The Finish

Having sailed the whole of Saturday in patchy wind (as if the forecast wind blew as promised, then had to catch its breath before it blew again) we made land fall just north of Cabo Frio. The thing about South America in this race is that one should try not to miss it, and having achieved that, one should try not to hit it. We did neither. We rounded Cabo Frio, and headed off shore to avoid the much talked about parking lot.

It was a lovely Sunday sail down the coast. A moderate wind kept us going at around seven knots, and we were visited by dolphins twice – as if to welcome us to the continent.

In the benign conditions, the family relaxed and Mom sat us all down and made us each relate the three best things about our experience.  Some turned out to be pretty profound, but I won’t bore you with too much detail. It was then time to wash up, brush up, and get ready for the finish. We all got dressed in our Investec kit, to look at our best for the finish.

The bay of Rio is a really beautiful place, and is entered past (or through) some magnificent volcanic formations. We negotiated the entry to the bay, trying desperately to stay in the breeze. The afternoon was wearing on, and the last thing we felt like was to be becalmed just before the finish.

And so we headed for the finish, as majestically as we could manage, with full mainsail, and our biggest Zebra spinnaker. Mom was on the helm, with the rest of us all on deck, soaking in the sight of this beautiful place.

A few miles from the finish, we were met by a media boat, and our attention was distracted by all the greetings and jocularity. Mom said that she thought things were going to get interesting, and, as usual, she was quite right.

She had spotted a build up of breeze in the distance, coming in fast. Ryan took over the helm. The rest of us trimmed for all we were worth. It must be said that Ricky and Brennan are quite amazing at times like this. The wind came through, tight and hard. Spinnaker pole forward and down, the mainsail flattened and travelled down. The backstay on hard. Mom and Dad on the rail.

There was talk of having to drop the spinnaker, but that would be an ignominious way to finish, so we fought for control, and got Ciao Bella settled and racing for the finish. The last mile of our crossing was done heeled over hard and flying. There are some great pics of our finish which may be seen at https://plus.google.com/photos/+TrevorWilkins/albums/5973369163797183649.

We crossed the line 22 days, 9 hours, 14 minutes and 57 seconds after the start in Cape Town.

I don’t think it matters how many times you do it. Crossing the finish line after having sailed over an entire ocean is always an emotional and special moment. Plenty of cheers and a few tears at the end of our adventure.

Our thoughts turned to the family and fellow crew members of a man we had not met, who died at the start of the race, and to those who had to retire and see a dream go unfulfilled.

And, just before the Rio party starts, it is time to acknowledge the support that we received from Investec Corporate and Institutional Banking. We have been proud to be associated with them, and the Zebra spinnakers will be seen often (and hopefully long) into the future as a reminder of this association.

And we have also been supported by Xtralink, who generously provided our communication systems, as well as Glider eyewear who gave us all quality polarised sunglasses for the race.

Ray Matthews, the Royal Cape Yacht Club member who managed the race needs a special mention. As a volunteer, covering his own costs, he has made an exceptional effort to ensure the success of this event. Both in Cape Town and here in Rio, him and his wife slaved away, covering every possible base they could. And, let it be said that the organization has been impeccable. Think for a moment of just how difficult managing those first few days must have been.

Trevor Wilkins has been the media man, and, like Ray, has put in a huge amount of effort into making sure that news of the race got into the media. This is a very difficult job when, in the value column of the budget next to “media,” there is no number.

En, so van media gepraat, ons moet nie vergeet van Oom Cobus, wat elke nou en dan met Pa op die radio gesels het. Hy is ‘n goeie vriend.

And, our own little circle of communication support. The Stig (who shall remain faceless as promised) whose job it was to keep the blog updated, and to pass your messages on to us.  Mrs Stiq, now thankfully out of hospital, who kept the Facebook page going through all her difficulties – only reneging on her duties when under anaesthetic, and Uncle Derek, always in our background, and always there to cover for us.

But mostly, we want to thank all of you for your support. Your messages have been inspirational and a whole lot of fun. It was always so good to know that there were so many of you out there rooting for us, keeping an eye on us, and occasionally praying for us...

Thank you all.

Ciao Bella – out.

Day 22 – Rio Round the Corner

I’d like to do a bit of colouring in on the ‘Frank (Frankenbird)’ story from the last post by Ricky.

Brennan’s version: “I was rudely awoken at 3 AM this morning by the sound of a woman screaming. It turned out to be Ryan, and for some reason Kathryn and Michaela (who were on watch with him) were laughing hysterically. Even maniacally. I figured that because they were laughing, it couldn’t be too serious, so I *quietly and politely requested* that they keep it down.”

Ryan’s version: “Ricky made friends with Frank (or Frankie Four-feathers), who seemed to enjoy our company. When I got on watch, there was a silhouette of a winged beast perched on the guy rope. Ricky said it was harmless, but I knew better. It had a beak as long as its head and as sharp as a dagger. I was told not to let the spinnaker flap, so not to scare away the bird, Frank. When the spinnaker next flapped, Frank was shaken from his perch, and instead of fleeing, came swooping back at me – a black shadow descending with talons glimmering in the moonlight.”

Kathryn’s version:  “Ryan ducked under the tiller, screaming. Michaela scrambled to throw him a wide brimmed hat to offer some kind of protection. Once the bird left, it took a bit of convincing to get Ryan to sit back up again and steer the boat. Especially because we couldn’t say two words without laughing. Ryan had Michaela and I keep a lookout behind his back for the rest of the watch.”

Now moving on from that...

