Love, it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you. It will set you free.
…. More like the man you were made to be. – Mumford and Son
Sigh no more, no more…
24th June 6.40pm Day 6
I had wanted to write a blog last night after a series of uplifting and I guess rather phylosophical moments I have been surprised to have experienced.
It’s rather a long on so make sure you get a hot chocolate (preferably with baileys) as you get ready for the long haul. It even has a few of those irritatating yogi moments of “awakening” included, for those who require a disclaimer.
Sadly with the lack of sleep mounting from series of quiet days, last night, I had found myself nauseously sleep deprived. Battling to be awake and emotionally frustrated with not being able to write having saved the event all day so as to have something to fill the watch with. Since, I have been fairly bummed out in general and searching for the luster I had so eagerly developed over the previous days.
I have managed to accurately confirm that I am completely absent of resilience and coping mechanisms. (Something that all of my life I have been instinctivly well developed in up until about 8 months ago) This means at the moment a simple things like being sleep deprived coupled with the endless nose diving into swell on a reasonable heel all of a sudden becomes the most diabolical head state to be in. The laughable side of this head state is that it has absolutely zero association with the current events eg. Nothing to do with sailing or the adventure/problems at hand and everything to do with life on land and other situations that are ultimately out of my control.
Uncanny really; but a perfect way to explain the wonderfully cool shift in perspective that I’ve encountered as part of such a long journey or challenge. This is something I did not purposefully come searching for, but has happened as a by-product of doing something I’ve always wanted to do but doubted ability, or was waiting for the right person or opportunity to start the journey with. Perhaps also I was waiting to win the lottery, or planned to do this in retirement. As I’ve always said since I was in my mid 20s and spunking all my cash on plane tickets, “I’ve come to the conclusion that I won’t bring a lovely 4 bedroom house to a marriage, but I’ll bring the yacht”. And at 31, it’s actually now a choice to make that reality should I put my mind to it. I can cross big oceans, I can cope with mother nature taking control, and I’ve actually been fantasizing about solo sailing a lot in the last week.
In the 50 or so hours we were under motor, becalmed (ish) I managed to complete two books and start a third. Both books complete I would highly recommended.
The subtle art of not giving a f@#k – Mark Manson
Lionheart – Jesse Martin
A special mention must go to my good friend Kirrily who has gifted me some great reads at some pivitol times in my life. Her suggestion of Lionheart was aptly that and below is an exert I have held on to after todays events. And in fact the last 70hrs or so.
“Thursday, September 2nd
It was about two days ago, just after a squall had come through, that i was looking out over the water lost in thought ……
I was thinking about the similarities between events in life and rain squalls. When it’s approaching it looks pretty mean, dark and gloomy. Then, all of a sudden, it hits with a torrential downpour sending you off course and out of control. You can’t see anything around except mist and rain, but it doesnt last forever. Eventually, the first rays of sunlight seep through the tail end of the cloud. The light refracting from the tiny droplets of water suspended in mid-air put on a show that is truly spectacular….”
Lionheart, Jesse Martin.
Now if you have managed to read my two previous blogs you will understand that I began this final leg quite worse for wear mentally. I struggled for the first few days to seek any joy out of the simple things as sunsets and stars. Two things I have always found beautiful especially in the worst of times. This is when I chose to give Mark Mansons book a second crack splitting it up with the occasional anecdote of where Jesse was up to in his journey. Which I had started in Bermuda whilst waiting to leave.
(Sadly Mansons book has too many profanities to be quoting in this blog, Despite finding plenty of apt sections worthy of sharing. Please, read this book!)
I think it was about mid morning and Jacques had still not gone to bed for the morning shift change. That’s when I noticed him open the Atlantic paper chart, that of which I hadn’t opened since Bermuda. I began to grin as I watched him butcher the course taken with a ruler and one straight line.
It’s a big chart. It dangles off all the edges of the saloon table. You really can only do a small section at a time. It’s then it dawned on me how far we had travelled. How enourmous that ocean is. Comparing it to the width of countries and then continents only continued to cement the weight of what we had achieved. A complete change from the verbal conversation had only days before. I guess I just needed a visual reminder to put things into perspective. I giggled later when I pulled out the chart myself and noticed Jacques had also drawn on the front cover the legs. Albeit in those beautiful direct straight lines. He was treasuring the journey in his own special way.
