I’m in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean right now sailing as
a media crew on Jörg Reicher’s Class 40 Mare
with co-skipper Ryan Braymaier in the Atlantic Cup. What follows is my running
diary of the race.
Day 1: Why is it that the hardest part of any race is
getting on and off the dock? 4 pm was dock call, and with German efficiency the
motor was on and running at 4. The only problem was that no one checked to see
if the engine was able to go into gear before we untied from the dock. In a
place as tidal as Charleston, this could turn into disaster in a major hurry.
With impending disaster looming, my first media man crisis was should I help to
avert disaster, or stand by with the camera running? Since it was pre-race, and
I was being asked rather firmly to pitch in, the camera was left off as we
tried to raise the main and keep from running aground in the narrow channel by
the Charleston Marine Center. Once the sails were up, my time as a sailor
officially ended, and it was into cameraman mode for the next three days.
Compared to other more “traditional” 40 footers, the Class
40 is amazingly roomy down below. With a wide beam, high form stability, and a
deck stepped mast, the interior feels like a big bright room. We even have
windows for light, and as opposed to the current crop of jet back carbon hulls,
the fiberglass hull of Mare is
actually translucent enough to all you to see the water rushing by its side.
Yet with all that space, I’m always in the way! Can’t use the pipe berth,
that’s for the sleeping crew. Can’t sit at the little molded seat that forms
the nav station either, since the weather grib files always seem to arrive 10
minutes after I start downloading video. The cockpit is small and lined by high
comings for crew safety, so I always seem to be in the way there too. I can’t
even sit on deck at the start, since the camera people want to see doublehanded
sailors, not a media guy. Finally after a bit of searching, I found my “office”
in the aft stacking bay on the weather side. There’s a great view out of the
transom safety hatch to judge speed. For the next few days I’ll sleep, edit
video, and write from this cocoon, at least until I’m in the way here too.
Maybe it’s easier on a Volvo 70, there’s more space in which to hide and more
people to blend in with.
The other big challenge being a media man is finding stuff.
Every other time I’ve gone offshore, I know the boat and the crew well. For the
Atlantic Cup, however we only had a few quick hours to chat prior to the event.
Every small daily life event now requires a question. “Where’s the water?”,“How
do I use the turbo heater without blowing up the boat?”, and last but certainly
not least, “ Bucket, bag, or transom?”
With all of this personal drama, it’s amazing there was
actually time for a sailboat race! Our prestart plan was to start at the pin,
lead the fleet to the turning mark, extend in the tacking duel out of the 2
mile jetty, and then sail as fast as possible due east to find the Gulf Stream.
The only problem was that we were late to the start by about 30 seconds and
were now forced to play catch up right from the start. As bad as out day was,
it was about to be worse for Hannah Jenner and XXXXX on 40 Degrees. Just past the first turning mark, 40 Degrees was just to leeward of us when the always gut wrenching
sound of cracking carbon fiber was heard across the harbor. Their mast had
failed just above the first spreader, and the Atlantic Cup was down to 14
teams. On Mare, we were about 12th.
Maybe we could tack our way to a better position, since we’d need to do it
about 10 times before reaching the open ocean.
Tacking out of the jetty was interesting to say the least.
In yesterday’s skipper’s meeting we were promised that there would be no
commercial shipping in the harbor during the start time. That statement proved
to be no good as no less than 5 ships were transiting as we were starting. It
can be a real sickening feeling having an 800 foot container ship bearing down
on you when you are short tacking between stone walls and shallows. We even
managed to bump aground once avoiding a ship. Through all that insanity, we did
manage to pass some boats and were someplace around 6th when we
could finally put and end to the tacking. If only we could have put away going
to windward!