Another competing boat, HQ2, caught a 14 kg wahoo (that’s a type of fish) and was looking to arrange some kind of a trade with us for zoo biscuits. What they don’t realise is that in an ocean crossing, zoo biscuits are worth more than diamonds.

On the continental shelf about a day’s sail out of Rio, the oil rigs can be seen. These mammoth installations can be seen from miles away – especially at night when they are lit up like little cities. We caught our first sight of the oil rigs this morning at about 10:00 AM. In the last race we reached this point at night, and to sail past hundreds of these things in the dark is awe-inspiring. During the day they are slightly less spectacular to look at, but one must still marvel at the magnitude of the operations going on here.

Sighting the oil rigs hints that you’re getting close to the finish. We’re about 100 nautical miles from Cabo Frio (which will be our first sighting of land), and then a further 65 nautical miles to the finish. We have a stiff north-easterly at our backs, so it won’t be long now. This is even looking likely to be the penultimate blog post from us during the race. It didn’t seem this close when we drifting like a log yesterday.

There's talk of Team AMTEC Wits snapping doggedly at our heels. Also, if we finish early enough tomorrow morning, we can possibly nip ahead of Privateer for fourth place... So while we’re squeezing every ounce of speed out of Ciao Bella through the night, I don’t think that the Kuttel brothers will be sleeping much...

Brennan

Day 21 - Are we there yet?

Good morning,

This post is a little on the late side. The reason is that we did not have much capacity for writing yesterday, with all non-sleeping hands constantly being sent above decks to try keep the boat moving through what we hope will be the last light patch of the trip (here's hoping some breeze will be snaking its way through those picturesque protrusions that make up the Rio skyline when we arrive).

The most noteworthy of our news is that we had a new crew member for a while last night.  His name was Frank. In retrospect he might not have been the most able crew member because if anyone were to send out the call for "all hands on deck" I know that he would just sit on his perch while flapping his wings ironically at the call.

If we were to use Ryan's categories, you would find that Frank would fall under the species of "sea bird" in the subspecies of "flappy". His name was short for Frankenbird, and we thought he was a parrot at first on his first investigative swoops of the boat. I must admit to being a bit unaccommodating at first, threatening Frank with a winch handle should he even come anywhere near eye-pecking range. After he had made about twenty takes at the boat I thought that he was seriously considering making a landing, and figured that this rapidly oscillating little silhouette might actually be a little bit tired by now.

It was thus that we did not object when he landed on our spinnaker pole, and were actually impressed at his balance, considering the sea state was hardly allowing us to stay well-put on the cockpit seats. He was even undaunted when the spinnaker gave a big shudder that threw him from the pole, opting then to simply perch on a very tight 12mm thick spinnaker guy.

When the time came to brief the next watch coming above deck, Clear instruction was given on how to best handle this slightly freakish looking new addition to our boat. I then went down below and shone a light through a close by hatch on to the visitor. The half-light revealed a darkish bird about the size of a pigeon, with a long, narrow beak. Quite capable of a good peck I thought. So I went and took my four hour sleep in the sound hope that Frank would at some point depart us for the greener pastures of an oil platform.

This morning all was good, the breeze was up again, the boat was moving along superbly and Frank had left.

I am not sure how this all might interest anyone following us, but somehow it was a big event in a tough day that consisted almost entirely of eking out every little inch we could to get closer to the line, to a place called civilisation, where a bird landing close to you is actually not such a big deal!

Thanks again for all the messages, we hope to reward everyone’s great support by scurrying that little tracker on quite a bit quicker over the next couple of days so watch this space - The breeze is on!

Cheers,

Ricky

Bonus Blog: Stolen from the diary of a crew member

THE FOREDECK.

It’s up to 20 knots, raining, and a few drops have run down the spine. Pitch dark, moon behind storm cloud. Feeling thankful that it is passing.

He:     “We had better gybe, or it will get away from us.”

Thinks: “What is so wrong with that?”

Says:   “Fine with me......”

He:     “Shall I call XXX?”

Thinks: “Yes please.”

Says:   “No – I will do it.....”

Remember the routine. It’s all about the routine. Clip on to the safety line on the high side. Collect the shock chord from the stanchion halfway down the hull. Bring it back and hook it on the operating running back stay.

There. That was easy. Back stays are now some-one else’s problem. Didn’t even get my pants wet.

Back down the high side. Hold clip high to stop it rubbing on the deck. It may wake XXX. He would have something to say – for sure. Weight low down. Crouch – don’t crawl.

Unclip the anti-wrap ghost jib from bottom of mast. Slide forward to clip it to the pole down haul.

He:     “Watch out!”

White water over the foredeck as He puts the nose into a wave. Hold on tight as water drenches any dry parts left on the trousers.

He      “Sorry.”

Thinks: “!@#$%!”

Clip anti wrap to pole down haul, and slide soggy trousers back to mast step.

Remember the routine.

Clip on to the downhill side. Move down to leeward rail. Reach over the side to try and grab the gybe preventer/tack line.

He:     “Watch out!”

While water over the deck again. Clench.

He:     “Sorry.”

Thinks: “!@#$%!”

Gybe preventer in the one hand. Tack line in the other. Undo Tylaska. Clip. Tylaska to guard rail with one hand.  Slide towards boom. Stand using boom for support. Pass gybe preventer behind working sheet, lazy sheet and lazy back stay. Tie gybe preventer to shock chord at goose neck. Sit for a moment at mast step. Double check. Nothing in the way of a gybe. Grab lazy guy from the high side. Stand upright next to mast.

Thinks: “Here we go.”

Says:   (In cool confident tone) “Ready.”

