Come sail away
We were a crew of eight, preparing to race non-stop around the world in the Oryx Quest event. There was a US$1million prize for first place. I was 25 years old, not only the youngest crew member of the Daedalus, but also the youngest sailor in the race: it was my first proper job as a professional ocean racer and the stuff of dreams. I was in heaven. Well, Doha actually, the capital of Qatar. We weren’t going to be there for long, however: the world’s fiercest oceans lay ahead, not to mention – as we were to discover towards the end of the race – some of its calmest waters.
The Oryx Quest started at the beginning of February 2005. Every day during the build-up, the temperature was a steady 30°C. We were warned that, by the time we’d completed our lap around the world and returned to Qatar in mid-April, the temperature would be close to 50°C. We were also aware that, down in the southern oceans, we would be sailing through icebergs and snow storms. We were going to experience a temperature range of nearly 60°C, and this was without considering the wind-chill factor, which is considerable when sailing at speeds in excess of 30 knots (56km/h). With every effort being made to keep weight down when building a race yacht, we continued the lightweight ethos while choosing our clothing and technical equipment.
The crew were looking for the lightest, most breathable and durable fabrics, and there was plenty of choice. We were supplied with some basic team kit and a full set of Musto’s best ocean-racing foul-weather gear. However, my personal preference has always been for Gill. Over the years, I’ve helped them to develop their ocean range, and their dry smock in particular is a world-beater. With so much at stake, I took the best of everything and ended up with a variety of manufacturers’ labels in my kit bag. In the depths of the southern oceans, where it’s so cold that you literally put on every item of kit that you have, it took me just over 12 minutes to get dressed.
First to go on was an ultra-light, high-wicking base layer. On top of this went a thin fleece layer, comprising a pair of leggings and a polo neck. The next layer was either some fleecy salopettes or a pair of Gill’s Crosswinds. Crosswinds are fleece salopettes with an outer shell, which makes them a bit less breathable but a touch warmer. They’re also water-resistant, so if there was a quick job to do outside, I could leave my waterproofs behind and do it without fear of soaking my thermals. If it was very cold, I also had a Crosswind jacket to go on top of the fleece. Socks and boots completed my initial ensemble.
Dry spell
Having donned enough warm layers – without restricting my movement too much – it was time for the waterproofs. Most sailors call this outer layer the ‘foulies’. Not many sailors today would venture into the southern oceans without a seriously good dry top and salopettes.
In addition to all this clothing, I used a fleecy balaclava and a pair of Gill’s Pro Gloves, which are some of the hardest-wearing gloves on the market. For the southern oceans, the best kit (which I didn’t have – but do now) is a pair of dive gloves with fleecy lining and latex wrist seals. The other option for really cold weather is a pair of neoprene dive mittens. I could pull them on and off really quickly if I had a fiddly job to do.
The last two items were my lifejacket and a facemask. The latter is vital if a helmsman is going to be able to see through walls of water hurtling towards him at 35 knots. I used a Scott full-face mask with a visor.
After getting used to piling all of this kit on, it came as a huge relief to finally sail out of the southern oceans, around the Cape of Good Hope (or, technically speaking, Cape Agulhas) and head north across the Indian Ocean towards the Gulf of Oman. As temperatures rose, so the layers came off and balaclavas and facemasks were replaced with floppy hats and sunglasses. Topping off my kit bag were a couple of Gill’s UV-resistant rash vests. These are vital as you simply can’t carry enough sun cream for those really hot days.
Essential extras
Apart from this basic sailing kit, there are some additional items of equipment that are invaluable on an ocean-race boat. In use very early on was the dive kit: with so many fishermen leaving parts of old nets in the Gulf of Oman, we regularly had to dive over the side with a mask, knife and dive torch to clear debris from around the rudders. As I was the youngest crew member, this task fell to me more often than not. As well as the dive torch, each crew member had a head torch for working on deck during the night, or if there was a job to do in one of the hulls.
