Life Offshore: the offwatch at night

It's pitch black.  The moon hasn't risen, not that it would matter.  There is only a bit of ambient glow from the instruments in the navigation station.  I'm lying in my bunk trying to get some rest.  In just under two and a half hours, my watch mates and I are due back on deck.

But I can't sleep;  I can barely keep my eyes shut.  I glance over at the GPS unit in the navigation station.  It shows that we're doing 12.5 knots over the ground.  While that's pretty fast for a sailboat, in my bunk it feels like we're doing 50.  Everything is moving.  It's so loud that if one of my watch mates (only a couple of feet away) was actually sleeping well enough to be snoring, I'd never hear him.  The boat surges, and I feel it accelerate.  The water noise increases as the GPS shows us passing 15 knots and appears headed for 20.  Suddenly, I'm pressed forward as the boat sails into the back of the wave ahead of us and slows immediately.  The spinnaker sheet creaks in the block as it is let out quickly to allow for our slowing speed.

I suppose "creak" is a bit of  an understatement.  On boats such as ours, made from carbon fiber, every noise sounds like and seems as loud as a gunshot fired in a portable toilet.  Whether the sound comes from a line going in or out or the boat hitting a wave, every action seems accompanied by a bang. 

I'm a compulsive worrier at sea.  My goal as skipper is to do everything in my power to ensure that the boat is never the excuse for a poor performance.  Ashore, we spend a ton of time going through every piece of gear and replacing those that appear as though they may break.  Sailing, like Nascar, is a sport of attrition; to finish first, one must first finish.  Every bit of broken gear slows the boat and introduces the possibility of not actually finishing.

Each noise takes me further from sleep.  With every sound I hear, I must determine if it was caused by water or gear.  If the latter, was the gear making a normal operating sound, or did it break.  Was the break catastrophic?  Do I need to get up on deck?  Can it be fixed with all the sails up; or do we need to reduce sail, slow the boat, and try to fix it?

Bang.  Bang.  Bang. The spinnaker sheet is brought back in as the boat accelerates again.  The block is directly above my head.  From the sound, I can tell the ball bearings are overloaded in this breeze and beginning to flatten as the block turns when they do not.  I hear a wall of water rushing down the deck towards the cockpit from the wave into which we just sailed. 

Swoosh, trickle, drip, drip.  Hundreds of gallons of seawater rush down the deck and off the back of the boat with every wave.  For those on deck, the pressure from the water is excessive at times.  Often, they feel the tether on the safety harness that attaches them to the boat pulling forward as the water pushes the other way in a tug-of-war over the body.  If the tether looses, a sailor may well find himself becoming a new Pacific Island as he watches the boat sail away.  If the tether wins the tug-of-war, he is probably a bit wetter and increasingly cold.

Below, the water rushes down the deck above my head.  As it passes, it finds every tiny hole and pushes water through to trickle and drip down to my bunk and its two occupants: me and my sleeping blanket.  Neither operates well when wet.  The joke is that there is a lake by one of my watch mates' bunks.  At the beginning of every watch, we bail out the lake.  He complains about the lake; I complain about the river that runs through my bunk, feeding the lake. 

Finally, with about an hour left until my next watch, exhaustion takes over, and I nod off.  Any significantly loud noise wakes me instantly, and I'm up like a shot.  Hopefully, I will be able to sleep until the other watch calls that we're on in 20 minutes.  At the end of a watch, I always tell the other guys, "See you in three hours." To myself, I always add, "With any luck. As long as nothing breaks."

When the call finally comes (although "finally" is not the word I would use after only 40 minutes of actual sleep), we climb from our bunks.  Our body heat has warmed the wet blankets and mattresses, so we immediately get cold as we get up.

The boat is moving, bouncing around like a small plane in a big storm.  It lunges and bounces, surges and slows.  It is impossible to stand without holding something.  I put my gear on; it's just the way I left it: soaked and cold.  My hand reaches through my jacket to find it wet, clammy, and cold, like everything else.  I zip up in the vain hope that my body heat will dry the jacket a bit during the watch.  My harness goes on, and I secure it tightly in the hope I'll never actually test its fit.  A flashlight is turned on, and a snack is found in the galley.  We discuss whose turn it is to make coffee (not me this time). I grab a Red Bull and head up on deck.

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Sailing Anarchy Article "The Loss"

When you have a moment...check out the article that is currently on the front page of www.sailinganarchy.com.  Titled "The Loss" it is a few of my thoughts on what happened this year.  No, it is not my unvarnished comments.  Yes, some of you will be impressed at my little used ability to be diplomatic. 

Those that spent time with me, either on the race or in Hawaii, will have a more clear idea of what I think about our results and why they happened...I believe 'like telling the wheezing kid he can go to the Olympics' was uttered by me more than once, but I'll save that for another day.  I will also save my explanation as to why San Francisco is the greatest city of 'looser lovers' in the world.

That being said, there is a lot of truth in what I said about the things we could have done better. 

...stay tuned.

