N 12 deg 27', E 137 deg 57' -- Race 7, Day 13 (late)

I'm angry right now. Very, very angry. You know me, you know that's saying
something. Clipper race organizers have just added 1200 slow miles to the
race, probably adding about ten days at sea. The fleet has been moving too
fast, so they've decided to punish us.

Of course, it isn't quite that simple. They have reasons why we need to
delay our arrival to hit the estimated window. For example, there are
visas. My visa doesn't start until 15 Feb, as I allowed for getting in a
bit early, but not this quickly. UK and French citizens have visa on entry
but only for fifteen days. So an early arrival complicates things, but I
think that a good race organizer together with the city of Da Nang as hosts
should be able to work with Vietnamese immigration to accommodate this.

The bigger issue is that Clipper and Da Nang simply aren't ready for an
early arrival, and it's easier to keep us at sea than it is for them to
adjust. This is complicated by the fact that Tet is coming up, but that
just strikes me as more poor planning.

Clipper argue that this was set for a 31-day race, arriving on 17 Feb, and
we're getting a 31-day race, arriving on 17 Feb. This, of course, is
nonsense. There was a race route set. It was estimated for 31 days, but
we've covered the route faster. This is not how real races work. If they
wanted us to sail in circles for 31 days, they should have said that from
the start.

I understand that an early arrival disrupts things, but I'll contrast this
approach with that taken in Airlie Beach. We arrived there early. There
were some welcome events that couldn't be moved forward, so they were held
after we'd been there a few days and maybe were a bit less special for it.
However, the crews had a great time, rested up with the extra days, and
came away with lots of good memories as advocates of the area. Now, what
you have is angry crew, and I'm certainly coming into Da Nang with a lot of
negative associations. And for now, at least, it's taking a lot of the joy
out my of Clipper experience.

If you have any views on how Clipper and Da Nang have handled this, I'd
invite you to share them with the organizers. I don't think it will change
anything with the race, but I do think that Clipper and Da Nang have earned
a certain PR response. Email to Clipper, Facebook, and Twitter are probably
all useful channels, though I understand Clipper have in the past removed
critical comments from Facebook pages they control.

It's possible that this post will lead to my removal from the race. There
is something in my contract regarding negative public comments, but I don't
have the wording with me, so I don't know if this would be covered. At the
moment though, I'm not sure I care.

N 11 deg 27', E 139 deg 36' -- Race 7, Day 13

My friend Claire (Hi Claire!) said she almost stopped reading the blog
after the first few days, because I sounded so miserable. Well, you might
want to skip this one.

I am just really, really tired. I haven't had a decent sleep in days. The
head below decks is abating a bit, but it's still really uncomfortable. I
think my bunk is particularly bad, being high side and upper, so heat flows
there. When the lee cloth is up, which it needs to be to stop me from
falling out, air circulation gets even worse. And despite my efforts to
keep some clothes dry to sleep in, some combination of sweat, condensation,
and/or leaks means my bed is soaked. Of course, everyone thinks their bunk
is the worst. And the constant heat and damp create rashes for everyone in
all sorts of places, which make it even harder to sleep. I'm actually a bit
impressed people are keeping it together as well as they are, but there is
an all-in-this-together mentality.

Sailing short-handed is also taking its toll. We're still one of the
smaller crews, if not the smallest. And we've had a few injuries. Nothing
major, but enough that people have been at reduced capacity or even out for
a week or so. And I have to revise my withdrawal of the "passengers"
comment. Yeah, it was a bit harsh, but at the same time, it's not enough to
just make a bit of an effort. Some people have physical limitations, but
they work hard to make up for it. For example, Linda is not only 69-years-
old but also about 90 lbs soaking wet. She's not a lot of use when we need
power. But she more than makes up for it in other areas. She may be the
hardest working person on this boat. I wouldn't want to try sail with a
crew full of Lindas, but I think we're lucky to have one. But some
people... they make a certain level of effort, then, wehn that isn't
enough, they seem content to let others pick up the slack. It's corrosive.
But of course, these people are also the least self-aware, so they're
immune to even fairly direct suggestions that they could up their game.

