 

It was strange to just go into this automatic, numb mode- there was no time to panic or feel emotion, I just had to get on with solving the situation as quickly and safely as possible. Grabbing him by the lifejacket (wearing crotch straps are an absolute must, they ensure your jacket stays on), I dragged him towards the back of the boat, and up over the guard wires. Once he was on deck in my arms the shock of the situation hit us- he laughed in relief and I shouted in frustration; his face was so cold I feared he would become hypothermic. So I bundled him down below, out of the wet clothes into a sleeping bag (a good idea to have bought it, just in case of such a situation). Checking him over, I was then straight back up on deck, reefing the main, cutting the kite halyard and dragging the sail back into the boat- I had considered just letting it sink, but the boat was stable enough and the kite in perfect condition so it was worth the exertion. It was difficult to keep the boat on course as we kept ending up on a reach,  but I had to get all the ropes tided and everything away down below, so that I could move around easily and quickly. The bowsprit had broken but was still attached to the boat, and was dragging along under the water. I would deal with this later- I had to check Florian was ok; cold but still talking, he had a cup of tea and slept for three hours. I considered sailing for England, and again felt like I was in a film featuring a boat on the Southern Ocean. 

A French man in a TPS suit- a usual sight in the Figaro & Mini classes!

About an hour after the situation, once we were settled, I shed a few tears alone on deck- without a lifeline what would have happened? Would I have lost my friend to the sea? Would I have been able to turn the boat around and get him? I decided it was best not to reminisce, I would only get myself scared. Everything was ok onboard- we were on course, with two reefs in the main and a reef in the genoa, and still doing up to 10 knots over ground down the waves! 

Later my nerves had disappeared and we had a cup of tea- Florian was fine, in dry kit and good spirits. We really enjoyed the sail back home, filming the waves and seeing more dolphins; we were both more alive than ever. 

The race really highlighted to me the freedom that comes with being out open sea, where you are totally in control of your own situation. Of course offshore sailing brings with it the looming threat of danger, but that threat is with us every single day, whatever we are doing. I learnt a lot from the experience even though we ended up well out of the race, and know for sure that a Mini campaign is what I want to do. 

As the french saying goes-  'Je vis d'amour et d'eau douce' . 

 I just want to live by love and fresh water, and sail the sea. Bring on the next offshore!