In the office at the back, the tweakers are both at knee height, and the spinnaker load is being carried by the two sheets. Someone starts hauling in the main sail. Someone else releases the operating back stay. Helmsman drives through the gybe. Boom pushes backstay out. New back stay tightened.

He:     “Go!”

Remember the routine.

Wait till old guy goes slack. Unclip pole from mast. Transfer old lazy guy from hand to pole beak. Push pole across and forward. Under the sheet. Clip beak to mast.

Thinks: “Phew!”

Says:   “Made!”

In the office at the back, they start trimming the new guy and the new sheet, and set the pole for the new angle.

Don’t rest on your laurels. Remember the routine. Slide forward on soggy trousers to pole down haul. Unclip wrap preventer. Slide back to mast step and connect to foot of mast. Clip on to the new high side. Grab tack line. Undo Tylaska and feed guy around bow. Clip on to the new downhill side with free hand. Fasten to guard rail. Undo gybe preventer from boom. Gybe preventer in one hand and tack line in the other, undo Tylaska and connect gybe preventer to tack line.

Thinks: “Phew!”

Says:   “Made!”

He:     “Watch out!”

Clench.

He:     “Just kidding..........Sorry.”

Thinks: “!@#$%!”

Sit for a moment to let pulse rate settle and establish cool expression on face.

Up the high side into the cockpit

He:     “The squall is getting away from us – we may have to gybe back.”

Thinks: “!@#$%!  !@#$%!  !@#$%! Make up your mind!”

Says:   “Cool. Ready any time you are.......”

Day 20 – The cookie conundrum

As I write this, a ship is disappearing off our starboard bow.  This has created much excitement onboard for Ryan, because he now knows the zombie apocalypse has not yet arrived.  The rest of us see the oil tanker as a sure sign that we are getting close to Rio and the oil rigs.

The cookie conundrum has been solved.  There are still some outstanding issues related to missing Zoo Biscuits but the Oreo case, as Ryan mentioned yesterday, has been closed.  We found some Tennis Biscuits today so there might be a few more cases coming up.  Bren and I have now been banned from unpacking the snacks – not only together, but altogether.  I guess that is just how the cookie crumbles.

One of our followers in the meantime has tried to defend my sister’s cooking skills.  He claims he was invited round for a gourmet dinner last year:  french toast.  She boasted the nutritional balance of carbs, proteins and fats.  Oh, it also included a fried tomato – “the veg”. Ultimately he said it was simple but great.

We have our plans for Rio all sorted out:  when we see the sugar loaf, or the Corcovado, sail towards them until you hit land, then ditch the boat and get a coke.  We plan to buy slip-slops, eat hamburgers and go to Ilha Grande, but only after the coke.

And that’s all from me folks,

Michaela Mae 

PS:  Some people have complained about their blog comments not going through, so feel free to rather email them to teamciaobella@gmail.com.

 

Day 19 – Chasing Clouds

We have begun our descent upon Rio, and have finally found the fairer winds that our faster competitors have had for the majority of the race. A good comparison to this race would be that of flying Nigerian airlines. The baggage allowance is minimal, our take off and ascent were bumpy as hell. Once we reached cruising (or racing) altitude (latitude), things were great. The in-flight entertainment was non-existent but the pilot let you fly the plane occasionally. The meals weren’t that bad, but could occasionally make you sick.

We have no access to news or current affairs here, but we have some of our own. In headlines: The cookie thief has been caught! I don’t think Kathryn properly addressed the crime committed by our fellow crew member. The accused is Brennan Robinson. He has been charged with thievery of the highest order. The evidence against the biscuit embezzler was found last night. In the pocket of his foul weather top was a pack of Oreos, of which our supplies were ransacked! When confronted with the crime, he claimed to be innocent, but the local authorities had taken him in, for they know the severity of snack stealing. We tried to pin Michaela in as his accomplice, but she was far shrewder than her watch-partner. All the snacks that she had embezzled were either eaten or stashed far away. We were however able to fine her with cookie corruption, because of the assisting role that she played. They were both tried accordingly. The judge, jury and prosecutors all consisted of those who were aggrieved by the ransacking of the snack packet. The biscuit embezzlers were found guilty, and sentenced to three days of bilge cleaning.

The birds of South America have been spotted! Many different types of flappy unknown sea-birds were in the sky. You could tell that they were not deep sea birds by the frequency of their wing flaps. (Usually, the further out to see you go, the bird species tend to glide rather than flap). This is a sign that the South American coast is getting closer. Another sign is that the phosphorescence in the water has returned. Their bright glow illuminating from the wake of the boat is even more pronounced given the lack of moonlight from our ever waning moon.

Squall chasing could be the bane of my life. As it was for many a Mohican. For those of you who are confused, squall clouds (big puffy rain clouds) move across the water, and bring a fair amount of wind. The name of the game is to intercept them. But these clouds are malevolent and conniving. Their aim is to leave you in their windless wake. If one latches onto one of these clouds, they are given a huge speed advantage if not... you’re left to bob.

Today was such a day. I won’t go into any detail; let’s just say we were left to sit. There was so little wind that we had to resort to ghosting (dropping the mainsail and sailing under only the spinnaker). Until this point Michaela’s pleas for a swim had fallen upon deaf ears, and it seemed as if today might have been the right time. Finally, she was given permission, but just as she changed into her costume, and came back on deck, the wind picked up and we were off again. Her next swim will have to be at Copacabana.

Here’s to hoping for a smooth landing!

Ryan

Day 18 - Another South Atlantic 'Hi!”