Anyway... on a happier note, we're right over the Mariana Trench, the
deepest spot in the oceans. Those who were at my leaving drinks in London
might remember I was drinking Mariana Pale Ale. Didn't even think we'd be
coming this way, so that's worked out nicely. And this would be a really
bad place to drop your keys. And I didn't!

N 9 deg 2', E 142 deg 29' -- Race 7, Day 12

Hey, a daily update!

We continue to tick away the miles to Da Nang (via Luzon). We're just under
2100 to destination now, and we made 265 in the last 24 hours. Winds are a
steady 20-30 knots, with occasional gusts into the mid-30's, though last
night we were getting a lot of 40's and even touching 50. I set a personal
best in boat speed of 21.9, but there is still a long way to go before I'm
threatening any boat records.

It continues to be hot and sweaty down below, though up top we are feeling
the grip of Northern Hemisphere winter, i.e. I'm slightly chilly sitting in
shorts and T-shirt, soaked in sea water, in 30 knots of wind.

We're getting a number of flying fish on the deck at night now. When
possible, we chuck them straight back in the water, as much to avoid
stepping on them as to save them. Sometimes though, we don't discover them
until morning in a bit of Fish Patrol.

We get a lot of spray over the side, sometimes pretty substantial amounts
of water. Whoever is on the helm tends to get blamed, all for a laugh, as
there's no way of really avoiding it. Yesterday, Linda complained that I'd
gotten her. I replied that she'd said she was tired at breakfast, so I was
just giving her a little wake up. Later that day, she was doing some work
making sail ties, and she had a bucket with her. I was on the helm as she
finished, as she started coming back to the helm (which is where we store
sail ties), carrying the bucket. "Part of my feels like that bucket is full
of water, and you're going to throw it on me", I joked. "At least it's
fresh", she replied, and threw it right in my face! Good laugh for everyone
on deck.

We've had a little duel with Garmin for the last few days. They were rarely
more than a few miles away, cutting back and forth, and often within a few
hundred yards. We couldn't quite close, but they couldn't pull away either.
Well, today they put up their spinnaker and took a more downwind angle.
We'll see how that plays out. We're still making good time and headed
exactly where we want to be. It is pretty cool though, in the middle of a
race thousands of miles long, in the vastness of the ocean, to have two of
us converge like that for a while. I look forward to being on the pontoon
to welcome them into Da Nang!

N 5 deg 23', E 146 deg 51' -- Race 7, Day 11

Apologies again for the infrequent blogging. Conditions below remain pretty
unpleasant. And the spot I type from is right next to the galley, above the
stove on this tack, and so gets a nice steady supply of steam. But for you,
loyal readers, I shall endure... if a bit less frequently than otherwise.

We are now in the South Pacific. My mom (Hi Mom!) would probably be able to
get some song references out of that, but I've never seen it myself. I
think it's set during WWII, and we have passed near or through a lot of war
sites: the Coral Sea, Bouganville, Guadalcanal.... I'm going to have to go
back and read up on the Pacific war now that I have a bit more appreciation
of where these things are.

You'll also notice our position starts with an 'N' now. We're in the
Northern Hemisphere! We crossed the equator two days ago in the morning. I
heard the cheers on deck, but I decided to enjoy the moment from the
'comfort' of my bunk rather than scramble to get a life jacket on to go out
in the rain to be ten minutes late anyway. There's meant to be a ceremony
for all first-time-by-sail crossers, but conditions have been a bit busy,
and we've had to delay it.

We are making very good time, with wind from a good direction and generally
maintaining about 20 knots, though it climbs into the 30s and 40s during
squalls. We're getting a lot of rain at night as well. It's still
refreshing, but it's also starting to get a bit chilly at night when
combined with the wind. Just a bit. The sea water, on the other hand, is
stll very warm, so when you get splashed by a wave breaking over the side,
it's like bathwater. Salty bathwater. I imagine that's also why it stays so
hot below, we're not losing any heat to the water. We've had full cloud
cover for days, and it's forecast to last for a while longer, so no
entertainment from the night sky, just darkness.