The fastest way to make it to the Gulf Stream while still
making sensible VMG to New York was to aim for a place off the North Carolina
coast called Frying Pan Shoals. To get there, we were looking at nearly 12
hours of starboard tack beat in a dying northeasterly breeze. Onboard Mare, Ryan, Jörg, and I were learning
how to get along together. With the accrued skill of a world circumnavigator,
Ryan is the model of nonchalance. Nothing is a problem to him as long as we
stick to our plan and execute it. That means sailing in full upwind mode, even
as teams around us our starting to crack sheets and go faster. “Our goal is to
be outside everyone and first to the stream. The French don’t know how to sail upwind;
they just love cracking off a bit to feel good. Don’t follow them.” Was Ryan’s
constant mantra. Jörg, however, can’t sit still. He is constantly fidgeting
with every part of the boat. One second he’s moving the stack, the next second
he’s dashing about the cockpit making small sail adjustments, then he’s off to
add water ballast. It’s quickly clear that he’s obsessed with boatspeed, while
Ryan will manage the bigger strategic picture.
Day quickly becomes night, and I was once again reminded of
the true beauty of a starry night sky. On the horizon behind us, mast top
lights went from red to green as Mare
continued to fight for upwind height. Through smart boatspeed and tactics, we
had worked ourselves up to second behind Campange
de France and just ahead of rival Talan
Bureau Veritas. At the time we were just ahead and to leeward of Talan, when she decided to abandon her
upwind strategy and begin to sail to shore. Putting the boat under autopilot,
the crew soon deployed their code zero. In the process, they came tearing down
on us, nearly causing a collision. We were confident in our decision to
continue to the Gulf Stream, and the race for first was on.
Dawn and Frying Pan Shoals lighthouse greeted us together on
Saturday morning. Here, we could first start the effect of the Gulf Stream
pulling us north, but the major current push was still further offshore. The
major tactical decision of the day would be whether to bear off and set a code
zero. By doing so, we would sail less distance to New York, but we would have
to wait a bit longer to hit the Gulf Stream proper. Since we had worked hard to
position ourselves as the most offshore boat, we waited for Campange to bear away, then played the
growing clouds near the Gulf Stream for local breeze advantage. Finally at
about midday, we finally put the bow down towards New York, and Ryan and Jörg
busied themselves with hoisting the code zero.
Changing sails on a doublehanded boat isn’t a simple, or
quick, procedure. Getting everything assembled for the code zero hoist took
nearly 10 minutes, so you need to make sure the sail call is correct, and not
need to be reversed in 10 minutes. By the time our zero was up and flying, we
saw a boat come over the horizon, much further offshore than us. Bodacious Dream had followed our plan,
but they took it all the way to the Stream, while we had elected to cut the
corner. Putting the zero away, tacking, and going to cover Dream was discussed,
but in the end viewed as too costly. For the rest of day one and part of Day 2,
we’d watch our competitors roll us and pass on over the horizon.
Day 2
With the zero up and flying, our next waypoint was Cape
Hattaras. At some point prior to Hattaras, we would reach the western wall of
the Gulf Stream and a reported current of up to 4 knots. The sooner we got that
current, the faster we would do to the rest of the fleet what Bodacious Dream did to us. As night
fell, the wind slowly started to back and increase and our Mach 40 Class 40
really came alive. The only light on the horizon was Bodacious Dream and we
were determined to catch her by morning. With each knot of new wind, the gap
between Dream and us shrunk. By 4 am,
the call was made to peel to the code 5 kite to bear off and pass them. With
sheer power, Mare was able to sail
under and around the Dream, giving us
what we thought was the lead. Wind speeds continued to increase into the mid
teens and back enough to let us hoist the big kite. Ever since, the day has
been nothing short of champagne sailing. Right now, we are on starboard gybe,
and averaging a little over 15 knots over the ground for the day, thanks to a
healthy 4-knot push from the Gulf Stream. At this point, a 350 to 375 mile day
looks to be in the clouds. Not too shabby for a 40 foot boat in 14 knots of
breeze! From the latest position report, our strategy has worked quite well. We
have put 7 miles between ourselves and Bodacious
Dream, and 40 miles between Talan,
the boat that nearly hit us on the first night and ourselves.
We are approaching the point in
the Gulf Stream where it begins to bend east and are planning our departure strategy.