Light wind racing, contrary to what one might think is often far more challenging than heavy wind sailing. It involves full concentration and you need to dig deep to keep the boat moving. It’s essential that you keep your cool, and don’t get frustrated no matter how taxing the conditions become.

Grib files (weather forecasts) for the next three days do not look great. It hasn’t done too much for morale. In the last 24 hours we only managed 135nm. However, to put it in perspective you need only page back in our logbook where you can see that our worst day in the 2011 race was 23nm.

It’s been a relatively sombre day on board. Michaela has taken to making everyone bracelets out of rope. She will strip a piece of rope into strands and then re-plait them into a funky design. Ryan is now a third of the way through ‘long walk to freedom’.

On-board cuisine, like the moon, has begun to wane. The high-point was yesterday when we had pizza (without cheese), and I’m afraid that is as good as it will get. Our remaining food bags include soya mince, spaghetti, tinned tuna and provitas. To make things worse, yesterday saw our peanut butter supplies get depleted. One of our followers sent through some recipes for flying fish: although discarded at first, they might require a revisit.

Besides having only three teabags left, we now have further incentive to hurry onto the land of Samba: there are only two rolls of toilet paper and a box of tissues left. It would also be great to get some laundry that has been washed in fresh water: Our laundry has all been done with salt water, so the sea salt patches that remain after the final rinse gives a somewhat tie-dye effect to all your kit.

There has been another grievance that is being brought to the attention of The Board. The accused is Bren, and the charge is that of smuggling snacks. He was found out when, during a rainsquall, someone threw up his foulie jacket by mistake to Ryan, and when Ryan investigated the sizeable object in the left pocket, found a stash of Oreos. Michaela is being cited as an accomplice.

I thought it would nice to end this post off by giving some perspective on how the whole transatlantic dream came about, and give credit to a man who played a vital part in it all. In the September of 2010, a lazy spring day spent out at the Vaal, it was suggested that we looked into doing the next Rio race. So with three months to go, we set out to find a yacht to charter.

The first person we approached was the owner of a pretty Simonis 35, called Ciao Bella. This man was kind enough to offer us his beautiful boat, with the only requirements being that we bring it back in good condition, with a case of Brazilian beer. And that is how it began…

We have since bought Ciao Bella from Mark Hammick, and while we are sailing this race with her in our name, we will never forget his kind gesture and the role he played in making our dream adventure come true. So, we are nearly there. Just have to negotiate one more light patch and the Rio parking lot, and who knows what the final outcome will be............With sailing, it’s never over until it’s over!

Day 17 - The Censor-ship

 

I have been informed that "dropping a blog" is not an appropriate expression for posting an entry such as this. I tried to push for it, but to no avail. The idea was flushed.

 

I assume that you've all heard about the controversial secrecy bill in South Africa. We are facing a similar plight on board this very yacht. Before any blog entry gets sent through, it has to pass through censorship, where everything deemed inappropriate would be removed - the opening paragraph of this post, for instance.

I'm not going to mention the name(s) of the responsible party, but in protest, this post has sneakily been sent without going through the panel first.

Now that that's out the way, I'd like to address the accusations of me being a night-watch tyrant. I've only ever woken up the next watch early ONCE - with the exception of Ryan, who needs 15 minutes to wake up, get ready, and curse that people don't have a snooze button. Two nights ago I gave Kathryn and Ryan a bonus 20 minutes sleep, and then stayed on an extra 20 minutes to help them get settled. That same night, the following dialogue from the cockpit ensued:

"Time for a sail change. Call Brennan"

"BRENNAN! WAKE UP!"

*Brennan wakes up and starts getting ready*

"No, it's fine, we don't need him. BRENNAN, GO BACK TO SLEEP!"

This happened no less than THREE TIMES on the same night for a sail change, a gybe and a broach.

The breeze eased off a bit this afternoon, but was just at the wrong angle for us to hoist our Code 0 spinnaker - the Norwegian Blue. It's a remarkable bird, Norwegian Blue. Beau'iful plumage! (Monty Python, anyone?)

We cracked open our first bag of Futurelife yesterday. Some people consider this to be a last-resort meal, but we were too stoked for it. Hell, we've been holding our breath for the food bag with the Futurelife in it since day 1! That stuff is what the Spartans ate for breakfast.

We finally changed our clocks to local time! This may seem strange, but dad wanted to keep track of SA time so he didn't miss the early morning radio cross-overs. It's a relief that the sun is no longer setting at 23:00 and rising at 10:00. When the clocks suddenly jumped back by 4 hours, Ricky jokingly complained about getting instantly jet-lagged.

We're hearing stories about other teams being becalmed and going for swims. We have had no such luck. The wind has dropped low enough to go slowly, but never enough to stop. This is a problem for both the racer and the cruiser.

In aid of our bid to be an eco-friendly team, we have been charging our batteries using the solar panels that we got from Cobus van Wyk. These are only effective in the morning, because in the afternoon everything gets shaded by the spinnaker. Having afternoon sun means that you're not heading for Rio.

Other first-world problems that we have to deal with are the fact that we are down to 4 tea-bags, that egg for the last pancakes was off, and the biscuits from Mrs de Carvalho are all but finished. Afternoon tea is now pretty much ruined!

On a lighter note, I'd like to leave you all with a joke. Could someone please see to it that the Wits team gets this, as it applies directly to them?

Why did the Kudu cross the Atlantic?

Because it saw a Zebra crossing!

Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahaaaaaaa!

Love your Monday.

Brennan

PS. Less than 1000 miles to go!