We've been very light on wildlife. Lots of flying fish, which I'm more and
more impressed with. I'm going to have to visit their Wikipedia page when I
have a connection. A few birds. In the Solomon Sea, we had coconuts
floating past. And we've had a few sizeable fish, suspected tuna, jumping
around within sight of the boat. But that's pretty much it.

And so it goes. We're under 2500 nm to Da Nang, which is great, and we're
hoping to cover it in 10-11 days, which would be a very early arrival.
We're also securely in the top half of the fleet and within touch of a
podium spot. Wish us luck!

S 2 deg 37', E 153 deg 25' -- Race 7, Day 8

I've written a lot (too much?) about how much we're sweating. Good news is
that things have cooled off... slightly. But the question that may or may
not be on all your minds, how do we get clean? Well, there are basically
four options.

1) DON'T
This is basically what I did on the earlier races. They were relatively
short and relatively cool. While 10+ days without a shower would seem
pretty bad under normal circumstances, it was bearable. Just. But it would
never have worked on this race.

2) WET WIPES
These were recommended in one of our early briefing documents. I have some.
I've never used them. I don't think they would help with the current
situation, but I do think they'll come in handy on the Pacific leg, which
is too long for option 1 and too cold for options 3 and 4.

3) BUCKET SHOWER
This is a great option that I was introduced to a few days ago. You drop a
bucket over the back of the boat, pull up some water, and dump it over your
head. Sure, you're still covered in salt, but at least it's all natural
tropical sea salt. People pay hundreds of pounds for this at London spas!
It has to be better than sweat salt! It also works to cool you down on a
hot day. Soap and shampoo are options, though I haven't taken it to that
level yet.

4) RAIN SHOWER
This is the best! Only problem is that you have to wait for it to rain. On
the upside, the water is cool and fresh. You're really clean at the end of
it all. And, as a bonus, so are whatever clothes you're wearing. The last
three days, we've had rain just about 6pm. It was best when we were
starting a watch and had a few hours to dry off. Slightly less good, but
still good, when we were ending a watch and had to try get dry before
climbing in bed.

**************************************************

I may have been a bit harsh in my "passengers" comment earlier. As people
are getting used to life on the boat, they're stepping up. I still think we
lost a lot of talent with the crew changeover, but it's not really fair to
expect every newcomer to be Nick. (Hey Nick! Hope you're enjoying NZ, the
wine, and the fly fishing.) But there is some improving effort to be see,
and even some good results, and I should be good enough to admit when I was
wrong.

***********************************************

I should have another crew diary post up shortly. Hope these things are
posting! Look for it on the official Clipper site.

S 6 deg 43', E 154 deg 22' -- Race 7, Day 6

Been a few days since my last post. That's not because things have been
uneventful. They have, but that's not going to stop me from finding
something to say (as you'll soon see). No, it's just that the thought of
sitting in the sauna that is our below-deck area to write was too daunting.
One of the other boats actually has a thermometer and measured 45C (113F)
in the galley. We must be in the same neighborhood. So I've been spending
most of my time on deck, which is also hot but at least has some
circulating air and small patches of shade that get really crowded.

Aside from the absurd heat, the sailing has been easy, almost too easy. The
wind has died down over the last few days, and we were even stopped dead
for a few hours. But we've generally managed to make steady, if slow,
progress. Everyone else is moving pretty slowly too, and we've managed to
overtake two in recent days and gain on most of the others. As I write,
we've just had some wind pick up in a squall. Nothing severe, but a good
wake-up call for the new folks. Squalls are likely to get more severe as we
go.

The night sailing in particular has been amazing. The moon is nearly full,
and the sky is scattered with fluffy clouds that really pick up the
moonlight. It's also really cool steering by the stars. We don't use them
to navigate, but you can figure out your course from the instruments, then
figure out which star you're pointing at, and just steer that way. In the
pre-dawn hours, the moon sets and the other side of the sky really fills up
with stars. I comment quite a bit on the not-so-romantic aspects of
sailing, but these hours at night are the real thing.

We've been a bit light on wildlife so far. There are a lot of flying fish.
Early on, they were small, and flew a few meters in groups of ten to
twenty. More recently, they've been bigger, fly tens of meters, and make a
few turns. I'm guessing they're different species, but I don't know. We had
another bird visitor as well. This one made several passes and briefly
landed in the cockpit before settling in on the bowsprit. He stayed there
for hours until we gybed and scared him off. He came back later and landed
on the rail but got caught in the guard wires. Ryan and Imre managed to
free him, and he flew off. He hasn't been back, so I guess he's learned his
lesson.

