Episode 9 Sail North – Steering by the Stars

Episode 9 Sail North – Steering by the Stars

As soon as I got on the plane I thought “Why haven’t I done this more often?! It is so easy!!” All troubles and obligations and bills completely forgotten, that was yesterday stuff, I was on my way to adventure. Adventure had already begun, I was flying before dawn and it was still an amazing and captivating sight, the fluffy clouds below the massive tons of metal. Then there was a soft soft pink glow that soon turned bright gold, sunrise over the horizon below the plane. Amazing…

My travel bag was full of racing gear, the weight and bulk of the harness, tethers, torches, batteries, life jacket, sea boots, wet weather jackets/trousers, sea rug etc added up to a lot so there were very few personal items -simplicity and creative living for the next three weeks. Also had to remember to declare about the open bladed knife, gas cylinder for the life jacket, and the EPIRB.

Soon the shuttle bus plonked me in front of the Hog’s Breath Café at Mariners’ Cove near Southport Yacht Club at Gold Coast. Skipper had to moor his 34 footer Van der Stadt Savage from Melbourne there as Southport was absolutely crammed with yachts that had just finished the Sydney Southport Yacht Race. Stepping on the boat was a magic moment, my boating adventure was now REAL. Skipper said he ought to administer Valium to calm me down. The boat was actually a mess and boom-less as it and other things were being fixed/adjusted/serviced. Always something needing doing on a boat. I helped do this and that and we went to look at them boats that just finished the Sydney Southport Race. All yachts great and small bustling with yachties at various stages of ‘the morning after’, there was some mention about partying till 5 am. Caught up with a few people and chatted with some people whose names I read about before and that was exciting. Rather disappointed that the boat SULA was not there and I couldn’t get to Brunswick Heads to see it, I talked on the phone with the owner solo-circumnavigator later and thanked him for sending me a signed copy of his Manual of Yacht Navigation that had sea stains of the adventure, “As this book has sailed around the world, so one day may you”. I was very touched. Hero worship.

We then went shopping for some tools and provisions, had to walk miles, in fact half run to keep up with the six-footer lamppost. Laying out my things in the bunk for the evening was another mark that this boating adventure was real, sleeping on a boat! Woww… felt like a kid setting up in a tree house. Then a message arrived. Surprise. Magic moment. Felt as if finding a message in a bottle, found me all the way here.

Off we went in the morning to the open sea, well, coastal sea. Thrilled to bits. First time sailing one-up while Skipper was below. Two-hour watch. Full alert and 360° vigilant. In fact spherical vigilant, also watching compass, wind indicator, waves, sail, anything out of place and listening to everything. Plus the weather, the sun during the day and the moon and stars during the night. This kind of focus and awareness has been said to put a person ‘in the present’, a special state that heightens the being. Much more so during racing and any competitive sport or extreme sport, and it was said that this state is uniquely fulfilling that the person keeps coming back to it. That would explain how people are drawn to it with passion.

Poor Skipper/Navigator, he set hourly alarms to get up and check that all was well. I was no use with anything below deck and any small writing, because of being easily seasick. Except bravely sponging the bilge a few times in dead calm seas. Very kind people lent me a total of 9 books plus charts mostly on navigation, which I devoured and understood (I think), although it was like 2 weeks reading the first book and 2 hours flipping through the other 8 before returning them a few days before the trip. I was happy and confident but alert, and preferred to have Skip sleep a little longer and he did the same for me. Neither of us was any good with moving about below, in regards to sea-sickness, and not wanting to eat anything so we ended up eating ‘by duty’ things like snakes (sweets), biscuits for him, apples for me, cup-a-soup, noodle-in-a-cup.

The winds were relatively constant, we had a south-westerly and south-southwesterly between 15 – 20 knots occasionally gusting 20 – 25 knots, waves were probably around 1 to 1.5 metres but we did get soaked lots of times. Had No 2 reefs in so we didn’t have to worry about the runners. Tiller steering made it a twist-about one-sided labour. By night time it got more tiring, the tiller got heavy, the waves more playful, it became ‘battling the helm’ for me, salt water kept splashing into the eyes and constant staring at the compass got quite blurry, luckily it was ‘steering zero’ so it was relatively easy to differentiate it from the next mark of 350. By near dawn, after a 2 hour stint I said to Skipper “please do come up I am falling asleep”.

