2015 Hong Kong to Vietnam Yacht Race overall

by Bill Macartney on 19 Nov 2015 It looked as though a giant subterranean garbage eater had an upset tummy. A parade of human refuse: branded plastics bags, polystyrene cups, special purpose strips of white paper…. price tags on human prosperity. We were sailing up the western side of Hong Kong Island, heading to the starting line for the Hong Kong to Vietnam race. On the island itself, you needed a chain saw to carve out chunks of air to breath. It was stinky and solid, so a lungs-pissed-off hacking cough arose and dominated proceedings until we got out to sea.

Syd Fisher’s Ragamuffin 100 is a powerful beast. She's 100 feet long, 144 feet tall and carries enough sail to wrap Sydney's Boxing Day shopping frenzy.

Courtesy of Syd - taking a break to prepare for his 47th Sydney to Hobart - Skipper David Witt invited me on board for the race. My son Jack - mainsail trimmer and one of the drivers - initiated the idea and what a watershed experience it was.

Ragamuffin was clearly the biggest and fastest vessel in the fleet. The gun went in light conditions and we were quickly so far ahead I thought the lads might slip into cruise mode. But Witty painted a vivid picture: race record, fastest time and a handicap win, so all shoulders stayed strong to the wheel.

Ragamuffin’s biggest sail (the A1) has the top of the mast, the bowsprit and a block (pulley) at the very stern of the vessel as its three link points. It’s 1,000 square metres in size and is a huge contributor to her speed. In 10 knots tight reaching she delivers 19 knots of boat speed. For a 100 foot ocean racer, this is a fabulous number.

As wind pressure built late on the first afternoon, Ragamuffin powered up the back of one wave, hovered on the crest and then took off down the face like a runaway train. I saw 32 knots on the speedo. She speared into the back of the next wave and exploded out the other side like a star burst, sending a Bondi roller sweeping across the deck. Bowman Liam Woulfe looked like he was standing under a waterfall. Then he emerged, a smile on his face big enough to set as a spinnaker.

Pretty soon we were in near complete darkness on the first night with winches howling and ropes sizzling across the deck in 20+ knots of breeze as the lads wrestled Ragamuffin towards Nha Trang. Two teams, three hours on, three hours off. Drivers doing alternate 30 minute stints, each one requiring complete concentration and muscular focus.

Three hours on, three hours off. And when off, grab some sleep. At first this seemed impossible, lying below decks in damp bunks, the air smelling like you had your head inside a sweaty sock. The engine roaring - delivering winch power - the tortured grinding of the winches themselves and easing sheets sounding like a thousand cats fighting. The vessel shifting beneath you like a nasty earthquake. But by my second three-hour break my body did me proud, shut the maelstrom out and sleep I did.

We had to keep the Paracel Islands - which China and Vietnam are squabbling over - to the east. There was talk of resolving the dispute by planting the Aussie flag on those islands but the prospect of a race record beckoned. Lucky for them eh?

We mostly had 15 - 26 knots of breeze so Ragamuffin was at full pace. We sat consistently between 18 and 24 knots of boat speed. The pace was exhilarating but the extraordinary power that produced that pace was something to behold. When fully loaded with mainsail and A3 (spinnaker) in 20+ knots of breeze she generates 100 tons of pressure. So if you get your hand or arm or leg in the wrong spot and get sucked into a block.... send what's left to the sausage makers.

On the morning of the second day a sea bird appeared behind us. It was different to anything I'd seen, more like a raptor than a bird and with a call like a wounded Hyena. Then there were three and then six: couldn't figure it out. We weren't cleaning fish or throwing rubbish but they gathered in increasing numbers and made spearing dives, swooping inches above turbulent seas as though guided by F111 terrain radar. But for what purpose? Aha! I bore witness to a flying fish spear up into the sky in search of safety.... only to be snaffled by a “raptor'. And thus it was, in the end about 20 of these magnificent creatures feasting courtesy of the terror Ragamuffin evoked among surprisingly large numbers of flying fish.

It seemed the plethora of Chinese & Vietnamese fishing boats we had to dodge didn't leave much wriggle room for fish populations. Along with the Hong Kong rubbish parade, I feared for our planet. Then we speared through the back of another wave, generated another Bondi Roller and as the waters drained, there were a dozen squid wriggling wildly desperately on deck. We’d ploughed straight through a school of them and I was pretty bloody pleased to see the ocean hasn’t given up.

AIS Navigation meant we had visual contact with virtually all vessels in our vicinity and they had contact with us. But when you're going flat out in a power-to-weight monster, you're substantially at the mercy of the wind. So it can appear you're well clear of a vessel when a gust hits and you have to bareaway. Travelling at 25 knots, you suddenly found ourselves head-to-head with a fishing vessel and the faces of the family on board spoke of tightening sphincters. Fortunately the breeze eased slightly and we bare up, passing 30 meters to their west, soaking up the waving and whoops of joy from the Vietnamese family. We'd do well to infect the whole planet with the goodwill one experiences at sea.

At first I tried to be really useful and in the process, made like a young bloke. In Syd’s absence, I was the oldest bloke on board so I had grey power on my side. The mind was good but the body faltered and in grabbing a rogue sheet and giving it my all, something in my neck disconnected like tearing muscle or a bullied bone. Thus, I felt hobbled. With the injury and other ramifications of age, I must have at times looked like a rock crab trying to navigate a steep slope of ice as I made my way around the vessel. I slipped into a sort of survival mode and felt thoroughly intimidated, like a batsman stepping away to leg in the face of a fierce quick. My son Jack identified the crab on an ice slope and the night was peppered by his inquiries as to my wellbeing.

One has to thank the great nation of Japan for delivering Tomo Terakawa to our midst. Her responsibility was to provide food and drinks to the hard working crew. I don't think she slept at all and as I scuttled by crab-like on a pitching, slippery deck, Tomo came by carrying five cups of tea and a plate of food as though taking a stroll down Bondi Promenade. Always willing to fulfill whatever request was made with her catch cry 'yis', the passion for her endeavour moved with her like a halo. Yes, hats off to Tomo.

Like so many great Australian sailors, David Witt has prospered under the guidance of Syd Fisher. He has come of age as a leader of men and when it comes to the blood and guts management of a Supermaxi, there was never any doubt as to what needed to happen next. Nor what the goal was: “win the race and be people friendly”. A 14-year-old Hong Kong based sailor got to drive Ragamuffin in the lead-up regatta. The look on her face said “definitely one of the outstanding experiences of my life”. Witty is an antivenin to political correctness. He can get away with saying things the rest of us barely dare to imagine. If in port you needed to know the location of the Team Ragamuffin crew, you just stop and listen for the roars of laughter. The monastically inclined would struggle for a spot on the Ragamuffin.

In the end, we were first in by 13 hours and more than 100 nautical miles. Witty kept everyone sharp. He predicted a drop in breeze behind us provided every chance of winning handicap. I suspect he gilded the lilly when reporting handicap positions and thus we all kept shoulders to the wheel.

Ragamuffin completed the 680 nautical miles in 41hours and broke the record by 35 minutes. At times the journey had felt like torture. On arrival, elation and camaraderie flooded the veins. Crikey, it turned into a hug-fest!

This event - as much a great race in its own right - is seen by Syd Fisher and his team as a warm up for the Sydney to Hobart. Up until now I'm not sure Wild Oats and Comanche have given bona fides to Ragamuffin's challenge. With a little luck with conditions, Ragamuffin is in my view a big chance to cause them regret for this stance.