One last story, going back to the start of the race. We hoisted the kite
early, but almost had a problem, as the sheet has been run through the
guard wire. Matt caught this as the kite was going up and had me put the
drop line around a free winch, holding the kite while two other guys re-ran
the other sheet. Lots of jargon, but basically is was a quick and creative
fix to the problem, and we were able to get things sorted out with almost
no time lost. I've talked a bit about questions around some of Matt's
tactical decisions, but there's no question that he's a very experienced
sailor, cool under pressure, and the kind of guy you want in charge so that
these little hiccups don't turn into big problems.

S 14 deg 10', E 153 deg 9' -- Race 7, Day 3

Day 3, I finally get a post up. Looks like I'm maintaining consistency in
that regard. I should have an official "Crew Diary" posting as well. I'm
told that whatever reason the last one didn't work has been sorted out and
that this one will definitely go. Alex, who is in charge of media for the
boat, even promises to make me famous. I guess I'll know in a month.

The opening theme of that other post is how hot, sweaty, and generally
disgusting things are here. Now, I was on mother duty as I wrote that,
which meant spending most of the day below decks, where the situation is
much worst that up on deck. Today, I had the 6-noon watch up on deck, and
it was beautiful. Very mild sea state, steady wind, ticking away the
distance at about 10 knots, really couldn't ask for more. Now I've been
below for twenty minutes waiting for access to the PC to write this, and
I'm back to sweaty and disgusting. More of the romance of sail!

It's actually our fourth day at sea. We motored the first twenty-four hours
to get outside the Barrier Reef via Hydrograhper's Passage, a big channel
through. I thought it would have been cool to sail through, but it makes
no practical difference. You could barely tell there was a reef as we went
through, with only one small sandy island poking up and a few navigation
lights visible. It was fairly narrow in spots, so probably best to be
motoring.

The course of the race is also less cool than I was hoping. I assumed we'd
be sailing a fairly direct course to Da Nang, through Indonesia's islands.
Instead, we're going through the Solomons, around New Guinea, then around
Luzon in the Philippines, before rounding down to Da Nang. It should be
less pirate-infested. I suspect it also allows Clipper to talk up the
length of the race, which is a big part of their PR.

We have a lot of new crew on board. One guy has joined from another boat to
help our numbers, and he seems really good. Of the six people just
starting... we'll see. Some are very good, but I thing we might have a few
"passengers". For example, one was helming, and when she got tired, she
just let go of the wheel and sat down! Another time, I was on deck during
my off-watch (avoiding the heat down below), and I got asked to join the
three people on the grinders. Being a good team player, I did, at which
point two of the people who were on-watch sat down! I told them they could
keep grinding, and one laughed like it was a joke. I gave it about an hour,
then I insisted they come back in, as I had some other duty to deal with. I
know these first few days can be tough, getting used to life on the boat,
broken sleep for watches, etc, so I'm trying not to judge too quickly. But
hey, I judge. It's my nature. (This may come as a surprise, because I
usually judge silently, but I guess my secret is out.)

*******************************************************

As an aside, my friend Bryan (hey Bryan!) said that with a little
reformatting, you can plug the lat/long in my headers straight into Google
and see exactly where I am writing from. Unfortunately, I can't remember
what formatting is needed, though I know it requires the little circle for
"degrees", and I can't figure out how to do that on this computer. Maybe
when I get to Vietnam.

Cultural and other references, plus some follow-up

Turns out it is “make do” rather than “make due”.

In case you didn’t youtube it yourself, Barrier Reef

And just because I feel like sharing, two more of my favorite Old 97s songs, The Other Shoe and Big Brown Eyes.

“I wonder if he is using the same wind we are using.” As an aside, perhaps the most disappointing moment of my Sydney stop was when I failed to convince the kids of the friends I was staying with that we should watch Princess Bride. I think we ended up with Mission Impossible instead.