The next day got easier, Skipper left me to sleep in, the weather warmer and the wind right behind, but that meant we were surfing and sliding with some big waves such that we couldn’t quite leave the job to “Otto” the auto-helm. We were doing about 4 hour watch then and had to be disciplined, even when not tired and would rather sunbathe I made myself go down to sleep as a duty!!

All through the time of sailing one-up, being in the state of ‘in the present’, the mind was focussed and alert. In a way a bit ‘high’ in terms of being tuned out and blurred about everything else. In that state something surfaced that you grabbed onto and obeyed, it was what someone said before I left “…stay warm and dry. Remember sunscreen…”, following the instruction quite mechanically I tried to stay warm and dry and I remembered to put on sunscreen. Later the words would surface again at the fringe of consciousness, and I obeyed…

Soon we were able to leave steering to “Otto”, that was my first experience with an auto-helm. Still alert and vigilant scanning 360° and up and everywhere, particularly watching for ships and fishing boats as we were passing some busy shipping channels. But freed up from steering you could move around and dance about and sing-song. One afternoon I suddenly spotted some disturbance skimming the surface of the water just off port bow only about 20 metres away. After a few seconds I knew what it was!! I called to Skipper “Come up, come up now, whale real close”. Poor sleepy Skipper -appeared at the hatch looking toward horizon, I said “there, 20 metres”, the whale TOWERED up high above water, just like what you see on a poster!

That was my Magic moment. Very Magic. I had my dream. I used to say when spotting whales farther off “I want to see them up close, I want to sail past them real close.” Thank you Almighty, I am grateful. Very grateful.

The next night was quite fun, a steady 10 knots south-westerly breeze, I felt confident and happy. I was steering by the stars!!! Worked out the star formation and steered by it, now and again recalibrated against the compass as the heaven turned through the night. One time I got distracted looking at the spectacular Milky Way and billion brilliant stars. Looking back I lost my star formation! Ooopps! I went hunting for it and Whammm!!! I gybed the boat. Skipper’s face appeared instantaneously at the hatch, “What happened?”. Like a kid caught red-handed I said “Nothing” as I steered back. Whammmm!!! I gybed the boat back, right in front of him. Just as well the boom didn’t take my head with it. Felt a complete idiot with my inexperience. Poor Skipper was cool about it, said it was alright, just the noise woke him up, and he simply went back to sleep. I appreciated that, he trusted me to carry on, he knew that I did learn my lesson, and being still trusted I did better, worked out for myself what not to do and what to do. If he had lectured or abused me my self esteem probably would go down and I probably would do worse. Self esteem drives everything. A lesson about leadership.

But the moon! You’ve got to see the moon rise over the ocean. During the aloneness of small hours, just where the expanse of dark water, sparsely dotted with beautiful lights from ships and boats, meet with the expanse of dark sky richly sparkled with billion stars, and just where you continually scan for new lights, some golden glow appeared, then a tiny thin sliver. The first time I thought what mighty ship was that with brightly flooded deck lights. This became mightier and mightier, till the leap of recognition… the moon…the thin crescent moon inching up majestically, gracefully, and silently, an upturn convex heavenly-ship for me to watch. Another Magic Moment! I watched it silently, alone.

Each night after then, it was an anticipating wait of 50 minutes later, for a slenderer heavenly-vessel to sail the sky. No, I would not go to sleep, I must watch my moon…

During the day Skipper called me to look at dolphins. Several of them swimming by the bow at exactly the boat speed, and one rubbed its side alongside the boat! Skipper pleaded “Don’t take my antifoul off! Please. Just painted!” I flattened onto the deck reaching right down trying to touch the fin, I could look right into the eyes, our gazes locked, and I think the dolphin was trying to present the fin to me but I was just an inch off, nearly climbed over the rail, so much I wanted to touch and connect with the beautiful friends, amazing things -I wanted to hug them.

As we had to pick up another crew member at Gladstone we steered west (resentfully, wasting a day), approaching an unfamiliar port against the strong tide and against the setting sun. Skipper was real grumpy. Once we got there it was alright, we ate well (I had the memorable spaghetti bolognaise, which I strangely craved for, as soon as I got off the boat) and was looked after by the local friend of the crew member. A refreshing shower, laundry done and a big breakfast. That was greatly appreciated. That night I chose to sleep on the boat, of course.

Another message came. Like finding messages in another bottle, an electronic bottle, kid given a candy. Bless the sender. Keeping a seafarer anchored.

