Gee's Sailing Diaries: Part 5

Spinnaker Helm

The moment I realised my first spinnaker helm since my final week of mandatory sailing training (7 months ago) would be at night, was when I woke up in the middle of a long sleep. 

The reason I awoke in the middle of my long sleep was not due to the noises from the on-deck watch hoisting the code 3 (this is the biggest asymmetric spinnaker or kite sail we had on board). It was not from the smoother rocking motion of the boat as it now surfs the waves downwind (as opposed to beating directly into the waves heading upwind). It was because the airflow below deck reversed completely. Surprisingly the airflow below deck was better when we were beating upwind. Although heading downwind is definitely a much smoother ride in terms of boat motion and heeling (the lateral angle at which the boat sits in the water), it also requires arguably more concentration due to the fickleness of sailing with a kite. On-deck watch was now a lot quieter during spinnaker sailing as we allowed for the helm, check-helm (the person who oversees the person helming in case an emergency requires someone to take over and ensures we are continuing on the correct course), and trimming teams (those who alter the angles and tensions of the sails to maximise sailing efficiency and therefore increase speed depending on the conditions) to focus. Standby watches are often tasked with unusual requests such as finding the largest adjustable spanner we have on board, along with more reasonable requests such as teas and coffees or checking the courses and speeds of the rest of the fleet for comparison. Sometimes standby watches are also required to be extra pairs of hands on deck at a moment's notice, especially if we encounter an unexpected weather front or a squall. And all of that needs to be done in between their cooking and cleaning duties for that watch time.

After the disturbance woke me, I struggled to rest for the remainder of my long sleep. I was now, once again, too hot to fall back to sleep easily. And anyone who has sailed under a spinnaker knows how thrilling it can be but also how quickly things can change for the worse. As off-watch turned into on-watch, we rotated through the different stations required to be manned whilst sailing under a spinnaker. I dutifully began as a grinder (someone who grinds the winches in to tighten the lines as fast as possible on command), before swapping out to be the person controlling the main spinnaker sheet (the line which holds out part of the spinnaker sail – this needs to be held by hand since it would simply break the winch if we loaded it properly into the winches). Next, it was my turn to check the helm. And then finally I would be the one in control of the direction CV21 and her crew would be heading again – one of my favourite jobs on the boat.

It didn’t take long before I realised that Claude the tern had attempted to take his rightful place at the best seat in the house – on top of the mast. Unfortunately for everyone, the wind vane was not strong enough to hold Claude’s weight and so, whilst still functioning, our much loved and well-used 'windy' never quite looked the same again.

By the light of a now-waning moon and with the lights of the rest of the fleet visible to our port (left) side and off our stern (the rear of the boat), I held fast on a compass course that correlated with an appropriate apparent wind angle (sailing is dependent on the movement of air over the sails to create thrust and only certain wind angles are therefore able to produce enough thrust to propel us forward) and course-over-ground for the next gate or control point in the race. The wave system at the time kept pulling the bow to starboard (right), providing some resistance in bringing CV21 back to where she needed to be. But with gentle movements, being conscious of feeling changes in the wind on my face and the pull of the boat under my feet, and trusting in the rest of the team to continue to work with me and around me, it was nice to be relieved of the helm at the end of the rotation with positive comments and words of encouragement. It is always good to have feedback, especially on the things you enjoy.

Later, during my following standby watch proceeding a restless short sleep due to both the heat and weather front causing us to question some of our choices briefly, I found out that the bright flashes of light brightening the sky around us off our starboard side were likely to be space debris, falling back to Earth from thousands of miles above us. It is possible that no one else saw those flashes other than the on-watch members of the rest of the fleet. As the bread baked in the oven ready for crew breakfast, it was nice to reflect on how pleasant racing in some of the most remote places on Earth can really be. I was already looking forward to waving at the Mariana Trench as we sailed by towards the end of the race.

Before I knew it, it was once again time to turn the lights off as the sun again brightened the sky, tidy up the galley (kitchen) and get ready for another stint on the helm under Spinnaker. This time, during the light, where hopefully she (yes, we named all of our sails depending on their characteristics) might seem a little less sassy. I wonder if it’s true of all things that they seem different in the light, compared to in the dark. But it must have been during tropical cyclone Kirrily that I first referenced the infamous children’s book, ‘We’re Going on a Bear Hunt’. Since then, the lines ‘we can’t go over it, we can’t go under it, we have to go through it’ had been quoted many, many times across our crew. And probably the craziest 24 hours of my life was just in front of me.

The 23-24 race ends at the beginning of August with a homecoming stop in Oban before the fleet returns to Portsmouth and the Clipper headquarters. You can find out more about Clipper and the current race standings here: https://www.clipperroundtheworld.com/ 

If you'd like to follow along with my other adventures, you can find me here: www.instagram.com/GeeAdventurous