We are all awake early - I even get up for my cups of tea. I am pleased to note that I feel almost normal, well as normal as I ever am! I do the very last jobs – getting rid of rubbish, shopping, attempting to found US dollars in small denominations etc and at around 10am we pull out of our slip and head to the fuel dock. What a fiasco. They have places for three boats to moor up but only one fuel pump so everyone shuffles around. There are already three yachts tied up and we just go around in circles until one leaves, then wait for our turn to be pulled forward and re-fuelled.
By the time we are getting our fuel, five other WARC yachts are waiting and getting impatient. The nozzle is far too powerful for our tank and half way through a huge spurt of diesel spurts skyward and all over our cockpit. I do a fast clean up. I’ve done it before!!
We eventually leave the dock and are amazed to see the attendant go to refuel the huge pirate ship before all the waiting WARC boats and yet as an IGY employee, he must have known the yachts were on a tight time schedule!
We motor our into the bay and mill around with the rest of the yachts waiting for the signal to cross the start line. It is quite a spectacle. Mike decided early on that he wanted to be last across the line. Some people take this very seriously and jostle for first position, and accidents happen, so we hang back at the edge of the bay keeping well out of the way. While we are waiting, Mike puts the water maker on and I sit on the back step and fill all the bottles.
Photo: Getting our drinking water ready
At noon the horn blasts and everyone is off. To Mike’s disgust, some people hang back even more than him so we are not last over the line after all. Now we just look incompetent!
Photo: View from the middle of the fleet
We head down to Castries, the whole fleet together, flags flying. It must look quite impressive (although not as impressive as the ARC with over 200 yachts) before we turn east and begin to quickly go on slightly different routes, although we overtake quite a few before we part company.
After lunch I go for a lie down (traditions must be observed where possible) and am amazed when I wake up to find it is getting dark! I make an evening meal then I take the first three hour watch at 7pm.
In my life jacket, strapped to the boat with my MP3 player stuffed in just one ear, I am horrified when Samantha (the auto pilot) throws a tantrum. I hear one bleep and look at the display. It shows we are holding our course so I settle back down in my seat. What I fail to notice is that the auto pilot has gone into standby instead of holding us to a particular wind direction, and the boat is now waiting for me to tell it what to do - and I don’t. A few seconds later I hear the genoa flapping madly, look down at the display again and realise what has happened. Disorientated in the pitch black (no moon yet) I yell for Mike who is lying in the salon. He races up and takes over. In the few seconds delay, Jeannius has managed to turn around almost 160 degrees and Mike has to put the engines on to get her back on course. Why did this have to happen on my first watch on the first bloody day? It has happened before, last May, for no apparent reason, but not since.
Back on course, I am now paranoid about watching the displays! All the time! This will wear off in a while I know. There is just one boat in our sights now, behind us on the port side. We go past a seismic exploration ship who is towing miles of cables behind it and warning all shipping to stay clear but we cross her path some distance from her so are in no danger. And that’s it for my watch. Just blackness and one green light in the distance. At 10pm Mike wakes Jim and I have a shower and go to bed. I have another watch starting at 4am. Lovely!
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