Day 16 – The Weekend Wrap

The breeze is back. Tallulah was brought out early this morning, and has been hauling Ciao Bella down the waves ever since. Talullah (for those who missed it) comes from the movie Cool Runnings. It was one of the names that Junior suggested they call their new sled. In our case, she is the larger of the two zebra kites and is playing a vital part in stacking up the miles. She is also great in that she installs a sense of discipline. The matriarch zebra is how she is fondly known. Any bad helming that results in her flapping or collapsing will see her give you the same look that your mother did the first time you scratched her car: I love you, but I’m deeply disappointed.

Thank you for all the emails, especially the updates into the world of equities. Particular thanks to the gentleman that offered to send through details for a trading update conference call. I regretfully have to decline as our Iridium 9555 has no mute button, and the sound of waves in the background could cause disturbance for others on the call. The depreciation in the currency is not great news. I have been waiting three years to refurbish my collection of Havaianas and a blown out rand may deem problematic.

Otherwise, all in all, things are going well. All is well with the A team. Michaela Mae is growing braver with every day that passes, and is now a formidable foredeck. Ryan has lost his Speedo, as we have offered a reward in zoo biscuits. Onboard education is thriving. This is the second week Ryan and Michaela are missing school, and thus it has been important to supplement accordingly. We have a geography / chart work lesson that takes place at around 4pm every day, and Afrikaans has been taken care of with dad’s RSG interview. The chart work also includes some vector diagrams, so that ticks off science, and the occasional blog entry counts as English creative writing. Nutritional discussions around food groups covers Biology and the stock take of Liquifruit and zoo-biscuits must be the best form of hands-on accounting practical experience.

There are a couple of things we left behind this trip – fishing tackle being a prime example. This has, however, spared us the perpetual disappointment of always looking back at empty lines like in the last race. Another thing that we definitely do not regret leaving behind is the chessboard. There is a large amount of humiliation that comes with being beaten by a 17 year-old at chess. But then perhaps it was worth it as playing chess requires silence - a true delicacy when it comes to living with an adolescent.

One of the largest challenges of doing an ocean crossing has to deal with the broken sleep patterns; with the maximum amount of sleep you get is 4 hours at any point in time. This has led us to relearn the art of a mid-afternoon powernap: something that is far better practiced amongst the students on board. We are now also substantially west. This means that a 7am interview on RSG your time, is a 3am call this side. If I consider how much sugar and caffeine it takes me to function in English at that time of the morning, I’m not sure how dad manages to function in ordentlike Afrikaans like he does.

Can someone please let Janine Howard Harris know that her rice cooker works like a bomb (it makes for a great pillow too). And to Liane Tiley, the food packs you did for us have been a treat. We are sure the risotto is great, but we are in a bit of a pickle as the instructions are in Italian.

Wishing you all a happy Monday,

Kathryn

Day 15 – High-tailing it from the High!

Good day folks,

I will try refrain from too much humour because all attempts I have made at it so far this trip have sent the crew rushing for the anti-nausea medication, (which is already quite depleted after the first few days). I do take fair delight from jokes that are so cheesy that the listeners are left quite annoyed at me for even speaking. But I will try sparing you unnecessary anguish by only talking about a real event that happened late last night...

I must first shed light on the latest advancement in the complex social structure aboard, which saw Ryan appointed as the head of the crew members union. This is because he is the most vocal about his grievances, for example, being woken up for a shift a few minutes early. Dad and I had occasion to raise an issue with Ryan after we felt we were treated rather unfairly by another crew member. It unfolded as follows:

Dad and I were woken up a whole fifteen minutes before our watch started, which is acceptable practice if there is a gybe or sail change, so we both diligently rose, donned our harnesses and took our places in the cockpit. It was at this point that Brennan (the offending crew member) pointed out that he had thought he had wanted to gybe but had changed his mind as our angle had improved with the approach of a very dark rain cloud. This same rain cloud sent Brennan swiftly to his bed before the end of his shift, with his last words to us being: you guys might need some jackets.

In summary: Brennan had woke us up early for no good reason and positioned the boat in the direct path of a rain cloud after enjoying all the breeze that preceded it for himself. There was insufficient time for us to sail out from under the cloud to avoid either the rain or the tedium of windless bobbing that followed it.  Dad and I thought the idea of Brennan having his blanket around his ears while we sat in his rain squall quite amusing, but I think there should still be some ruling on the matter. Are there any suggestions?

We had been instructed from early on to use a sanitiser spray when using the heads. As the breeze gets lighter we have to leave the comfort of the quarter berths  and start using the bunks amidships and in the bow (all of which are treacherously close to the heads) This close-quarters arrangement has led me to believe that the value of the sanitiser spray is more for sanity than it is for sanitation. I personally find the shining hour remarkably more bearable when spent abaft of the push pit!

Returning to matters of consequence, we have had a very tough time getting past all the light patches, with very confused waves making even 5 knots quite un-sailable. We are working very hard to get away from this light wind zone as quickly as possible. It is getting very hot now and sailing at night starts to become quite a lot easier than during the day.  The forecast did not even shed much better news, which Brennan announced to the crew with the words: “Hey guys, at least we get two more days in the trade winds!” That is fair to say but personally I am getting to the point where I wouldn’t say no to an ice lolly or twenty! We will just have to sail faster I guess...

In closing the crew would just like to give a shout out to our youngest follower, Benjamin, who is not 2 months old yet! Thanks Benjamin and hope to see you on the water soon!

Yours in Happy Sailing,

Ricky

Day 14 - Life on board (Michaela Mae's entry)

It’s final. The kite names have been chosen.

