Hope and Fears

The Transat CIC race finished last night, with the winning skipper, Yoann Richomme, taking just 8 days, 6 hours and 53 mins to cross the Atlantic against the prevailing winds and currents. It’s been incredible to always watch fellow British skipper, and somewhat of a hero of mine, Sam Davies, sail in to a brilliant third place on the podium.

 I started my solo racing career with this course. It was the OSTAR, from Plymouth to Newport, Rhode Island. I started the race on the 25th May 2009, in my 40ft Lightwave, called ‘The Shed’. This boat had also been my home for the past seven years. I was part of a 31 strong fleet. I had previously sailed this boat single handed across the Atlantic from Uruguay to the UK, taking 58 days, over January and February that same year. The boat was tired, on the way my engine failed, my sails fell apart on a daily basis, the boat was leaking badly, I had to work hard every day to keep it together enough to get safely home. The previous year I had signed my first ever racing sponsorship from Cazenove Capital which allowed me to refit the boat and get to the start line of the OSTAR with new rigging, new sails, and a boat that would be strong enough to push across the Atlantic.

When the start gun went, I was full of hope and fear. I had been working flat out, supported by friends to get my boat ready for the race, but we had only two months to do the work. I knew we had done a good job, the boat was strong, the question in my mind was would I be able to push as well.

The race started well. Quickly I worked my way through the ranks and by day three I was lying third overall and still with a lot to give. Then, just as I was breaking in to my stride, one of my lower shrouds broke. I spotted it in time to save the rig. But had to turn back and leave the fleet. It was a moment of utter devastation. I remember the email I wrote to my sponsors that evening. Full of heart wrenching emotion that I had let them down. But the response came back – ‘Carry on racing. We believe in you’.

 So, I headed in to Ireland, replaced my lower, then went back out on to the race track, now lying last and determined to prove what we could do. I set out across the Atlantic hunting down the back of the fleet. I drew a picture of each boat I aimed to overtake inside my cuddy, then crossed them off with a date as I sailed past their position. By the end there was quite a collection and other skippers in the race mentioned the fear of being drawn on the inside of my cuddy.

 I finished that race ranked 19th overall. My elapsed time on the water would have won my class and put me second overall in the race. It gave me hope and the green light that I would pursue through the ranks of solo ocean racing.

When I finalised my plans to race in the OSTAR I was in Uruguay, with my boat and there was less than six months to go before the start of the race. I had to sail across the Atlantic and refit the boat in that time. It felt daunting and I knew I had to push hard to make it happen. I would love to tell you I feel differently about racing now. But it seems that time is never going to be the luxury I have.

Morning from on board Medallia crossing to Lorient

The technical team, the boat and I are currently in Lorient, waiting for a window to sail across the Atlantic and join the fleet, to take part in the final solo race before the Vendée Globe. The New York Vendée. I had to complete just one of the solo trans-Atlantic races this year to finish my Vendée Globe qualification, and the New York Vendée presented the least risk, giving us more time to prepare the boat and avoiding a race in the harsh conditions of the North Atlantic in Spring. Watching the race unfold I have seen several skippers have to retire, slow down, or pull in for repairs, but I know we are not immune to this fate as we still have an Atlantic to cross to get to the start line.

Preparing to race around the world, is not just about performance, it is about strength and reliability for the long haul. Last year, we pushed through a huge development in performance with our big foil program. This year we need to make the boat robust. But the balance is not easy, I need to sail the boat, I need to train myself, to hone in on good fast settings, to test and develop my own skill. When we race across the Atlantic, we are exposing the boat to risk and this close to the start of the Vendée Globe Race, it becomes harder and harder to recover from major damage. With this in mind we came to Lorient this week to change our mast.   We knew when we bought the boat that it would need a new mast before the Vendée Globe race. The current one has done eight years of hard racing and two laps of the planet, incurring damage during the 2020 Vendée globe race. In the search to eliminate weakness, replacing the mast was a clear objective. The mast was ordered and paid for earlier in the program, but the decision to put it in the boat was not always clear when we lost our sponsors. But now the project is in a position where we must make time critical decisions. If we are going to test a new mast thoroughly before the Vendée Globe race then it needs proper mileage under race conditions. To put a new mast in the boat, and not test it could be seen as risky as not changing at all. Better the Devil you know?  So, we have continued as planned and swapped our rigs over in a monumental week of work in Lorient, we have now completed sail trials and are green light to cross the Atlantic.