With three on board it was too easy, 2 hours on 4 hours off. More sunbathing time than sea adventure. …Stay warm and dry. Remember sun-screen... I slopped more sunscreen on. It was amazing to experience the climate getting gradually warmer as we sailed north, noticeably each day. The other two played board game while I preferred to connect with the boat and the universe around me. Skipper was counting down his mileage as he had sailed all the way from Melbourne for now nearly three weeks. We saw heaps more whales as we approached our destination, one was off starboard bow about 100 metres off flipping its big black tail in the air for a long while, spectacular show.

Countdown was now zero, Airlie Beach at last, incredible turquoise-coloured water, absolutely warm sunshine, more than 510 nM sea-miles for me, something like 2000nM for the boat and Skipper. Marina, rows of black bollards, lots of yachts, we’re ‘home’. The feeling was of success, achievement, and bliss. This is life. Now time for some hearty sustenance a seafarer suddenly craved for, by the poolside then a day free. Then…. Hog’s Breath Race Week! Here we come!!

by Solo Thesailor
http://sailingstoriesandtips.blogspot.com

Episode 2 A Whole New Whole Out There –Stanley

“Admit it! You want to go to Stanley, don’t you. Don’t even answer! Look at you. You are pissed off because you didn’t put your name down, and whose fault was it. Now are you going or not!!”

Sometimes it takes someone else yelling at you to clear your head. I remember feeling and almost seeing my own face light up and my eyes shining at the thought of what it would be like sailing Stanley. I was at that time on standby and someone was possibly dropping out but possibly not. So I was vacillating between some anxiety if I were to race ‘Bass Strait’ and sheer frustration if I could not, and just about going into sour grapes of who cares about Stanley anyway. Unfortunately (or fortunately as it turned out!!) the person did not drop out. Would it be worth flying down and sailing back? Now there was no question. Booked the ticket and went.

As everyone would have heard or experienced, the weather that evening was atrocious. I, on land in comfy bed, could not sleep hardly at all as I tracked the time and imagined vividly what my comrades would have been going through. The next morning Ian the Commodore ORCV very kindly gave me a lift both at the Melbourne end and from Burnie to Stanley. I met with him earlier, but that was another tale how the three of us from RBYC sailed to Williamstown to arrive in style for the Hastings presentation night and on the way back had a hard time reefing the sail in strong wind and gusts and crawled home after midnight. One of the owners/skippers said -Next time I had such a brilliant idea please just throw me overboard.

I volunteered to help Ian and Dennis manage the race. We got to the fishing boat, to be used as our committee boat, and the first challenge struck. There was no radio.

The fishing boat owner had swapped his old set for a new one and it did not have the frequency range that we needed. The lady in charge of Port Authority got busy on the phone and soon the very helpful fisherman reinstalled the radio set for us.

So, now we have radio.

Next challenge, the beer ordered to welcome yachties had not been delivered and were not coming, ever. Impending disaster. No beer!

A bit of grumbling and running around, eventually stacks of replacement beer were procured. Well, my mama never raised me to be working with strange men stacking cartons of beer at the back of a bar. She would be turning in her grave but I would always pitch in doing what ever needs to be done. So, R.I.P. mum.

Now we have beer.

1400 hrs radio sched. My boat! My crew mates! Also other boats with people I knew. It was so good hearing their voices checking in and they were not even my relations. It was tangible evidence that all was well. Plotting positions was real fun, thanks to my TL3 training at Elwood I understood what was going on and could help. We could see the spread of the race, we were predicting arrival times from the first boat to the last and that was when Ian and Dennis sighed knowing a long night with no sleep awaited them.

Now, wouldn’t a little bit of music be good for the poor souls. Came the fisherman. He fiddled with a few wires and tapped at the set and the speakers. Hey – Presto.

Now we had music. This was now getting a bit cosy.

I was promptly assigned to help a local able body, I think his name was Peter –my memory about names is not good, to welcome yachties with beer as they arrived, plus I was to deputise a committee member and collect race declaration forms. The local able body was given a hand-held radio so he could be advised from the fishing boat when each boat was arriving. As it turned out he was running around fixing other problems and was not to be found. So now we had Beer girl, no radio.

The first boat was to arrive several hours ahead of the pack. It was such a build up of excitement waiting to suddenly see it from behind The Nut. Where are they? Where are they? Could you see it yet? What’s keeping them? When I suggested that the committee post be set up on top of The Nut so you could see the fleet arriving I was met with intense glare and in synchrony they said “YOU go up!” Well, you must appreciate that the race management team often miss out on any kind of partying as well as sleep and I wonder whether anybody ever thank them. In fact I never knew that a Commodore was supposed to slave away like that.