Big Zebra – Tallulah

Small Zebra storm spinnaker – Florence (Kite-in-gale)

Code 0 – Norwegian Blue

Asymmetric – Smurfette

Let’s just say it was highly contested. Thanks very much for all the suggestions. Today for morning tea dad made bread – just like his mother used to make it. It was absolutely divine. When you are exposed to fresh food, you take it for granted. When rationed down to pasta, rice cakes and peanut butter, futurelife etc, when you taste a small piece of freshly baked bread you just fall in love with the taste. We are also down to the last flapjack mixture which I found in the back of one of the cupboards. The only issue as to making this last batch is that we only have one egg left and we are not sure if it will last.

Brennan took the liberty of teaching Ryan and I chart work and plotting. Oh man, he could have been my grade 7 English teacher because he just gets carried away and eventually ends up on a different topic. No offence to his teaching skills, because no doubt I learned a lot not only about chart work but also about different types of cheeses.

Whilst we were learning about chart work from Bren, Mom took over the helm in the light flukey wind because she is the only one with enough patience to helm in those conditions. The best part about nightshifts are the beautiful stars and sailing in the moonlight. The worst part is when you go off watch, after an incredible watch, and an hour and a half before your second watch you get woken up by Ryan and Kathryn singing (only the choruses) of Disney songs. And with thirty minutes to go on their watch comes a badly sung version of ‘the final countdown’.

Ryan and I have decided that at the finish in the last gybe video: Ryan is going to helm, I will do foredeck, and Rick and Bren are going to do running backstays. This is because in 2011, Ryan and I were forced to do running backstays (a fairly simple job). I think we are close to Rio as we can now do night watches in Speedos, shorts and t-shirts. Washing has become more enjoyable because the water is a lovely temperature and not freezing anymore.

The bets are on at the moment as to what our ETA in Rio is going to be. I think Saturday. Let us know what you think.

From Michaela Mae (age 13)

PS. Ryan continues to have a long face because there is yet to be an email addressed to ‘Ryan and family’.

Day 13 - Turning the corner

So at last we start to head towards the setting sun.  It's about time. Although we do put in the occasional gybe north, a lot of headway has been made westwards.  This is much to the relief of the crew, because there is not much that can dampen your spirits more (apart from cleaning the bilges) than heading away from your final destination. 

Despite the light wind, it was a very eventful day on board.  We fixed the engine (we had an air bubble in the fuel line), set up the shade cloths and rewired the desalinator.  The only job that remains is to start climbing back up the leader board. 

Steve Meek - the sun protectors that you made us for the 2011 race are still going strong.  Can’t thank you enough. 

Everyone has had a chance to helm, and every person has their own style of helming.  Dad steers the straightest course.  No beating round the bush. I, on the other hand, only focus on breaking speed records. This is justified by the fact that when the speedometer stopped working my enthusiasm to drive dampened substantially.  Brooks-off Bren prides himself in ‘aerodynamecy’; explaining why whenever he is on watch, the bright red Speedo can be seen. 

Mom is our secret weapon, and as a past national dabchick champion takes the helm, the boat starts to fly.  It is quite humorous to watch her pretending to listen to the pointers from her world champion offspring.  Michaela is one of the fastest helms (if only we could get her on there for more than 30minutes), and Kax takes the helm when the going gets tough. 

Slick Rick has gotten to a point where he can even helm from down below. Even if you lose concentration for one second, you will hear Ricky bellowing from below to sail the boat properly.  There was one instant in where in his sleep he shouted "Ryan or Michaela steer up, we're going slowly!"  It was slightly flawed as neither was driving at the time, and Brennan rather took great offense to the criticism. 

We are overjoyed with dad’s great plan to marry Kathryn off to one of the princes on the Maserati boat.  Truth be told we've been trying to marry her off for a while, but her lack of cooking skills has been an issue.  We think, however, that marrying into royalty will relieve her of any culinary obligations.

We hear word that our fellow competitors are complaining that the light breeze, and thus delayed ETAs, might see them run out of food.  We have no such problem.  In the previous race anything over 23 days would've resulted in us having to eat Michaela.  Our current stock take suggests 31days before we would even need to consider it. Our 8kg challenge (losing 8kg during the trip) has also become invalid, with us likely to land heavier than we left. 

For those of our friends who are low on rations, snacks can be found in abundance.  Flying fish are to the South Atlantic what Impala are the Pilansberg.  Squadrons of them glide through the air, land on your boat and wait to be eaten.  Flying fish bokkoms - a real South Atlantic delicacy. 

Ryan.

Day 12 – Nail-biting

 

The thing about Ocean Racing (as opposed to in shore or even inland racing), is that not everyone has the same wind. This is even more pronounced when there is a handicap system in place, where (for example), we, on our aging 35ft traditional glass fibre boat, race against (for example again) Maserati, about twice as long, with three times the beam, with more carbon than in a coal mine. So, while they are in Rio, we are still negotiating our way around the South Atlantic high. Said differently, we are now where they were 6 days ago. And lots can change in six days......

On the other hand, once they are in Rio, their race is run, and their die is cast. (I hope that it is that die and not the other dye – says he fearfully watching for Mrs Stiq reading over his shoulder.) Their cards are on the table, while we wait for more cards to be dealt. Their goose is cooked while ours is still defrosting. (I hope you are getting the picture clearly – because I am out of cheesy comparisons.)