I’ve also been doing some thinking about the food/cooking/heat issue, and I’m not sure there’s the easy solution I was thinking there was. The problem with these meal bars is that most of them are focused on the diet market with some on the workout market. They’re designed to deliver protein and maybe broader nutrition without a lot of calories, not to sustain 5000 calories per day of exertion. And the ones that are more “energy” oriented are still too small to be more than supplements. And they’re expensive, at least compared to the budget we have, which I think is about £3 per person per day. You’d drop that on a single Cliff Bar! I still think we’re stupid to make porridge, as cold cereal is a perfectly good substitute, though that might be colored by the fact that I won’t eat porridge anyway. I’m not sure how to replace the rice/pasta calories without boiling a giant pot of water. Suggestions welcome.

One last thing. I mentioned a blow-up over some bunks. Never saw anything more come of that. The two people involved are working together as well as ever. No idea if they talked it out or just moved on, though I suspect the latter. There will probably be more such moments around the boat as we go. It’s a lot of people in a confined environment under a lot of stress and not getting a lot of sleep. I’m actually a bit surprised there haven’t been more.

Final run into Airlie Beach

This comes almost a week after we arrived, but much like the other times we hit port, there was a lot to do other than blog, some work and some relaxation. Still, there are a few points worth sharing.

First, having thought about it a bit, I feel my comment about how the other boats weren’t caught by the current may have come across more snarky than it was intended. The truth is, there is a lot of uncertainty and luck involved in these races, and while the results are clear, it’s good not to read too much into a small sample size. You really have to assess decisions based on what was known at the time and the process involved, and I just don’t have the experience to do that. Matt has made an effort to explain his decisions, and I think it’s helped to ensure buy-in. We ask a few questions, but I’m not sure if we effectively challenge his calls, or if we should. All that said, it’s only right to talk about his tactical decision around our finish, one that worked out well.

Basically, there were two options open to us as we approached Airlie Beach. First was a more direct route, going between Whitsunday Island and the mainland. Second was to go around the island and come back down toward Airlie Beach. The first, shorter route meant fighting a stronger tidal flow and risking getting caught in the wind shadow of the island. The second option avoided these risks but was substantially longer. We took the second option, and it did really well for us. We made up a lot of ground on the two boats ahead and almost sneaked a few points on the leader board.

Unfortunately though, it wasn’t quite enough., and we finished in eighth place. On the one hand, that’s a big drop given the amount of time we were in podium position and even first. On the other, it’s still not a bad finish, coming in within a few hours of the lead boats after eight days of racing. The fact we were able to do that well with only thirteen crew is also something we can take some pride in.

How big a deal is crew size? It’s not quite like defending a power play in hockey or having a man in the sin bin in rugby, because you’re not leaving anyone undefended. At the same time, most work on the boat ends up being a bit slower. It takes more time to move sails. Someone might have to switch reefing points at the mast, then take a few moments moving back to grind instead of someone else waiting there to do it immediately. You might only have one person to grind the spinnaker sheet when a larger crew could have four. But the bigger issue is just that everyone gets more tired. There is no opportunity for a break. I understand one boat had twenty-four crew for the last race, and the next smallest after our has seventeen. That’s a lot more people to spread the work around. Feels like we did pretty well, given what we had.

20 deg 49' S, 149 deg 47' E -- Race 6, Day 8 (evening)

So we're in eighth again. Or maybe still. It's possible we were never
actually in fifth. Very hard to tell from where we are. We get periodic
scheds in showing position for the fleet, but we don't have the nice
visualisation of the Race Viewer. And we're kept pretty busy just sailing
the yacht, so sometimes information gets passed along with some inevitable
miscommunication along the way.

We're about ten hours from Airlie Beach, likely to be arriving around 4am.
Not ideal time for a beer, but we'll manage. Actually getting in well in
advance of the expected window, thanks to some great sailing winds, and
looking forward to making the most of the time there.

We are inside the Great Barrier Reef now. Turns out, you can just go around
it! Makes me ask, what's so great about the Barrier Reef? And, on that
note, what's so fine about art? (For any of you who don't get the
reference, and unless you're Steve or Maggie -- Hi guys! -- you probably
don't, youtube "Barrier Reef Old 97s". Thank me later.)

