Hello all,
This is a little bloggy and has nothing to do with RC, but I have to put it somewhere. It has to do with the New World Challenge before it went bust (boats had sponsors but no race title holder). It was written for NWC and also a website I had looking for sponsors. It’s more of a log that I was keeping as I was planning on doing the race as first mate…and maybe another race later as skipper.
Race Updates
Updated 4/3/99
My first experience with the New World Challenge was actually a delivery during the winter of 1999. The Skipper, John Reed who is presently a skipper in the BT Global Challenge, invited me to help sail Courtaulds International, a Challenge 67, on a 950 mile sprint from Miami to Annapolis. Being the last week in February, I figured this would be a good introduction to the race yacht in a potentially tough environment and satisfy my hunch, that I really did want to do this race.
I had been at the Chicago Boat Show to meet Sir Chay Blyth. He personally interviews each applicant for the race. Some say he is too blunt, or just rude. I found him to be blunt, but not rude. It was just the kind of sincerity and honesty I was expecting, considering the undertaking we applicants were signing up for. The meeting went very well. He was interested in knowing who we were and what we were expecting of the race as well as very informative and entertaining. He told us about his accomplishments and the history of the British Steel and BT Global Challenges, which gave us insight regarding the race we want to undertake.
I think my enthusiasm showed. We were told that we would be informed of our acceptance, or not, after 48 hours and careful consideration. But later that day, Sir Chay gave me a hint at the end of a presentation he made to the general public. As he was leaving the conference room, he leaned over, shook my hand and said with a wink and a Scottish accent “I’ll be see-in ya in trainin”. Later that same day, I received John Reed’s invitation for the delivery. My day was made!
It was only a couple of weeks later when I stepped onto the Challenge yacht in Florida just after the Miami Boat Show. We were planning to leave the marina, and John was carefully studying the weather information he received from the marina office. An observant delivery skipper from another yacht saw we were preparing to leave. He asked John where we were headed and added that he was not leaving the marina due to the bad weather predicted. John seemed not interested in the warning, what with the shrug and all. He and the first mate had us prepare to slip and I figured, what the hell!
At first I thought I had over dressed for the occasion. The weather was 80 degrees and sunny. A few hours later and approaching the Gulf Stream, I was happy to have the clothing I brought. The wind was a steady 25 to 30 knots from the NW, waves were tumbling down the impressive 67 foot deck, and a few of the other crew were getting sick. The seas were getting rougher and the air much colder. A few brave soles took shifts preparing dinner below. We figured there would be less chance of feeling sick eating it on deck in large doggie type bowls. No salt please! I then shot down to my cabin for sleep. To my surprise, I found about six inches of cold water sloshing around in my canvas bunk along with my sea bag. Apparently a dorade (vent leading to the deck) needed some maintenance. It was an interesting situation. It was the first night out, all of my gear was soaking wet, including the ones I was wearing, the weather would only get worse, and we had four or five days to go.
For the rest of the trip, I would either sleep in another crewman’s bunk when they were on shift (called hot bunking) or use the skipper’s bunk. Most often I used the galley, improvising a foul weather jacket as a blanket. Surprisingly, sleep came quickly.
I also made a discovery. Some people take showers in the morning to wake up; others exercise or drink a lot of coffee. Not that it is a regular practice, but I guarantee getting up wet, putting on wet socks and clothing in near freezing temperatures will wake you up quicker than anything else I know! The thought of doing this just before your graveyard shift on deck and in a near gale doesn’t help though.
By the third evening, we were trying to dodge squalls with impressive showers of lightning. At one point, we were all blinded from a flash, and then a few seconds went by as we all tried to gain our night vision back. The skipper checked the instruments to see if they were affected by the strike. We were all happy to here his report that we were not hit. John is somewhat of an expert in this area as he has been hit before on that very boat. It was also recently reported that his boat was hit again in the BT Global Challenge. In my innocence, I asked (or rather shouted) to John who was looking for abnormally large waves, if there were better places to stand/sit than others, when avoiding exposure to lightning strikes. He gave me a funny, maybe nervous look, and said “What? You think lightning is discriminating!” Enough said.
The winds from the squalls were impressive, at times reading in the fifties and sixties. We also saw a gust reading of 72 knots! The triple reefed main and storm staysail (the staysail had blown out) kept us punching into the rough seas at 9.5 knots. Standing at the wheel in this kind of weather was exhilarating. It was very impressive watching and feeling the river-like water rush down the deck, wrapping around the mast, deck hardware and past me in the cockpit. If you weren’t grabbing on, the water would!