Silently the top of a mast appeared behind the wall. Soon we could see the whole boat, no fanfare, no announcement, no sound. Kontrol had arrived, looking majestic, elegant and a proud leader of the fleet.

Other boats arrived and at times together in a bunch, rafting up several boats deep. Beer girl had to climb these vertical ladders at very low tide carrying beer and traversed back and forth and back and forth across decks and riggings to get to every boat. I had to yell out asking for their declaration forms and here’s the confession: I didn’t know what the blessed form was and had never seen one in my life. Most times in drizzles, I stuffed these mysterious forms into my zipped pocket. When I pulled out these scrunched up pieces of paper to give to Commodore on the pier with wind and rain twirling around us I had a vision of them flying out of my hands like white doves and me getting hung drawn and quartered and slowly roasted over camp fire.

Most yachties were absolutely sodden, wetter than wet, miserable looking, wind blown, and had a frozen-and-thawed look about them. I tried to dole out encouragement about beer, bar, camp fires, food, shower…

Then I saw a very shiny pair of eyes, through the slit of yellow hood and storm cuffs and muffs and heavy wet gear looking straight up from metres below. This was one of the very few people I knew and was looking out for but in my busy-ness never noticed them arriving. There was mention of the rough seas and the chundering and about ocean racing “… I might give it away.” What?! This was the same person yelling at me about racing Stanley.

I heard second-hand report that a boat had hit rocks. Having no details (remember Beer girl did not have a radio) was quite stressful, as I did not know if it was my boat or not. Sheltering on board hospitable Yoko sipping hot water made by the kindly owner/skipper as he served out coffee and tea and food to his dream team, I popped my head out now and again to check for boat arriving and soon spotted Magazan 53. After having served all other boats I had at that moment no access to beer and went empty handed to my own team. There was also the-boat-that-hit-rocks and the fishing boat that pulled them off. Such a relief and joy for me to see my team I figuratively danced about them, only that they were too weary and grumpy to say much.

I was very kindly offered a spare bed in a cottage and also another boat had a spare bunk but I wanted to be with my team so I ended up ‘trying to’ sleep on top of a pile of soggy, lumpy, slopey bags of sails right near the toilet. Soon I gave up and got up, as it was dryer and more comfortable standing.

Breakfast. Now that was definitely a highlight. I reckon that the two things most welcoming at the finish line are a shower and a big hearty breakfast the morning after. Ok, ok, alright, the bar as well then…

Soon I saw a sight to behold. The whole marina had turned into a field of very bright and very colourful cloth lines. The brave and amazing and battle weary yachties had hung out their gear, including socks, which apparently sometimes had some meaning to it. Unfortunately the photo taken by my camera phone did not turn out. Perhaps Santa will bring me a waterproof camera this Christmas.

We went up the Nut. The chairlift was kind to weary legs and the views were magnificent. Our boat held a tradition that we enjoyed ourselves at the destination and never unduly hurried back. Then we had another big hearty meal for lunch. Practically having no sleep for two nights took its toll and during some lively lunch conversation I was caught nodding off. So off I went for a nap, in the boat, woww! What novelty, would not swap it for a palace bed ever. And never mind not helping with shopping for supplies, I apologised later.

Then it was another big hearty dinner. You’d have thought that yacht racing would be a physically demanding sport that you would lose weight and girth but it seemed it had the opposite effect. Over dinner we voted about the time to leave and ended up with 0300 hrs, or thereabouts – I now forgot, to aim for slack waters both at Western Port and Port Phillips. Then a realisation…

“sh…t, the patch” I just wanted to make sure I had the life preserving goo applied early enough. We dashed back to the boat and while I was still fumbling around as I liked to dress nearly in full gear ready for work the other seasoned sailors took just minutes and they were all bunked and blinked out.

Whereas I was never much interested in steering I had several hours at the helm and was absolutely thrilled. Felt like I didn’t want to do anything else forever. Reckon I’ll be a treasure as the only non-drinker on board with a boat license. An absolutely unforgettable sight was a pair of dolphins escorting us swimming alongside and doing their synchronised gliding through the air. The real thing! And in moonlight!

Of note, it seemed that the patch and/or the tablets I took at the same time (yes, I was loaded) had an effect on the eyesight well into 24 hours after I got home.