I woke up this morning incredibly grumpy. My head being smashed into the forepeak of the bow relentlessly for 4 hours on my complete sleep deprived wipe out had not been an ideal start to the day. My body language and attitude did not hide that.
I did an average shift. I lay down freezing my ass off in all my kit in such a position that I could adequately see all the instruments and reach the ipad for the raymarine link. I was frustrated with jib luffing at such a close haul to the wind (35degrees) and I went at adjusting it. To which the wind did whatever the hell it wanted. Swinging from NE through to NNW whenever it wanted, however it wanted and ranging from 8 knots to 18knots. Right old ass pain. That with continued nose diving and at times crawling at 1.7knots towards a route which is throwing us to Gibraltar and not Lisbon. Yeah, I was in a foul.
I managed some sleep under a bookshelf in Jacques cabin. We have now completely lost the concept of areas or space on the boat. Everything is communal in our Darwin lifestyle.
When I came to duty the pain continued. I was beginning to have concerns about how tight we had been running to the breeze without any head gain. We had been averaging 3.5knots at best in 20 knots of breeze straining to keep Portugal in our sights. I was starting to worry about the shuddering from the sails down the shrouds and rigging as well as speed should we choose a different point of sail and tack. I shared this with Jacques and went to bed.
Under the bookshelf. My brain melting in overload. Again those thoughts begin to present when the coping mechanisms are being pressured.
When I woke I used the bathroom. Why add this? Well on the heel we are on just being on the toilet is a challenge in itself. Not covering yourself in excretment is half the challenge when your seat is only half attached. Yep, you guessed it, it slid. Thank god not right off but it was certainly a close shave between me and my ass in the bowl.
I had a moment which almost produced tears. I’m certain the words “why?” If not spoken out loud were certainly mouthed as I clenched my eyes closed and thought. “You can do this, you have 30hrs to go” (Thanks Mark Manson again). I stood up and went to flush. Nothing. I tried the other button. Nothing. Then I tried a musical combination of presses. Still nothing… With head hung I emerged from the toilet like a naughty 5 year old.
…….”Jacques… the toilet doesnt work”.
“What!!”
After a series of statements to confirm I wasn’t joking some top secret investigation work began as to how I was to avoid sharing last nights dinner with my 71 year old co-companion.
Long and short, the fuse had blown.
Note to future yacht owner: This is when it pays to keep every size fuse you may need with you on board, for such times as being stuck in the Ocean without a manual flushing toilet.
So after discovering we only have 10A and 5A fuses for a 20A circuit break I offer a suggestion. Let’s just try the 10A. If we are lucky the circuit is rated lower and for some reason it has a higher fuse than required. (note the ridiculous lengths of optimism one will go to, not to have to fish in the toilet at sea). As expected this fuse also blew, rendering our brand new fitted toilet pump, installed in Bermuda, useless.
It was time to go fish.
Many things went through my mind as I kneeled on the floor facing my port nemisis. Nothing quite makes you appreciate modern technology when faced with scooping the contents out of a toilet on a starboard heel whist nose pitching into waves. Needless to say when complete,tidied and unscathed I immediately burst into laughter..
When I recounted the day inside my head to Jacques, including the moment 20mins earlier where i’d almost burst into tears nearly falling in the basin. He too was laughing with me.
It’s all about perspective. Here I have been stewing myself to ruins about things entirely out of my control all day, in fact for months, trying to seek resolution to the unresolved. To the depth a times where I can not even be present to the moment I’m existing in and have let it consume me. Yet faced with the reality of shitting in a bucket, 150NM from land in front of a realitively new friend makes me laugh, and yet smile. Why on earth do we let the rest of the world consume us in such a profound way?
This is why I want to sail. This is why I love the opportunity it provides. I had no idea to the level it would strip back life. Also as to whether I could handle, yet enjoy, being so removed from control in such merciless circumstances. It is that on which I have thrived the most. The Darwin momements. The connection with the sea. The incredible stars. The beauty and power of the elements.
The forever reminders of being worked up by the squalls, can only help us appreciate the rainbows.
It’s the simple things.
The ocean story 