Both the skipper and the Clipper team had told us “this leg will be a lot rougher and colder than any of the other legs so far” and they were right.
Sailing to the east from South Africa across the Southern Ocean bound for Australia is a journey that all blue water sailors talk about but very few actually get to do. I am privileged to be one who has now achieved that. I am also privileged to have experienced the huge swell that comes from an ocean that has nothing to stop it forming since it began off the coast of South America.
You regularly see waves at 40-60' - sometimes they come side on, other times across your bow or the most thrilling is sailing downwind with them behind you. You surf down the wave. We are 68' long so you can do a quick check on the height - do we just fit top to bottom or is this one bigger than us? This can go on not just for 5 or 10 minutes, but potentially for a couple of days. It's exhilarating, exhausting and scary all wrapped up into one. The sneaky ones come in over the stern quarter and catch you on the helm or on the main sheet. One moment you are laughing at your fellow crew mates on the bow or in the pit or on one of the winches as they are literally buried in a wall of water, and the next moment they are laughing at you as they are completely missed by the next wave and you are ‘attacked’ by tonnes of sea water.
At night or during the day under heavy sea conditions you always have your lifeline connected. I now make sure that my lifeline is almost at full stretch when connected and that I have sufficient length to enable me to operate my work station but make sure if I am hit, I will only be washed the minimum distance on my line. I have found this technique saves lots of bruises & reduces the potential to break something.
The generator on the yacht is run every day for up to 6 hours .The main aim is to recharge the batteries. Separate batteries are used to start the main engine and for other tasks like powering the navigation station (including the email & sat phone). When the generator is running it gives off some warmth and has the potential to dry socks, gloves & undies. The only other warmth on board is from your own body heat. Keeping yourself warm becomes paramount.
It is fair to say that we all got cold during our Southern Ocean crossing. We sailed further south than what we originally expected, we went south to 49 degrees almost down to the Antarctic convergence zone. One of the yachts saw a couple of icebergs so suddenly we were on iceberg watch.
We went from only active crew on deck, doing ½ hour rotations to having an extra body doing iceberg watch. We were told that icebergs have a luminescence at night so they should be easy enough to see. Growlers are low icebergs that may only be a metre high with a few metres below the surface but they could be some many metres across. We didn’t want any of those on our watch. My waterproof sleeping bag became my place of refuge and warmth. At times I would put my washed socks and undies in with me to dry them out. This took about 72 hours but was well worth the result.
During the really cold shifts I was sleeping in two sets of thermals top & bottom, waterproof socks & a beanie. What a snug state to be in, but you can imagine what it was like getting out of the bag some 4 hours later, back into the cold environment half dressed knowing what it was going to be like on deck. Worse still is when an “all hands on deck” cry is heard. You may have been fast asleep, warm & comfortable, only to be called up on deck to face a high involvement situation – everyone is expected to be in an immediate state of readiness, wide awake and adjusted to the night vision.
This certainly gets the adrenalin pumping.
An ‘all hands on deck’ only occurs when the on watch needs immediate support from other crew members eg for a wrapped spinnaker, major sail change or changes during heavy weather, crash jibe or tack, resulting in gear failure or winch cross over. In the Southern Ocean we broke a spinnaker pole and shredded the heavy weight spinnaker as a result of a sudden wind gust over 55mph. To see a pole bent and turned back on itself with the spinnaker still full of wind is a sight to see. It has a mind of its own and traverses the foredeck at a rapid rate. This can cause the yacht to broach and all aboard to have that moment when the bile in your throat moves upwards. It’s not panic but more controlled mayhem for a few moments. We got better at these moments and thankfully had no major physical injuries during our first three legs.
We spotted many whales during the crossing - they tried to avoid hitting us and we did the same. The standing order was to keep the watertight doors closed as there has been many stories of yachts hitting whales and definitely coming off second best. We saw the two largest breeds of albatross - the Wandering Albatross and the Royal Albatross - they have a wing span of up to 140” (3.5m). Albatross are said to be the spirits of old mariners and wonder the oceans worldwide using the winds to cross the major oceans of the world. You don’t see them flap their wings that often they just ride the thermals – apparently journeys of some 5000 nm is common. Penguins were also spotted they were always by themselves, small elusive & fast.
‘Grey, overcast and not to be disrespected’ is how I would sum up the Southern Ocean - “been there, done that, I respect you” - show me the warmer climates.
For a while there the crew were noticeably down or flat. Cold, difficult conditions after 20 plus days at sea could take the energy out of the majority on board. For about a week I was saying “the sun will come out tomorrow” and as we got closer to the west coast of Australia, the sun did finally come out and almost immediately crew enthusiasm was renewed. The biggest factor was the ability to dry our foulies or wet weather gear. The bonus of taking off one piece of clothing had the desired effect - life was renewed, we were back in control, survival mode became a thing of the past.
We had gone deeper south than any of the other yachts, doing many extra nautical miles but as a result we had the winds in our favour, while the others were caught in a hole with no wind. We were doing constant speeds of 10 to12 knots straight towards Geraldton. The distance to run (DTR) of 1000 nm was the milestone we had thought about for a number of days. At the current speed, it meant we would be on land in 4 to 5 days max. The talk turned to what we would eat and drink and how long we would stay in a hot shower. Several crew members visualised taking a plastic seat and a cold beer into the shower with them and just sitting there until the beer was gone.
Talk was good but we all knew that we needed to remain focused for the remainder of the race. 1000 nm seemed a relatively small distance to us by then, but for weekend sailors it would probably seem like an incomprehensible distance still to travel. I mean no disrespect to any yachties, but we were getting used to covering vast distances in all sorts of conditions. Mind you we still had the utmost respect for the oceans and what they may bring.
We crossed the Race 4 finish line on the morning of October 30. Our arrival in Geraldton marked the end of a grueling, 3.5 week, 4,800 nautical mile race across one of the planet’s most forbidding expanses of water. In addition to the ten points for winning the race we also secured three bonus points for being the first team to reach the Scoring Gate.
It was a beautiful sunny day and we were met by an enthusiastic Aussie crowd, including my wife Chrissy with her boxing kangaroo flag.
We were home, South Africa to Australia via the great Southern Ocean.
We had arrived 2 days earlier than anybody else was expected and we had our 4th winning pennant in the bag. 4 out of 4 - what a way to go.
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