We sailed around Cape Hatterus and up into the Chesapeake on our way to Annapolis. I’m not sure what the temperature was that last night, but it was pretty cold. Being soaked for five days and the endless, biting wind was finally getting to me. I thought I could feel it in my bones. We took short shifts at the wheel in teams of three. One driving, the other back to the wind, blocking it for the driver. The third perched low in the cockpit keeping a look out. Then the shift would change with a fresh crewmember coming from below and another ducking down the hatch. You begin to have a new appreciation and respect for those you are sailing with. You begin to share stories, talk about favorite (warm) foods, TV shows and significant others. This sport has a way of doing that. As we headed into the Chesapeake, a thin layer of ice was forming on the cold steel deck. We started dancing, or rather bobbing up and down like frozen popsicles, to the music of Presidents of the United States of America to keep warm. The wind started dying off and an eerie yet inspiring sea smoke started to form just over the water. When we got to the marina, we all took long hot showers and just made the breakfast deadline at a restaurant down town.
Several times during the trip, I wondered why people do this sort of thing to themselves. I also wondered (and still do) what the last leg of the race will offer besides 45 days and a wrong way Cape Horn rounding. Whatever it is, the adventure will probably pale this past trip in comparison.
Updated 11/27/99
My Induction training commenced in October of 1999. The Challenge 67 was in Annapolis for the boat show. I arrived a day early and was able to enjoy the boat show and also to help other show goers around the boat. Our Induction Training was actually a combination of a delivery and training as we were to bring the boat back to Boston.
Each “Crew Volunteer” or CV, as we are called, must follow a training program consisting of manuals and offshore instruction. The manuals are produced by the race organizers and the offshore instruction consists of at least five courses: Induction Training, Continuation Training, Development Training, Consolidation Training and Race Yacht Training. While these courses are very thorough, we are also advised to do as much training on our own and take advantage of as many deliveries as possible.
I had never taken a sailing course in my life, other than what I have learned by sailing with others and on my own. I quickly realized, especially with my previous experience on the delivery, that the training skippers and their mates are talented people who really know their stuff. The course started with safety talks and information regarding the operation of this particular boat and it’s equipment.
We even had a short talk on using winches. This, at first, seems quite remedial. But I paid close attention. Previously on the delivery from Florida to Annapolis, I was given the same instruction in rough weather as the first mate and I put a third reef in the main sail. First, we made our plans back in the cockpit and reviewed a couple of hand signals that are used in place of shouting over strong winds. We then went up to the mast. Never get on your knees with your back to the seas while at the winch and always make sure you have at least one foot planted on the deck. With a lot of water rushing down the deck, you can be carried away and you won’t see the water coming. It can also feel like someone is pointing a pressure hose up each pant leg, no mater how good your foul weather gear is.
The winch handle must be in one of two places: In the winch as you are taking up on a line, or in the storage pocket at the mast. It is a dangerous weapon in any other spot. A skipper was seriously injured in the last BT Global Challenge by falling on one. If the pawls in the winch let go, the handle can break an arm or worse as it spins wildly, or a line can flip it off the winch and onto some ones head. Keep in mind, the yacht can carry up to 4,020 square feet of sail and will encounter extreme conditions. In some respects, the training is like learning to sail all over again. One must also remember, that these details must be like second nature when, as our skipper put it, the sh-t hits the fan.
We also went through an improvised drill on what to do and how to act when going a ground in a fresh breeze. I remember sitting in the cockpit after removing our poled out # 2 Yankee. We had practiced putting the pole on, jibing, and doing a crash stop, a maneuver used in a man overboard recovery. We were now cruising along at about six or seven knots to get back out into the middle of the Delaware Bay and to continue on our way to Boston. I also remember just noticing a change in the color of water just in front of us. I looked down at the depth gage and noticed the reading go from 8 meters, 7,6,5,4,3,2,1 then….. I looked up at the Chris, the first mate and he looked at me. We had both been just noticing the same thing at the same time. He was as shocked as I was, but he jumped up and shouted down the hatch to John. The whole thing was like a car crash. Just as the words came out, we came to a dead stop, and the first mate was propelled forward like a rocket. I must admit, both John and Chris were cool as sea cucumbers. As we bounced along the hard muddy bottom in the six-foot waves, John rushed on deck and instructed us to bring down the #2 Yankee. Chris and CV’s went to work automatically as John took the helm. We went up the windward side of the deck and past the huge shrouds, which went limp as the 67 footer crashed down on the bottom. I think I ducked as I passed them on my way to the bow. My job was to pull on the luff of the sail to bring it down as quickly as possible while others gathered the sail on deck. The main sail was brought in tight as John skillfully tacked the boat around and headed out the same way we came in. We all waited as the last thump occurred and we sailed into deeper water. John coolly looked forward at his crew and with a stiff upper lip and his British accent said, “Well done, not quite what I had in mind however”. A bilge check shortly ensued.
