Clipper: One year on

One year ago today, I started racing with Clipper Telemed, leaving Albany on the way to Sydney. Despite four week of training where I had generally felt pretty good about my skills, I found out pretty quickly I wasn't really prepared. Then again, I think ocean racing is one of those things that you can't really prepare for, not fully; the only way to understand what it requires of you is to do it.

I thought that I was buying myself a relatively easy start, it being summertime in Australia and our route taking us around the south side of the continent rather than across any oceans. I was wrong. We were far enough from land to really get a taste of the Southern Ocean (though admittedly not at its most epic) and some unusual weather patterns had us beating upwind for the first week or so of what was supposed to be a nice downwind run. But the worst part was that I just didn't feel competent for that first bit. I had considered myself to be good in training, among the best of the previously inexperienced sailors at least. But I quickly realised how far ahead people were who had started the race in London, or even those who had just joined in Cape Town. Part of my was inspired by the thought that I would get to that point myself over the coming months -- particularly by Tony, whom I'd gotten to know and consider a peer during training but who now bossed the pit like he'd been doing it his whole life -- but mostly I was annoyed by how far behind I was.
Fortunately, I did develop all those skills. I never loved it at the bow, but I became a solid member of the team up there, even leading a few sail changes (with a bit of coaching from Han). I spent a lot of time at the mast and got more comfortable with my feet off the deck and the boat heeled way over than I ever thought I'd be. I also became a reliable hand on the helm. never as efficient as Alex or Matt but one of the few willing and able to put in full shifts (and then some) in any conditions.

I also wasn't really prepared for the living conditions. As I expected going in, the people were really good overall; something like this inherently selects for better-than-average people, interesting people, fun people, people with a sense of adventure. That said, there is still a lot of variation around that better-than-average average, and there were a few truly painful individuals and no way to escape them. The whole experience -- the stress, the close-quarters, the isolation -- intensified both sides. Over my five months on the boat, I formed some connections that would take years in normal circumstances. I also came very close to beating the hell out of a few people.

By the time I got to Seattle, I was very much ready to be done. I'm not sure how much it was the gruelling Pacific crossing specifically and how much it was just the knowledge that it was my finish line, but I felt like I'd given all I had to give. It was really tough to leave the guys (and not made any easier by they fact they immediately went on to podium in the next three races... bastards!), but I wasn't even a little bit tempted to extend. Since finishing, I've had a lot of people ask me, "Would you do it again?" In one sense, do I see myself doing it again in the future, maybe some other legs, probably not. I do want to keep sailing, but I think my ocean crossing days are over. I want to cruise in the sunshine with a G&T in my hand. Or maybe another Sydney-Hobart, or the Fastnet or something. But in another sense, if I had it do over again, I'd absolutely make the same decision. It was an incredible experience, and I don't regret it for a second.

I'd like to close with three stories that I didn't think were appropriate for the blog at the time but that I think are safe to tell now:

• First, toward the end of the Pacific crossing I mentioned that we had another tethered MOB. I didn't provide any detail, partly because the keyboard was acting up and partly because his mother read the blog and he didn't want her to worry. But he told her when we were in Seattle, so I figure I can share. We had just come through the biggest winds of the race. (I had said 83 knots in the blog post, but Jason later showed me a picture of the instruments reading 144! It probably wasn't quite that high, as the instruments get a bit flukey at that level, but it's still nuts.) Ryan and Justin were up at the bow. I think they were prepping the Yankee 3 to hoist, as we'd been down to stay sail through the big wind overnight. A big swell came in from from starboard, maybe 5-6m high, the boat tilted way over, bounced a bit, and over went Ryan. He was holding onto the guard rail at the time and did a full somersault on they way before losing his grip at the end. There was an exception level of "Oh shit!" to this, because Ryan had reputation for not clipping on. Fortunately, this time, he had. I was on the winches at the time and clipped on the inboard jackstay. I barely had time to transfer my clip outboard and start up to help, and he was in. The boat was crashing through the swells enough that the deck was getting down nearly to water level. Ryan was able to get a hold on the preventer and pull himself back up with some help from Justin. His first question was whether anyone had gotten a picture. He had wrenched his shoulder a bit and started to feel that as the adrenalin wore off, but came through it OK.
• Second, at the end of Race 8 to Qingdao, I mentioned that the cold had nearly broken me. I think "nearly broken" doesn't quite cover it. It wasn't helped by the fact that I was sick. I ended up taking off two half-watches at the urging of a few crewmates. It wasn't something I wanted to do, as we were short-handed as it was, but I think it was right. But there were times as I lay there in bed, just desperately trying to get warm after a bitterly cold watch on deck, that I really considered quitting. Honestly, it was the thought of explaining this to my friends and family that kept me from doing it, even though I know you all would have been understanding and supporting. So while I didn't have this conversation with you at the time, know that you helped me through the toughest part of the experience.
• Third, going back almost to the beginning, I mentioned in this post being knocked over by a wave, taking a winch in the ribs, and being reminded how important it was to keep tethered in. What I didn't mention at the time was that I was not actually tethered in. We had just started downwind sailing, which feels a lot more smooth than the upwind sailing we'd been enduring to that point. We weren't heeled over. We weren't getting waves over the side. I was trying to move more freely around the boat, running the preventer back (must have just been setting it up as we bore away). There were conflicting witness reports, whether I was headed for the edge but stopped short or whether I was actually stopped at the edge by the gate (I incline toward the former). I rolled into the cockpit quickly and clipped on. (Talk about closing the barn door after the horse has bolted!) I had a lot of concern from my crewmates, making sure I was OK. Mostly, I was just embarrassed by it all.  This was before Sarah Young had died after being swept overboard. At the time, all I had in mind was that three previous MOBs in the race had been recovered OK, and all I thought was that I had nearly become a giant pain the ass for my team, as they would have had to stop the boat and turn around to get me. A few days later, Barnaby called a watch meeting where called us all out for our performance. It was the first time I appreciated the stress my almost-MOB had caused, even if still didn't really appreciate the actual danger. I realised owed everyone, especially Barno, an apology for putting them in that situation, and i gave it to them.  This is also why I felt I was able to be assuring that I was very careful about clipping in after Sarah's death. I had learned that lesson fairly cheaply, but I had learned it.

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A few final points.

1) I recently got a chart for my wall showing our track while I was on the boat. I don't think it quite does justice to just how long it felt like we were wandering around the South China Sea, but it's really cool to see the scope of the trip and amazing how many specific moments stand out, key tacks, the detour the bay in the Philippines to sort out the kite wrap, several land sightings, etc. Thanks to Han for coordinating.

Though it does constantly mock me with the fact that track isn't a full circumnavigation....

2) I still haven't finished sorting through my photos, but I am making progress. I have over 3,000, so I want to filter it down before sharing. (I probably have 30 shots of waves crashing over Eric as he helps Nick fix a stanchion.) Sure, I've been back for seven months now, and it's not like I have a job, but... um.... No, I really have no decent explanation.

3) I still need to provide a final accounting of the funds raised for GiveDirectly. I am waiting until I get myself a job before I match them and make the donation, but all donated funds are in their own account. I will confirm in this space when I finalise things.