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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 eighth blog entry!

Entry 8 - Qingdaio to San Francisco

As i opened the curtains of my hotel room window early on race start day, i was surprised to be greeted by a world of white.
Gone had the grey drizzle of the previous week, to be replaced by flurries of snow, a sight i hadn't seen since the previous winter, and thoughts of England in the snow made me feel very home sick indeed.

The race start was the usual pomp and ceremony, but with a uniquely Chinese flavour. The snow of early morning had been replaced by bitterly cold sleet, and the deck soon had a covering of slush as we made our final preparations to slip.

We motored out of the Qingdaio Maria and began our parade of sail in front of the brave spectators gathered in the freezing conditions on the sea wall. The temperature was hovering just above zero but the dampness made it feel well below as we headed out to the start line. Even the boundless energy of the new arrivals for this leg began to fade as the bitter wind cut straight through us, and we were left pondering the 6,000 nautical mile race ahead.
As if sailing across the North Pacific in winter was not tough enough, we had the knowledge that our hard fought 2nd place in the standings had been lost to our nearest rivals DLL. We needed to race hard and take bigger risks than we had before to get it back.

The start was an unceremonious affair some 30 miles offshore. But VF managed to weave herself through the pack in these early stages and settle into a comfortable third position.

Night soon arrived as we settled back into the watch system. It was the coldest night, not just of the race so far, but that I had ever experienced in my life. With a sea temperature of just three degrees and a dense fog all around, no amount of thermal layering was enough. I soon found myself crouching in the cockpit in a failing attempt to escape the piercing 20 kt wind.

If this was not enough to contend with we were also racing straight through the fishing grounds of the yellow sea. These were fishing grounds like no other. We were used to trawlers and lobster ports, but not to 30 ft tree trunks stuck into the sea bed with wire cables suspended between them holding nets that only rose above the surface by two or three feet.
Needless to say these carried no lights or warning bells, and were unhelpfully positioned in a chequer board pattern just 60ft apart for about 30 miles. As we dodged and weaved our way through, it was a miracle that no boat ran afoul.

This race was effectively three races in one. There was the windward beat south east through the Yellow Sea and round the south coast of Japan, then the long slog northward to the international date line, and finally the drag race down to the coast of California.

Once we were free of the fishing grounds the first part of the race became a real test for all the crews. The wind hovered around 40 kts and it was directly on the nose. Providing us with a week and a half beat into 20ft seas at a frustratingly slow six or seven kts. We had been through beats before, but not for this long and the shear volume of water that was being washed over the decks meant that even sitting in the cockpit you were constantly being drenched. Sitting in a pool of sea water became the norm. The only positive was that the temperature was now a balmy seven degrees Celsius and being on deck became a little more tolerable.

It took us a week and a half to complete the first 600 miles of the race. As we rounded Japan and the Pacific proper lay ahead, the thought of another four or five weeks of these conditions began to hit home. The Deck was of course constantly soaked, but so was below deck. The pounding of the waves forced water through every hatch, deck fasting and stantion point.
Combine this with the thick condensation that had formed on the underside of the deck, that was now dripping constantly, draining the bilges became a daily two or three hour toil for the whole crew, as several tones of water were thrown over the side.

The weather had remained consistent thought the early stages. The wind was strong and constant and the sun was nowhere to be seen. As we moved away from Japan's east coast suddenly and almost without warning the skies cleared and the wind dropped.
The conditions for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime became almost pleasant. The entire crew were already exhausted, not the type of exhaustion you get after a tough week in the office, or from burning the candle at both ends, but the kind that makes generally fit strong people unable to get out of their bunks, or to walk round the deck without stumbling over. The kind that meant moving around the boat became impossible as the crew slept on any flat surface they could find, often the floor. This exhaustion was partly caused by the conditions and lack of sleep, but also by our inability to source enough nutritional food on the limited budget of just $4.5 per day per person. We were on a starvation diet and it showed.

Soon enough a Virus that had come on board with one crew member in Qingdaio began to spread. One by one crew members were unable to make watches and even our hard as nails skipper retreated to his bunk. We were on a skeleton crew and sail changes with just three or four fit crew on deck became impossible, we were falling back in the pack. I tried to keep going as long as i could, but when i struggled to walk even a short distance and one of my very matter of fact colleagues said that i looked like i was dyeing, i too had succumbed and had to take a watch off.

Our lack of crew was making us uncompetitive and as the latest weather report relieved a deepening low pressure system was heading our way and we could expect winds in excess of 60 kts, our conservative strategy once again came to the fore. As soon as the wind began to pick up, we took down our main sail and in its place hoisted our tri-sail. This is a small but extremely tough sail that is designed to provide nothing else other than simple steerage in the most severe of conditions.
Sure enough the storm did arrive, and we took a real beating. It lasted for several days and winds peaked at 70 kts or more.
We struggled to maintain direction with our small sail plan we were making very slow progress toward the International Date Line. Even with the powerful winds, the sea state was such that we could only muster a few knots in the right direction. Little did we know at the time that much of the fleet had kept their mainsails aloft and were powering toward San Francisco at 13 knots. How they managed it i do not know, but manage they did.

