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Paul Knighton Blog (MSc Insurance and Risk Management, 2007)

Paul is taking a career break to compete in The Clipper Round the World yacht race and here is his Fifth blog entry!

Entry 5 - Race 5 Geraldton, Western Australia to Tauranga, New Zealand

When I first signed up for the race there were a few races that stood out from all the others. The foremost of these was race 4, the Southern Ocean.

Some of my fellow crew finished race 4 a little disappointed with the Southern Ocean. They complained that the conditions had not been nearly as tough as expected. I certainly did not hold this view, it seemed a rather sinister, wild and baron place to me, and i expressed this to the skipper as we finally reached land. he laughed and replied, 'well i have bad news for you, you'll be back there next week, and this time we will be going even further south'. In all the excitement and relief of finishing 29 days of sailing across the most infamous ocean on earth, it had slipped my mind that leg five took us south from Australia back into the Southern Ocean and round the south island of New Zealand.

Leg five began with the sun backing down on another blazing late spring Western Australian day. The local town had woken early to line the sea wall, to bid us farewell and watch the race start which was played out only half a mile off shore.

The yacht was almost fully repaired from the troubles of race four,and with the crew surprisingly buoyant after an all too shot stop-over, we prepared for the start. Despite this buoyancy i could feel my aching limbs were still soar from the previous leg and the crew all looked rather skinny, the next race could be very tough indeed.

This time we were determined not to have a bad start and we implemented a fixed role system for the first several hours of racing. this is to say that the crew would be allocated a role that they were to specialise in.
My role as it often seems to be, was Bowman. This is the high adrenalin position on the boat, and usually involves sitting on the bow rail as the waives crash over you, holding on for dear life as you call the sail trim and ensure that every last tenth of a knot is squeezed out.
Unfortunately this usually means if the boat is slow it's generally the bowman who gets the blame, and if it's fast it's all down to a good helmsman!!

Soon enough the starting gun sounded and instead of our usual floundering we found ourselves in second position. I was frantically calling the trim and we were gaining on the lead boat. The race start involved a sprint down the shoreline before tacking around a marker buoy and bearing off into the race proper. As we approached the buoy we were closing fast on the lead (gold coast as usual) and it looked like we were going to catch them just after the mark. Unfortunately, a poor tack saw us fall back a little, but we were still well in the hunt in the initial several hours.
As the fleet spread out we held onto our second place and were escorted out by hump back Wales on their regular migration down the Australian coast.
We were desperate not to let Gold Coast get away this time.

The wind was strong and just forward of the mast on a 'close reach' which is one of our fastest points of sail. With gusts was reaching 25 knots we began the first of several racing sail changes as we geared down in the rough conditions.

These strong winds continued to build and move aft of the beam (know as a board reach), which would mean that we would fly a poled out Yankee three.
This is the smallest of our head sails and we use the spinnaker pole to push the sail forward for maximum down wind efficiency.

The conditions we experienced in those first two weeks were constantly strong, from a good angle and very challenging to sail effectively. Still these conditions were some of the best i have ever experienced as we covered the first 1000 NM in less that 5 days. As we crossed the great Australian bite the sea state increased and we saw the biggest swells of the race so far. It's always hard to estimate how high the seas were, but waves at last the height of a two story building were common and some were much higher than that. Lucky the waves and the wind were coming from behind the boat so you tend to roll with them rather than smash against them.

Another feature of these giant waves was our ability to surf down them just as a surfer would on his board. The yacht is designed with a flat hull so it will plane down the front side of a wave and you can reach extraordinary speeds. We regularly achieved 20kts and peaked at 25.6kts.
The noise of the water pushing us along was tremendous and the feeling of acceleration was like nothing i have experienced, what fun! This is exactly what i signed up for, and long may it continue.

Unfortunately, sailing is never that simple, and two incidents that were to take away our hard fought second place happened a couple of days later.

The first of these was when a sudden gust combined with a huge wave to pull the boat violently round so that we were beam on (side on) to the on coming waves (not a good place to be!).
As soon as the wind hit the sails beam on, the force was such that the boat was pushed over to an impossible angle well in excess of 45 degrees. i was forced to hold on to our main winch as my feet scrambled to find purchase the wall of the foot well which was now pointing almost vertically upwards. we were very exposed as each wave threatened to roll us completely, and i didn't fancy a swim in this part of the southern ocean. The boat was becoming increasingly submerged and we were now nearly at 90 degrees with a third of the deck beneath the white churning water.