Back to those winds. It really has been great sailing the last couple of
days and really most of the last week. We've been fairly downwind, but not
dead downwind, which would be slower. The seas have been pretty reasonable
for the most part. The sun has been great on deck for a California boy like
me, if a bit much for the English and Canadians amongst us. We've stayed
offshore, so we haven't had great scenery, but it's been shorts and T-
shirts (and lots of sunscreen) on deck. It's been consistent winds of 15-20
knots, so sailing has been pretty easy, with few sail changes. We've been
relatively flat for the most part, so life down below is a lot less
difficult than it had been before, apart from the heat. Not quite champagne
sailing, but still really, really pleasant. I'm really hoping for some more
like this as we head up into Asia, before we round Taiwan, where things are
sure to get tough again.

***************************************

One quick other note. A few people have talked about coming to Seattle for
my arrival. It would be awesome to have friends to welcome me in, and I
have a few friends in Seattle whom I hope to enlist in coordinating some
sort of party (which may just consist of booking, or even recommending, a
bar). The thing is, arrival is very hard to predict. We have an estimated
arrival window of 15-20 April, but so far this boat has only made the
estimated window in two of six races, been earlier twice (including this
one!) and later twice. I also may have boat obligations (cleaning,
maintenance, corporate events, etc.) up to 23 April, but something that
weekend might be the best bet. Or between 24-27 April, when I'll be free
but the boat should still be around if you'd like to see it. Then race
start on 28 April should be a good event. Unfortunately, that's all mid-
week.

Those are the parameters. Let me know if any of that sounds of interest,
and we'll coordinate over the next couple of stops in port.

22 deg 7' S, 151 deg 28' E -- Race 6, Day 8 (early morning)

We were in podium position for a long time, even first for a while. Then we
we dropped to eighth. Now, I think we're fifth, with ambitions on fourth.
How did all this happen so fast?

First, I think positions were always pretty close, though there was a while
when we thought we were way ahead of the trailing part of the pack. But the
real problem has been the current. I think I mentioned a 5 knot current we
were fighting a few days back, but that we were getting out of it. Well,
that never happened. We kept fighting the current and kept losing ground.
We had more wind than the inshore boats and better water speed, but it
didn't net out for us. Matt says he's been giving it a lot of thought, and
I'm sure he has. One particular gybe, we were headed inshore but actually
moving away from destination, and he decided to come back out. If we had
carried on, we probably would have rejoined the pack in good position.

Matt says the current wasn't where it was indicated on the charts, or maybe
that it was wider, but that doesn't seem to have caught the others. I think
he's a bit sensitive to the fact that several tactical decisions haven't
gone our way. At our team meeting yesterday, he took us through the routing
options for the final stretch to Airlie Beach and explained his selection.
He offered to take anyone interested through the details of the current,
tides, etc. that informed his decision, but nobody took him up on it. I
might ask for that later, not to second guess, but just to understand more.
At the time though, I was just interested in getting some sleep.

I hadn't slept well for a few off-watches. I've mentioned the heat and the
cramped bunk. I've also been on the high side for most of this race, so
there's the added paranoia about falling out. (You might remember that in
the first race, I was on the low side and had a constant drip onto my bunk,
so....) However, I don't think I've mentioned the noises this boat makes.

I had always thought of sailing as being peaceful. No engine, just the
sound of the wind and the water. Not the case. The loads in the lines are
immense, so every time something moves, there are loud creaks and groans.
The winches we use to handle these lines make a might racket. Jammers
sometimes need to be hammered in to make sure they catch. A lot of this
gear is right over my bunk. And for sounds coming from anywhere else, the
hull of the boat is like a big fibreglass drum, resonating with everything,
transmitting and amplifying it.

Two night ago, I finally gave up and tried to sleep on deck for a few
hours, but couldn't find anyplace that would stay dry. But yesterday, I
figured it out. The sail locker! The hatch was open, but it was shady
below, so the temperature was perfect. It was a long way from the noisy
hardware, and the white noise of the bow cutting through the water drowned
out more other sounds. And I could sprawl out on top of a bagged Code 2
without having to worry about falling anywhere. Best four hours of sleep
I'd had since Sydney! I almost didn't want to tell anyone about it, but I
felt too revived not to share. Headed there again now. Hope it's free.