4:47 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Tues / Wed, July 22 / 23

Tuesday, July 22nd

27 09 N
141 44 W

8 knots

So I'm sitting here, waiting for my MRE (Chicken Fajitas) to warm up. The off gassing from the heater is less than appetizing and smells somewhere between burning electronics and over heated radiator fluid. However, it heats the food that I can eat.

We are now working on Mark III of the tiller head attachment. Not having a stable connection between the tiller and rudder has held us back. We have not been able to push the boat at 100%. However, like so much in life, perfection and the perfect situation are rare. The challenge is what makes it all fun.

The sailing, although light has been really nice. No, not the perfect conditions for us, but lovely, none the less. The reality is that with 900 miles to go it is still a wide open race. While Hula Girl has a pretty good lead the distance is quite close between the next 5 boats. We were hindered, in the standings, by conditions that had all of us sailing into lighter air. This meant that the boats behind were able to catch up. Whether we'll be able to sail away from them, however, is a whole other question. By Sunday, there will be nothing left but the crying. Until then, we're having a great time being in the middle of the fight.

The weather has been very unstable and our routing has changed 6 times in a day and a half. It ail adds to the fun.

Love to all.

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7/22/08.. Pressing On...Go West Young Man

Monday, July 21st

28 13 N
137 45 W

10 knots

When we woke up this morning we knew we had given a lot away last night. That little thing about the bolt that attaches the tiller head to the tiler shearing turned into more than the original 20 minute 'quick fix'. For almost three hours we worked to get the whole joint stable. And during that time we had to slow the boat to half speed. Our guesstimate is that we lost about 10 miles....and that's optimistic.

Continuing our optimism has us believing that the Gremlins have been sated. To that end, we celebrated with a slightly early 'half way' party. It was great. Cheese and salami on crakers started us out. This was followed with teriyaki chicken breasts, freeze dried green beans and corn of the same source. I have to say that freeze dried veggies ROCK! This was closed out with a fabulous freeze dried chocolate rasberry crumble.

We spent a lot of time today working to both keep the boat going, as the wind got lighter, and figure out the weather and best route to get us home. After a ton of discussion, we;ve decided to roll the dice and choose a shorter, but somwhat riskier route. It's a bit of shooter's mentality we've opted for today. We've won this race before and know we could do it again with a bit of luck and the right conditions. It's a longshot, but hey, it's all we've got. So, like any good shooter in basketball, we know we can make the shot and are not going to get demoralized because the last one didn't go in. The next one will.

Of course, our spirits are up and the team is working well.

Love to all

7:18 AM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Day 3 From The Boat

Sunday, July 20
2100 PDT

29 51 N
135 23 W

Speed 9.4 knots

A long ocean passage is a fascinating experience. There is seeming a beginning with no end. You are either on watch or off watch. There are no radios, TVs, teleconferences, meetings, Internet (other than for quick messages and weather downloads), dinners, commutes, or comforts. But there is an incredible singularity of focus. Nothing matters except making the boat go as fast as possible. That's it. No agendas and no distractions. It really is amazing.

So here I sit, getting ready to crash. I'm off watch right now. We run four hour watches during the day (6-10, 10-2, and 2-6). At night, we run three hour watches. In this way, we end up having 8 hours of off time every other day. All off watch time is used to clean, repair, wash and eat. The only thing we do when on watch is work at making the boat go. Generally, we have one person driving (1 hour each) and two trimming the sails.

The boat is divided into two watches, green (starboard) and red (port). But becuase of the way they broke out, we've got the old guys and the young guys. Not included in the cycle are my father and my son, Richard. My father is the navigator and keeps us headed in the right direction with the right weather. This is Richards first Hawaii Race so he is largely exepmt at 12 from having to stand a watch.

The first two days were really tough on everyone. It was particularly nast weather (ceb: something about a feather) and both Richard and I were sick. I've done this before and was expecting it. So were my watch mates. While I stood my watches, I was not particularly effective. For Richard, it was a bit of a horrible surprise. Sick, down below for two days he was miserable. Sick and cold all I could do was lie on the interior cabin sole with him, holding his bucket and promising him it would get better. He's an incredibly tough kid and just looked at me, with a weak smile and say "ok, dad".

Yesterday, as things started to quiet down and the wind and seas clocked aft he become more and more active and chipper. By the afternoon he was up on deck. Today he was eating ravenously, and working on his downwind trimming skills. He even decided to try some psychological warfare on "Hula Girl". Knowing that Paul Cayard's teenage daughter is aboard, and a believer in the truth of advertising, he started to spray his AXE deodorant around. His logic was that if it really did attract girls, as the ads say, they she might slow the boat down to investigate the scent.

Hula Girl has been really fast, Granted, we've had some of our worst days of sailing in a while.

20 minute break occurred here as Harry screamed that he had broken the tiller...oh sh*t. Upon inspection we found that the bolt had sheared from the tiller head. So we have effected a temporary fix and are now working on a more (6 days) permanent one. Ugh. Our butchers bill is growing...1 destroyed kite, three repairs, and now a sheared tiller bolt. Hopefully our karma will change.

