Volvo Ocean Race - Anything can happen in the Doldrums

by Corinna Halloran on 24 Oct 2014 Volvo Ocean Race 2014-15, Day 12 onboard Team SCA. This morning the boat was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, shortly after sun up we were hooning along in 20kts in a torrential downpour, by late afternoon we were sailing backwards, and who knows what tonight will bring.

The morning also brought a 'sked' (position report) that proved: anything can happen in the doldrums. Last night, before sundown we finally caught up to Alvimedica having fought our way back—they were eight nautical miles away. Within a span of eight miles we had completely different wind and they took off, and by the morning sked, they were twenty miles ahead.

'Skeds' are dangerous. 'They can definitely be demoralizing,' Abby said. And, when you’re feeling slow, like the doldrums are entirely against you, the last thing you want to hear is you’re 120 nautical miles behind the leader. Nor do you want to hear that you have 100 nautical miles to sail until you’re out of the doldrums.

But, there’s something strangely powerful about the doldrums—something I haven’t really seen before (in my small number of offshore miles). The best way I can describe it is: sheer power. Out here, you honestly feel the power of the ocean. With still calm water and clouds that just keep going up, you feel tiny—a little dot in the ocean, incredibly vulnerable to whatever the ocean decides to send your way.

Out here, you feel the power of the Earth—a feeling often lost on land—a feeling as if you are 'allowed' to be here, but only under strict super vision. Perhaps that’s why the King Neptune ceremony, despite the dead fish gruel, makes all the sense in the world. We are only allowed to be here, allowed only by King Neptune and his court—by no means is it a permanent residence.

The doldrums is an incredibly surreal place. Like I said this morning: everything is dramatic. It’s almost like a bad film: one you want to look away from and see again, but one you can’t help but watch and become engrossed in.

Rainsqualls pass through beams of sunlight and the raindrops (falling in sheets) look like burst of electricity on the sea’s surface. A bird of prey (not a seabird!) takes a rest on our spreader. Rainbows form and find their way onto the boat (sorry no gold!). In the morning, through the smallest of holes in the clouds, a blood red sun reveals itself for thirty seconds. A push and pull between peace and constant activity. Blue clouds, white clouds, pink clouds, black clouds, grey clouds, puffy clouds, squirrel shaped clouds, thunderclouds, hazy clouds—they’re all here and they’re all here for us to just watch. Here for us to simply experience.

Frustrations mount as high as the clouds as thunderstorms pass near and suck our wind away. All day we stare at clouds on the horizon, hoping a small amount of pressure will come to us and stick with us—carry us through and out of this strange, dramatic place.

Our time here is fleeting and we’re all excited to get out, but it’s such a visually alive place that it will be impossible to forget. So yes today wasn’t easy, by any means, but it was one of those days where you can’t help but think: I am incredibly fortunate to experience this place… this strange, strange place. Team SCA website