Happy Hour

The morning before our grand departure from North Cove Marina in downtown New York we had our third and final briefing. With all of the sixteen crew plus our skipper it was our final chance to contemplate what might be ahead of us; not that anything would have changed my mind by this stage. That was, until I heard about “growlers”, “The Perfect Storm” and the “Titanic”.

Admittedly it sounded as though the skipper was just trying to make us laugh. I did manage a small nervous smile but mainly because I had no idea what he was talking about. From my teenage years I have fond memories watching Kate Winslet and Leonardo Dicaprio in Titanic, with the wind flowing through their hair and Celine Dion crooning in the background adding to the romance of the blockbuster film. I was, however, too swept up in the Titanic's romance story to fully comprehend the details of that fatal night other than I knew an iceberg somewhere in the Atlantic had been the cause. It therefore came as quite a surprise when our planned route passed just north of the mark where the infamous cruise liner sank one hundred years ago.

This apparently tied in with the warning of growlers. It turns out they are not a type of angry sea animal but small pieces of ice that have broken free. When I say small, I mean the size of an average car and definitely substantial enough to cause some serious damage to a seventy foot racing yacht – or so we were told.

These facts hardly seemed significant especially when on day four I was still in my shorts, but then overnight it changed. Suddenly I had on all of my layers and sat shivering on deck whilst scanning the chilly waters for potentially dangerous growlers. I am pleased to say we have passed through the danger zone and left the sites of the two aforementioned film tragedies in our wake.

On a lighter note the skipper mentioned in his brief that every day we would be rewarded with a “happy hour” at one of the watch changeovers. He continued to explain that it rarely lasts an hour and actually isn't even always that happy. I must admit the point of it was lost on me until yesterday. We combined a birthday, the improving weather and most importantly a win through the first Scoring Gate as an excuse to be happy for a whole hour.

It took us just over a week to reach this celebratory milestone yet this shouldn't cause you concern - we are in good spirits far too regularly to celebrate it daily.

Decorating the Deck

I learnt through sport to always take the rough with the smooth but that did not help me to prepare for the real Atlantic. The Caribbean weather and spirit is now but a distant memory. I had started to worry as after each day of mirror flat sea came another beautiful sunrise with more perfect cruising conditions – the longer this lasted the more shocking the contrast was going to be and sure enough, it was too good to be true. After four days of topping up my tan, reading my book and being cooked for there was a dramatic change; reality hit.

Along came the Atlantic I had heard about - the temperatures suddenly dropped overnight as the wind and sea state began to build. This was what I was expecting and had signed up for; it is supposed to be a race after all. With the change in conditions came a change in pace. Suddenly there was work to be done and I had a chance to make myself useful.

Unfortunately my body had other ideas and pulled a pretty good get out of work card in the form of seasickness. I was determined not to be defeated but I had a fight on my hands. After any small amount of exertion, whether that was helping to change a sail or even just putting on my wet weather gear, I had to hang my head over the side. Sadly I did not always make it and have to admit I succeeded in decorating the deck a couple of times. Once looking at the horizon with the fresh air on my face all would seem fine again, as would lying in my bunk, but it was the effort getting from one to the other that I cannot describe.

During my time hugging the toilet basin something occurred to me. I had always wondered why the “bathroom” on a boat was known as “the heads”? My personal conclusion: it is down to the fact that your head is likely to spend as much time there as any other part of your body when at sea – I am open to any other suggestions.

I had just started to recover and managed my first small meal. I thought at last I could make myself useful. Alas the one small task that was asked of me only succeeded in adding to the previous decoration albeit in a slightly different way. I tripped on deck and spilt sausage grease all over the ropes. I thought I had made a good job of cleaning it up with the help of a few waves until the skipper muttered something. Apparently he had presumed it was the result of some more seasickness but then felt the grease on his fingers. The rest of my watch kindly covered for me but I had to confess.

Thankfully we are only just half way so I still have time to redeem myself.