I tried to remain calm and instructed the helm to bear away and gibe the boat upright. As the skipper came bounding over the deck, as only he seems to be able too, as calm as ever, he took the wheel and we were beginning to right ourselves. This was until another wave flung us back over again and the whole process started again. We nearly rolled a further three times in quick succession, but finally managed to gybe away and right ourselves.

A couple of days later we were back in the thick if the action. We were flying our heavy weight spinnaker and decided to take it down as the wind was peaking in excess of 30 kts. The usual way to do this is to hoist one of the crew to the end of the spinnaker pole and they can release the sail so that it can be collected on the deck (this process is know as spikeing).
As i was wearing the harness, the skipper asked me is if was comfortable going up in these conditions. I was 'not really', but would if he needed me to. The reason i was so reluctant was that the boat was swinging violently and the risk of being knocked into the ocean was great.
As the conditions deteriorated over the next couple of minutes the skipper decided it was too dangerous and we would try another method of release, a guy-line drop. This is a much more risky procedure for the sail but far safer for me!

As we were preparing to set for the drop, the skipper took the wheel as it is critical to maintain course during this procedure. No sooner had he taken the wheel when another freak gust pushed the wheel to one side and forced the spinnaker to its most vulnerable aspect, beam on to the wind again.
The skipper immediately shouted for the release and the spinnaker shot off its fixings. We scrambled to recover it as quickly as we could as the boat healed over. The noise was immense and the sail was in danger of being lost.
I was totally submerged below the spinnaker as it was gathered and could see nothing but sail all around me. When i finally emerged i look at a fellow crew mate who gestured forward. I turned and saw the pole that i was supposed to be hoisted onto snapped in half and sticking into the deck. Had i been on the end? well it doesn't bear thinking about.

Both these issues combined with unfavourable winds saw us falling back in the fleet to seventh place. As we headed further south and the temperature dropped again we could not believe our bad luck.

As we passed round the bottom of New Zealand South island and reached 48 degrees south the weather again changed. The wind dropped and we suddenly thought of another late arrival in port. The fickle winds were only broken by the first of many many savage squalls that would plague our journey up New Zealand's East coast. The wind would suddenly increase from 2 or 3 kts to over 60kts in a matter of seconds and at night this happened with no warning what so ever. Given that we had a sail plan for very light airs, the first time this happened it caused great concern and we feared we may loose the rig.

These conditions lasted for a week or so and the majority of the fleet headed offshore to find more stable winds. We had a choice to follow and remain in the position we were in, or stay inshore and hope to catch a sea breeze. We of course took the risk and chose the latter. Yet again we were shooting up the positions as our risk paid off. In six hours we went from eighth to second and stunned the fleet, those at home watching on the race viewer and to no lesser extent ourselves.
We held this position through the squalls all the way to the finish line.
Another miracle finish for Visit Finland, and best of all we arrived early in Tauranga with the bonus of an extended nine day rest.

Next stop Gold Coast, Australia.

The Southern Ocean is not officially an ocean in its own right, rather is is made up of the southern most parts of the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian Oceans and covers the waters surrounding Antarctica. It is regarded as the most respected, most remote and perhaps the feared ocean amongst mariners.

This point was hammered home by Sir Robin Knox Johnson (the first man to successfully solo circumnavigate without stopping), when he said at the crew briefing that what we are about to undertake is the biggest test in sailing, 'don't be fooled by what you hear about Cape Horn, that is not the test, it's just the finish line, the Southern ocean is the test'.

with those words still fresh in our ears and perhaps a little apprehensive we slipped lines from cape town on a balmy and still afternoon. the race began as usual with the boats battling for position before the line. As we made our final tack for the race start we managed to find the only patch of water with no wind and stopped dead as the rest of the fleet streamed past. as we bobbed around for three or four minutes our hearts sank as yet another poor start cost us dearly.