The next challenge is Melbourne Hobart. Again I am on standby and a little apprehensive whether I would race if a spot became available or wait till next year. A déjà vu when the loud voice came “WHY NOT!!!” I replied “Well, even YOU didn’t like Stanley!” The prompt comeback “I did like Stanley AFTERWARDS.”

So far, and I have had it easy, YES, ocean racing is for me. Still a wide-eyed wonder.

by Solo Thesailor
http://sailingstoriesandtips.blogspot.com

A Whole New World Out There

A Whole New World Out There – My First Ocean Race and My First Bass Strait

In the dead of night 60-70 boats were converging silently onto Queenscliff…. It was as if we were afraid of waking up the citizen of Melbourne so we were whispering and keeping quite still while working the boat. Knowing that other boats and other people known to me were about somewhere on the water gave a strange sense of comradeship. I was drinking in all the sights and reading the lights as newly taught to me during the TL3 Power Boat Course, as well as forever looking up at the stars and the nearly-full moon. We tied up and all went below to rest, awaiting the start. I was impressed how everyone was very quick at bunking down perhaps like a trained soldier. I kept very very still but my heart was racing, being part of the race crew and doing the race routine was just so overwhelmingly important to me.

Then the silence broke… Over the radio came “Wind Song, Wind Song, This is Chardonnay, Chardonnay, ….”

Woww, the names yachties give their boats – I think the radio calls reverberated in my head for the next few weeks!

Someone called (I can’t remember who to whom) “…where are you moored, over”

“…., …, this is …. We are anchored at the start line”

Some sleepy head on our boat grunted “Idiot!! You’re not allowed!”

“All yachts for the Western Port Race, This is Yoko, Yoko, standing by for crew changes on 73.” Being my first ocean race I didn’t understand what Yoko had to do with running the race.

“Yoko, Yoko, This is ---, ---. We’d like to report crew changes please”

“ ---, This is Yoko. We’d like crew changes too but they all signed on!!” That’s yachtie humour in the dead of night.

The roll call, which would have been so mundane for others, was absolutely thrilling for me. In a calm and serious voice each boat was called in turn. “Magazan 53 Magazan 53 This is Yoko Yoko Are you a starter.” “Yoko This is Magazan 53. We are a starter.” Then I remembered to breath again.

Time. Everyone was up, all hands. 0315 hrs. Spinnaker start. I thought ‘This is it, this is it, we are racing, I am racing!’ I felt confident and silently proud that I had done my part of laying all the sheets and braces and tweakers and double checking triple checking so it would go smoothly as far as that was concerned. Signals went, we started like a dream. Silently we slid through the dreaded heads, the water as flat as mill pond. Well, that wasn’t exciting enough, was it! A bit of an anti climax after all the scare and caution drummed into our heads from the TL3 course.

Then we were OUT THERE! Well, just a little bit out with the comfort of hugging the coastline. But it was a whole new world for me. It was thrilling to see all those lighthouses ‘from the sea’. The water was different. The air was fresh and crisp and different. The feeling of the oneness of the team was strength to my soul. This race was just a mild challenge for others so the connectedness was tenuous. But it was a big deal, a very big deal for me at the time. My happiness bubbled over and I shared it with the stars…

And the moon. The moon! How strange and unexpected it was to be seriously racing and at the same time bathing in this moonshine. It was a clear night and the moon sailed across the sky on its own rhumb line. I had been watching the moon and its reflection on the water and staring at the stars ever since leaving Brighton Marina. Now the moon was setting behind us.

And the sun was rising ahead of us. The eastern sky blushed pink and intensified.

I was watching this moonset sunrise while flying the spinnaker from near the mast. No one was on the winch to help me and I should have asked, as I was struggling but trying my best. Except that I was a bit distracted turning aft to check how the moon reflection on the water was going, then forward to see how piercing bright the sun was becoming and upwards to count how may stars have left the contest. Oops! the spinnaker!

It was a bright and warm morning. We soon passed another waypoint and dropped the spinnaker. Even just sitting on the rail I was thrilled. Well, it was just like a lot of the pictures of yacht races I had seen and drooled over before to be part of and now I was in the picture!!

Yoko was cutting the bow wave impressively from behind us on the port side. She looked solid and silently powerful and beautiful, the headsail was full rigged from the top of the mast and looked sort of turbo-charged. There was no petrol, no engine, no other sound except the swishing and the unforgettable bow waves. She was passing us. And that was another strange thing about yacht races, we couldn’t do anything, no revving, no extra pounding of the muscles, we just placed the boat in the hands of the wind and sat there watching someone passing us, just like that. It was like watching fate, watching the inevitable.