In the worst-case scenario, if the catamaran had flipped over, then crew members could have become trapped under the trampoline. With such a big boat, swimming out to one side is not easy. With this in mind, we all carried a knife with us at all times in order to cut through the trampoline and surface in the event of a capsize – assuming we were still conscious.
The reality of personal hygiene on around-the-world races
There isn't any! We had two sets of underlayer clothes, which were never washed properly and rarely changed. I shaved three times during the whole race. To be frank, the highlight in the personal hygiene department was the occasional clean with a baby-wipe.
Excursus: Navigating in the world's oceans
To guide us around the world in an efficient and competitive way, we had to use all of the latest navigational aids to their maximum potential. Historically, sailors would navigate by fluxgate compass and sextant, and by keeping a good log. These days, of course, the Global Positioning System (GPS) has made life significantly easier for all navigators.
However, GPS isn’t the answer to all the problems, and it’s vital not to rely on it all the time. Consequently, a large number of race boats still carry a sextant and the relevant tables. Indeed, traditional equipment is mandatory for the Mini Transat, a solo race in 21-foot yachts from La Rochelle to Brazil. The Mini Transat is seen as a true test of the skipper’s ability: no communications equipment other than VHF and Single Side Band radios are allowed. This means that if your GPS does fail, you’re well and truly on your own and the sextant and logbook will come in very handy.
As we sailed south of Australia in Daedalus, we passed relatively close to the magnetic South Pole. Here, the magnetic variation was up to 40 degrees. This would have been very confusing for the helmsman – who even today still tends to steer to a compass course – if the navigator hadn’t communicated to him the relevant adjustments. All modern charts tell you the local variations. However, life would have been considerably more difficult in the early days of ocean exploration.
We carried paper charts of our route. Obviously these varied in scale, and for the big blue areas we had very little detail. For coastlines and capes, we had much smaller scale charts, although we never had to get these out. With electronic charts such as those supplied by C-Map, you buy a CD that covers a huge area – typically an entire ocean and the adjoining coastline. You then purchase codes that unlock a particular area. Using navigational software, you can then see exactly where you are on your computer screen.
All of this software has advanced considerably over the years. Most crews use either one or a combination of Deckman, Expedition, MaxSea or Raytech technologies, all of which allow you to conduct basic navigation. More importantly to the racing sailor, however, they can also be used to help plan your optimum route and to evaluate your performance.
When a race boat is designed, the designers use their software to come up with what are called ‘performance polars’. These are predicted optimum boat speeds, depending on what angle to the wind you are sailing throughout a range of wind speeds. They are not only useful for the navigator, but also for the helmsman and sail trimmers. As you clock up nautical miles, you constantly refine the true values.
At this point, the navigator has something extremely useful to work with. Using a computer program such as Deckman, which has feeds from the various onboard sensors (such as boat speed, wind speed and wind direction), he or she can interface this information and the boat’s polars with weather forecasts. Typically, he or she downloads so-called gridded binary data files, which represent the forecasted wind speed and direction for the next three or five days. Deckman will then show the navigator the optimum route between a number of waypoints. However, all this technology relies on good polars and, more importantly, accurate weather forecasts – not to mention a healthy slice of good fortune.
A witness of change
The first man to sail around the world non-stop was Briton Sir Robin Knox-Johnston in the Golden Globe race in 1968–69. His yacht, Suhaili, took him around in 312 days. Although now well into his 60s, Knox-Johnston is still battling the oceans; as I write, he’s competing in the Velux 5 Oceans, another solo around-the-world race, this time with three legs and run by his company, Clipper Ventures.
Knox-Johnston has borne witness to some huge technological advances over the past half a century. Technical clothing has gone from woolly jumpers and oilskins to microfleeces and breathable lightweight foulies. These improvements in personal comfort have been mirrored by developments in navigational equipment – from sextants to GPS – and the increase in the performance of cutting-edge race boats.