We continued with man overboard drills, spinnaker work, navigation and even a very informative talk on clothing. We will be allowed no more than 9 lbs. of personal items during the race. This includes all of our clothing, toiletries, etc., excepting foul weather gear and sleeping bag. I have since learned to live for five days or so comfortably without changing clothes, aside from a pair of socks. As long as others do the same, it dose not become a problem. On our continuation sail, the first mates mom came on board at the end of the week. Let’s just say she didn’t spend much time below. On our last day we formed teams, made some rules, placed wagers consisting of pints of beer, and commenced reefing races. Each four-person team would start at a sitting position in the cockpit behind some designated winches. The timing would stop when the reef was complete, lines stowed, and the sail drawing again. Each team could do it in just over two minutes. Not bad for such a big sail!
At the end of the week, we discussed our performance with the skipper and were able to critique the course, and, of course, it and the crew got strait A’s all around!
7/25 /00
Hooray! I have received my RYA/DoT shorebased course certificate for Coastal Skipper and Yachtmaster Offshore. Since I’ve joined the NWC, I’ve decided to get as much out of it as I can. I am attempting to get the same qualifications that are required of the skippers, which is the Yachtmaster Ocean with commercial endorsement. The RYA can boast that these certificates of competence have worldwide recognition and the most comprehensive training around. This is the first step in getting there. The next step for me is the practical test. I will keep you posted.
10/24/00
Another one down. I have passed the practical exam for the offshore certificate! It was quite an experience. First I started with a four-day practical course to prepare for the exam. The examiner, then came aboard on the last day and gave a roughly ten hour practical exam.
Our instructor was surprisingly intense. He claims a 100% passing rate, and if he thinks you are over your head, he will let you know early on, and suggest you pack your bags. We started at 7:15am every morning. Our training was constant, through each meal and into the evening, usually around 11:00pm or later. I wasn’t sure if it was the jet lag or the fear of failure that kept me up until about 2:00am each morning. I am stretching our budget, and coming home to Catherine and Alexandria (our daughter) empty handed was not on the agenda.
50% of our training was leadership, and the other 50%, sailing skill. There were six people on the boat: the instructor, two of us were going for the Yachtmaster, three for competent crew. It was the Yachtmaster hopefuls job to teach the competent crew and lead them through maneuvers.
We practiced man overboard drills, boat handling, anchoring, slipping, mooring, pilotage and navigation. We were also quizzed on passage planning and meteorology. When I read the course contents, it seemed like review, until I started reading the tidal rate atlas. England has some of the greatest tides in the world and it felt like we were constantly sailing in a rushing river, sometimes we were. The reality struck as I noticed large tanker moorings appear to be partially pulled under by the current as we were sailing out of an inlet we found for practicing mooring under sail. My favorite exercise was a game called blind navigation. You basically run the boat from the navigation station to get from point A to point B under sail. Using radar or GPS is cheating. The exercise is meant to sharpen you navigation and communication skills. By the way, the crew cannot communicate what they see from the deck unless it is within one boat length!
On the third day of our course, the instructor told us that the examiner was going to come a day early and in the late morning, meaning a portion of the exam would be at night. Our instructor was apparently worried about our performance, as his intensity grew. He now had a sleep deficit of his own and had irritated a previous back injury during the week. At one point, we had missed a man overboard maneuver causing a second try. The nstructors response from the stern was “I’m wasting my $% time and should have stayed at the %$# dock! The sound of a deep breath and slow release was common throughout the week.
The weather all week had been cold, rainy and windy. The low-pressure systems seem to march through, one after another, and according to locals, its par for course. Sailing in October in England, what was I thinking! On the day of the exam, however, the sun came out, had relatively warm weather, and pleasant wind. The examiner came on board and we breezed through the exam. I had actually felt very comfortable and confident during the exam. I didn’t even flinch when it came to the blind navigation.
