As if by magic, the lunar eclipse observed in China neatly paved the way for my own ‘planetary’ alignment – right people, right time, right place – only for me that was Gosport as the start line and Dartmouth as a place to appraise my seasick remedy supplies before a return to shore: neck patch – check, tablets – check, inedible ginger – check, completely useless wristbands – oops where did they go? Yes I have just completed a week’s intensive training at sea as part of my preparation for taking part in the round the world Clipper yacht race. It starts in September but I join for the ‘glamour’ run from Jamaica to New York then across the pond to Ireland to eventually finish in the Humber. No offence to the residents on the banks of the Humber but the glamour may have run out by then.
My crewmates for the training week have been the most amazing bunch of people. Not only did they not shame me on their knowledge of halyards, sheets and ground tackle but we all got on right away - I call it ‘bonding in adversity but essentially we all made the very best of the experience and information on offer –the most information I have tried to pack in my head since cramming for A levels. Experience came in the form of skipper Pete and first mate, minor deity, Oli who probably could have sailed our 60’ pleasure boat single-handed while each of us trainees, on the god scale, needed at least the arms of Shiva if not Ganesh’s trunk thrown in for good measure.
The Ah's, The Er's, Skipp-Er, and er... Oli
So what did I learn? I learnt that the stripy black and white rope is the yankee halyard. I learnt that a sheet is a rope and a sail is not a sheet, and that the sheet on my bunk needs changing more regularly than once a week. I learnt that three hours sleep in three days is fine for Glastonbury festivallers but not for those of us back on planet earth. I was also intoxicated by the deep blue – of the first mate’s eyes – but not to the detriment of my winching and sweating at the mast – the main mast that is. Oh and by the way I’ve measured by biceps and I’ve grown, yes grown by one whole centimetre. At this rate if I’m at sea for 6 weeks I will have biceps the size of a modest melon and an appetite for spinach that only the most productive of organic farms will be able to satiate.
And now as I look back on this incredible experience I still can’t believe I’ve actually learnt to sail a racing yacht in one week … yes one week! Don’t get me wrong I can’t actually get it in or out of the harbour unless the boat’s covered entirely in bubble-wrap but still, out there in the middle of the English Channel the merits of the parallel park are somewhat lost, as they will be in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and essentially that’s what the First Mate and Skippers are for. The rest of us will be doing the grunt work while they just want waking when we get close to land!
Although with that in mind as I launch into my final two weeks training I begun to appreciate the monumental patience of the skippers that will be taking their now competent crew out on the ‘actual’ 68ft racing yachts. It will also be my first introduction to ‘Uniquely Singapore’ my home for the journey back across to Blighty. If she has a memory I do hope she forgives me for all my ungainly clambering across her decks as I attempt to find out what makes her tick (and more importantly what makes her fast).
Up Mast
But after all this there is a drawback. And yes there is always a drawback. There is an old wife in my family and she has a tale (not a tail you understand). Her tale is women of a sailing persuasion often come with a moustache to go. I believe this to be the old wives’ tale that it is but rest assured I will be packing the Remington 2000 just in case.
Off to ease the mainsail halyard,
Seasick Sally
www.clipperroundtheworld.com
Wednesday, September 9, 2009 at 04:31PM 