The new rig is significantly different to the last. Though still classed as one design, the build specification has changed as the new generation of boats have become more powerful. I am sure we have made the right decision.

 I will be sailing across the Atlantic with a small crew and we hope to leave this week. I will sail three of four days as a solo sailor, with the crew dozing, and keeping watch but not getting involved, while I am sleeping. Then we will sail as a team and use the time to test, record and refine, with me getting some rest before arrival in the US.

We hope to arrive in New York around the 21st May, and will be met by the team, both operations and technical. Then we have one week in New York. During this week we will take part in the one-day Liberty race, which consists of speed runs off the Island of Manhattan, past the statue of Liberty, which is going to be an iconic thing to do. Then the team will turn the boat around, addressing any problems we had on the delivery and preparing for my race back. I will try to eat, sleep, rest, recover and prepare for my final solo transatlantic before the Vendée Globe Race.

On the 29th May, I will set sail from New York, to a start line offshore, where I will commence racing to Les Sables D’Olonnes. When we arrive in France the official entry list for the Vendée Globe Race will be announced. 

View from the top of the mast in Lorient

So, you can perhaps see, the pressure is on, time is short, we have a lot to accomplish in a short amount of time and the whole team, operations and technical could not be working harder. I am driven to perform, because I can feel our team’s potential everywhere. It is not just about me as an athlete, but the expertise, creativity and work ethic of our incredible team. When I think of the Vendée Globe Race, I have many fears that are clawing at the inside of my head, and I acknowledge that this causes me stress in everyday life, I battle hard to find ways to mitigate them. I have developed a mindset that allows me to put fear to one side when I race, but I also accept that fear is part of what I do and it is part of being a human. When we push ourselves to do something new, to be exposed, to achieve more, then fear is going to creep in to our hearts and minds. When all 40 skippers start the Vendée Globe race we can, none of us, be sure we will finish it. If I finish this Vendée Globe race, I may become the first ever woman in the world to finish two races. This is indeed new ground. Over the next few weeks, I am going to share with you some of my thoughts on fear and how I use it as a tool for good.

 But now, I am only looking forwards. I have three weeks or more of exquisite sailing ahead of me. I miss the ocean and I miss sailing for every second I am on the shore. Sailing across an ocean gives me the most incredible energy and positivity and I know I need a top up right now. These boats are powerful beasts, they can feel wild and out of control at times, but they are beautifully engineered to be what they are. I am and always will be, very aware of how privileged I am to be at the helm of this boat and the head of a British Ocean Racing team. It is tough at the moment; we have some hard decisions to make around our upcoming refit in June when we reach crunch time with our finances.

I want to thank everyone for their kind and generous responses to the news that we have lost two sponsors. Through personal donations, names in the cabin, and the sale of mast and boom stickers, we have already raised 5% of what we need to deliver our best preparations before the race, which is just incredible and humbling, that so many of you are invested in our success. We have opened some new conversations with potential bigger sponsors and are working hard to find more introductions. The operations team in the UK are turning every stone, it takes time, we are up against it. We will deliver our program to the end of the New York Vendée Race and then will need to start making some tough but pragmatic compromises from June, when our pre-Vendée refit is scheduled to happen. We are positive. Because we know this is a great opportunity for a would-be partner. We have a lot to offer and we will not stop working. Thank you all so much for everything you do to support us.

In the meantime, it is time to get back to the sailing. This is, after all, why we are all here.

I will post regular blogs and social media updates as we make our way across the pond and share with you the magic that is Solo Ocean Racing.

Pip x