Recharging the batteries

This year I have been living life at a crazy pace; that’s my decision so no complaints but over time the constant pressures and stresses can take a physical and mental toll and every now and again I need the chance to recharge. 

This delivery home has been exactly what I needed, it has been an absolute joy and totally reviving to be out here with no pressures. My enforced isolation away from the regular communication with the outside world I found initially stressful, feeling frustrated that I can’t get straight back to moving this campaign forwards. But once I had accepted the status quo, it’s been good to be free. I feel like the top has been lifted off my head and the soft warm breeze had blown away the dust and accumulated baggage. I feel lighter, clearer, my focus is sharp and there is a building energy within me that every day gets stronger.  

Paddy and I have developed a good delivery routine. At night we do watches of an hour and a half each, with the other one sleeping below on a beanbag still ready to leap up should conditions require. As the sun rises we put out the solar panels, fill up the day bottles with water made during the night, inspect above and below decks for leaks or damage then we settle down to look at the weather. As this is Paddy’s first Trans-Atlantic he has been doing as much of the weather analysis and routing as possible. We have set up a system where I will run an initial routing, then hide the results, he will run his, and then we sit down together, compare the two, discuss the different routes against our delivery criteria and agree on a plan going forwards. Day by day I can see him becoming more confident and familiar with the programs, manipulating the data and making the right decisions.   

There are still sail changes to do, reefs in and out in the middle of the night, sails to stack, dragging the 90 kilo bags the length of the deck to their most advantageous position for boat speed.  It’s still physically hard work but without the constant need to push the boat harder I can sometimes let myself off the hook. So long as we are safe and reasonably fast I am happy. 

During the day I have found both the time and the headspace to work on some of the heavier aspects of the campaign that I’d struggled to focus on in the build up to the TJV. I’ve updated and re-prioritised job lists, updated my project plan for 2020, reviewed and adapted budgets, planned media and even written my Christmas card list. I am in contact with the real world but through my portal of Lou Adams, who is managing the campaign admin whilst I am at sea. Lou is a filter, she sends me the things I need to know and asks me only the things she really needs to know. We are both pragmatic about how much I can influence alter or change out here so she let’s me be; in my sanctuary. 

Wonderfully I’ve also found the time to email friends, putting some energy back into the relationships I have neglected over the last few months. Being only able to communicate by email once a day brings a long form back to communications that we lost some years back when smartphones became our windows to the world.  Being on board writing to my friends reminds me of when I first left the UK to find sailing work abroad. I used to communicate with home via a one sheet airmail letter.  

Sitting in the cockpit at night, my focus has not been exclusively on the instruments and the sails, I,ve lain on my back and looked up at the stars every evening. When we lost the moon completely there was one spectacular cloudless night where every tiny patch of the sky was littered in bright stars; in all my ocean crossings I don’t think I have ever seen so many stars in the sky and all shining with brilliant intensity.  Lying on my back looking up, the white sector of my mast head light just seemed to blend in with the stars above. My light was no brighter and no bigger, just another point of light in a star strewn sky. 

Night or day I often just stand on the deck, feeling it all, being 100% in the moment and relishing the sun, waves, wind and my IMOCA. 

Sailing SuperB does now feel normal, I can sit below decks working away on the laptop, the hull is buzzing, we hit a wave and surf down it at 17,18,19 knots. I will look up from my work at the speedo, do a full scan of instruments, still smiling at the speed but not feeling the need to get up from my beanbag. The more familiar I feel on board the more scope there is to improve performance, I am now finding the boat feels so familiar I can wake from sleeping below decks and instinctively know, how to adjust the trim to improve performance. I know when she feels right.  These miles are relaxed yes but they are helping with my confidence, my muscle memory, my physical and mental strength.  

This is now the final week in my first year in the IMOCA class, I am a different sailor, a different person. I am ready to get out there next year and fight. 

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Survival training with the best

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TJV: It's a wrap