Finally the wind filled in and we edged across the start line and began to peruse the other boats. We choose a course hugging the coat line and managed to get a sea breeze which edged us up the fleet and we began to make up places as other boats floundered further offshore. Before long we were just behind Gold Coast and looking to take the lead. We moved closer to Robin Island (where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned)and were no more than 50 meters behind the lead. Then once again the wind dropped and the boat stopped. We watched as the lead boat kept her sails filled and continued on her way. That day we sat in pretty much the same position for 12 hours hardly moving. The boat that was just 50 meters in front earlier that afternoon was by the late evening some 70 miles ahead.

We eventually found our way out of the wind hole and began finally to make up the miles to Western Australia.

The first week of the voyage was spent with variable winds of between 5 and 30 knots and much of the time was spent negotiating the strong currents that flow southwards off the African coat. These always seemed to be against us and we were again struggling for pace in the middle of the pack.

As we edged south the wind increased its intensity and we were finally making good ground with some excellent down wind racing and we were surfing rollers the size of a house. the temperature was also noticeably colder and even wearing eight layers on my top half could not keep out the icy cold of the wind blowing off the Antarctic continent.
Sleeping became an issue as the cold penetrated your sleeping bag and the underside of the deck constantly dripped freezing condensation. It was one of these icy cold nights when i awoke to a huge bang from the deck. When I finally came round and managed to get enough clothing on and scramble to the deck, there was a scene of devastation.

In a 60 knot gust the helm had not been able to prevent the boat from crash gybeing. This is where the stern of the yacht moves through the wind violently, which means that main sail depowers and then suddenly repowers from the other side, sending the boom swinging across the deck. This happened with such force that the boom had ripped off the preventers (rope that is used to prevent the boom gybeing) off the deck and ripped through the steel rail on the bow. We were also using our spinnaker sail at the time which we attach with 20ft aluminium pole to help push the foot of the sail out beyond the bow. The pole had been ripped off the mast and thrown back through the main sail ripping a 6 ft hole.

There were lots of white faces around as we struggled to make safe the boat and check for further damage. Luckily the entire crew avoided injury, but the forces involved could easily have killed someone.
But we had no time to dwell on this for too long and our thoughts soon turned back to the race and our position. i could not help but think that this race was now all but over.

It took nearly the whole of the next day to repair the hole in the main sail, but when we did it meant we could once again begin racing. by now we were in 9th position and very downhearted.

We limped on for the next week or so, unable to use our spinnaker sails properly. we managed to claw back a position to eighth and we though that was the best we would do as the next boat was over 150 miles ahead.

The southern ocean proper was an incredible place. It feels truly different from anywhere else i have been before. It has a sinister feel, and you feel totally alone as even the wild life disappears and other than a few Albatross there is absolutely nothing to see.

The ocean becomes even more sinister when we hear of boats further up the fleet running close to large icebergs some 200m in diameter. the skipper immediately put us on iceberg watch, but i am pleased to say we saw none.

One surprising feature of this stage of the race was the relative lack of wind. with all the build up as we headed close to 49 degrees south (the roaring 40's)it was somewhat of a disappointment to be met by 10 knots of wind and flat seas.
However, this calmness did lead to one of the strangest events of my race so far. looking at the mill pond calm of the sea one day the skipper joked 'if i would fancy a swim in that', to which of course i responded ok. needless to say i didn't hang around long in the freezing water at only 5 degrees, but its crystal clarity astonished me, as did the though of what might also be swimming in here with me, i soon jumped out again and tried to get warm, which took quite some time.

we were by now heading on the final third of the voyage and had just began to swing north toward Australia. one of the advantages of being at the back of the fleet is that you can see how the other boats ahead are fairing. As we looked at the weather files we receive electronically each day we could see that there was a huge high pressure system building ahead, and it was building right over the majority of the fleet. Given that the centre of a high pressure system usually means light winds we though we might have an opportunity to skirt round the outside of it while the competition struggled in its centre. This is precisely what happened. Within three days we had gone from eighth to 4th in what has to be the comeback of the race so far.

As headed for the finish line we were in a battle for third with New York who just edged us after a two day mini race, but by only by 20 minutes.

We arrived in Geraldton, Western Australia a respectable fourth, the boat was still severely damaged and we would be very busy repairing it. With only a four day turn around before the next leg there would be little time for rest, but we were quietly satisfied with our reputation as the com-back kids!

next stop New Zealand.