And what is at stake? Nothing really, (says he lying through his teeth). Just look behind us. Cousin Bradley and the Wits team would dearly love to put one over us. Can you imagine the ill concealed smug looks we would have to suffer for the next however long it takes for them to get over themselves? And then there is the “non – competitive” Oom Gerrie on Stop Rhino Poaching (or Kyk Na Jou Eie Horing Boet). He is a man of few words, but also a Vaal Dam sailor that we will run into often in the future. He will not say a word, but give us that friendly knowing smile that just says “suck it up Engelsman!”

 

And all the Class 2 boats, being led by Yolo – skippered by Dale, Commodore of the other Royal club represented in the race. Lots of Royal honour at stake there. And that thoroughly eccentric but eminently likeable Aussie John on Perie Banou Rolly Tasker. He would have a word to say – though we would have a job understanding him – Australian is not quite English. And Vulcan, filled with Holiday 23 sailors, led by Coenie Thiaart. Just could not cope with being beaten by them. And all those Cats!

 

And in front of us? Well there is Maserati. Enough said. They have just finished an excellently executed race. Well done on their Line Honours achievement. It will take us a while to work out just when we have to finish to beat them – but our chances are slim, for sure. However, we have heard that there are two Monacan princes on board, and would like to get there just before they leave Rio, so we could organise a date for Kax. Just a date, you understand. No Lobola negotiations – yet.

And the other Aussies on Scarlet Runner. Beating an Aussie at anything at any time gives great pleasure. Second only to beating a New Zealander. The two cool dudes on Privateer are our personal favourites for a win. The concept of two brothers sailing together is one that we can support. Apart from that, they have also chosen the high road to Rio, so we have a vested interest in their success. But, because they are from Cape Town, it would be cool to hang their scalps from our bridle.......

Iskareen, with the Eurokids and Phillippa would be cool to beat, but we are still eating apples supplied by Phillipa’s Mum, so I don’t know if there is that much malice in the challenge. But the one that we would dearly like to claim bragging rights over must be Explora. A boat loaded with carbon and Capies in equal proportions. A longstanding inter-club rivalry between Phillip Lamprecht and Boskop with some scores yet unsettled. But mostly, the guys who chose a diametrically opposite (extreme Southern) strategy to ours, for dealing with the high.

(Just as an irrelevant aside - I was sitting with the passport lady when the Explora guys were handing in their passports to be stamped. I asked her how she could tell the difference between all the bald blonde guys on the boat. She shook her head and uttered the immortal words: “They all look the same to me!”)

In fact, the purpose of this entry is to acknowledge all those who are sailing against us. Thank them for the effort that has gone into their campaigns, and compliment them on their skills and the fortitude that they have displayed. The biggest compliment that we could pay them is to sail our hearts out, to beat them.

And that is just what we are doing.

Day 11 - The halfway mark

Last night was tough. The wind had died, and we were trying desperately to get Ciao Bella going in the little wind that we had. The constantly shifting of positions in the top five shows just how close the racing is. Yesterday (Monday) we moved up to third, and today (Tuesday) we’ve slipped to fifth. The wind remains very flukey, and whether we catch the larger yachts will be very dependent on how the weather plays out.

The organisers have a great tracker system where you can see how each of the boats are proceeding. It’s available on the official Cape to Rio website. You will see that Maserati is approaching Rio (expected given their size and how fast they can go), whilst we are just over half way. The winners are, however, not decided on who arrives in Rio first, but the times are adjusted by a handicap system, to reflect corrected times. Once Maserati finishes, we will have a better idea of how long we must finish in to beat her on corrected time.

Life on board is good. Our pancake princess (Michaela Mae) made us another set of scrumptious crumpets this morning. These were enjoyed by all, while Bren read out the day’s emails. Yesterday was overcast, but today looks to be a scorcher. Thanks Sue and Jess Rawly for the litres of sunscreen you brought us from Australia – such a treat. Ryan did come down with another bite of sickness. It was, unfortunately, the night that Kathryn cooked dinner. No one has the courage to draw lines between the two events, but let’s just say there have been far more volunteers in an attempt to stop another situation like this taking place.

We have renamed the port aft bunk ‘The San’. Shower Hour has become a far more pleasant experience as we’ve moved west and away from the cold benguela current. It’s a relatively simplistic process that involves you, a bucket and a bottle of Colgate classic egg shampoo. Let’s put on record that Colgate shampoo isn’t what you’d find on the same shelf as the Redken range. It’s a fraction on the cost, and a hairdresser’s worst nightmare. But it is the only stuff that foams in salt water, and thus it is a crucial part of the showering process.

We are extremely pleased to know that the geographical spread of our following has grown to now include Stellenbosch. Our emails thus far have come from SA, Aus, Canada, UK, USA and the Republic of Cape Town. There were rumours about some followers following from Champoussin, Switzerland, but we are yet to know for sure.

More oggend (Woensdag) en Vrydag moet julle probeer inskakel na RSG tussen 07h30 en 08h00. Oom Cobus gaan saam met Mike oor die wedvaart praat. In English: Tjoen into RSG to hear dad chat to Cobus.

Hold thumbs that the breeze holds through the night.

Day 10 - Trade Winds

There is just something so special about the trade winds. It’s not just the fair winds and temperate climate. Nor is it just the beauty of the sea all around you. It has something to do with the fact that the trade winds and these special conditions are perennial. They don’t just go away with the next cold front, or disappear at the changing of a season. And there is a serenity here. A peace that is all consuming. Life happens to the rhythm of the swells passing under the boat, to the background noise of the water passing the hull.