Daedalus finished second in the Oryx Quest. Nick is currently working towards his long-term goal of competing in the Vendée Globe solo, non-stop race around the world, which no British sailor has ever won. Visit www.ocean-racing.co.uk for more information.
August 2007
The Oryx Quest started at the beginning of February 2005. Every day during the build-up, the temperature was a steady 30°C. We were warned that, by the time we’d completed our lap around the world and returned to Qatar in mid-April, the temperature would be close to 50°C. We were also aware that, down in the southern oceans, we would be sailing through icebergs and snow storms. We were going to experience a temperature range of nearly 60°C, and this was without considering the wind-chill factor, which is considerable when sailing at speeds in excess of 30 knots (56km/h). With every effort being made to keep weight down when building a race yacht, we continued the lightweight ethos while choosing our clothing and technical equipment.
The crew were looking for the lightest, most breathable and durable fabrics, and there was plenty of choice. We were supplied with some basic team kit and a full set of Musto’s best ocean-racing foul-weather gear. However, my personal preference has always been for Gill. Over the years, I’ve helped them to develop their ocean range, and their dry smock in particular is a world-beater. With so much at stake, I took the best of everything and ended up with a variety of manufacturers’ labels in my kit bag. In the depths of the southern oceans, where it’s so cold that you literally put on every item of kit that you have, it took me just over 12 minutes to get dressed.
First to go on was an ultra-light, high-wicking base layer. On top of this went a thin fleece layer, comprising a pair of leggings and a polo neck. The next layer was either some fleecy salopettes or a pair of Gill’s Crosswinds. Crosswinds are fleece salopettes with an outer shell, which makes them a bit less breathable but a touch warmer. They’re also water-resistant, so if there was a quick job to do outside, I could leave my waterproofs behind and do it without fear of soaking my thermals. If it was very cold, I also had a Crosswind jacket to go on top of the fleece. Socks and boots completed my initial ensemble.
Dry spell
Having donned enough warm layers – without restricting my movement too much – it was time for the waterproofs. Most sailors call this outer layer the ‘foulies’. Not many sailors today would venture into the southern oceans without a seriously good dry top and salopettes.
In addition to all this clothing, I used a fleecy balaclava and a pair of Gill’s Pro Gloves, which are some of the hardest-wearing gloves on the market. For the southern oceans, the best kit (which I didn’t have – but do now) is a pair of dive gloves with fleecy lining and latex wrist seals. The other option for really cold weather is a pair of neoprene dive mittens. I could pull them on and off really quickly if I had a fiddly job to do.
The last two items were my lifejacket and a facemask. The latter is vital if a helmsman is going to be able to see through walls of water hurtling towards him at 35 knots. I used a Scott full-face mask with a visor.
After getting used to piling all of this kit on, it came as a huge relief to finally sail out of the southern oceans, around the Cape of Good Hope (or, technically speaking, Cape Agulhas) and head north across the Indian Ocean towards the Gulf of Oman. As temperatures rose, so the layers came off and balaclavas and facemasks were replaced with floppy hats and sunglasses. Topping off my kit bag were a couple of Gill’s UV-resistant rash vests. These are vital as you simply can’t carry enough sun cream for those really hot days.
Essential extras
Apart from this basic sailing kit, there are some additional items of equipment that are invaluable on an ocean-race boat. In use very early on was the dive kit: with so many fishermen leaving parts of old nets in the Gulf of Oman, we regularly had to dive over the side with a mask, knife and dive torch to clear debris from around the rudders. As I was the youngest crew member, this task fell to me more often than not. As well as the dive torch, each crew member had a head torch for working on deck during the night, or if there was a job to do in one of the hulls.
In the worst-case scenario, if the catamaran had flipped over, then crew members could have become trapped under the trampoline. With such a big boat, swimming out to one side is not easy. With this in mind, we all carried a knife with us at all times in order to cut through the trampoline and surface in the event of a capsize – assuming we were still conscious.
