Volvo Ocean Race - Comical insight from Dongfeng Race Team

by Dongfeng Race Team on 9 Jan 2015 Volvo Ocean Race 2014-15 - Today Sam Greenfield gives us a comical yet accurate insight into the intensity of living next to an obsessed navigator. It’s easy to become obsessed with the small amounts of information about your competitors – boat speed, position reports every few hours. There’s not a lot to do onboard except analyse, discuss and analyse some more. Dongfeng holding their lead for now with Team Brunel, their Dutch competitors are only a few miles behind. It’s a game of cat and mouse.

Leg three, Day five – The hunt for the red October

Pascal is biting his nails again.

He looks like a French submarine commander from a Cold War movie. If he could smoke his cigarettes down here, no question, he would.

But I don’t know any French submarine movies, so to me he’s a French Sean Connery, running from a Dutch Jack Ryan.
His eyes are glued to Brunel’s AIS data on the nav chart. They’re still the only boat in range. You’d think we were dodging depth charges.

'Boatspeed. Eleven point four. Bearing. One ninety-eight,' he says into a microphone When he’s not biting his nails he buries his face in his weather hand and mutters French obscenities.

All the lights are out down below. The chart screen illuminates his weary face.

'Ten point nine. One eighty eight.'

Pascal’s numbers echo through every square meter of the boat’s black carbon belly, lost on the four sailors soundly asleep on the floor up forward. They rise onto deck to more attentive ears.

It’s 0800UTC and the air on deck is clean and warm and the moon as just started to rise and it chokes out the milky way and dims the expanse of stars overhead that Eric had been driving along to; locking his spreaders onto the most convenient constellation to keep his orientation.

The numbers continue: 'Eleven point two. One ninety five.'

Tomas trims the sails as a F1 driver shifts gears.

When Pascal’s numbers reach the two they can compare their own speed and bearing to the flickering masthead light on the horizon. Know your enemy.

The scene on deck is a far cry from Pascal’s moonless war desk. Imagine the wide-open chases from Master and Commander, and the Dutch Archeron has closed the gap down to two nautical miles.

That’s why Pascal is biting his nails.

Charles is sleeping in the front of the boat on a pile of crew bags until Pascal rouses him and the two walk back to the nav station where they compare their data with Brunel’s.

'Tonight is an important decision,' explains Charles.

'It’s maybe the only gybe left on this leg and you have to choose a good position because then you have 600 to 1000 miles to pass the India coast. So where you gybe is going to be your position compared to the fleet for the next four days.'

The two rise from their desk and walk up on deck together.

'If you gybe too early,' he continues, 'it’s a big mess because you are going to be in light wind. If you gybe too late you lose a lot of distance because right now we’re sailing 90 degrees of the coast. So it’s difficult to choose and it’s a key point of the leg.'

Charles takes the helm from Eric and tells Pascal to wake the crew for a gybe.

'If we do a good gybe tonight and are fast I think we’ll be able to keep the lead for the next four days so it’s very important.'

The young sailors clamor on deck and everyone is at their station and rubbing tired eyes in less than 60 seconds. There are no red flashing lights or battle station calls, but it feels the same none the less.

We gybe and the crew off watch returns to their bunks.

When the sun rises Kevin is at the help and Brunel is eight miles behind us.

‘The Dutch sailors behind us’ are mentioned and Kevin breaks his driver’s trance.

'Bahhwah? They are Dutch?'

'You didn’t know?' I ask. 'I can’t believe that.'

I ask Tomas and he replies matter of factly: 'Well… I knew they were Dutch, but I never knew Bouwe was, so…. No.'
Kevin continues.

'Well, Bouwe, I thought he could be American, sure, but Dutch? I had no idea.'

They’re baffled.

So much for know your enemy, but I suppose that means our Dutch nemesis would make a fitting Jack Ryan after all.