27 deg 29' S, 153 deg 51' E -- Race 6, Day 6

Last night, we had boobies on the mast. My inner third-grader is incredibly
amused by this.

I know there is such a thing as blue-footed boobies. I've seen pictures.
These guys have white feet, but someone who either knows more about birds
or is just willing to guess with confidence has said they're boobies
nevertheless. They were flirting with our mast for about the hour before
sunset last night, flying up, flapping a bit, then flying off. Eventually,
one tried to land and failed. A second tried, and failed. But they kept at
it, and their persistence paid off. Eventually, there were three sitting up
there, and nothing we could do would scare them off. They sat there all
night, only leaving in the morning.

I helmed under spinnaker for the first time. Helming is tough work under
normal circumstances. If you read my 'Sailing 101' on spinnakers and
kitemares, you'll remember that there's a lot that can go wrong with this
sail, so extra pressure on the helm. Still, you have to learn sometime, and
I got some good coaching from Alex, youngest guy in our team but probably
the best helm. I managed to hit 20.1 knots, quite a way behind the 29.7
knot record Matt posted last night, but good for a first attempt.

Apparently, we've entered Queensland and have been working up the Gold
Coast. So a special "Hey" to Campari and Ham Semen, two Queensland boys
from Hampstead. Your homeland is lovely, at least from 30 miles offshore.

30 deg 21 S', 153 deg 46' E -- Race 6, Day 5

So, no post yesterday. Things were very busy and very wet. And today, I
wrote the official Crew Diary entry, so a lot of my good material went
there. Good excuse for me to recommend you check it out. I think I have a
link on the front page of the blog. You'd have to be more interested in
this race than I am to read them all, but it might be interesting to hear a
few other voices, and I suspect I'll be making a few more appearances there
in the future.

That said, I have saved something for you. For example, I mention in the
other post how hot and sweaty it is down below. You really are limited in
how much you can ventilate a boat like this. Any place the bad air can get
out is a place water can get in, quickly turning your boat into a CNN
Special Report, then an artificial reef. When it's really calm, you can
open up a few hatches and portholes, but you run the risk of them being
forgotten or just not closed well when things pick up again. Earlier in the
race, before my time, one porthole was forgotten, leading to several beds
getting soaked when a wave crashed over the side. And just in this race,
the hatch in one of the heads was improperly closed, so I got a cold
saltwater surprise as I was, let's say, reading the sports pages.
Apparently, these hatches are DESIGNED to have a 'closed but not actually
sealed' setting, and this is a semi-known issue around the boat. Why you
would design anything that way is beyond me.

We do our bit to exacerbate the situation. I've talked about the cooking
before and the effort/quality mismatch (as I see it). Turns out, we don't
really do anything to adjust for the environment. Yesterday, it was pasta
for lunch (big boiling pot of water) and Thai green chicken curry (tasty)
with rice (big boiling pot of water) for dinner. This morning, I woke to
see porridge (big boiling pot of water) for breakfast. Seriously people,
would you do this if you were at home?

I wasn't sure those kinds of comments would be embraced by the official
Clipper Crew Diary PR machine, which is why I saved them. But you also get
breaking news! After writing my offical post, I went up on deck to find
this sun shining, birds chirping, small children setting up lemonade
stands.... Well, it wasn't quite that idyllic, but the sun was shining. We
were making 10-14 knots in beautiful weather straight toward our next
waypoint near Fraser Island. Land was again in sight, which is exciting,
even after only a few days away. I spent some more quality time on the
helm, which continues to feel more comfortable. Toward the end of watch, we
got the kite up and picked up speed. And we had confirmation that we're in
third place, though margins are tight and we still have nearly half a race
(or, as Matt put it, "More than a Sydney-Hobart") to go.