By the end of week three we were in 8th position and over 100 miles behind the lead boat. The race was looking lost and now we were just aiming to survive the crossing in one piece. As this storm passed, it was replaced by another and another after that. The wind was relentless and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

I found myself standing another night watch, cold, soaked and crashing into the monstrous seas as the wind howled. Suddenly an incredibly bright flash, with sparks and debris flying from the top of the mast. We all looked at each other for a second, 'what the hell was that', we throughout? Soon we realised that we had been struck by lightning, not a particularly comforting thought in a fibreglass boat.

We pressed on and eventually reached the date line, I helmed as we counted down the last of our easterly longitudinal degrees and they were replaced by the first of the westerlies. A small change on the GPS reading, but a huge milestone for me as we were now back in the same hemisphere as home.

The Storms continued and we received another warning of an even deeper low approaching, nobody ever voiced it, but i know that we were all beginning to doubt our ability to go on in these conditions.
As the next storm system arrived it produced winds from a slightly more favourable direction. Finally we were able to reach the speeds of the other boats and we were flying along at 13 knots. The wind was now directly on the beam and the waves were hitting our rear starboard quarter, a very dangerous position to be in as the waves have a tenancy to sweep you round, and you risk being knocked down and dismasted.

This storm system lasted for another week and we crash gybed the boat several times sending the boom flying across the deck after ripping its preventer lines from the bow. This was not a time for inexperienced helm's. As the worst of the storm subsided we were left with a confused sea state, with large breaking waves hitting us from what seemed like all directions.
It was at approximately 4:30 AM, about half way through my first watch of the day when rather blurry eyed I took over the helm. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, i could sea a black mass thundering toward us. I had no time to change direction, or even shout a warning. All i could do was to loop my arm through the wheel and brace my body instinctively against it. As soon as i had a rogue wave hit us, it didn't cover us in the usual spray, but rather just kept going through us. It felt as if we were totally submerged. The force of the wave knocked the 40 ton yacht onto its side. I didn't have time to think, I just held on. In a matter of a second or two it was all over, the yacht righted itself and we were left with a flooded deck a few bumps and bruises, but little else. Had we been fully knocked down to over 90 degrees, i do not know, but it was close enough for me, not an experience i want to repeat. I was now completely out of dry clothing!

We had now fought our way to the last week of the race, and making great speed to California.
However, the Pacific chose to save the best till last. As the final and largest of the storm systems that we had seen was giving us a battering, it was also pushing us in the right direction. We stayed with the system until 48 hours from the finish line when we received a satellite phone call from one of our competitors, Geraldton Western Australia. They were approximately 45 miles behind us, but we were the closest boat. They too had been hit by a rogue wave, but for them the consequences were far more severe. They had been fully knocked down and had their steering column ripped from the deck and were desperately trying to restore control through their emergency steering. They also had severe injuries to at least three crew, one of which was life threatening. A major maritime rescue operation by the US Coast Guard, including a Coast Guard Frigate, Aeroplanes and Helicopters were scrambled. We were put on immediate standby to turn back and aid with the rescue operation, but were never asked to do so. All this pointed to how close we had come to disaster, and showed that the Pacific can never be taken lightly.

The storm was by now in full fury and we feared for our friends and colleagues on Geraldton. The rolling waves were 70 ft or more in hight and they were speckled with white tops as the wind scoured their surface. It was during the penultimate afternoon of the race that I saw one of the most remarkable sights I have ever seen. The sea state was at its peak and I was watching a Cargo Bulk Carrier going the opposite way. It was smashing into the monster seas with hardly enough speed for steerage. At the peak of each wave it exposed its rudder completely, before descending into the next wall of water. The enormous ship looked like a child's toy as the pacific played with it. The ship had turned round just 6 hours from its destination to assist Geraldton and the rescue operation. Just before it reached the horizon the dense cloud cover parted momentarily and bathed the struggling ship in sunshine. As we reached the top of each wave, the view was astonishing. i turned to a fellow crew member that had sworn to give up sailing for good after this race, and asked if that view made it all worth while, to my amazement he replied 'yes absolutely', and I agreed.

I awoke on the final day to bright sunshine, our first sight since Japan all those weeks ago. Out of the distant haze we could see a coastline, and before long the faint outline of the Golden Gate Bridge, our finish line. We moved closer and the sea shallowed offering us a final surprise. The waves suddenly intensified again and one caught hold of us and we surfed toward the line at an incredible 27 knots, breaking all speed records.

We sailed under the bridge and the warm spring sunshine of San Francisco Bay began to dry our foul weather gear for the first time. We were greeted by a small flotilla of yachts out for a Sunday sail. One by one they approached us and congratulated us on our achievement. Geraldton's peril had been big news in the US and indeed around the world, we were once again minor celebrates.

We finished 9th in the race, second from last and our worst result to date. But non of that mattered, the race was irrelevant, surviving the Pacific became the goal, and we had done it, just!
The resilience of my watch-mates amazed me, they just kept going no matter what. Non of us thought we could do another day in those conditions, but of course we could, if we had to. They weren't necessarily action heroes or your stereotypical stiff upper lipped Brits. But everyone of them earned my respect, and i hope i earned theirs. Our starvation diet and extreme fatigue had taken its toll. I lost one and a half stone in weight in just over a month, I was more exhausted than ever before. Some decided to leave the race, some to quit sailing all together. But i am pleased to say, all the round the world crew on VF returned after the 10 day stopover for the start of race 10.

Next stop Panama.