Cape Breton Island Crew Diary - Jane Filbee

by Jane Filbee on 22 Feb 2010 Cape Breton Island – by Jane Filbee – 11th February - Life Below: The real story

This has by a country mile been the longest windward leg of my life. The sailing itself is great. Love helming her when there is a good breeze. Down below a different story, entering into day eight of going to windward, life below at thirty plus degrees of heel constantly is starting to grind on me/us. Constantly bracing, sudden jarring as we hit rogue waves, roller coaster sleep attempts up in the forepeak, sad thing is, the tough stuff is yet to come and the countdown seems to be two to three days. On the flip side, it is amazing how after a while you don't really notice it (except for the sleep issue on the bow). I happily hang out below reading - something in all my years of sailing I was convinced that I could not do without getting seasick, a great revelation.

So as I can't keep talking about stars and phosphorescence and sea life I guess it is time to talk about life on board below. Into day eight and no there are no shower facilities. In fact there is absolutely no water in the heads other than salt. With this limitation, personal hygiene becomes quite an art. You actually get down to quite a system, knowing exactly how many wet wipes it takes to get clean (or at least as clean as one can hope until the luxury of that first shower). We all stock up on our personal supply of wet wipes to ensure it gets us through the race. As for the hair - as long as it is tied back it actually is fine. Have discovered some 'put in dry' conditioner that keeps it manageable. The rest gets fixed when we hit land. You can't imagine how good that first shower feels! I'm thinking about it already - too bad I have a week and a half yet to wait...

Mother watch... I am so lucky with this one. There is about twenty four hours of light air that we have to get through before we hit the winds just off of Taiwan, and this twenty four hours is actually over my mother watch. This means flat seas and minimal heel. Chores down below in these conditions take literally half the time and with one quarter the bruises! Mother watch consists of more than just the food. There are no automatic bilge pumps on this boat, so the bilges have to be pumped out daily by hand into a bucket and emptied overboard - this lack of bilge pumps seems a bit of overkill to me. All surfaces down below have to be wiped down with anti-bacterial solution daily (twice a day in this heat) to try and prevent build up of mould and spread of infection in this crowded space and of course the most enjoyable job - cleaning the heads - you just have to put on the rubber gloves and get over it. We have a sit down rule on the boat so that the heads don't get totally disgusting when the boat is heeling a lot. Unfortunately I'm coming to the conclusion that most males are truly narcissistic. While they fully embrace the rule, individually they seem to be convinced that they alone have perfect aim. They deny but silhouettes through the head curtain don't lie!?
With extra time today we scrubbed the galley and companionway floors. They had become so greasy that we were all slipping badly when heeled over. Even with all this, I still had time to take advantage of this wind lull to actually wash my hair (mother watch privilege) in salt with a fresh water rinse. Feels so good, next one will definitely be on land.

Managing people dynamics after many days at sea with such close quarters becomes challenging at times. The only place to escape for private time is in your bunk. Other than this we live on top of each other. Personality clashes are inevitable. While most of us have learnt the tolerance needed to live in such confined space, small things can set you off and tension can build. For survival we somehow do manage to get through these and over time gain a respect for each other’s personal space. Long term I am happy to say that as a group we are getting on quite well.

...Eight hours later... A frustrating day for the watches as we are stuck in a wind hole while the fleet catches us up. Working below on mother watch insulated me from the frustration; however I'm back on watch now. Moods are down as we try and get something going in terms of boat speed. Then after a beautiful sunset once the last of the dusk light left the sky, some dolphins decided to play around our bow as it was the only movement of water at all. With the water almost glass calm; the phosphorescence sparkled like brilliant stars. I went up to the bow and just stood there for half an hour mesmerized by the explosions of light and sound as the dolphins broke the water’s surface. It was like fireworks, fantastic. It reminded me what I love about ocean sailing. It is not the competition of the race - I can get that going around the cans at home. It is about the nights. Each one is unique and special. At night sounds are louder, speeds feel higher, the senses are just magnified. Whether it is the sailing itself, watching the stars or seeing a sight such as tonight, these are all so special that they burn permanently in your memory.

Cape Breton Island standing by.