Which reminds me, astute readers may have noticed that my last post said we
had done 750nm and were nearly to Sydney and wondered why, given then
Sydney-Hobart is only... I don't know, but it's something beginning with a
'6'. First, there's the 'distance made good' point I discussed earlier,
i.e. the fact that you rarely go straight toward your destination (and part
of why our current situation is so great). Given our tacking angles, I'd
guess the trip downriver from Hobart took us twenty miles through the water
to make ten. The other big factor, and one I'd forgotten myself, was
current. We spent a while in a current moving south at 4-6 knots. Take that
off a water speed of 12-14 knots, we were losing a lot of ground. Yet
another way this sailing thing just refuses to be simple.

Well spotted.

36 deg 02' S, 153 deg 24' E -- Race 6, Day 3

Day 3. Seems to be about how long it takes for me to get to semi-normal
function on this boat. Thought it might be quicker this time, given how
short the stop was in Hobart. Then again, it wasn't very restful. Late
night for New Year as LMAX, berthed next door, hosted a party. And an early
start the next day, as a few people who hadn't stayed to the end decided it
was time to get stuff done on the boat. Communal living....

The last few days have been good sailing, moderately hard work but nothing
crazy. Winds have been a pretty steady 20-30 knots, seas a bit choppy but
not too bad. We've been making excellent time, about 750nm in under 2.5
days as I write, and we're almost back up to Sydney, albeit a long way
offshore. We were hoping for more of a downwind run, but we've ended up
with wind off our beam, i.e. coming straight in from the side. This means
we're making good time, but we're pretty heeled over, which has led
indirectly to our first little blow-up on board since I joined.

Basically, people are shifting around bunks to get more comfortable places
to sleep. As tends to happen on board, no one is in charge, but lots of
people have opinions. An opinion was interpreted as direction, one person
thought another was making things up, there was shouting. It was all very
stupid, but it's a tough situation. Even the people with notional authority
don't really want it, because they don't need the extra stress. At the same
time, there are a lot of strong personalities. (For the record, I don't
particularly want a position of responsibility myself. And I'm staying in
my own bunk, awful though it is.)

At the same time, I think we're operating well as a sailing crew. The
performance in they Sydney-Hobart has spirits up. We had a good start out
of Hobart, and we're keeping in with the overall leaders on this race. Hard
to really tell who's in front, and I understand the race viewer has us
toward the back of the pack, but we think that we'll have an advantage as
winds evolve. I know, I know, we've said that before. But this time, we
seem to be on the same strategy as the top boats.

And did I mention that we're down to thirteen crew, plus Matt? I think the
next smallest crew is seventeen and some have over twenty! Most recent loss
was Helen, who said she'd be reading my blog from the comfort of home, so
Hi Helen! Hope I strike the right privacy balance by saying it was not
strictly race related, but a pre-existing medical issue that threated to
act up. Really sorry to have her go, as she was a lot of fun, and great at
wooling a kite! Anyway, shorthanded, but making due. Or is it making do?
Something to look up later.

42 deg 52' S, 147 deg 20' E -- Hobart

Great finish to the race, fourth among Clipper, 29th among all boats. (There's some handicap system under which we do a bit less well,but I'll ignore that.) Heck, over thirty boats retired, so just finishing was an accomplishment. We were twenty minutes behind LMAX for a podium spot, which is a bit frustrating, but I'm going to be 'glass 90% full' about this. The boat behind is was only about five minutes slower. Most Clippers were within a few hours, so all very exciting.

At one point on the final run, we were surrounded by what must have been several hundred dolphins, swimming alongside but also leaping and twisting. Pretty amazing! Had a bit of chaos as we crossed the line and tried a different approach to kite drop that confused people a bit, but we sorted that.

The welcome into Hobart was great, huge cheering crowds and a really welcoming atmosphere. I also had the unexpected pleasure of a personal greeting party, Ann, Peter, and May,  parents and sister of my friend Roger, who is from Hobart. It was great to have friendly (if unfamiliar) facts to welcome me in, and in just sorry I didn't manage to take them up on their very generous offers of hospitality. There was just too much going on in too short a stop.

Off tomorrow to Airlie Beach. Morale is high after this race, and conditions are forecast to be ok... I think.

--------------------------------

I will put together a post on Hobart. And the is still one coming on Sydney. And some photos. It's just really busy. And on that note, apologies for slow answers to messages. I really appreciate all the support, but I'm just having trouble keeping up sometimes.