Mast climb leaves Dee battered and bruised

by Dee Caffari on 28 Feb 2006 Feeling battered and bruised, I was thankful for the consistently strong winds. Aviva was set for them and that meant that I could concentrate on rest and trying to get some sleep as I had only managed a couple of hours in the last couple of days.

We were back to being hard on the wind in strong conditions and that meant the return of the mountaineering feats below decks which was fine apart from I was finding it difficult to hold on or pull myself from the low side. Using my left arm to swing round grab rails was a no go. So everything was made twice as hard again.

The night saw consistently strong winds and a huge confused sea. The waves feel as if they are getting bigger as I progress along the Southern Ocean. There were some very big holes in the ocean that Aviva fell down and the noise from the sudden jarring of the rig was colossal. The waves producedsome huge amounts of water to ship along the deck. We are talking green water breaking on the yacht rather than spray being blown across the deck.

I was lying with my eyes closed feigning sleep, with a blanket wrapped around me and my left arm supported so that nothing would touch the bruising. I was listening to the wild noises from deck. Everything was so loud. The rushing of water along the leeward deck that was underwater, the whistling of the wind in the bare rigging aloft, the creaking of the headsail sheet taking the strain on the winch, the slamming of the waves against the hull, the movement of the tools in the toolbox, the swinging foul weather gear in the wet locker.

All these noises took part in the symphony of sailing to windward in gale force winds. The motion was uncomfortable as the sea was so huge. Massive dumps of seawater were being deposited in the cockpit, desperately trying to find its way inside. As you can probably tell this all made sleep a little difficult. Rest is a more appropriate term.

The good news is that my left arm is feeling a little better today but is an impressive array of colours now as the bruising to the surrounding area has come out and joined the gaps in the pattern. It will take some time to return to normal, but I tacked this morning as dawn broke, not very neatly and it took some time to wind the headsail sheet but everything worked, as it should.

We are looking for a little respite today as we prepare for what is looking like a windy week ahead.

Dee & Aviva


RECEIVED AT 23H40 25TH FEBRUARY 2006

Yesterday was an interesting day. The wind was easing from 30 knots for a few hours before returning to strong winds again. I have been having trouble with my wind instruments that are read off a wand at the top of the mast ever since the lightening storm we went through. We have a spare wand aloft and although I have changed to this wand it is intermittent with its figures of wind speed and apparent wind speed.

I had also obviously decided that sailing single-handed around the world non stop against the prevailing winds and currents was not enough of a challenge and I needed to up my physical challenges on a daily basis so my plan was to go aloft when the weather allowed and retrieve the main wind wand and change the electronic boards within. The job of taking one apart is a little fiddly and the last thing I wanted to do was drop a vital part so my preference was to go aloft and retrieve the wand, work on it down below and then return up there and replace the wand. It sounded easy and I was up for doing this. When the wind speed dropped from 30 knots to 12 knots I decided this was my window of opportunity.

Before I left, I was told that every solo sailor has to go aloft at some stage so I need to grunt up and get on with. That's fine after all I had managed it before in the Atlantic, but even so there is something strange about going aloft when alone onboard and watching your yacht sail herself while you scale great heights. The other reason that I always talk about it is that I am someone that doesn't like heights and because it is part of my job I deal with it and get on with it but even so I still have this feeling of nervousness and trepidation.

When I first started driving, when I went anywhere I was asked to call my mum when I got there so she knew I had arrived safely. That was fine but then there are those times when you arrive too early to be able to tell your mum so you need to wait a while or you arrive and start doing something else or see someone else and before you know it time has flown by and you have forgotten to call home. Meanwhile mum is still pacing the kitchen fraught with worry. Yesterday was a bit like that with my shore team, they paced until they heard from me again.

I donned my protective jacket and helmet and set up for the climb. It was evening and I wanted to beat the light fading. I had shaken out the reefs in the mainsail so there was just one remaining and the wind had dropped to around 12 - 14 knots. The wind speed may have eased but I had not given the swell chance to ease. I began my climb as an all conquering hero and rapidly the journey changed and I became a rag doll. I got as far as just under the second spreaders and knew this mission was doomed to failure. I was taking a beating and being thrown around the rig too frequently to make ascent realistic. I made the decision then that I need to descend again and try another time.

The waves that sprayed the bow with water felt like enormous storm waves up the rig as all movement is accentuated massively aloft. Trying to climb and also hold on to reduce the pendulum effect was creating problems for myself. In hindsight I should have sat on the second spreader to change to descend but instead once I decided just short of the second spreader that I needed to return to deck level, I tried changing straight away. With all my weight on the climbing gear I was struggling to change from ascend to descend. It would be one of those moments where you want to cry because you can't do it, unfortunately in solo sailing that is a waste of energy because you have to do it and sort it out as no one else is there to help.

After an hour and a half I had made it back to deck level again and I was spent. The light was fading and the ominous band of cloud that had urged me to sort my problems out and fast rolled towards us. As I retrieved all the gear and put it below I took my clothes off to reveal why the pain in my left arm was so intense. I had severe bruising along the length of the underside of my upper left arm where it was pinching against the rope of the take down line that I had wrapped my arm in to help reduce the pendulum effect whilst I was sorting myself out to descend. My forearms were also fully pumped and holding anything was proving difficult as I found out when trying to hold the kettle as I put water in it.

Unfortunately, although I desperately needed to rest my arms and wanted to curl into a ball and sleep until I felt better, Aviva still needed to be sailed and over the course of the next 5 hours there was always something to do on deck. An hour after getting down I was putting the second reef in the mainsail. The wind was building and reefs and furling headsails was required. I also had to tack and that took all my concentration of strength left. I have probably furled the staysail a little early but, when I saw the gusts, I did it, as I know the wind will build and once done there was more chance of sleep as I have reduced sail by as much as I need to.

Aviva is going to have to look after me again while we pass through this stretch of strong winds and then I will be strong enough to help her again.

Rag Doll Dee & Aviva


RECEIVED AT 11H04 on 24TH FEBRUARY 2006

We return to the endless tacking back and forth, heading north for a while and then south for a while on our quest to edge our way westwards. The frontal systems we have passed through brought us rain and cloudy skies and strong winds from the west, pre