12:06 AM Fri 8 Jan 2010 GMT
It was a dark night with the winds gusting between 25 and 35 knots. Cape Breton Island humming along through the moderate swells, the helms holding course as the winds and waves pushed the boat first one way then the other, a deck light illuminating our heavyweight spinnaker driving the boat forwards. Just an ordinary day at sea perhaps. But here we were, a day out of Geraldton, Western Australia, leading the fleet having laid a wreath just twelve hours previously over the spot where HMAS Sydney sank in 1941, lost at sea with all hands following an encounter with a German merchant raider, the Kormoran.
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The sinking of HMAS Sydney remains the largest loss of life in a single encounter experienced by the Royal Australian Navy with some 645 sailors and airmen aboard the vessel at the time. The Kormoran was also sunk in the encounter and although most of her crew were able to abandon ship and were rescued more than 70 crew members also lost their lives. The laying of wreaths by each of the Clipper fleet over the spot where the HMAS Sydney lies was a poignant reminder of the sacrifice made by those serving in World War II and of the perils of the sea. For more than 60 years the gesture would not have been possible as the location of both ships was unknown until just a few years ago. By coincidence, they were found after an extensive search by a team whose leader lives in the same village in England as Cape Breton Island crew-member Kate Prickett. It was appropriate that it was she who laid the wreath on our behalf.
Later, the 2200 to 0200 watch was a muted, quiet affair, concentrating on maintaining, and building, our small lead on the rest of the fleet, whose lights could be seen snapping at our heels. All efforts focused on pushing the boat forward and musing on the events of the day. It's a watch when gains can be made as all crews are tired and minds are dulled. Suddenly the relaxed mood changed. A loud bang cracked across the boat. The spinnaker sheet sped through its retaining block with a high pitched 'swish'. The spinnaker itself flew free off the front of the boat, held only by its head and on one corner, cracking in the wind as it flapped madly in the gusting winds. Rapid movement around the boat as relaxed minds sparked back into life, the skipper woken rudely from his sleep as we sought to work out what had happened and retrieve the situation. We were very conscious that we had lost power and speed, that we were losing ground against the other boats that we needed to get the freely flying spinnaker down before it was damaged, that there was a real danger of it wrapping around the forestay at the front of the boat.
The next hour was a blur of effort and activity. The spinnaker was rapidly dropped and bundled below, no mean effort given the conditions. The Yankee 2, our mid-sized headsail, was then hoisted to give us some forward momentum whilst our spinnaker was down, the spinnaker pole was then dropped, the lines on it swapped over to allow us to 'pole out' the Yankee 2 on the opposite side of the boat, the pole was then re hoisted and the Yankee 2 winched across to the opposite side of the boat from the mainsail. This set us up for downwind sailing, maximising the amount of sail area available to the wind, and minimised the loss of speed.
The watch then went below leaving one person on the helm, sorted out the kite and repacked it ready for it to be re hoisted. Back on deck and we reversed the earlier operations, the headsail was winched back to sit behind the mainsail, the pole was dropped and the guy holding the pole in place replaced and run. It had been this which had failed earlier. The metal shackle holding the sheet to the guy, which pins one corner of the spinnaker into the pole had sheared off. Hence the bang and the swish of the sheet as it flew free from the guy and the pole.
The pole was then hoisted, the spinnaker hoisted in turn, as it popped and the wool holding its folds together floated off into the night, all heads looked skywards anxiously scanning it for signs of damage that might have been missed when it was repacked below. It was fine, a sigh of relief, and then down with the Yankee 2 headsail. Is the work ever done? Up to speed again, it was now a chance to gather breath and to tidy away the messy mass of lines lying around the boat, the flotsam of all the efforts made in the last hour. Was it just an hour? No wonder we were all so out of breath and sweating copiously. It's amazing what seven watch members and a skipper can achieve and a real indication of just how far we have all come since leaving Hull last September. No shouting (well not too much!), just everyone dealing with the tasks in hand.
And the end result? We lost around a mile and a half owing to our reduced speed for that hour. It cost us our first place, but only just. It could all have been so much worse. Ironically, the skipper had only been saying a few hours previously that racing comes down so much to how crews deal with the issues that unfold on a boat, because issues there always are. Things break, things foul and it's the speed and efficiency with which these are dealt with that determines race positions. On this occasion we did okay.
And then it was back into the routine of trimming sails, keeping course and trying to wring out every last knot of speed. With the added incentive that we could see what we had lost from the relative position of the lights of the other boats around us. We looked at our watches and realised that after all that we still had another two hours of the watch to go. And so, on with the sailing.
Cape Breton Island standing by.
Postscript
As Cape Breton Island closed for 'press' on Tuesday 5th January, four of our competitors were in clear view. We needed to keep the boat moving at top speeds to regain our position in front of the fleet. Carrying the heavyweight spinnaker through the shifting winds and wallowing seas, we noticed a drop in wind speed accompanied by slower boat speeds. A change to our lighter and faster medium weight spinnaker was the answer.
The 'Canadian Watch' headed up by Cape Breton racer Dan McCarthy, got set up for a spinnaker peel. With a few new crew on the watch, we prepared for one of the more complicated manoeuvres. Basically, the new spinnaker is hoisted inside the one currently flying. It has a separate set of sheets to attach. A climber needs to go to the end of the spinnaker pole to attach the new sail, and spike the old one.
Once the new one is flying, the old one is 'peeled' away as the crew fights to pull it down the hatch. Jane Filbee, our new Nova Scotian crew member, kept the kite flying through the whole event.
As a result California Clipper, who was creeping up behind us, became smaller and smaller over the next few hours. Both watches saw the result of their efforts when this morning's report confirmed our return to first place! Great job Cape Breton Island Crew!
by Adrian Healy
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Manly, QLD