Ryan has identified a warm eddy that he thinks we can hook into to give us a
further push to New York. To get it, we need to gybe around 7pm to get it. From
there, the warm eddy should deposit us near the Jersey Shore sometime around
daybreak on Day 3. In the meantime, Jörg is driving his boat like a man
possessed while Ryan catches a nap. On Mare
each crewmember sleeps when they find it necessary, and I don’t think either
one has slept for more than 6 hours for the duration of the race. Ryan looked exhausted;
Jörg looks like he can drive until the tiller is pried from his hands. Given
his average speeds of late, I think we’d all be perfectly content to let him
carry on, as we are doing nearly 20 knots over the bottom right now. I’m off to
cook up some freeze-dried food for dinner. Mare does not have a galley. To heat
up water for the freeze dried, there is a small Jetboil water heater. It heats
the water really fast, but every time I start it, I worry that my hand will be
burnt off! Day 2 has been pretty good to us. Hopefully we can keep the momentum
alive through day 3.
Day 3:
All good things must come to an
end, and that was certainly the case when we tried to exit the Gulf Stream and
pursue a warm eddy off Georges Bank that we thought would propel us home. The
Gulf Stream produces a lot of energy, and with that energy comes unique micro
weather systems that don’t show up on any grib file. For us that meant going
from sailing straight at New York at 12 knots to wallowing around with the
sails slatting for an hour as we transitioned from the Stream proper to the
eddy current. For Jörg and Ryan,
the atmospheric instability meant a new sail change every 10 minutes or so,
draining much of their physical stamina. In addition, the mental burden of
knowing that we were stopped while our competitors were now making up valuable
ground was causing ample frustration. As darkness descended, we were finally
able to re-hoist the big kite and again make decent progress to New York. It’s
times like this here being a media crewmember suck. My job means that I cannot
help or hinder the crew, so as they are toiling away, I’m forced to just sit
there and watch. After years of racing, my gut instinct is to do something,
anything, to make their lives easier, but the only thing I can do is to try to
be invisible.
Determined to regain the miles we
lost, Jörg and Ryan worked straight through the night, yet by 5am Monday
morning, the image of Bodacious Dream
was back on the horizon. At this point, we are fully out of the Gulf Stream and
the weather has turned cold and grey, aptly matching the mood onboard. With
only 100 or so miles to go to New York, the mission is to extend our tenuous
lead back to the point where we had it the night before. Throughout the
morning, we were stuck in a bubble of high pressure, and were lucky to manage 8
knots of speed towards the finish. By 11 am, we were finally close enough to
shore to gybe onto starboard and wait for the Jersey Shore to heat up enough to
give us some sea breeze to help us along. Our main competitors seem to have
stayed offshore, so this move needs to be the right one; otherwise we not have
any more passing lanes for the rest of the race.
Fortunately for us, the pressure
and angle favored our inshore position, and we started chewing up miles to New
York. There was a lot of leverage between us and Campange, who were way out to the east along with Bodacious Dream. They had to come back,
and when they did the angle appeared to be just behind us. Sure enough, a few
hours later the green and orange mainsail of Campange appeared behind us, and amazingly they sailed right down
to our line before gybing back. With their leverage now gone, the race should
be in the bag, right?
No race is ever sailed perfectly;
it is won by minimizing mistakes. In doublehanded racing, mistakes happen when
teams don’t sleep for nearly 3 and a half days. Ryan and Jörg were lucky to get
maybe 10 hours, and none in the last 22 hours of the race. That fatigue led to
a short layline call near Sandy Hook that opened the door for Campange to take
the lead. They got some current relief and better pressure, and our 2-mile lead
was gone. After 700 miles of racing, we were down to a gibing duel to the
finish, right up until Campange wrapped their kite in a gybe. One mistake in
700 miles was the difference between first and second place.
New York at night is a fantastic
place to finish a race. With the reflection of the new Freedom Tower glancing
off the water at the finish, our adventure had come to an end at 1:30 Tuesday
morning with a victory. Jörg Reicher’s Mare is still undefeated in ocean races,
after first winning this winter’s Solidare du Chocolat. After docking, Jörg and
Ryan were surrounded by media before finally being freed to get much deserved
sleep. For me, it’s off to Penn Station and a return to real life. Maybe I’ll
get some sleep too.
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