I waved to someone I knew on Yoko. Now he was a competitor and passing us. I couldn’t stand it.

Now Yoko went further ahead and out on our starboard side. We kept good speed closer to land and kept pace with her for a long time. Passing another waypoint and we were beating into the wind so things got more exciting. Another boat was attempting to overtake us and skipper got us to fully hang out on the rail. We picked up speed and lost them. That was a great lesson for me but what I couldn’t understand was why we weren’t doing that all the way or at least more times.

The wind picked up inside Western Port. We had to change sail. The headsail got stuck in its track and Skipper ordered, “Cut the sail!” As the foredeck’s knife did its merciless bidding I learnt another practical lesson: Although always treating sails as treasure, power centre and life preserving instrument, when the decision is to cut it, cut it, cut it quick!

To these days the missing 2 inches tell me tales… A memory from my first ocean race.

Beating hard into the wind on our last leg Skipper taught us how to sleep at the rail with our heads and arms stuck out under the top rail and belly buttons hooked on. So we had a row of babies warm and snug and cosy inside our wet gear putting our weight to good use. I was ever so amazed. Here we were seriously racing and seriously sleeping on the job!

I had that conscience weighing on my mind and found myself waking up with a start, yelling out even before fully awake “Would you like me to take my turn at the winch?” I was very happy when I was on duty.

With the wind on our tail most of the way and barely over 20 knots, from memory, and relatively flat sea it was an easy race. Also one of our owners /skippers, Nick, prepared us well with extensive pre-race briefing document so we all knew exactly what we needed to know. As a newbie I was on a winch as a headsail trimmer and there was not much to do most of the way.

Then my first ocean race was over. Pack up time. I asked why we wouldn’t leave everything set up as we would be leaving the next day. I was told to always pack up and just as well because we ended up leaving in a hurry by train and not getting back for another week.

Having never been to Hastings marina before I was trailing someone to get to the bar. Only that he walked into a male toilet! I later found out that the bar was to the opposite direction.

Then it was breakfast time. As a vegetarian, or fishgetarian, as well as non-dairy and non-alcohol and non-tea/coffee (yes, some people had asked ‘do you eat anything?’) I had declared that on a race I shall have no fuss about food whatsoever, so I was sitting there eating dripping bacon and spit roast and cheese. Someone remarked “You’re struggling. Not enjoying it, are you. Don’t eat it” I simply said “I must”. It seems like my life is full of this ‘I must’. I wonder how many vegetarians are there and whether they could be catered for. I heard tales of wild parties and hints of what yachties get up to but there was no hint of any wildness. I was having a marvellous time talking quietly with friends and in between meals talking with a crewmate about his cave diving trips. I visited Yoko and was duly impressed. On deck it seemed huge and the spinnaker pole was nearly three times our size. It was relatively massive inside with an ensuite! Woww! That was eye opening for me. I guess it was built for Osaka and other transoceans; I don’t have the facts, just being impressed by its solid feel. I was in awe and appreciated being invited or allowed inside, so Thank you Yoko (the competitor!)

We had a great time eating out with Reckless, they were a fun bunch and the two skippers enjoyed trading insults. Back to the boat one of our team (unidentified hereinafter forever) announced “if anyone tells my wife that I chuck out the sandwiches I’ll kill you.”

Going back by train we were offered a lift by Santa Claus, a very kindly person I do not know but would like to acknowledge your kindly act here. I was bowled over by the fact that the train ticket from Hastings to Bentleigh was just $3.80!!

When we went back a week after on a taxi-van it was like $25 each. The trip was uneventful as the wind did tricks with us, changing direction each time we changed direction so we were always head to wind and ended up motor sailing all the way. The ocean swells were pretty large, or so I was told as I had no prior experience to compare them with. A surprising event was when I went below just to fetch my phone to take a photo my brother requested I came up immediately sick (I was told then that I put the patch on too late, should be something like 8 hours before). But when one of the owners/skippers Gary, who was always kind and caring, offered me to helm I was instantly happy and did not want to let go until I was literally dozing off.

Back at home my sailing gear took over the laundry and ever since has taken over the lounge room. Now come to think of it, it is taking over my life…

So far, since I had it easy, YES, ocean racing was for me. The next challenge was Bass Strait!

by Solo Thesailor
http://sailingstoriesandtips.blogspot.com