And then there is the moon. Each night its bigger and stays with us for longer. And as it sets, it casts a sliver path onto the water in the direction of Rio. It’s all about spinnakers and swells, and staying in the rhythm. And the villain of the piece, is the South Atlantic High. Just like a pantomime baddy – can’t do any real harm, but can slow down proceedings. And every time he shows his face – feigned horror floods the audience. The secret is to keep him at bay. Just like the pantomime audience, we keep peering into the wings to see if the villain is about.....and we keep seeing him!

And so we all (except the intrepid Explora) slide off to the safe haven of the North, hoping the villain will disappear. And we saw the villain again in the wings today! So we took the starboard gybe, and are sliding off further to the North. Tonight, the moon will tease us......She will be right over Rio, but off our port bow. We will be tempted to sail to her, but we know that the villain lurks between us and her, waiting to trap us, and hold us!

So we will ignore her, and hold our course, watching the moon through the mainsail and the spinnaker. Waiting for the moment when the villain goes away, and we can point our bows straight down the silver path.

 

Editors Note:

 

gybe

1.   (nautical) To change tack with the wind crossing behind the boat. (Mostly used of boats and other small sailing craft — the corresponding manoeuvre in a sailing ship is to wear).

2.   (nautical) To shift a fore-and-aft sail suddenly and forcefully from one side to the other, while sailing before the wind. (also jibe). (wiktionary.com)

 

Days 8 and 9 – Surf’s up

Welcome to the Ciao Bella blog weekend special! We saved up two days' worth of blog posts to bring you this bumper edition. We hope that you've all had a decent weekend. We've just finished treating ourselves to Sunday afternoon tea and biscuits. (Thanks Mrs de Carvalho for the biscuits!).

It turns out there's been a bit of shuffling of positions in the top 6. It's looking pretty close and team Investec Ciao Bella are still very much in the mix. Kathryn has thus had poor Pocket Rocket (Ryan) on the helm for hours on end. The contention in the helmsman top-speed rivalry is rife between Slick-Rick and Ryan. There is much pride on the line here.

 

We're managing to latch onto some passing rain squalls for an extra bit of wind here and there. The wind is forecast to drop in the next few days, so we're putting the money in the bank now. Michaela Mae’s confidence has also built, and is now also claiming some hours on the tiller. All under the watchful eye of mum, who studies the speedometer like a hawk. Ciao Bella’s GPS unit continues to show us at 21degrees south, 32degrees west. Thus we are forced to continue to navigate with a barometer, compass and ‘Homer’ the handheld GPS. It is named Homer as it is fat, yellow and ugly. The general rule of thumb is to make sure that the sun rises behind you, and sets in front of you. Well, in front and a little to the left.

 
A large risk when sailing at night is the spinnaker wrapping around the forestay. Not only are these wraps slow for racing, but they can destroy a spinnaker if it gets bad enough. It’s a real macramé when it happens. We have a net or "ghost jib" that we put up to prevent this, but it only worked half of the time. Yesterday we thought Rick was making a hammock, but he was actually modifying the ghost jib, making our forestay 100% wrap proof.

The largest problem with a crew of seven people is that nothing is ever sold in sevens. Liqui-fruit comes in sixes, Oreos in fours and there are always eight peach halves in a tin. This normally means that rationing is a nightmare. Thanks to four very dedicated friends, who equipped with a vacuum sealing machine, packed every nights snacks into separate packs of seven. Seven multiplied by 21 is how much dedication was involved. To Keith, Cal, Keagan and Shanette – thank you.

 
We've received some very interesting suggestions for naming our spinnakers, as well as come up with a few of our own. It hasn't been finalised yet, but the top contenders are: Deborah (the zebra), Ntombi, Tallulah (though it sounds like a $20 hooker), Zara, Jacob Zebra, Madge (after a Bassett hound - full of wind), Florence Kite-in-gale for the storm kite, Meryl Streep (as in the Afrikaans for stripe), Jay-Z (but Ryan vetoed that because now it can't wrap/rap) and Smurfette for the blue and white one.
 
A few nominations were received to name a zebra kite 'Gill', but we decided against it. Mom doesn't have the long face. We welcome more suggestions.

In the meantime we’ll see which names fit best. Our marine tally continues to rise. A pretty sizeable flying-fish landed itself in one of our buckets in the cockpit. We have it on good authority from Gabriel Fernandez that this kind of cuisine is a real delicacy. Kathryn, however, insisted that we ditch it. Not because of any health risks or anything, but because it was a perceived insult to her rationing and provisioning capabilities. Speaking of health risks, Kax cooked dinner tonight. In the seven years that Bren lived with her post moving to Johannesburg, he can count on his hands how many times she has cooked. At the time that this blog was posted, no casualties had yet been noted.

 
There were a couple of people who were instrumental in us getting the last bits and pieces together. We'd like to acknowledge their efforts by way of a roll-of-honour on our blog. Or a blog-roll as we’d like to call it. The first name on the roll is our friend Phil (pronounced 'Phiw' - he's English). You gave up a good chunk of your holiday and were a great help. Neville Norton, Ray Matthews, Marcus Reuter and Clarence from XtraLink are also men we must thank. And lastly, to our boy Duncan ‘Nav’ Matthews... what a champion. We are going to miss you in Rio.
 

In preparation for the light winds and warm weather, the speedos have started making regular appearance. Even the occasional rain doesn't stop it. They're calling it "practice for Copacabana". Ricky also has a new long-sleeved camouflage shirt. The camo on this thing is so good that we're convinced that the shirt actually photosynthesises. We want to put him out when it's raining and see if the shirt grows berries. Thanks again for the mails. It's always interesting watching the spike in mails coming through during office hours - similar to Mr Price online shopping trends. Looking forward to see what emails the new working week holds.

 
Wishing you all a great Monday.