So Hula Girl has been really fast, and I take my hat off to them. So have Roxanne and Morpheus. So, the next few days should be interesting as the story of this years Pacific Cup for XL unfolds.

All of us miss our loved ones ashore and hope to see you all soon.

7:13 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Day 2 from the boat !!

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Pac Cup Day 1 / 2

Hi everyone my name is Danny and I sail on "XL" most of the time when it races, but on Pac Cup the boat only takes 8 people. So...I am here to receive email from the boat and post them here.

As of 2:00 pm today, Friday 7/18/08 I have not received a email from the boat. As soon I get a email from the boat it will be posted here.

..">

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2008-6-28 XL ATRZ RCH BOW SHOT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XzwNpmlw9-o

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A target on our back...

Latitude 38 (www.latitude38.com) is the regional sailing magazine for Northern California.  Largely, it follows the comings and goings of that community.

One of they items they enjoy is prognosticating the outcome of the Pacific Cup.  Historically, they have done the predictions in the issue that arrives the month of the race.  And this year was not different.

Here is what they wrote about our division:

"DivisionE: (starts July 17)  This is a tough, tough call.  In light air, Chris Calkins and Norm Reynolds' Calkins 50 Sabrina is as pretty as she is slippery. We happened, randomly enough, to sail aboard her under previous ownership on Puget Sound and can tell you she'll sail to her PHRF rating.  If she doesn't get hurt by the Pac Cup ratings, she just might reprise her overall Corona Del Mar to Cabo San Lucas Race win earlier this year.  Yes, we now Paul Cayard is in this division.  If the breeze comes up, his SC 50 Hula Girl should scream.  But we have to think that Hula Girl's ratig will be pretty steep on account of all the performance modification the previous owner made - too steep for a SC50 in the ind of conditions they seem to excel in.  So, we're picking the Barran Family's Antrim 40 XL.  She has an extremely efficient sailplan, a displacement of only about 10,000 pounds, a more modern hull form, and we're banking on the fact that Harry Pattison and Jim Antrim will be on opposite watches.  We think the boat fits a broader range of conditions and should really smoke downwind in the breeze.  Given that they race is starting three weeks later this year, we're going to hedge our guess for more breeze and go with XL."

So, there you are.  The target is clearly pasted on our backs as we are picked to finish at the front of the division and ahead of one of professional sailing's preeminent skippers.  To those non-sailors out there, this is not dissimilar from showing up at a club tournament, having Phil Mickleson playing.  And low and behold,not only are you picked for his foursome, but the pundits start saying that on this course you should beat him!  Seriously.

As if it isn't cool enough to sail against these guys.  Of course, we are not taking this at all seriously as a prediction.  Then again, the last time we won our division (2000) Latitude 38 predicted that outcome.  But seriously, we are going to go out, race as hard as we can and no matter what, be proud of our results.

To learn more about Paul Cayard, you can go to his website: www.cayardsailing.com

Fair winds...

p.s. if you can't tell, we are certainly tickled by this prediction.  :-)

1:18 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

building a plug for an emergency rudder

Twice we've had a boat break its rudder.  The first time was in the 1998 PacCup.  500 miles from San Francisco and about 1800 from Hawaii we were blasting along at about 11 knots.  It was howling with breeze in the mid 30's...like a very strong Santana.  I was below, trying to sleep when we hear a bang-bang and the boat spun out.  I ran up on deck and looked around.  We were out of control and the driver was waving the tiller around like it was a conductor's baton.  All he said to me is "it feels like it's gone."

We reduced sail and waited for first light.  When the sun rose I looked down and realized that something has sheared off the bottom 80% of our rudder and thought to my self, "race over".  It took us 3 days to limp home. 

The next time we lost a rudder on the deliver home from Hawaii in 2003. 

Races require that you have an emergency rudder capable of controlling the boat.  We lost our last emergency rudder when the whale hit us.  So rather than pay someone to make us one, I'm doing it myself.  It will be a cored carbon rudder...somewhat hi-tech...if it wasn't being built by a very un-technical person.

The process is actually quite simple:

1) Build the plug.  We built a platform that is 8' x 2'.  Onto that i have glued down 7' of 12 inch wide foam.  I will then shape this into the correct shape for 1/2 the rudder.  Once done I will cover it in clear packing tape and then wax that surface.

2) build the mold.  Onto the rudder plug I'll lay a bunch of layers of fiberglass with a 2" lip of glass all the way around.  Once that has cured, I'll pull the glass off and voila! we have a perfect copy of the rudder.

3) build the rudder.  I'll then wax the inside of the mold and lay the carbon laminates into the mold.  Once they have cured I'll then pull them out.  I'll need to make two pieces, a right and left side.

3) mating the pieces.  I'll fill each half with foam and then glue the two halves together making the rudder.  After that I'll lay a couple layers of fiberglass or carbon over the seam so that they don't get pulled apart and presto...we have a very solid, stable emergency rudder. 

All in all it will take me two weeks of evenings to do this, or about 40 hours.

11:06 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment