Australian's Mini Transat Leg 2 – Definitely the most ‘solo’ of solos

by Simon McGoldrick on 9 Nov 2009
The Charente-Maritime/Bahia Transat 6.50 and 85 solo sailors were on starting line for the 17th Transatlantic event, a journey of 4200NM from La Rochelle, France to Bahia, Brazil.

Australian Simon McGoldrick sailed AUS 587 (Pogo 2) in the race.

Simon's report:

First it was the sweet smell of coconut and the jungle. Moments later some lights popped up over the horizon. Land. Brazil!! I had made it. From the dust laden skies and boiling sea of the African coast, to the angry, heavy squalls of the doldrums – I had overcome the obstacles and arrived without incident. The third and youngest Australian to complete the race in its 32 year history! Nothing could dampen the elation of having crossed the Atlantic in a 21ft boat!

The mainsail came down for the first time in three weeks and I arrived at the dock to the sound of firecrackers and my nominated song at full volume. I was handed a Caipirinha by a beautiful lady in traditional dress, and before I could savour the last drops was sideswiped into the murky harbour for a welcome dunking. I was shaking as I tried to walk along the dock, trying to keep on my feet after not having moved in any direction for a distance greater than six metres during the previous three weeks!

Soon enough the committee arrived to inspect my tracker, which had shut down a few days after clearing the doldrums, and caused everyone ashore to worry about my safety. My transom was covered in rust, which it turns out was coming from inside the tracker! The unit was full of water, and totally trashed!

So how was leg two? The most significant thing, which I had totally underestimated, was how remote and isolated it could be. Not so much for me in a personal sense, I was very comfortable alone on the boat, but more isolation from weather and race information. After exiting the doldrums until reaching the Brazilian coast, more than seven days, the radio went totally dead and my HF reception worsened to the point that I didn’t bother trying to hear the daily forecast and positions. I simply had no idea where the fleet was, which made strategic decisions tricky. And the weather? I had to go by the seasonal averages for the area, so was then a little surprised when the wind went NNE quite some time before reaching the coast! I was too far east when this happened and lost out. This is one of the main challenges of the Mini Transat, you have little information at your fingertips, and indeed sometimes the wisest option is to stick close to the Rhumbline.

Prior to the doldrums, the race was no less interesting. We departed Madera in the middle of a stationery low. It was wet, windy, and everything was coming from the wrong direction! We sailed upwind in horrible seas for two days to reach the Canary Islands. The boats were loaded, 140l of water and food for 25days, the motion was stiff and with so much power we were slicing through the waves (instead of bouncing off them as usual). It was just too wet up on deck and there was even whinging on the radio, especially from the prototypes. The most luxurious accompanying boat, a Beneteau 57, sailed past and asked me to smile for the camera. All they got was a grimace as I saw them waving from the comfort of their cushioned cockpit in the shelter of a huge dodger! Grrrhhh.

On approaching the Canaries, I elected to shoot the gap between Tenerife and Gomera. This was a risky move, but it worked out ok and waiting on the other side were calmer seas and favourable winds. I was amidst the leading bunch but it didn’t take much time to lose VHF contact. I headed more to the SE and the developing Trade winds, which was the suggested move on leaving Madera. Yet it seems many continued on the Rhumbline and had enough wind! Bugger! By the time the trades set in they had covered less distance, and back in 20th place or so I once again had a battle on my hands.

I worked very hard through the strong NE trades on route to the Cape Verde Islands, gybing on the shifts and keeping powered up. Sleep was a rare commodity and the confused sea state made it tough for the autopilot. Things would seem balanced, you’d go below to make some food or navigate, then find yourself leaping back outside as the boat wiped out. A cross sea wave would catch the transom and just spin the boat around. The sky was yellow with dust from the Sahara, and the sea a steely grey, not quite my memory of the trades and at times a very eerie atmosphere. Yet these tough times lasted for only two or three days, and from the Cap Verdes to the Doldrums the days were bliss. Ten to twenty knots of wind, moderate seas and finally the opportunity to catch up on sleep. Moreover, I managed to have some boats around for once, and even though they were French they still made good company on the radio! I had caught back up to 11th place and was optimistic, especially after being becalmed for 18hrs in the first leg, that I would be dealt a good hand in the doldrums.

Slowly the Trade wind clouds started to grow higher and as I crossed my waypoint at 10N, I hit my first doldrums storm. The wind rose to 35kts, and after tucking three reefs in the main and one in the genoa, it all died away! Well not quite, in fact I experienced very few calms in the entire passage, there always seemed to be a bit of gradient. It was only on day two that I got stuck for a few hours – a powerful cloud I was approaching just evaporated leaving nothing. And it was this day that the stragglers (some were more than 50nm behind before the doldrums) caught up, they were lucky. There was little to be done, it was very frustrating, but that’s the doldrums! I exited after only two days into SW winds and lumpy seas, 24th place, ouch!

My hands were a flaking mess of white skin and once again everything was damp. There was still 1600nm to go. My right knee was swollen and sore, not quite the size of a football but close, and I was moving around the boat like a very old arthritic man who had forgotten his anti inflammatory tablets. It was time for anti-biotics.

According to all my weather notes, in SW winds the best route was that which takes you furthest South, in this case Starboard tack. So I continued into the night on this, tacking back to the West on the shift and to consolidate, then another afternoon to Starboard until the wind shifted permanently to the south. It was these moves, which were always on the most Southing of the tacks, which took me away from the pack. Some found SE winds immediately on exiting the doldrums and just went straight on port tack, off to the West. I was out of the bunch and totally out of VHF contact, which didn’t help when the tracker stopped. Apparently people were calling me all the time, yet I heard nothing and could do nothing to revive the unit. I had a personal Epirb on me all the time, plus the unit on the boat, I hoped those ashore would weigh up the odds of me not being able to activate either in the case of emergency. Still, there is always the uncertainty.

Despite coming in at 20th (from 49), I was very happy with everything else. The boat arrived with only a broken vang tang and a damaged batten pocket on the main. No torn sails or spinnakers, no electrical problems, I was very fortunate and pleased that the months of preparation had paid off. Also very grateful for the support of Compositeworks, Ronstan, FSE Robline and BC Rigging, who helped ensure I had the best gear. I had lost less weight than expected and was not desperately craving certain foods, testament to a balanced diet. Mind you, when presented with a tender filet mignon served on coffee gravy the day after arrival, I devoured it like I had not eaten for the entire passage!

Geoff Duniam, the other Australian competing in an identical Pogo 2, arrived a couple of days later. He overcame a successsion of obstacles including a broken tiller and speedo sensor, which meant greatly reduced control under Autopilot. Not to mention just sailing the boat, Geoff is hardly 'mini' at almost 7ft and to survive 3 weeks in the little 6.5m wedge is a real achievement!

www.simonmcgoldrick.com