The reality of personal hygiene on around-the-world races
There isn't any! We had two sets of underlayer clothes, which were never washed properly and rarely changed. I shaved three times during the whole race. To be frank, the highlight in the personal hygiene department was the occasional clean with a baby-wipe.
Excursus: Navigating in the world's oceans
To guide us around the world in an efficient and competitive way, we had to use all of the latest navigational aids to their maximum potential. Historically, sailors would navigate by fluxgate compass and sextant, and by keeping a good log. These days, of course, the Global Positioning System (GPS) has made life significantly easier for all navigators.
However, GPS isn’t the answer to all the problems, and it’s vital not to rely on it all the time. Consequently, a large number of race boats still carry a sextant and the relevant tables. Indeed, traditional equipment is mandatory for the Mini Transat, a solo race in 21-foot yachts from La Rochelle to Brazil. The Mini Transat is seen as a true test of the skipper’s ability: no communications equipment other than VHF and Single Side Band radios are allowed. This means that if your GPS does fail, you’re well and truly on your own and the sextant and logbook will come in very handy.
As we sailed south of Australia in Daedalus, we passed relatively close to the magnetic South Pole. Here, the magnetic variation was up to 40 degrees. This would have been very confusing for the helmsman – who even today still tends to steer to a compass course – if the navigator hadn’t communicated to him the relevant adjustments. All modern charts tell you the local variations. However, life would have been considerably more difficult in the early days of ocean exploration.
We carried paper charts of our route. Obviously these varied in scale, and for the big blue areas we had very little detail. For coastlines and capes, we had much smaller scale charts, although we never had to get these out. With electronic charts such as those supplied by C-Map, you buy a CD that covers a huge area – typically an entire ocean and the adjoining coastline. You then purchase codes that unlock a particular area. Using navigational software, you can then see exactly where you are on your computer screen.
All of this software has advanced considerably over the years. Most crews use either one or a combination of Deckman, Expedition, MaxSea or Raytech technologies, all of which allow you to conduct basic navigation. More importantly to the racing sailor, however, they can also be used to help plan your optimum route and to evaluate your performance.
When a race boat is designed, the designers use their software to come up with what are called ‘performance polars’. These are predicted optimum boat speeds, depending on what angle to the wind you are sailing throughout a range of wind speeds. They are not only useful for the navigator, but also for the helmsman and sail trimmers. As you clock up nautical miles, you constantly refine the true values.
At this point, the navigator has something extremely useful to work with. Using a computer program such as Deckman, which has feeds from the various onboard sensors (such as boat speed, wind speed and wind direction), he or she can interface this information and the boat’s polars with weather forecasts. Typically, he or she downloads so-called gridded binary data files, which represent the forecasted wind speed and direction for the next three or five days. Deckman will then show the navigator the optimum route between a number of waypoints. However, all this technology relies on good polars and, more importantly, accurate weather forecasts – not to mention a healthy slice of good fortune.
A witness of change
The first man to sail around the world non-stop was Briton Sir Robin Knox-Johnston in the Golden Globe race in 1968–69. His yacht, Suhaili, took him around in 312 days. Although now well into his 60s, Knox-Johnston is still battling the oceans; as I write, he’s competing in the Velux 5 Oceans, another solo around-the-world race, this time with three legs and run by his company, Clipper Ventures.
Knox-Johnston has borne witness to some huge technological advances over the past half a century. Technical clothing has gone from woolly jumpers and oilskins to microfleeces and breathable lightweight foulies. These improvements in personal comfort have been mirrored by developments in navigational equipment – from sextants to GPS – and the increase in the performance of cutting-edge race boats.
Daedalus finished second in the Oryx Quest. Nick is currently working towards his long-term goal of competing in the Vendée Globe solo, non-stop race around the world, which no British sailor has ever won. Visit www.ocean-racing.co.uk for more information.
August 2007
