Racing in the Caribbean

The Caribbean 600!!! 600 (or there abouts) nautical miles of offshore racing, around the Caribbean Leewards Islands!

Talk about a 'Baptism of Fire'. My first ever proper race (the Pursuit Race doesnt really count) and it was three and a bit days offshore in 15 to 25 knots of wind, 4m high swell and a crew of 10 (half of whom are um double my age or more)

What Fun!!!!

It was challenging enough to make it interesting and relaxed enough to be fun!

Strangely, afterwards when we were chatting about it, a few of our more distinguished crew members and Moanina (a female crew member renamed for her favourite pastime - i mean seriously, who comes on an all expenses paid trip to race offshore and on the first night announces that she hates offshore racing....and that was only the beginning) maintained that this was one of the most difficult offshore races that they had done. Granted it was exhausting but then again, I was up at all hours preparing whatever people wanted to eat or drink, in a boat that was teetering dramatically close to what felt like a 90' heel and slamming into waves with a passion that would put a prize bronco to shame. The crew believed that the most tiring part was moving around the boat but the only time they were required to do this was coming on and off watch and for tacks or jibes....Anyway.

Luckily we have not yet become TOO superstitious as sailors go. The morning of the race dawned with the usual frenzy of activity, getting sails up, crew fed, last minute fresh bread purchases etc. Activity came to an abrupt halt as the Captain/Skipper rushed down the companionway stairs clutching his bleeding hand. The safety catch on his leatherman had failed and the knife he was using in the all important task of opening bags of ice, had snapped shut cutting his pinky to the bone. While we were trying to stop the bleeding an Irish member of our crew ran to the boat next door where he knew there was a doctor on their crew (a fellow Irishman that he had shared a taxi from the airport with) The cheerful Irish doctor patched our Skipper back together with two stiches and a can of cocacola. So began our race.

Out we sailed to the start line, using every available minute before the gun to perfect crossing the line at maximum speed. Unfortunately our start was a mixed up scurry of problem solving as during our final tack before the tack over the startline I managed to get a rider in the primary winch holding the genoa sheet. What I was doing tailing this all important winch at this critical moment, I still do not understand, but somehow all the experienced crew were busy with something else. No matter, we crossed in style (if late) and sat determinedly on the rail, in our striking blue crew shirts, looking contrastingly dazzling with the smooth white hull of our speed demon, for all the professional photographers to enjoy.

The galley more heeled over than i have ever seen it before

The poor galley simply could not keep up with the heel of the boat. The stove could not gimble enough and the stew/curry/whatever kept sloshing out of the pan. If you look carefully in the sink you can see that it was filling with water. This was because the boat was heeled over so much that the sink outlet was below waterlevel. Yip, that white line of water you can see in the basin is the level of the sea. What fun conditions to provided sustenance for 10 people. My injuries included: burnt feet from emptying the scalding curry over them (you try and figure out the ridiculous angle a tray of curry has to be taken out of the oven at when the boats at that angle), stripe burns on my thighs from the oven falling open onto them on several occasions and a chunk of flesh trying to escape from my finger.

Dont try and catch a broken dish as it tacks itself across the boat at high velocity (after 3 days healing at sea, how stupidly embarrassing)

Despite the owners and guests (sorry, crew) being on board there is no place for hotel pristine in racing. Our A-Symmetric kite tied to the couch.

The course was a wonderful 'Mixed Bag' of upwind beating and reaching and running with the kite. My sole responsibility in terms of ondeck duties during tacks and jibes was tacking the waterbottles. Having found myself on the rail with the water rolling around on the low side of the boat on several occasions, I took this position upon myself. Jokes aside, the crew was great. It was wonderful watching such an experienced bunch of people working together to manoeuvre the boat just so. I had several moments thinking of family. On quite a regular basis Gran's saying "Too many chiefs and not enough Indians" came to mind (the poor Captain really had his job cut out for him with so many experienced opinions on board) and Granddad, it seems i was wrong when I told you we dont really stay wet for all that long...I was wet for 3 and a bit days (while everyone else took advantage of the downwind streches for the luxuary of a shower/wetwipe down and change of clothes, I was frantically preparing all the lunch and desserts necessary for the next leg - dinners were sitting ready in the freezer)

Flying our kite around Rodonda. Inhabitants: a few well discussed goats (thats what happens after 3 days on the rail)

At 1.07pm on Thursday we crossed the finish line with much relief and jubilation!

On the arrivals dock our finger injured were whisked off for medical attention (the final one being Moanina who, despite her 30 years sailing experience, out her hand on the mainsheet as it swung over dragging her finger into the block and literally exploding the tip off. Gross!) Then it was all beers and showers. Taking down the brand new foresail 5 holes were counted (dont ask, its basically a story involving the sailmaker being a member of the crew; the leech line breaking about 3 hours after the start etc etc etc) and it was noted that had we continued sailing for another day our genoa halyared would have exploded.... Fun times and now lots to fix!!!

My shorts practically walking out the door without me. Not kidding, they are so salty they are standing up all on their own.

Oh yes, at the end of it all a full 3rd of the fleet had retired and our results were:

We came 3rd in our class, which was the biggest class i'll have you know (2nd beat us by 5 MINUTES - 3 days racing and they beat us by 5 minutes....ah well);

9th under the one handicap; 12 under the other and

we won Best Swan :)

Happy days! what fun and thank Poseidon (and Dr Fourie) for seasick tablets that work!!!!!