Thirteen hours after race end, and we're making good time toward Da Nang.
We should get there in the early hours of 17 Feb, but we can only make
it to our berths with a pilot whose start time is unclear, and we've been
told to expect cumbersome immigration checks and a big arrival ceremony.
Bottom line, it could still be some time before I get that shower.
Meanwhile, we're trying to get a few things done while underway. Cleaning
and maintenance activities have started, so we can reduce what we need to
do in port a bit. I learned from Linda today how to make donuts, which are
spliced loops that are used for rigging all over the boat. Tomorrow, I'm
going to try dig out the Yankee 3 and do a bit of sail repair. Can't
remember if I've mentioned this, but I've been recruited for this on the
basis of my demonstrated knowledge of sewing techniques, i.e. stick the
needle through back-and-forth a bunch of times, then tie a knot. I also
have the strength to get the needle through a few layers of heavy canvas
and webbing, which rules out about half our crew.
I said earlier that I felt I'd been getting "better" at sailing.
"Interesting", I hear you say. "What does that look like?" Well, I'm glad
you asked.
Let's start with the trivial. I move around the boat much more easily now.
Still not as nimble as the best -- Matt, Ryan, and Alex, for example, move
around a pitching deck like it's nothing -- but much better than when I
started. I don't think anything on this trip has had me crawling to get
around, and while the seas haven't been bad, there have been moments that I
think I would have had trouble with before. They've certainly nearly
immobilized some of the new joiners.
More generally, I now blend in with the round-the-worlders as an integral
part of the team. When we're going through a sail change, I can step in to
pretty much any role and just do it, without having to be talked through
the steps. Same for a tack, reef, gybe... whatever. I also have enough of
the big picture that I can anticipate what else needs to be done and and do
those next steps. For example, when changing spinnakers, it used to be I'd
be, say, on the grinder, and once I ground the clew in, I'd wait to be told
what to do next. A while back, I realised that the sheets would need to be
untied, so I went to do that. Then the halyard needed to be moved to a
different winch, so I did that. Then, after the hoist, the halyard needed
to be transferred again, so I did that.
Related to all that, I'm now finding myself in a position to coach new
people a lot. And while I have mentioned some poor attitudes, there are
also some people with great attitudes, and it's fun to bring them along.
I'm also picking up some errors, mine and other people's, early enough to
stop them from becoming problems. As one example, a few days ago we were
about to tack, and I saw one of the Yankee sheets was under a sail tie that
we had tied across the foredeck because of an open hatch. When a similar
thing had happened earlier in the race, Matt caught it mid-hoist (it was a
hoist rather than a tack) and had to go forward with a knife to cut the
sail tie before we damaged the guard wires or stanchions. This time, I saw
it before we started, called a hold, and undid the sail tie. Other times,
I've spotted sheets that were run over jackstays when they should have been
run under, runner blocks that were twisted, halyards that were tangled....
It's just slow accumulation of a knowledge of what looks right and wrong
and the confidence to stop things and fix the wrong ones when they appear.
Finally, helming. It seems like it should be pretty simple to steer a
boat -- you just turn the wheel the direction you want to go -- but it
isn't. Wind and swells are always pushing the boat around. The boat reacts
slowly to the wheel, so you don't get the feedback you would in a car. You
often lack good visual references to know how far or even which direction
you're turning. And when the wind is strong and the swells are big, it can
take a lot of strength just to move the wheel. Sailing instructions might
look like "Steer bearing to waypoint but keep the wind angle below 45",
which means that you want to keep the boat going toward the next mark, but
if the wind shifts, you have a limit. This requires looking at several
different instruments, constantly correcting. You also have to remember
that turning to starboard makes your bearing increase, but it will make
wind angle increase only if the wind is from port. When I first started
helming, this was a LOT to think about, and I wished people would just tell
me to turn left or right. Then it got to the point where I could think
about it all. Now, I barely even have to think, as it's become pretty
instinctive. I'm incorporating more information now, from the horizon, the
sails, and the windex. Again, I'm even coaching some people. And I've had
comments, from Ryan and LInda in particular, that my helming is getting
really good. I'm still not in a class with Alex (who is just REALLY good)
or Ryan (who's the designated "best helm" on our watch), but I'd say I'm
solidly in the next tier. The Pacific is going to be the real test, but I'm
comfortable I can handle pretty much anything.
**Pretty much** anything.
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