My mission was to sail from an anchorage near the Queens Battery Marina, up the river past the Naval Station in Plymouth. I was to take a fix, go to the chart table, and lead the crew to sail through the traffic and tide to the new anchorage. The examiner gave me sound signals and bearings to let me know where the traffic was. It was an interesting challenge sailing by the chain ferries. These are large car ferries, which pass back and forth across a river at staggered intervals. It immediately reminded me of the arcade game frogger. Why these were chosen over a small bridge is a mystery to me. At any rate, we accomplished the mission.
Our exam and debrief ended about midnight. We thanked the examiner and headed for last call at the local pub. We all, including the instructor, ordered and sucked down a couple of drinks in record time. 100% he exclaimed, and I believe him!
11/11/00
I have returned from my continuation training with the NWC. The first evening was spent getting to know others as they arrived. As with all the training, and the race itself, it’s about the people. Time is not only spent learning how to operate the boat, but also spent learning how to work in a group to achieve a common goal.
The following morning, the generator starting was our wakeup call. Directly after, we found ourselves standing in the cool November air in running shorts, preparing for a run, which was accompanied by some aesthetic exercises and another run. The message simply being; try to improve your health and learn to push yourself.
The week is full of exercises designed to improve your general sailing skills, from sail changes, navigation, rules of the road, and being on a watch system. All of these activities require a team environment. People must not only get along but also, work together. You have to learn to do tasks as trained by the skipper and mate, as it will be the only way to do your team justice. You also have to be willing to listen and learn from your teammates.
Near the end of the week, our skipper decided to have us sail to Jeffrie’s Bank and back. His name, you must understand, is John Jeffrys. Once we got there, he made sure we got a picture of it, although you have to use your imagination, as it is under water.
On the way out, we practiced more drills including a man over board. These drills really drive home the importance of using the right method, and being good at it. We did a mob drill at night with very little wind. A floating boat fender tied to a bucket was used to represent our victim. When mob was shouted, we all sprang into action. Part of the plan is to immediately throw a danbouy into the water which has a light attached, and to hit a mob button on the GPS. The GPS (Global Positioning System) will then direct you back to the very spot the boat was in when the button was pressed. We found both the danbouy and the fender. We picked up the danbouy first and circled back around for the fender. We knew we should have picked the fender up first, but, the danbouy was closest and there was no real emergency. It was a surprise, though, when we circled around for the fender and found it was gone. We searched the whole area using the GPS and a spotlight. Our pointers, people whose job it is to keep an eye and a pointed finger on the person in the water, couldn’t see the fender through the mist. Just like that, we lost the fender. A good lesson learned on how easy it is to lose a person if they go over the side.
On the way back, it was getting quite rough due to an approaching low. The weather was behind us though, and made for an exiting run back to Boston. The wind was at it’s strongest when I was off watch. Although operating with less sleep than usual, it’s hard to go to sleep when you’re having fun. If you’re a baseball fan, picture yourself watching your favorite team, your bed is in the middle of the field, and your job is to fall asleep. Could you do it? Neither could I, at least at first. My bunk was just under the cockpit and I could clearly hear the conversations of the crew above, talking louder than usual due to the wind. To the left, I could hear the rushing seawater slide past the hull, inches from my head. I could also hear the wind, vibrating through the rigging and passing through the entire boat. The sounds of sailing are amplified below and sound much more dramatic than they really are. At one point, the crew above had to take in another reef. They had to swing the boat around into the wind. I bounced out of the bunk and landed on the wood slats running along the side of the hull. It’s really not an uncomfortable place to sleep when the boat is healed over. A few more waves and I was back in the bunk again. I heard the skipper grumble to the first mate that the reef should have gone in earlier. The 1st mate, also named John, admitted that it should have, but he was having too much fun watching the surge of speed with each passing wave. I started laughing to myself. It’s just a training week; this is going to be fun! I was out in short order.
The last day was probably the most instructive for the entire crew. We were presented with a challenge. We were given a list of drills (sail changes, mob, heaving to, rounding navigation marks and islands, reefs, rigging emergency tiller, tri-sail, etc) to be competed within a time limit. Each drill completed would give the team points. We had to work as a team to pull together a strategy so that we could perform as many drills as possible throughout the day. We constantly had to work together: deciding which task to perform, which marks to round and how to get certain jobs done as quickly as possible. There were some very smooth moments and a few intense discussions throughout the day. In the end though, we pulled through and actually set a new points record for this challenge, albeit, the wind conditions were perfect. I think we had less than two minutes left when we crossed the finish line!
The last morning was spent cleaning every part of the boat we could reach. This is probably the least fun part of training. I am a bit of a neat freak, so I really don’t mind. It is also a good way to get to know areas of the boat that you would not otherwise see.
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